#for like the first 20 mins my mom is like 'youre reading into it too much. its not gay'

[skitskatdacat63]

Everyone in The Talented Mr Ripley is just the physical embodiment of a Leyendecker painting(including the homoerotica!!)

[laughing-with-god]

Unsaid Vow I

(This is the first 1.7k of the 10k chapter that is available right now on my Patreon. Please join for early access plus beta content!)

Synopsis: You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a five-year-old.

Also looking for new fic art for this if anyone's interested!!

Read first: Prologue

“I’m a grown man.”

These were the words that greeted you and effectively pulled you out of your weary slumber.  

You drowsily rubbed your eyes and rolled over, yawning as you took in the sight of your son staring at you bemusedly from beside your bed.  

If you weren’t used to this behavior from Hugo already, you perhaps would've screamed at the sudden creepy sight of a child with a solemn expression saying odd things to you before the sun has even risen.  Yet, you have grown accustomed to the old man your toddler was.  

“Good morning to you too, bud.”  You groaned tiredly, already searching your thick bedding for your phone in order to check the time.  Your alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, which told you it was earlier than you had originally planned to wake up.  But what was the point of having plans when you had a child?  They had a talent for ruining them.  

“I’m five today.”  Hugo ignored your greeting, getting right into the point with furrowed brows as he held up all five fingers, each one representing a year of his life.  

“Yup, I know dumpling.”  You chuckled, finally pulling out your phone and opening it to see  ‘6:03 am” staring back at you.  “Believe it or not, the day you were born was quite memorable for me too.”  

You cringed as you thought of the 20 hour labor that preceded Hugo’s birth.   How could you ever forget that hellish day?  

“Mom, it’s my birthday.”  Hugo told you, tone serious as a heart attack.  

“Yes, happy birthday love.”  You smiled at your son, trying not to let him see the exhaustion you secretly felt.  “I suppose there’s no way I can talk you into going back to bed for another hour or so?”  

“No. You always say ���the day starts when I first open my eyes in the morning”.  Your son parroted the saying back to you with a proud grin.  

Hugo once went through a phase where he wouldn’t want to leave the bed after waking up, simply wanting to stay in pj’s all day long and watch cartoons amongst his stuffies. 

It took a while to get your little homebody to actually stop this habit and begin getting up to ready himself for the day whenever he woke up.  You used to tell him that the day starts whenever he opens his eyes in the morning, however on days like these where he wakes up super early, he now does not see the point in lying in.  

“Right, that is a good point.”  You softly relented, mentally scolding yourself for yet another parenting tactic backfired.  “How does some breakfast sound?”

“Mom, I have a prop-pre-preposaa-”  

“Proposal?”  You offered, swinging your legs off the side of your bed.  

“Yeah, that.”  Hugo nodded to himself, most likely taking note of the proper pronunciation of the word so he can use it again in conversation.  “I think it’s time we talk about coffee.”

“Coffee?”  

“You and daddy are always saying that coffee is for grownups.  Today I’m five, which means I’m older, which means I should be able to have coffee.”  Hugo reasoned this to you while twiddling his thumbs, a nervous habit he does when he wants you to say yes to something he knows is unrealistic.  

“Mmm...”  You hummed, pretending to think hard about the offer.  “What if I gave you a very light coffee?  A beginner version to get you ready for the real thing when you’re older?”  

Hugo looked conflicted, but after reading your face and correctly assuming that’s the best he was going to get, he nodded solemnly in reluctant agreement.  

With one final huff you shoved yourself off the king sized bed, standing to your full height and throwing your arms up in a stretch.  “Why don’t you wait in the living room for me bud?  I’ll be right out.”  

The freshly turned five year old happily nodded up at you before exiting your bedroom, leaving you alone once again.  

You turned your attention back to the bed in which you just rose out of.  More particularly, you stared at the other side of the bed, the side in which your husband was supposed to sleep on. 

It was a direct opposite of your messy side, crisp and neatly made; the fluffy pillows, pressed sheets and silk duvet being perfectly in place.  Yet, this wasn’t an ode to Jungkook’s neatness and attention to detail.  

No.  

Jungkook hasn’t been sleeping in the same bed as you for a while now.  

Your husband always preferred to rise early, given he was a man who liked to follow a strict morning regime which could easily be thrown off if he slept in even a minute later.  Up at 5:30. teeth brushed and face shaved by 5:40.  Breakfast, coffee and newspaper consumed by 6:00.  

Then right before taking his leave, Jungkook would pack himself a bag of work clothes and make a quick protein shake, given he would then head to the gym where he would get his morning workout and shower from.  Then from the gym, he would head straight to work.  

A few months ago, he suggested sleeping in the guest room.

You had asked why, bewildered at the request.  

Sure, you two didn’t really cuddle anymore. Sex was also rare. But you figured that the least you could do as husband and wife was sleep in the same bed amicably. Had you started kicking him in your sleep or something?

“I’d notice you begin to kinda stir when I first get up and go about my routine.  I don’t want to wake you up or be a bother.”  He had said.  

That didn’t really make sense to you.  

You have always been a deep sleeper. And even if you did wake up for a second, you’d clearly see your husband getting ready for the day, roll over and go back to sleep.  

It was such a lame excuse, you just shrugged and bitterly told him that he hogged the blankets anyway.  

It wasn’t true, but Jungkook didn’t comment.  

You trudged over to the ensuite bathroom and quickly did your morning routine.  

When you came out of your room and into the living space, you saw Hugo glued to the giant flat screen in a trance-like state as he watched his usual morning cartoons.  The sight tugged a small smile out of you, although the mother in you didn’t like how close he was.

“Hugo, back up from the screen! Bluey isn’t going anywhere. Your eyes will go bad.”  Your son wordlessly obliged and scooted back, not breaking eye contact with his favorite family of puppies.  “What would you like for breakfast ‘Mr. grown man’?”  

“Blueberry pancakes…and don’t forget my coffee!”  

“You got it, birthday boy.” 

The kitchen, dining and living room were open concept, so you multi-tasked watching Hugo while whipping up his breakfast.  You never were much of a cook and you still aren’t even after motherhood, but you did commit to learning your son’s favorite dishes.

The process was over quickly, you having made this recipe countless times and knowing it like the back of your hand.  

You set a plate on the island table, calling Hugo over while you secretly mixed some instant hot chocolate in a mug.  

The five year old jumped up and grinned at the meal, saying a quick “thank you” before digging in with all the grace a five year old could possibly have.  

“And of course, your coffee.”  You tried not to smile as you handed him the cup.

“Thanks mama.”  

The mini-Jungkook took a gulp, then stared seriously at the contents of the mug, swishing it around in some faux detective work.  

“Something wrong, dumpling?”

“It tastes…fa-fam-”

“Familiar?”  

“Yes. Is coffee always this sweet?”  

You laughed, now moving to the real coffee maker to make your own cup.  “No, this is the kid version.  It might taste like chocolate because chocolate has caffeine in it too.”  

Your little old man huffed to himself but nodded in agreement, simply not knowing enough to dispute your logic.  

Your old coffeemaker grumbled awake, croaking and hissing as you pressed the worn-out buttons for your usual morning brew.  Jungkook always made fun of you for the ancient machine, but even after he had bought a much more expensive and up-to-date one, you stubbornly remained loyal to yours.  

“So buddy, what do you want to do today?  We can go get new books, hit up the toy store, maybe even visit the aquarium?”  

“I wanna help set up for my party, mommy.” 

Well, “party” wasn’t quite the right word for it.  

Hugo had no friends.  It was tough for a kid like him to make any.  At this age and as a boy, most of his peers would meet and form relationships in little league or rough housing at the local park. 

Your son was different.  He preferred reading to sports, hated the outdoors and was generally a shy kid who tended to tear up when anyone other than his family tried speaking to him.  

So this year, his birthday party was an intimate circle of family and family friends.  You hoped that by next year you could host an actual kid birthday party, as Hugo would be in school and have classmates by then. 

“That’s very sweet of you, but there’s time to do both.”  The boy looked at you skeptically.  “We can go to the bookstore across the street after breakfast and I’ll let you pick out some new bedtime stories.  Then we can go to the aquarium and have lunch there. And on our way home I’ll stop by the store to get some stuff for the party, and you can get a toy.  Sounds good?”  

Hugo frowned, then peeled back his pajama sleeve to look at his submarine-themed watch.  The act seemed a little pretentious to you, given he didn’t yet know how to read clocks.  

“Fine mommy, but we should be quick.  Also you need to ask our guests if they have any food aler-alergeez-”

“Allergies?  Yes bud, I’ll be sure to send them a text.”  You rolled your eyes.

With that, Hugo quietly finished his breakfast as you sipped your coffee.  

When you two were done, you both got dressed and ready for the day’s activities. 

Before leaving the apartment, you were sure to send a text to your husband.  

‘Be home by 6 please.  Hugo’s birthday party starts at 6:30 and he needs you there.’

[weirdsht]

Out of My Mind (Out of Their Minds pt. 2) - Paseton/Male! Reader

notes: legit spent 5 mins breaking down while writing this because idfk how to spell aquarium T-T.

tags: male reader, mermaid reader, paseton/reader but they are not official, 430-431 canon divergence, cussing

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist Out of Their Minds (pt. 1)

Crash! 

Baaaaaaaaang!

You watched the chaos going on outside your house from the comfort of your tank. 

Okay, it’s Paseton’s house but it’s not like it matters much.

It’s almost been a year since you started living with the Whale Tribe. At first, everyone was apprehensive about the Whale Prince bringing you home. However, soon enough they considered you as part of their own.

They seem to have a misunderstanding that you and Paseton are dating though. Not that you knew about it.

“What’s wrong? You scared little bitch? Hmmm?“

You hear Archie taunt White Star and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I wish I asked for some snacks…”

Chaos continued on the battlefield. The tank on the rooftop gave you full access to everything happening while simultaneously displaying you.

“So I just have to act like I don’t want to give this piece of paper since it’s from my mom? But it’s not really from her and this is just some bullshit document?”

“Exactly, just taunt them for a bit before giving it up.”

“But what if they want to take me with them?”

You asked Paseton as you clutch the fake document in your chest.

“They wouldn’t be able to get you out of our house even if they wanted to. I promise.”

Paseton reassures you. His confident gaze makes you have courage too.

“So that’s where you’ve been. I’ve been worried sick you know?”

White Star lied to your face casually. You couldn’t help but stick your middle finger at him.

“You’re not that great of a liar you fucker!”

…Maybe you’ve been hanging too much with Archie these days.

The masked man let out a dry laugh before his eyes landed on the document you were holding. How could it not? It’s under-water but it looks perfectly fine. That could only mean that it’s important.

“I see you’ve decided to betray your kind and join hands with the Whale Tribe. Say now my nephew, what’s that paper in your hands?”

“Nephew my ass! I told you stupid idiots that I’m not that desperate for a family to consider you as one.”

You dived down the tank and White Star leisurely followed you by going down the stairs. Yes, Paseton has essentially built an entire saltwater aquarium that has access to every part of his house. He said that this way you’ll be able to go anywhere you want in the house even while staying in the tank.

“Give that document to me and then we’ll go home together. How does that sound?”

Is this guy dumb or what? Just how many times do you have to say that you don’t want to be part of his cult before he gets it in that thick skull of his?

“This is my home you dipshit! And there’s no way I’m giving you this. Mom said this is important enough that it will unite the mermaids and the whales—”

You covered your mouth as if you’d accidentally spilt a big secret. White Star smiled, your “slip-up” just confirmed his suspicion that the document in your hand is connected to the one in Paseton’s pocket.

“That must be the bargaining chip you used so you could hide in here.”

‘Err not really… Wow, young master Cale was right, walk a few steps with this bastard and he’ll run a mile.’

The deposed mermaid prince accidentally showed astonishment in his face. Luckily, White Star interpreted it as his guess being the correct one.

“Give that to me, a child does not need such important things.”

“I’m in my 20s, I’m not a kid. Did losing every battle with Cale Henituse make you dumb or something?”

You swam back up to the rooftop where Paseton deliberately left an opening so White Star could snatch the document in your hands. Placing two hands on the edge of the tank, you hoist yourself up. Making it look like you’re trying to escape.

“Archie! Help me over here!”

The killer whale on the glacier looked at you and stood up to go help you. Just in time, you could see Sayeru snatch the document in Paseton’s pocket.

“It’s time for the missing prince to go home and fulfil his duties, no?”

“Ow! Let go of my hair! Go grab your own!”

White Star not only snatched the document in your hands, he also dared to grab you by the hair. It looks like he fully intends to drag you back home.

“That power is not here.”

“Power? What power are you talking about you bastard?”

You continue to struggle in White Star’s hold as he opens the document with one hand. Just when will Archie get here?

“...This is real. This looks like a real ancient text.”

The lunatic kept speaking to himself.

Sayeru, who heard that said lunatic, ordered the black mages to start casting the teleportation circle.

Okay, now you’re panicking a little. If Archie takes his sweet time getting to here you’ll be a goner.

“Hey! Give that back to me and let me go! Hwy are you even listening to me!?”

You frantically shout but White Star doesn’t say anything and just continues dragging you towards one of the teleportation circles.

“Oh no you don’t!”

“Took you long enough you stupid whale!”

“Is that how you speak to your saviour!?”

Archie snarled at you but you didn’t back down.

“Savior my ass! You sliced my beautiful hair!”

“That could’ve been one of your fins you brat!”

You two argued as you escaped from White Star.

“Are we not taking the mermaid with us?”

“We can get him another time. This takes priority.”

Paaaat!

Sayeru and White Star chatted as the teleportation circle did its thing and allowed them to escape the land of the Whale Tribe. 

“My hair! Do you know just how hard I take care of it!?”

“It’ll grow back you crybaby!”

You and Archie are still arguing even as you arrive at where Paseton and the Whale King are.

“Are they always like this?”

Cale asked Witira after seeing your dynamic with the killer whale.

“I didn’t expect them to get along so well, my brother seems to have a headache though since the mermaid prince has been cursing more nowadays.”

Well, you and Archie really seemed to bond in your own ways so Cale lets the topic go. Instead, he focused his attention towards Witira and the approaching Clopeh.

“Are you okay?”

Paseton grabbed you from Archie so he could carry you in his arms. As soon as you were in his arms you rested your head against his chest. The movement was instinctual from how many times he has carried you.

No wonder why people mistake you two as a couple. Shickler personally thinks it’s just a matter of time before Paseton goes to him to say that his going to marry you.

“I was scared he was going to bring me back to that crazy place…”

You mumbled against the Whale Prince’s chest. The earlier spite you had now gone.

“I promised you remember? I told you that I won't let anyone take you away.“

“Yeah…”

Paseton stroked your badly trimmed hair. His gesture brings you comfort, you still feel a bit shaken up from earlier but being in Paseton's arms reminds you that everything is okay now.

If you asked your past self if they could imagine you feeling safe in the Whale Tribe Prince’s arm he’d probably look at you as if you’re insane.

And perhaps you are. But you wouldn’t want to change. 

[greensagephase]

Alondra I just read part 13 and I'm screaming!

Life have been very hectic for me lately as I started my new masters, and I needed the time to sit down and properly read the thing that I know now that is my favourite thing to wait for

Its currently 3am, I'm sleepless just like Miguel, chronically staring at my screens as I go through coding and other complex stuff (fr my O'hara era) but I needed comfort and I was like you know what? F this, I'm reading NVC, idk I was gonna stay up late anyways.

After all my rant here are my thoughts, in order probably of how I felt about the fic:

-First of all the SCARF are you kidding me?!? The fact that Miggy keeps it for comfort and reader knows and decides to trick him out on wearing it so her scent lingers on it, fixing it around her aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaghhhhhhhhhh i mean come onnnnnnnnnnn kiss already

-And then Miguel just casually putting the scarf on her cause whatever YOLO just do it, my heart exploded

-AND LORD HAVE MERCY SEND HELP I'M GOING CRAZY ABOUT WEARING MIGUEL'S JACKET

-istg I felt it around me, like a thousand sizes bigger than me, being cozy like a blanket? My heart aches!

-Miguel telling reader to be careful and then she sayind "I'll see you at home" I literally had to bite my arm not to scream and wake up my roomates LOL

-This part got me sooooo longing, cause this is istg my brother and I dynamic with my mom and grandma, is latino coded that I love it, it filled my heart to remember those days.

-AND ALSO HELLO NOT YOU REFERRING EDUARDO YAÑEZ LOOKING LIKE MIGUEL IM HISTERICALLY LAUGHING OMGGGGGGGGG (gotta say destilando amor is an amazing novela lol)

-I can't… are we saying we have a crush on him? Cause… sighs I do.. I long for him -I'm sorry I'm making this notes as I go and I'm ranting but this..

-Miguel… you can hug me any day baby you don't need to stuff a pillow.

-The blanket, the canelita, the talk in the couch… the yearning for physical touch, the new playfulness of Miguel… I was in tears for at least 20 min before I could continue reading.

-Little side note on this… phrase… my mind started to go places where it didn't need to be about my theories on spiderverse lol,please SONY IM BEGGING, I need for 2025 to come asap, I need answers and more Miggy.

-Anyways know that I'm writing this as a live reaction and I just stood up from my chair to go scream at mi pillow when I saw the word

GARIBALDIS, you finally did it I love so much MY HEARTTT IS GONNA EXPLODE!

You have no idea how happy this just made me! AAAAH!

-And in this angsty part… OMG… I swear I needed like 20 more minutes to recollect myself...meanwhile I'll give you this gaby doodle

-Okay add like another 20 minutes after you mentioned that Gaby sang Luna de Xelajú on the guitar, this whole Gabriella convo has my heart aching more, I need this little girl in my life...

-Not Miguel telling reader about his dreams of her interacting with Gabi and Gabriel, I'm on the floor once again, and telling her that they love her and she admitting she loves them too

-So for the next part when reader and Miguel hold hands while sleeping… I'll just share my doodle with you.... I went insane...

-The image of this alone will have me dreaming all night of him i swear, this became to much for my heart to quickly, I can freaking assure you that this is the best piece of FF reading of my life I'm not even kidding, I'll hold your hand as miguel did 🥺

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST

OMG WE ARE OFFICIALLY BEST FRIENDS THIS IS NOT A DRILL PEOPLE

I had to doodle them both, cause hello they for sure were so cute admitting it to each other, and Miguel laughing... AAAAAAAAH!

My friend you ended up killing me with the Chilaquiles part AND YOU MENTIONING IT WAS FOR ME AND THE GARIBALDIS TOO?!?!

ISTG I LOVE YOU, it means a lot to me 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I want Miguel to cook me some spicy chilaquiles!!!! awww! this was just perfect I swear!!

Well my rant ends up here, I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to get to you, but life has been chaotic! I'm so glad I took my proper time to read and enjoy this because I felt so many things reading this chapter, it was amazing as always and can't wait for what's next!!

Sending you pinky finger hugs!

Hola, Ana!! I'm so happy you got to read part 13 despite now busy you are!! Congrats on starting your new masters!!!!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳 I'm so proud of you!!!! Also, I'm screaming about you being in your O'Hara era, haha!! You're truly embodying him with all the screens and staying up!! But in all seriousness, I hope you're doing well and taking some well deserved time off, at least a few minutes for your mental health :)

Also, I loved reading all your reactions as you were reading the part, haha (I hope you didn't wake up your roommates)!! But now, time for me to rant about this chapter, too, because it's been one of my favorite to write so far!!

The scarf moment - the way reader tricked Miguel so she could wear it and keep her scent on it, him placing it on her the next time!! He was bold for that and playful which skjksjh, I love this side of him !! But | agree, need them to kiss already !!!! (currently fighting thoughts on them kissing and doing more 🫣🫣 the thoughts are just too much)

Reader WEARING MIGUEL'S JACKET, I'M SO GLAD YOU MENTION IT BECAUSE I WAS SCREAMING ABOUT IT AND MIGUEL'S REACTION - mans brain was buffering 💀 but also imagine wearing his jacket?? I need it 😮‍💨 imagine how comforting it would feel? And his SCENT (I'm normal about this, I promise)

sjshJSsk reader telling Miguel, " I'll see you at home" - just me being silly, and giving you guys and myself a little taste of the future 😌 (once again, the thoughts are consuming me)

Okay for the telenovela part, I was like gotta include this because this was also an evening thing for my siblings and me with my parents. I also love thinking about Miguel having these Latin experiences, so I was like imagine Miguel and Gabriel sitting at the dining table doing homework while Conchata watches the telenovela? Plus, it gave me an excuse to include Gabriel because I seriously love him so much!! So, I'm so happy that this little scene allowed you to reminisce on your childhood!! 🥺

ANA I WAS HOPING SOMEONE WOULD MENTION THE EDUARDO YAÑEZ REFERENCE - THANK YOU!!! I had to after seeing people on tiktok saying Miguel kinda looked like him months ago lol and well, me personally, I had the biggest crush on him growing up 🤭 (and real! Destilando Amor is one of my favorite telenovelas !!)

About reader maybe having a crush on him because she realizes she's found someone like Peter in Miguel....um, no comment. But I definitely have a crush on him (I love him)!!!

And Miguel stuffing a pillow into reader's sweatshirt - SAME!! I'm like, just come and hug me, Miguel, no need for the pillow (imagining things right now)

The whole moment with the blanket and canelita to have this talk about Miguel's past - I wanted the moment to be as comforting as possible for Miguel with how heavy and sad the talk was going to be. 😭 And then, both of them yearning for physical contact (because Miguel is definitely yearning for it, if it's not clear!!) I just really loved it because now we have not only reader but also Miguel wanting more physical touch!!! I can't wait for them to finally hug fr!!!

Ana, I would love to know about your theories regarding the multiverse and universes collapsing because it's something I've been thinking about. I literally think about it and then just stop because I feel like I'm losing my mind over it. I NEED ANSWERS!! And more Miggy content, too 😭😭

THE GABY DOODLE HAS KILLED ME - SHES SO CUTE!!! LOOK AT HER CHEEKY SMILE - THE WAY I WOULD'VE CRIED IF I SAW THAT PIC LIVE WITH MIGUEL !!! The Luna de Xelajú mention with Gaby - I hurt myself with that one ngl and I feel you!! I know Gaby has little screen time in the movie but I just love her so much and I wish we had more content of her and Miggy (Sony I'm begging for more content of them happy plssss)!! But no, seriously, I would love to have her in my life and look after her (I would even raise her, let's be real) She's such an angel 🥺🥺

The part with Miguel telling reader about his dreams and her being part of them, and how she interacts with Gaby and Gabriel and how they love her !! And then you also have reader revealing that she loves them, too - AHHH!!! It's like, you guys should marry already pls (Gaby and Gabriel are probably watching from somewhere like, "éstos dos..." 🫠 Gabriel probably tells Gaby that, "Your dad has one of the brightest minds of all time, but he's never been good at this romance thing. So, I guess we need to give him time.")

OK OK OK OK YOUR DOODLE OF MIGUEL SLEEPING AND HOLDING HANDS WITH READER AHHHHH!!!!

He looks so dreamy and cute 🥺🥺🥺 I love it so much I'm just staring at my screen (again) with heart eyes!!!! Thank you Ana ❤️❤️❤️ I'm so happy you liked this moment because I was screaming and ventilating the whole time while writing it!!!!!

AND YES, IT'S HAPPENING, WE OFFICIALLY HAVE THE BEST FRIEND TITLE (almost 200k words later) BUT WE GOT HERE!!!! And we had some hand holding action (I've been waiting for this for months ngl!!!) I'm so proud of them finally admitting it!!!

MIGGY AND YOU, ANA -IM- THEY'RE SO CUTE AND MIGGY LAUGHING 🥺😭I LOVE THIS!!! You guys look so cute!!! I hope you draw your spidersona with Miggy more because they just look so cute together!!!!!! (when do we get a spidersona reveal fr?) BUT SERIOUSLY LOOK AT MIGGY !!! NEED THIS MAN TO SMILE AND LAUGH

Omg and the food and mention- I told you I was going to add the garibaldis and chilaquiles!! I was planning on including them in part 12 but then the flow of the chapter changed, so I decided to leave it for part 13!! I'm glad it made you happy!!! I thought it would be nice since you've told me you love both things (and I also love chilaquiles with all my heart), so I'm happy you loved it!!!! And girl, me, too!!! I want to sit down and drink coffee with Miguel and eat pan dulce, and then have him cook spicy chilaquiles - PLSSS !!!

I'm so so happy you enjoyed this chapter, friend!! I enjoyed reading your live reactions to it hehe, it made my heart explode with happiness!! And please don't apologize, I understand completely about being busy!! I hope school, work, and life in general is going smoothly for you!! I'm rooting for you and again, CONGRATS ON STARTING YOUR NEW MASTERS!!! I'm so, so proud of you 🥹

ALSO NOT YOU SIGNING OFF WITH PINKY FINGER HUGS !!!! AHHHHH I LOVE THAT AND YOU!!! THANK YOU FRIEND!!!!💖💖

Sending you pinky finger hugs back!!! <333

[frankenjoly]

thanks for tagging me @bunniezai @demolitionlovrsskk (don't mind being tagged twice, in fact that's how i remembered i forgot doing it the first time alsdkjf sorry) :3

1) Were you named after anyone?

claudia from interview with a vampire, bcs my mom thought she was cute in the movie (and i still haven't seen it even when i wanna, shame on me).

2) Last time you cried?

can't say for sure, but definitely not too long ago. i cry quite easily in general, and with fiction in particular.

3) Do you have children?

no, and i don't think i will.

4) Do you play sports?

i go to the gym for the dance activities or yoga, but that's pretty much it.

5) Do you use sarcasm?

yeah, when joking and so (aka when it's obvious i'm not being serious).

6) What's the first thing you notice about people?

dunno? maybe the eyes and if they seem nice.

7) What's your eye color?

greyish blue.

8) Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings all the way. i'm picky with scary movies bcs jumpscares make me anxious alsjf.

9) Talents?

i think i write good (or at least it's one of the things i'm 100% confident about myself), and i'm kinda witty when it comes to making puns.

10) Where were you born?

i'm just gonna say spain, bcs, y'know.

11) What are your hobbies?

writing (both fics and rp), reading, videogames, watching shows/movies (mainly anime nowadays bcs god bless 20 min eps).

12) Do you have any pets?

nope.

13) How tall are you?

159 cm.

14) Favorite school subject?

biology, and also liked arts.

15) Dream job?

i wanna do science, preferably. but tbh, i can make do with anything that doesn't crush me and gives money and free time to live (i'm quite good at my current one but it's not for indefinitely).

No pressure tags: @ildi-dragonheart @noirewaves @zukkaoru @llilli64 @diary-ofamadwoman @fyodorkitkat @louisjamesmoriarty

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Twenty-Five — Fallout

It took me way too long to find my voice — I felt more disconnected from my body now than when I was freezing over. “When does it get easier?” I asked, voice croaky and barely there. “When do you stop feeling guilty over it?” 

5,555 words [teehee] | 20 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: violence, described spiraling, death, racism, illness

Brent pulled the sleeve of his sweater over the wrapping on his elbow as the phlebotomist, I’d discovered they’re called, filed away his blood samples in this tube holder, each one marked. 

“Stress to them that I need the results as soon as they can get them,” Dr. Sims was talking off to the side with some technician. “The full report, in email.”

The tech muttered some agreement, clearly awestruck at who he was talking to, and was gone with the vials the moment they were handed off. 

“So what’s a…microray?” Brent asked.

“Microarray,” Dr. Sims corrected. He was dressed differently today; business casual, collar of his dress shirt caught on the neckline of the wool sweater. “It’ll break down the sequencing of each individual chromosome and tell us if there’s any genetic malformations in your DNA,”

“And why would we need to know that?” Brent glanced over at Dad, who was sitting in the now-baren windowsill seats and looking out the window. Everything Dad and Brent had in this room was packed up, ready to go as soon as I got medicine from the in-hospital pharmacy. 

Dad sighed hard, staring at the sky like it had all the answers for a moment longer before turning in place to face us. “There’s something I need to explain to you both,” 

And then he began to tell us more about how Mom got sick. 

She didn’t heal immediately after having us, but the doctors brushed it off; a Conduit has to be in decent shape to heal and she simply wasn’t. She lost a lot of blood in the abruption, and the blood transfusion had to be from someone without the Conduit gene as the enzymes are dangerous to normal people, so she may have been beyond drained out. That’s what they thought, at least. “They told us to give it a week,” Dad said, “That we’d probably see progress by then.”

They didn’t. Instead, Mom was discharged, and then back in the hospital nearly two days later for MRSA. 

The Doctors contributed the infection to her weakened system, and brushed it off then as well. “When someone’s pregnant, their immune system is ass,” Dad tried to joke, with no real humor in his voice. “So they reset the healing clock on us. Told us to wait two weeks. Raising two newborns on my own when she was hospitalized was horrible, by the way,”

Two weeks came and went and her scar wasn’t gone. Her and Dad brought it up to her obstetrician, and they simply said to wait till her six week check-up. The amount of time it takes for someone normal to heal. “They did that again and again, a lot. Just told us to be patient and do it the human way,” Dad shook his head.

She began to bruise. She started getting bloody noses again. She had accidentally sliced a knuckle to the bone in a dishwashing accident and had to get stitches, which stuck around instead of dissolving almost immediately. “Healing was the first thing to disappear, and then her powers got weaker.”

Brent looked at me, fear in his eyes. “So does…does that mean Jean’s…”

“We aren’t sure yet.” Dr. Sims said. “That’s what the microarray is for. I was still in school when Fetch died — what was happening to her was what made me go in the first place. But that means we never found out what made her sick, and we’ve gotta rule out that it isn’t something genetic.”

“But didn’t you guys say it might be Augustine’s tar?” Brent asked.

“It might be,” Dad responded. “Which is where the second part of this conversation comes in.”

What the hell did that mean?

Dad took his jacket from his lap and chucked it on to the little backpack he had, hands going to his knees in its place. “Remember that holiday vacation I promised?”

What the hell did that mean? “Yeah?” I asked, glancing over at Brent with a cocked eyebrow. Was this like how people take out their dogs for the day before putting them down? Was I getting a ‘Best Day Ever’ before kicking the bucket? At least Brent seemed to be feeling the canine excitement; he was suddenly sitting perched at the end of my bed like he was waiting for Dad to ask him if he wanted to go for a walk. 

Dad smiled slightly — though it looked more like a grimace. “Have either of you ever wanted to visit New Marais?”

Brent immediately cringed, and I couldn’t blame him. New Marais was…bad. Bad enough that Theresa’s mom basically fled from there after her dad was killed. I’m pretty sure it was the world capital for place most likely to get stabbed at. There were literal robbers poised at bridges, shooting the tires of cars on the highway to make them crash so they could pilfer everything from the vehicle. The only people that’d thrive in New Marais were criminals, extortionists, and other sorts of bloodsuckers. It wasn’t a pretty place, hadn’t been in literal decades; after the flood and the fascists, it had no allure. Unless you liked French colonial structures and being assaulted. 

Even the architecture couldn’t convince Brent; he looked at me, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. “Why, uh…” I drew off. “Why New Marais?”

Dad wasn’t surprised at our apprehension — in fact, he seemed to agree with it. “There’s someone there that can help us out. Knows a bit about tar powers — but we have to be there to get answers. He’s outside of the city center, from what I understand, but it’s…”

“New Marais,” Brent said distastefully. 

Dad nodded. “New Marais.”

“That’s still Louisiana,” I said, “That’s gotta be a couple hour flight, right?”

Dad grimaced. “Actually, it’ll be a…three day drive…”

“I’m not allowed to fly.” Dr. Sims said from his place, yet again, by the sink. “Not in planes, at least. I don’t plan on flying that far with my powers, either.”

“You’re coming with us?” Brent asked, an undertone of astonishment in his voice. 

Dr. Sims nodded. “What’s happening to your sister is something I plan to see through. I didn’t get to…to help Fetch in time. I’m going to do it this time. It’s what she’d want.”

The way he talked, you’d think he and Mom were age-old friends. How well did they know each other?

The doctor came up with prescriptions, pain medicine and antibiotics and something else I couldn’t pronounce, giving directions I knew I’d forget the moment I left this room. Dad knew this too, saying, “I’ll put alarms on my phone — oh,” he reached down to the backpack, fiddling with the thing and pulling something out. “Put them on yours too.”

He tossed my phone towards my broken arm, forgetting I couldn’t exactly reach out and catch it with it held against my chest in the sling. 

Dr. Sims slipped out at some point on promises that he’d be right back — and he was. Almost within three minutes. He was a bit winded, looking past Brent and I as he helped me figure out how to put on my jacket to look straight at Dad, saying, “We’ve got an issue,”

Dad’s face immediately got steely hard, and he stood, shoulders squared. “What’s up?”

“Not that kind of—” Dr. Sims cut off, “Well, it could be. Protest.”

Dad growled. “How the hell do they know we’re here?”

“Someone probably slipped something to the media,” Dr. Sims crossed the room in a second and was at the window, looking down at the parking lot a few floors below. “Might have seen you. Looks like they’re congesting the main entrance though, so we can probably slip out back. Problem is, none of us can get to the parking garage without them seeing,”

“It’s just a few protestors,” Brent shrugged. “We can get past them.”

“It’s…” Dr. Sims trailed off. “It’s more than a few.” 

“One of us could go move the truck—” Dad started. 

“They’ll just chase us down.” 

“Is there a roof entrance?” Brent asked. “Maybe we can leave a different way, come back for the truck?”

Dad looked at him like he was an idiot. “I’m not letting your sister climb a hundred feet in the air when she can’t make the landing.”

I managed to balance the jacket on my shoulders, saying, “We should just go. Brent’s right, we’ve walked past them dozens of times before. There’s probably cops monitoring, we should be fine.”

Dad looked like he wanted to do anything, literally anything, except that. “If they get violent, Jean…” he warned. 

Oh, God. Don’t tell me he’s turning into this sort of parent. “I can still defend myself, Dad.” I insisted. He wasn’t going to start keeping me in bubble wrap, right?

Dr. Sims actually came to my rescue. “We’ll all be there, she should be fine.”

“We can even escort her,” Brent added, amused. “Like some c-list celebrity.”

Dad bit at his cheek, unsure — but also entirely out of options. “Fine, okay,” He said. “We’ll move quick. Eugene, think you can guard Jean while she gets in the truck? I’ll cover Brent.”

Well, at least I wasn’t the only one he was being overprotective of. “Sure,” Dr. Sims said. 

They found a formation when we stood in the elevators, just in case some people made it into the lobby of the hospital; Brent and Dr. Sims stood in front of me, flanking each side for space while Dad stayed behind me. A full cover of large, powerful bodyguards to make up for the fact that I was now weak. It felt so demeaning. I was some weak spot in the family now, a risk that they’d have to mind at all times. 

As the elevator doors opened up into a hallway, I could hear them, a dozen voices, maybe even bordering on a hundred, all chanting angrily — although I couldn’t make out what. Brent cast an unsure look over his shoulder, asking, “Maybe we should stay a while?”

Dad’s face was steeled. “There’s no point.” he said plainly, a sudden shift from his hesitancy before. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

Still, as we passed an electronic map in the hall, Dad’s hand came out and drained it of all imagery, matching Dr. Sims in power. 

The lobby was huge and fancy and white, with some big fountain fixture in the middle, its white noise barely doing anything to silence the voices. The windows, though, were big enough to show how many people there were. There were at least a hundred, all being forced to the sides by police so that the actual entrance to the hospital would be clear for patients and visitors, with three separate news vans recording the tension. “Fucking hell,” Dad muttered behind me. 

“At least there’s cops?” I offered, not entirely sure that was a good thing. Rarely was. 

“Stay looking forward, stay walking, don’t engage,” Dad listed off behind me. “You hear me, Brent? Don’t engage—”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you,” Brent muttered, going a bit red. 

The foyer of the hospital had a line of police whose eyes I avoided; just gotta stay in step and keep moving forward. Easy enough. 

All of that assurance disappeared when we stepped outside to what was moments away from becoming an angry mob. But what I wasn’t prepared for was to be confronted with images of me; a grainy picture of me trying to get the huge concrete rock to not hit the helicopter, my Linus Pauling yearbook picture. The signs were all littered with words, accusations: Shot out of the sky on the ones with the footage, a sign with just the number 137 on it, the 7 written on a sticky note. An update on the death count. 

Me. They were protesting me. 

And as we stepped further into the light, the protestors zeroed in on me, and the general yelling became targeted insults that somehow melted into white noise and also stood out to me all at once. “Dirty Bio-terrorist!” one person yelled. 

“There’s over fifteen thousand unemployed, I hope you’re happy!”

“You killed my brother!” 

“We’re homeless now!”

“Someone oughta hold your head underwater!”

I didn’t realize I was frozen in place until Dad’s arm wrapped around me, and he began to roughly steer me through the slight divot in the crowd Dr. Sims and Brent’s bodies had made. “C’mon, Jean,” he muttered, voice as stiff as could be. 

There was no getting through the crowd here; the flow of the protestors followed us like what I imagine wolves hunting elk did. But was it fair to paint them as the predators when they were the real victims here? If the Big Bad Wolf was on trial for the murder of those pigs, could you blame other swine for wanting to swallow him whole? 

And that wasn’t an exaggeration; the crowd seemed to push closer in until they were claustrophobically close, until the heat of their insults warmed my skin. There was a shout, louder than the rest, and suddenly Brent was slamming himself into my side, arm steeled and shield up and I stumbled and yelled in pain. Something crashed against it with a musical ping, and a rather large decorative rock from the piles in the medians fell between his feet. 

“The fuck, dude?” Brent shouted, swiping the rock up from his feet. He looked about ready to chuck it back, trying to get a good eye on whoever threw it. 

“Things are getting out of hand,” Dr. Sims warned. 

Dad tucked me closer into his side and walked faster, repeating under his breath again and again, “Stay looking forward, keep walking,” as if he was moments away from also going after people. 

Brent stayed posted on my other side with his shield up all the way until we got to the entrance of the parking garage, people filtering around the entrance that was currently occupied by a few cars trying to either find parking or pay for it. Only protestors, though — all of those cops that had congregated the entrance? They were nowhere to be seen. The one running interference now was Dr. Sims, who stepped to the side, pushed us all into the stairwell, and then lifted his hands, blue light beginning to swirl around them. 

“Eugene, what the hell are you doing?” Dad asked, pushing me up a step. 

“Buying us some time. Go!” He demanded. “I’ll catch up.”

He waved those arms, and the air in front of him began to turn blue and solidify. Parts of it went silver like Brent, other parts stayed blue, and it began to take on a humanoid form when Dad pushed me again, forcing me up the stairwell. 

Brent was in the lead, taking two at a time and looking back to watch me struggle to climb. God, the cut in my side was throbbing with each rough breath. Dad stayed behind me chanting encouraging reassurances, like “You’ve got this, Jeanie,” and “Last flight of stairs, c’mon.” 

Thank god — I didn’t think I could go much farther.

Dad rushed us to his truck, opening the back door on the drivers’ side and forcing us both in there. “Brent, cover your sister for me. I’ll get us out of here,” 

“Shouldn’t we wait for Dr. Sims?” Brent asked, crawling in awkwardly after me. 

“He’ll catch up,” he reassured us. 

Wasn’t sure how someone was supposed to catch up to a moving vehicle, but okay. 

Brent’s shield was gone, but both arms were steeled now, covering my head and neck as he practically forced me to duck into his lap. I couldn’t see anything that was going on besides the shifts in light, but God, I could hear those protestors, louder than before and seemingly arguing with something. Did Dr. Sims…start a fight? 

I peeked up from Brent’s lap just as the light shifted to see the protestors trying to fight their way into the parking garage against…eight tall, armored, blushed-blue winged angels.

“What the fuck?” I whispered, watching these angels levitate a mere ten inches off of the ground, refusing to part for the protestors — and cars — trying to come in. 

“Get ready,” Dad warned us. Brent forced my head back down. 

Dad honked the horn twice and there was a sudden collection of shouts from the protestors before Dad revved the engine and peeled out of there, throwing the truck so roughly right that I left Brent’s lap and nearly flew into the floorboard. There were more shouts, insults and curse words thrown our way that were drowned out by the truck’s roar and distance as Dad sped out of the area. 

I stayed down for three minutes before Dad sighed hard and called back, “You’re good now, Jeanie.”

I could barely move. Those people, nearly a hundred people, came to the hospital to protest because I was there. Because of what I did. 

“You okay?” Brent asked me. 

I just stayed staring at the rock on the floorboard, the one aimed for me. How could I be okay? 

We were well on the highway and nearly to the connection bridge that crossed to the other side of the Sound when the truck suddenly lurched as something slammed into the truck bed. Dad cursed as we both yelped, swerving in his lane so hard that the people beside us honked furiously as Brent and I spun around to see what happened.

Dr. Sims was in the bed face down, the groan audible from where we were despite the ambiance of rolling down the highway at 65 miles an hour.

“What the fuck was that?” Dad demanded, head whipping back to look at us and looking straight just as quickly as he moved to the right lane, slowing down. 

“It’s uh,” Brent cocked his head. “It’s Dr. Sims? But he isn’t looking too good…”

He wasn’t looking anything. He hadn’t moved, face plastered in the lateral grooving of the truck bed.

Dad moved over until he was on the shoulder of the highway, putting the car in park and hopping out to check on Dr. Sims. “You good, Eugene?” he asked. 

“Had to…couldn’t find you. Made an angel…fly me around. Out,” I could hear him groan through the window. “You’d think…I’d know how to land by now,”

“Well if your powers gave out, you couldn’t exactly stop it.” Dad shook his head. “C’mon, get in the truck,”

This was met by a loud groan that lasted for at least thirty seconds before Dr. Sims even tried to move a muscle. 

Dr. Sims was now comfortably in the passenger's side seat of Dad’s truck, thanking him like a man parched when Dad sacrificed his phone for draining. “Does that not break it?” Brent asked. 

Dad shook his head, glancing at us in the rearview mirror as Dr. Sims recovered. “Nah. Kinda just makes it short circuit for a while, but it’ll work again soon.”

Dr. Sims leaned his head back on the headrest, gasping out at the relief of the drain. “Thanks Del,” 

“Sure. At least you have good aim,”

We were returning to Salmon Bay, but only for a moment; we were going to pack, maybe eat, and then start the thirty-nine hour drive to Louisiana. A multi-state trip that Dr. Sims and Dad began trying to plan as soon as Dad’s phone turned back on. “So it’s only a ten mile difference if we go right at Salt Lake City and take the highway to Denver,” Dr. Sims hummed. “Cuts through Wyoming,”

“We could make it a road trip?” Brent offered. “Yellowstone – could go to a Broncos game—”

“We’re…crunched for time, bud,” Dad said, casting a quick glance at me in his rearview mirror. 

Right — I was the ticking time bomb now, the arsenal no one wanted around ‘cause it’d ruin days and maybe lives. I was holding the cool rock in my hand now that was aimed for my head, if what Brent chattered off at some point was true. I couldn’t even blame whoever threw it, not if they were impacted by what I did. 

I was the cause of their discontent. They weren’t there to picket Dad or Dr. Sims, or Conduits in general with its two biggest leaders in the same place — but me. Not only for the deaths — people were screaming about losing their homes, their jobs. I may have killed one hundred and thirty-four — no, one hundred and thirty-seven, now — but I ruined the lives of so many more. 

How many people were homeless now? How many people would have to scramble to live, to make money? 

Salmon Bay wasn’t hurt, at least. That’s really all I could cling on to, was that they seemed relatively untouched. The Longhouse was roped off, and there were spots in the concrete that had been ripped up, but the wood chips and body were all wiped away. 

Betty’s baby blue Beetle was in the house’s driveway, and it seemed the moment we turned down the street she was already racing out of the house, at Dad’s driver’s side in an instant and nearly yanking me out of the truck. “Oh, Regina!” She cooed, missing how I winced in pain as she gripped me tight around the abdomen. “You’re alright!”

Dad caught the grimace, gently peeling Betty off of me like you would a bandaid off of a toddler. “Okay, give her some room,” he chuckled under his breath. 

Betty stepped back, shifting her hands to my shoulders and looking me over. She glanced over my shoulder at Dad with that look, that pathetically sad one that people reserved for children’s graves and oil-slick ducklings before wiping it clear off of her face and saying, “You need to eat! Come on, I made lunch.”

There was no convincing Betty I wasn’t hungry; she actually hovered near me until I took a bite of the grilled chicken she made before finally sauntering off, satisfied. The house was different; there was a new side table shoved in beside the couch, a television on the floor next to a propped-up mounting system. The kitchen had been entirely unpacked and had a bunch of unopened bulk cleaning supplies on the counters. 

“Your family was meant to be the stars of the Potlatch,” Betty chimed in at some point. “A Potlatch is to share fortune among the tribe, and that’s what we planned to do for you all so that moving in would be more comfortable. Furniture, linens, the like — there were so many in the reservation that found something in good quality to donate. While you were…” She drew off, hesitating before going with, “In the hospital, I called in some favors and had everything moved in. In fact, I want to show you your room when you’re done!”

“We’re practically all moved in, now,” Dad added. “‘Course there’s probably a bunch of little things we’re forgetting, but for now, this is gonna be home.”

Yet another big change. 

“Speaking of moving, though.” Dad added, taking a moment to chew on his food before continuing, “I found something when I was going through your stuff, Brent.”

Brent froze, fork midway to his mouth, and the blush from the cold outside almost immediately left his face as he paled. “Oh, really?” He tried to play cool. 

Dad snorted, not ignorant to what he was doing. “Relax, you’re not in trouble. Not big trouble, anyways. But c’mon, man, why did you think having weed in a lawyer's house was a good idea? You know how deep of shit you would have gotten into if I found it before all of this?”

Brent blinked. “You’re…not mad?”

Dad barked out a laugh. “You really think I wasn’t smoking weed at your age? But Brent, son — it’s legal. You couldn’t wait till you were eighteen?”

Brent was still absolutely baffled at how this conversation was going, and I’m sure if we could hear the cogs in his brain, they’d be grinding so hard against each other that the sound would make us all cringe. “I’m…sorry?” he asked, not sure where he was supposed to go with this. 

Dad shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t matter much, now. You have a higher metabolism, so getting high off of…regular stuff won’t be easy. That does not mean to try anything harder.” He stressed. “But if you plan on using dab pens, get ready to have to pull that fucker for a good eight minutes—”

“Delsin!” Betty chastised, Dr. Sims stifling a laugh from the couch. 

Once they wound down and Dad mumbled his apologies, I spoke up, asking, “When do we leave?”

Dad hummed, thinking. “Tonight, probably. Less traffic, less people. We can all take turns too, since you two have your permit — well, you probably can’t Jean, but you could,” he directed towards Brent. “Eugene and I are gonna finish deciding which route we’re taking, and we’ll go after everyone packs.” He looked over his shoulder at Dr. Sims. “You’re sure you have everything you need?”

Dr. Sims shrugged. “For the most part. My laptops are still in your truck, and my go bag has enough supplies for a week without access to, say, washers or something. I don’t need much more.”

“I think I’m done,” I said, standing and abandoning the meal that was barely dug into. “I’m gonna go down to my room, start packing.”

“Oh! Let me show you where everything is—” Betty began, but I shook my head. 

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I can find it all. Kinda wanna lay down, too.”

Betty hesitated mid-step, shooting a look over to Dad, who seemed just as concerned. “You sure, Jeanie?” he asked. 

I hated how they all were looking at me. “Yeah, Dad. I’m sure,” I said as lightly as I could, trying not to let my annoyance come through. 

Dad slowly nodded, eyes not leaving mine. He was trying to analyze my poker face for something. “Alright. I’ll come check on you after we finalize a plan,”

Check on me. Like I couldn’t be left alone for too long without fear that I’d drop dead. “Yeah, sure,” I muttered, already turning around and heading down the hall. I ran away from their concern as quickly as I could, disappearing down into the basement and closing the door behind me, a small barrier between us all.

Betty really had put work into making the room feel less like squatting underneath a bridge and like an actual room; the mattress was now on one of those beds with storage cabinets underneath, my art chest sitting at its foot on the ground. There was a short, whitish dresser on one wall and a desk on the other, which I walked towards while pulling the rock from the protest out of my pocket, setting it on top of a bunch of random unopened school supplies. 

Right! On top of everything, I was still in high school. Because things couldn’t get worse.

Well, no, they could. I knew exactly how they could, and how I could avoid it — but I didn’t. Why should I? I plopped down on the bed, threw off my arm sling, wrapped myself up in that woven blanket with Salmon in the middle and pulled out my phone.

Was it responsibility, curiosity, or just self-loathing that led me to wanting to look up more about the flood in Seattle? Probably all three. I needed to see what I did, how it impacted everyone because…didn’t I have a duty of care here? Didn’t I have a responsibility to care?

It would have been so much easier if I didn’t.

There was some footage from the fight from that helicopter, and that was really the only place I found anyone in my defense; the reporter, cameraman and pilot all lived, thank God, and it seemed like there were people in agreement that that was my initial plan. That’s where it ended, though. 

There was a tag specifically for the tsunami everywhere, littered with people asking for donations to online fundraisers and if anyone knew which amnesty hotels still had rooms available. I hadn’t considered there would still be people missing too, unaccounted for in the chaos of recovery; .pdfs with faces and names and case numbers all littered the tag with family and friends begging them to come home. And the vitriol. 

Another Rowe, ruining lives, one said. 

There was a picture of my mom with a 289 above her, the image beside it of me at that art expo I won last year, side by side with the judges and Dad, 134 over it.  The entire thing was titled apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. 

There were already politicians using what happened as their campaign fodder, speaking of how Conduits cannot be trusted to keep civilization safe if they’re able to live in it. “One Conduit has a bad day, and the body count is in the hundreds. A juvenile Conduit just killed over a hundred people in Seattle, injured thousands, and disrupted the lives of over seven hundred thousand people. This is a child who goes to school with your children, who doesn’t have control over their powers yet — what are we supposed to do when the next Conduit with absolutely no control over their abilities messes up? How can we trust we’re safe when these people don’t even seem to have control over themselves?”

Gotta get a new car because Tiger Lily flooded my brand new Mazda, one complained. 

It’s gonna take more than identification, another tweeted. Pocahontas was stuck on a reservation and still managed to attack a big city. Biterrorists need to be carted off to some island.

He didn’t even spell Bio-terrorist right. 

I could barely find the energy to get angry at the racism — how could I when the next post would be one for a funeral, or a wake, or just begging for someone, anyone, to tell the poster if their family member was alive?

And God, the obituaries. There was something bleak and horrifying about seeing one for a child that knocked the wind out of me so hard I began to hyperventilate to get it back. This was worse than the seven year old at COLE. There were dozens of children, old people and middle aged ones and people my age, barely adults. So many people died. 

Waves began roaring in my ears as my breathing picked up, and while I was still looking straight at my phone screen, none of it made sense anymore. The words looked like nothing more than scribbles a child would do. That a child should be doing, not being lowered six feet into the ground or cremated or…

Oh, God, I couldn’t breathe. 

I drew my legs into my chest and squeezed my eyes shut until they felt welded together, struggling to get in enough oxygen to feel like it was reaching my lungs. Fuck. A hundred and thirty seven people. All of this, all of this, was my fault. If I didn’t get caught by that Akuran, none of this would have happened. No one would be dead, our lives wouldn’t have been upended, maybe I’d even be able to heal without worrying why it was wrong — because if I didn’t know I was Conduit, I wouldn’t even feel like anything was wrong! My cast pressing into my chest wouldn’t feel like the squeeze of an anvil threatening to crush me whole. None of this would be happening, but it was, and it was my fault. My fault. My—

The bed moved, and someone settled in behind me, hands wrapping around the wrist dug into my hair and forcing it down to my chest, crossing it and grabbing my other arm the same way. I was gently leaned back, straightened from my curled form and pulled into a chest, and could barely hear Dad through the tinnitus in my ears. “You’re having a panic attack, Jean. I need you to breathe,” he commanded softly. “Use your stomach, not your chest.” 

I tried to follow his instructions but it seemed to take two minutes just to get a neuron in my brain to spark hard enough to adjust how I breathed. Dad stayed there holding me, enveloping my little form, keeping me from doing anything else but concentrate on breathing. 

My ears stopped ringing but began to sound like they were stuffed full of cotton balls, everything far away. Even as Dad’s soothing voice broke through my harsh hiccups, it felt like I was listening to him from underwater. His arms slackened their hold on mine, one leaving to pick up my phone as he whispered, “Oh, Jean,” before closing out the picture of a 10 year old’s obituary. 

 It took me way too long to find my voice — I felt more disconnected from my body now than when I was freezing over. “When does it get easier?” I asked, voice croaky and barely there. “When do you stop feeling guilty over it?” 

He shifted to my side, pulling me in so my ear was just over his heart. “I’m not sure,” he sighed. “It hasn’t gotten better for me.”

[lazeecomet]

How to teach someone to drive

Featuring my younger brother who has anxiety and has already been a passenger in a car crash

I learned to drive in spite of my parents. They got me an online class (no video, just walls of text and clip art with quizzes) and sat in the car, but they didn't really do any teaching. I failed my behind the wheel test on my first go around. I wasn't gonna have my brother go though the same thing so this is how I got him able to pass his test with 0 faults on his first try in about 6 months (and my parents never even knew it was happening)

Make sure this is something they want to do or feel like they should do. It's very hard to learn to drive if you don't think you need to learn to drive. my brother was against driving but ultimately conceded that he needed to learn at some point even though he didn't like the idea of it

Use the right car. Don't use a big truck or something with weird or large blind spots. I hated driving my mom's volt because i sat way too high in it and couldn't see out very well which feed back to point 1

Link it in with a fun outdoor activity. Are you going somewhere? Plan to do driving afterwards. Do not spring this as a surprise. since your already out and about go for a drive.

Plan a route. Look on Google maps for some cul-de-sac or neighborhood where there is only 1 or 2 ways in or out. This will ensure they can't get onto a main road and also cut down on other traffic

Park the car and take photos of the mirrors from the drivers seat. Show them what you have centered in each. Have them adjust the mirrors to match the photo

Drive around the cul-de-sac. The first few drives will only be about 10 minutes long. Show were to stop at a stop sign. show when to yield. get use to accelerating and breaking gently. Do a 3 point turn and go the other way for some variety. reverse the car against the sidewalk for about 30 feet. parallel parking comes later.

Repeat step 6 until they are comfortable.

Plan a longer route. Use Google maps to find a different neighborhood that has more cross streets and route out a 20 min weave though the neighborhood. with android auto/apple carplay/a phone clip, seeing the route to be taken and knowing what turns need to be taken ahead of time will add purpose to the drive. it sucks to drive around aimlessly. always have a destination

Drive the longer route. This should only need to be done once or twice. Point out any new road signs and what the mean and what to check for

Find the driver's handbook for your state and send it to them. It's usually not more then a 10-20 page PDF with lots of pictures and is a very quick read. the next step is dealing with THE PUBLIC so they should know ALL the rules of the road

plan a route along a less populated multi lane road. something that gets up to 35-45 mph with low traffic. you know the type

drive the multi lane road. go over merging and practice changing lanes at speed. point out new road signs and have them keep awareness of surrounding cars. is there someone behind them that wants to pass? move over. is there someone beside you in the blind spot? are they in front with their signal on? let them in.

its time to start extending the driving time. have them drive to the destination/event or drive home from it. stick to back roads. do not use the highway. google maps has a setting to avoid highways. just follow that. parking lots will now be the new practice backing up

when the situation presents itself, practice parallel parking. its not on the test but its just so good to know. if you could pull into a parking space have them try and parallel park instead

register online for the behind the wheel test and have them drive the car to DMV to take the test

and thats it. in ~6 months only driving one day a week for no more then 2 hours, you can get someone comfortable with driving. going from not driving to driving is all about building confidence. the steps need to be small enough not to overwhelm and the stakes low at the start to make messing up inconsequential. and speaking of mistakes, unless the error is unsafe, do not point out an error until after the situation was passed. its overwhelming and stress inducing if you point out the error while its happening as they will try to correct it, usually slamming on the breaks which is less then ideal.

for example, if they go though a pedestrian crossing without checking for pedestrians (even when there are none), point out how they didnt check, the signs that were leading up to it, and make a point to call out the next one so they do check. on the other hand, if they are about to make a unprotected left on green with cross traffic, STOP THEM.

I hope some people find this helpful. driving is stressful at times. learning how to drive does not need to amplify that

[lainereclipse]

MARY-KATE AND ASHLEY TWO OF A KIND - IT’S A TWIN THING BY JUDY KATSCHKE 

BOOK REVIEW BY LAINER ECLIPSE 18/09/24

NUMBER OF BOOK  IN BOOK SERIES : #1 

Author of this book : Judy Katschke 

Star rating 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩶🩶🩶🩶Spoiler warning : Yes

Triggers are -Mentions the death of their mom and that she was very unwell. 

Other notes 

Genres - Middle grade, young teen fiction, tv, family, teen/pre teen. 

Pages : 112 

Year this book was published : January 6,1999 

Base of off - The hit tv show sitcom, Two of a kind episode (putting two ‘n’ two together) 

Rated - PG/Pre teens 

Blurb -  Baby-sitter Blues

Ashley can't wait to go back to school. The new school year means shopping for new clothes, meeting boys...shopping for more new clothes! Her twin sister, Mary-Kate, thinks she's crazy. Mary-Kate would much rather hit a softball than hit the mega-mall. But they do agree on one thing: They're way too old for a baby-sitter! Too bad their dad doesn't see it the same way. Now the twins need a plan--a plan to show Dad just how right they are!

Character list : 

Mary-Kate Burke (Staring main character)

Ashley Burke (Staring main character)

Kevin Burke (Semi main character)

Carrie Moore (Semi main character)

Brain (Recurring character)

Max (Recurring character)

Jessica (Recurring character)

Mrs. Baker (Side character)

Mr. Fillmore (Side character)

Pokey Valentine (Side character)  

  -My Final thoughts-

I really loved reading this book again and this book series because it’s a short but easy read with heartwarming as well. To be honest though the first book in this series really has always been my favorite to read out of the series because I am not someone who is really into the sport softball. I also find this book too uninteresting and slow to begin with but after you get into about the sixth chapter it does begin to pick up from there.  

I do really like this book but it just takes forever to get into because 1) I haven’t read a book in over two years, so just getting back into it I found it really hard and took forever for my brain to get interested in this short novel. Also find it hard just  sitting still and not going for walks every 30 mins. Reason 2)- being probably just a bit to do with my age now compared to last time I read this book. I was   12-13 years old and now am nearly 20, so my reading style and genres of books I want to read has changed a lot during this time  as well.  I would still love to re read this book series though and definitely would recommend this book to more pre teens ages 9+ though. Just because I think that it is better suited for that age group.

I really liked how they also told us the characters backstory and Carrie's whole personality and attitude because it was so different to Kevin teaching style and her advice to the girls were different opinions to Kevin that actually a few of her ideas worked better for teaching the twins some stuff. 

-Why did I choose this book to do a book review on?

I chose this book to do a book review on because when I was in middle school and my first year of high school (age 12-14) I loved reading Mary-Kate and Ashley Two of a kind novels and would love to read this book series every chance I got. I enjoyed reading this book as a pre teen so much that I used to recommend this book a lot, so when I had to pick two books to do a book review on I thought of this one pretty much straightway. I decided since not many people even know that the tv series got a book series that I would try to put it out there and see if they wanted to give it a read as well. This book is also great for if you are trying to get into reading or back into reading again. 

Another reason is so I can help others find books to give a go at reading and hopefully help them find a style/ genre that they enjoy or just a great book series that they can sit down and read for hours at a time. 

Other books in series 

1 -  BOOK 2 How to flunk your first date

 2 -  BOOK 3 The sleepover secret

There are 40 books in this series and one season with 26 episodes. 

Other books you may like to read

1 -Lotus Lane

2 - Girl Talk 

3 - The Nancy Drew notebooks 

4 - The babysitters club

More Mary-Kate and Ashley novel series that i also used to read

So little times 

Sweet 16

🩷Thank you for reading my first book review 🩶

[bisluthq]

Do you still do auntie advice? I really want to get back with my ex and I’m struggling 😭 I got mad and ended things on impulse last weekend and said a lot of mean shit about his family. I apologized the day after and he agreed to meet with me later that week but he said he couldn’t do it and wanted to focus on himself, he was almost crying at one point but we went back and forth for like 20 min about getting back together like if he was so sure he would not have stayed IMO. We had issues I mean I was mad for a reason (I was giving financial/family advice and he was not into that and also in hindsight it wasn’t my place yet esp bc he is estranged with his dad and I kept pushing him to have a relationship with him bc he has money lol. also he got way too drunk on the cruise we were on the week before all this and pissed himself and I was like whoa buddy you gotta sort this shit out… so we did have issues but I didn’t mean to flip out the way I did and say the stuff I said, I didn’t want to end things)

The day after that I reached out to his mom and apologized bc I know he told her the stuff I said and regardless I slept over their house like I wanted to clear the air with her. She responded this weekend positively. I just know I hurt him very badly but he said he still loves me…it just hurts. I want him back so bad. We have shared notes on iPhone that he saw that I edited like he was reading it when I was on there. If he was done he would’ve deleted it I think you can’t very well have apology letters and poems about sex from your ex gf on your phone if you’re trying to move on esp if you’re trying to move on with someone else 🤣 he is very sensitive for a guy like I know I hurt him and I get mad “my words shoot to kill when I’m mad” like yeah Taylor I get it :/. and also I mean for nsfw context I was the first girl to make him cum on multiple occasions.. like yes even in high school the man only came when he lost his virginity and then never did again with his first girlfriend and it would take him like half an hour jacking himself off So 🤔 I mean I’m not saying he should stay with me just for that but like that is SOMETHING not just sexual but I believe it was bc of our connection and like that’s always going to be something in the back of his mind I think.

idk. Life is just very Hits Different right now. What are your thoughts

If you don’t do this anymore I get it my life is in shambles 😔 but I’m still here for the Taylor gossip and glad you’re back!

I want to know how old you are. Sorry but that will hugely affect my advice.

If you won’t tell me, because there are some conflicting suggestions in your ask like idk if you’re my age or my little sister’s age or like… 22 right and it doesn’t really matter for this: I want to tell you my rule for it: I am firmly against any on again off again thing. I didn’t even do “breaks” until this year tbh. Like I’m fucking crawl out my skin averse to that shit?? Not for no reason, because I’ve watched my mum take back morons for no reason other than they promise to change. Which brings me to my next thing: do you think whatever you are upset about - it’s a lot - can change? Can he be different? If you think he can, then fine. It’s not even been a week. That’s a conversation. He also needs to have things he needs you to be better on though imo because otherwise like what’s the story? Obviously he has issues with you? No one (I say as historically the drunk one) gets drunk randomly and pisses themselves with no reason. Which I also wanna say I haven’t done but I’ve come close lol but no one for fun as an adult gets so drunk that they piss themselves?? Unless he has an alcohol issue which is fine and something for him to deal with and you have to decide if you can deal with it.

Idk throwing a lot of thoughts out because this isn’t AITA but I don’t feel like I have enough info.

ultimately, like it’s not even been a week so you’ve got to decide do you want him or not? Do you want to do life (for the foreseeable future) with this person? If not, then, there’s your answer. If yes… then you two need to talk like I can be your auntie but I can’t have the convos for you.

[ruby-rift]

100 Days of Productivity - Day 1 (Aug 14)

Welp, time to do this.

So not too long ago, I came across a tag on Tumblr called the "100 Days of Productivity Challenge." Basically, you do at least one productive thing a day and record your activities, either on social media like Tumblr or in a journal or notes app. This challenge is meant to help you stay motivated and, well, be productive. I thought it would be interesting to give it a shot.

So, what have I done for the first day of my 100 days?

Walking Over a Mile

Whenever we have the chance, my mom and I (and sometimes my dad) go on a morning walk outside for around 20-25 mins during my mom's work break. It's a good way to stay active. Today, we got a total distance of 1.24 miles, which is pretty standard.

World building in My Notes

I have an active imagination and keep a lot of interesting stuff in my mind regarding both original stuff and stuff for the media I consume. I decided some time ago that I would write down some world building in my Obsidian notes app. Today, I just wrote a bit about reincarnation in my universe. One day, I might share all the stuff I wrote down here.

Drawing in my Leather-bound Sketchbook

I have a leather-bound sketchbook I got from Hobby Lobby a long time ago, but I really only drew two drawings in it. While there are a total of 136 pages left of free space, since I normally only draw on one side of page, I have 68 pages to draw in (unless I decide to draw on the other side, which is unlikely). I thought yesterday, "Hey, maybe I could write down ideas of what I can draw on each page." Last night, I started that list, but I only could think of twelve things so far. Oh well, I will have more ideas soon.

Today, I drew a crescent moon with two stars hanging from the tips of the crescent. I'd say it looks decent.

Reading

Finally, I read 2 chapters of The Darkest Minds (chapters 2 and 3 to be exact).

Anyways that is it. Will I keep posting on Tumblr. Idk but I just thought I'd post

[reswhocareswhocareswhoca]

me being massively depressing under the cut

No one follows me anyway, so it doesn't matter what I say here. Nothing I do really matters anyway. I can wash the dishes, but they still pile up. I can do the laundry, but it still piles up. I can cook one day and starve the next because there's no food. And I can't just go out and buy more food or get creative in the kitchen and make a meal with what I have. I'm too disabled for that. It's a miracle when I can cook at all. Consistency is a pipe dream.

For the past three weeks, I've really been struggling to move. My FND has been really bad lately, which is heartbreaking because I was actually on kind of a good streak up until this relapse. I feel powerless. I have no idea how to help myself. I'm trying so hard to keep my spirits up but my heart is faltering.

The bathroom smells really bad and I don't know why because it's visibly clean but I'm too worn out to do anything about it, so even though I'm in the living room it still smells like shit and it has smelled like shit for days. My boyfriend doesn't smell anything though, and he has a wicked sense of smell. He usually smells things I can't smell at all, and if it is something I can smell, he can smell it much sooner than I can. But he doesn't smell the foul odor coming from the bathroom. I can't even go in there it's so bad.

I feel hopeless. Practicing crocheting was nice but now I'm out of yarn. I didn't want to order any because I wanted to actually physically go to the store for once to support brick and mortar stores but I think I'm just going to have to get it delivered. It is so rare that I'm in good enough shape to drive. I can drive maybe a couple of times a week, and only if it's sunny. My FND is so bad on gloomy days, and this has been a very gloomy winter. Also, I never drive farther than 10 minutes away, and the craft store is about 20-30 min away. It's an undertaking.

Sometimes I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could turn back time and manage my mental health from a young age so that I wouldn't get this stupid crap now. I know the cause of FND is unknown but it's correlated with stress and I suspect that's how I ended up like this. There's no way to know for sure, but this is what I suspect. I also kind of suspect COVID, I've seen quite a few headlines and articles regarding the relationship between COVID and FND, but honestly trying to read them upsets me so much that my condition flares so I can't really do it myself. Besides, I got FND months after receiving my vaccines. And I got COVID in 2021. And who knows? I could have had it more than that one time but stayed asymptomatic. I'm trying not to blame myself for opting to get the vaccine. I'm trying to tell myself that I was just trying to do my best with the information that I had, and that I got COVID anyways, so there's nothing that I truly could have done to prevent the FND onset anyway. If COVID is even the reason why I got FND anyways. Who knows what caused this? No one knows what caused this.

No one knows how to fix it either. I got my diagnosis and the neurologist just said there's nothing to do. I'm just stuck like this. I can't live. I don't even know what my options are. Should I go live in some in-patient facility somewhere? Should I go to another clueless therapist like I have five times before? I hate therapy. I hate it so much. It's the first solution people shove down your throat when you struggle with your mood and it's total bullshit I am convinced. I have been to five separate therapists and I swear it's nothing more than a venting session. I can vent to my mom. I can vent to my cat. I can vent into my journal. I can vent here. I have plenty of places to vent. Any question they ask is a question I've already asked my myself. It's such a waste of money I can't stand it. But apparently that bull is my only option and honestly, I'm not having any of it. Any improvement I have seen in my life happened when I WASN'T in therapy. Therapy is completely irrelevant. And way too damn expensive. Venting isn't enough. And I don't have a job anymore, so I'm definitely not paying for that crap now.

I don't know what to do. I'm a burden on my boyfriend. He is the biggest sweetheart in the whole world. When I'm doing bad (which has been most of the time, lately), he's the one who cooks, he's the one who cleans, he helps me shower, he helps me get dressed, he helps grab things for me when I can't go get them myself, he makes me smile and laugh on my worst days. He is my everything and I don't deserve him. He does all of this after breaking his back at his manual labor job every day and I don't deserve him. I don't have any friends. My mom is six hours away. My dad (also 6 hours away) means well but has zero emotional intelligence (okay, I should be fair, maybe like 40%), and he doesn't address my FND at all. Just pretends it's not there. I feel invisible. Nothing matters. What's the point of me being here at all? Just to be a weight on the shoulders of everyone I love? They don't deserve that. But I can't leave them out of "mercy" because I would break their hearts and mess them up for a long time. They tell me to be strong and fight through it. But how?! FND has no rules! No order! No rhyme or reason! How do you fight an invisible opponent who's playing a game no one has ever heard of before! One day, working out helps the condition. The next day, it makes it ten times worse. One day, forcing myself to complete tasks around the house works. The next, moving around is completely impossible. How do I fight something when I'm completely nerfed and the opponent makes its own rules? I feel betrayed.

I don't know what else to say. I feel like I've barely scratched the surface of my emotion, but I don't know what to say. I can't take feeling like this anymore. There's no way out. I'm losing my mind trying to stay calm and stay positive. I can't handle feeling alone anymore but I'm in no place to reach out to people. My misery has consumed my whole life. Any conversation topic someone could hope to have with me will be marred my FND's presence. "Oh, what do you do?" I stay at home. "What do you do in your free time?" Suffer. Okay, maybe I'm not that blunt. I do try to elegantly dance around these questions saying things like "Oh I just passed my state exams and am waiting on my license," or "I enjoy reading." But as the conversation unfolds there always comes a point where I must decide if I want to hide my FND or not. Every time I have to weigh that question in my mind, it hurts. It hurts feeling like something that has consumed my whole world will turn me into a pathetic freak in other people's eyes. But simultaneously, I feel like a faker! Like my FND "isn't that bad". I don't use a cane! I don't use a wheelchair! I don't have double vision! I can talk just fine if I'm not struck temporarily mute like I am sometimes! Hell, I can drive! I can work out at the gym! I can cook! I passed nail tech school and exams with this condition! Clearly I'm just being dramatic! Clearly it's all in my fucking head!!!!!

There's no consistency. How can one live without consistency? It's been taken away. I've been robbed.

I really want to go upstairs it smells like sewage down here but I can't move. I wish I could have some water but I'm out and I can't move. I wish I could make myself some oatmeal like I do most mornings but I can't move. I wish I could go to the library and pick up the book I have on hold but I can't move. What room is there for someone like me on Earth! Can't be a productive member of society? The sooner you die, the better. But I'm not dead. I'm too stubborn for that.

I try to meditate. Maybe if I remove myself from the ups and downs of life. Remove my ego. Become the river. Maybe then I can find peace. But I can't meditate, it triggers the FND. That's the whole point of doing yoga anyway, to make the body well enough to handle stillness and meditation. Apparently you can't truly meditate until you've mastered asana anyway. So they say.

Maybe I should get into writing. I don't have to worry about running out of yarn that way. But my mind stalls and my ideas are non-existent. I can't write what isn't there.

I feel hopeless.

[lengthofropes]

Hey guys!

From now on I’m gonna tag all my war related posts with #itsalmostspring tag. I know many of you don’t want to see all of this. I'm not offended, I swear! for some, this is a trigger and an ordeal for the psyche, someone just doesn’t want to read the horrors of real life, sitting in the cozy bed. I repeat - I'm not offended. it's your decision. it’s on you, anyway. just informing you about the tag!)

I’ll start with the most important!

while our governments solve issues at their level, ordinary people can also do a lot. and they do! 

Lately, I've been receiving more and more messages, not only words of encouragement and promises to pray for us (which is also very important, believe me!), but also concrete actions! “Hey, I wrote a letter to my government, I demand NATO to close the sky!”,  “Hey, I joined the red cross and we help refugees!”,  “Hey, today I volunteered to help collect humanitarian aid to be sent to Ukraine!” PEOPLE YOU ARE THE BEST! I LOVE YOU!!! Keep it up! 

Believe me, everything will come in handy! but the main thing now is medicines and protective equipment. I'll explain why. army is army, but people in every city, in every village of Ukraine are uniting in territorial defense groups. I don’t know if I need to explain what they are doing?) ok, they patrol the territory, duty at checkpoints, and in some cases…. yeah they can kick ass!) most importantly, they are trying to identify and stop the activities of sabotage groups, there’s a lot of those fuckers on the territory of Ukraine (I will describe what these groups do a little later). on the first day of the war, a LOT people signed up for TD (territory defence) groups, many were given the necessary things, but, of course, there wasn’t enough for everyone. many of them are men, such as my grandfather, for example (72 years old), or dad (58 years old). I think it’s also clear that for now mobilization captured mainly reservists and stronger, younger guys, but NOBODY wants to sit idle, believe me!)))

Someday I’ll tell you guys about some phone conversations with my daddy, dude is hilarious!)) yeah, phone calls. he and mom are not with us now, they decided to stay were they are and help. 

Also. I don’t remember if I told you this, but I’m from Kyiv, this in my native city, and I live 20 mins walking from city centre. So, uh, yeah. When I woke on feb 24 from my sister’s phone call, she kindly asked me to grab my shit and (most important!!) my cat and come to her’s apartment, so we could at leats be together. We left the city later in the evening. idk how is should end this paragraph… I probably gonna write about this some other time. it’s fucking too heavy on feelings and it’s not the point right now. Ha. Most likely you won’t hear a thing about crying and panicking from me. I’m not scared. Constantly worried, angry, but not scared. Keep thinking what I can do and keep doing what I can. I finally had proper sleep today, so now I’m even fiercer.

So yeah, if you can donate - donate! This saves lives! I posted about activity of my colleagues recently here, they doing great so far yay! now it’s much wider, than only helping with medical supplies. they take a lot of calls and messages, they shared the responsibility for receiving and processing the information, and they do good! it seems there was a small glitch with paypal, because there were a lot of payments, but now everything seems to be fine! we are not the only ones who do this, so if you want to help, do not hesitate, look for local volunteer organizations, contact the Red Cross, for god’s sake!)) - the Ukrainians will not forget you! 

As I was saying, everything will come in handy! and when we will (AND WE FUCKING WILL, VERY SOON!!!) get back to our streets and start clearing them of shit, blood and stench… we’ll be same proud of you guys, as we’re proud of ourselves!

Русский военный корабль, иди нахуй!

Love you all!

❤️ Anz

[juminsmysticmc]

requests are open.? 👀

please ignore this if you're not comfortable doing this or have already done this! First, Hii how are you? ♡ hope youre doing great! I kinda wanna see a headcanon of how the rfa would react to mom mc feeling down and not being as cheerful and how they would comfort their children that their mom is okay (i hope it makes sense lol)

RFA comforting their child because they feel bad about Mc is feeling down

Hey there, the funny thing is that that day I actually took my car and ,,ran from home’’ ( like, my bad ass was crying after screaming the shit out of me and drove 20 min to a station near my work place ) after arguing with my parents/ mom XD

I am kind of a crazy nut once something triggers me and yeah, I thought this request was kinda funny…a  big coincidence.

Now, I hope that you too are okay and that you will enjoy reading this Headcanon! Have a nice day!

Jumin

Two weeks passed ever since your mother passed away, the last person you had from your side of the family.

One day, the both of you were talking about raising children and the other day you had to confirm whether this was her body laying there on the tiny table.

Since then, you were emotionally damaged.

You cried most of the time and were just wearing black clothes.

You were very different from your usual self.

So much so, that even your son and daughter noticed that something was off.

In fact, your sadness was something everyone around you, especially your loved ones, noticed.

Your children sat in their room, playing with their toys while you finally got yourself to get out of the bed.

However, despite you not being able to cry anymore, you still didn’t really laugh and were mostly off.

,,Daddy…’’ your daughter asked when Jumin was trying to get the voice of Arielle right.

,,Yes, my daughter?’’ he smiled.

,,Why is Mommy so sad lately? Did you guys argue?’’ she asked him and Jumin could feel his heart break.

Your sadness was something he couldn’t take from you, no matter how many times he held you in his arms, no matter how many times he patted your back, or told you that everything would be alright.

,,No baby…’’ he whispered. The book was long forgotten.

Suddenly, your son stood in the door frame and began to sob.

,,I want to see Mother smile again,’’ he said.

That night, Jumin laid in his daughter’s big bed together with his two children, hugging the sobbing kids and explaining that their mother was just down.

,,You know, the sadness you are feeling right now because your mother isn’t as happy as she was before is the same she is feeling right now because of her own mother,’’ he whispered, remembering that their children still didn’t know that their grandmother died.

The night was a long one and for the first time in his life, Jumin thought that skipping school was actually a good idea.

,,Why aren’t they at kindergarten and school? Are they sick?’’ you asked the next morning after you saw that your children were still in bed sleeping and for a short moment you were the old Mc.

After Jumin explained the reason, the first thing you did was barge into their room.

Your mother for sure would have wanted you to be happy for your children and this was the first step you took to overcome the grieving…

Zen

Everyone once had the one phase in their life, the one time in their life when everyone seemed to go down the river.

The time where nothing was working like it was supposed to.

The time when it seemed as if the world only had bad things for you.

And right now, Mc had to go through it.

Problems after problems were coming onto you, the young mother of two children, although only one survived.

Since you lost the child you were carrying in your womb, you were a bit different.

As if you were offline, you stopped smiling and seemed kind of angry the whole time.

You also got annoyed pretty quickly.

But if there was something that changed, it was the fact that you became even more protective of your daughter.

And of course the young girl noticed that her mother was off.

,,Daddy,’’ the girl began, her hand in Zen’s as they walked through the grocery store.

,,Mhh?’’ Zen asked his daughter, checking if the bananas were alright.

The young father, too, was devastated.

He could still remember your screams that day when you noticed that you were bleeding.

And not even half an hour, the two of you were crying together after learning that your child died.

Zen was slowly healing again, but he knew that you would need a bit more time to fully heal…

,,Why is Mommy so odd lately?’’ your daughter asked him. Zen finally looked up while she began to explain what she wanted to say.

,,She doesn’t go out with Aunt Jaehee anymore. She stopped singing in the bathtub and doesn’t wear makeup anymore.

And I have the feeling that she always tears up when I am about to go,’’ the girl told her father.

Everything was right and Zen had no clue how to tell his little baby that her mother was in pain, a pain that no one could take away from her.

Zen tried to go to a corner with less people before he went on his knees. ,,You know, Mama is a bit sad about something. She will be better soon, but she needs time. Time, love, and support.

The only thing we can do is support her, so don’t worry and just love Mommy. She will soon be the old mommy you knew, okay?’’ Zen asked his daughter, ruffling her hair.

,,Yes! If so, let’s buy her some chocolate!’’ she giggled.

Zen knew that you would be able to heal, but he also knew that this would take some time and he wanted to make sure that you could take all the time you needed to get better…

Yoosung

,,Dad?’’ Yoosung’s son said when he came home.

Yoosung looked up from his desk as he was writing down something.

,,Yes?’’ Yoosung asked, his voice slightly annoyed. It wasn’t something that happened often that Yoosung was in a bad mood. The father was more like the sunshine of the family.

But since you were the mother and your son was rather a mother’s son, whenever you were in a bad mood, it was something that bugged the young boy.

,,Did you upset Mommy?’’ he asked his father, sounding angry with him.

Yoosung rolled his eyes.

,,No, we just argued,’’ he responded.

,,So you did upset her. She’s crying because of you in the kitchen. I don’t like seeing her like this,’’ he said.

Hearing that you were crying was something he didn’t expect.

Yoosung’s expression was soft again, however, the argument was something… rather difficult and Yoosung didn’t really know how to approach you.

But the last thing he wanted was for you to cry because of him.

Yoosung’s son left the room and Yoosung could imagine that he was on his way to hug you.

When Yoosung, however, came to check on the both of you, expecting to see you both in the kitchen, you were the only one left, still being quite aggressive with the tools while you were cooking.

Slowly, without saying anything, the father went towards his son’s room, just to see him just as annoyed as the other members of the family.

,,What did you tell her?’’ he asked, his voice trembling.

,,Mom never rejects my hugs. You really screwed up this time,’’ he hissed, looking up.

Yoosung quickly hugged his son. He was just ten, but it seemed as if he was cooler than his father.

,,I’m sorry, I said something I shouldn’t… don’t worry. I will talk to her. It’s my fault…I’m sorry you had to go though this too,’’ Yoosung whispered, hearing his son whimpering by now.

,,I’m sorry that I made Mommy sad, but don’t worry, everything will be alright again!’’ he smiled.

Jaehee

,,Mom, does Mommy not love me anymore?’’ your seven year old asked Jaehee as she was reading him a bedtime story.

Jaehee paused reading, looked up from the fairytale and tried to process what her son just asked her.

,,I enjoy that you read the story to me nowadays, but usually Mommy did it more than you. She doesn’t smile as much as before and doesn’t talk much lately… is something wrong?’’ he kept asking.

Jaehee was still trying to process. Was a seven years old supposed to behave like that? 

To worry about his parents? 

To notice that his parents had some problems? 

Was a seven years old supposed to think like an adult? 

At that very moment Jaehee really guessed that your DNA must have been strong as you were the one who carried the child in your womb.

Jaehee smiled as she put the book aside.

Slowly she went below the blankets with her son and hugged the little boy.

Her hand was softly stroking his face and suddenly it hit her: he was growing up.

He would grow up.

,,You know your surroundings a lot. It’s good to notice things quickly, but you shouldn’t overthink or worry about these kinds of things,’’ she whispered.

,,I know, but I just couldn’t ignore it,’’ he confessed.

He was truly a perfect child.

,,Mommy has had a lot on her mind lately. Don’t worry too much, even though it’s hard,’’ she whispered, patting his back.

,,Why don’t we go and have a picnic with her tomorrow to help her to think of something else?’’ Jaehee asked her son, who immediately was down for the idea.

The next day the two of them really managed to get you out of the house, leaving the coffee shop closed and instead enjoy the warm weather in a park on the grass.

,,Mommy…whatever is on your mind, you can say it to the sun. The sun will burn all your worries with its fire! And then your worries will be solved!’’ the young boy said after the three of you laid together on the blanket.

You looked over to him as he was holding his hand up to the sun.

You slowly teared up as you nodded.

,,The sun will surely burn my worries… Thank you for giving me the idea, baby,’’  

Saeyoung

,,There there, why is my baby crying?’’ Saeyoung asked as he found his seventeen year old daughter crying.

It was quite a shock to him and Saeyoung hoped that she wouldn’t confess that she had a boyfriend or was lovesick.

However, to his surprise, she kind of had even worse worries.

,,Baby, you yourself should know how a woman is! She’s just worried about some things! Your mom will feel better soon!’’ he laughed, hugging his daughter. 

However, his throbbing heart made her notice that Saeyoung lied.

,,I don’t trust you, Dad… what’s wrong? Please tell me,’’ she begged him.

Saeyoung looked at the girl. She was becoming more and more beautiful.

Her face was yours, the nose, the lips, your hair color.

The only thing that made him remember that he was actually the father of this beautiful teenager was her eye color.

Just like his, as if he was looking at honey.

,,Dad,’’ she repeated. Saeyoung finally realized that he was supposed to come up with a good lie, but before he could say something, his tears were already rolling.

,,Oh my God, is Mom dying?!’’ she gasped, gasping for air before bawling even louder.

,,What?! No! Why are you thinking that?!’’ Saeyoung shrieked, not noticing that he began to cry too.

The both of them actually forgot that it was still four o’clock in the afternoon and that you could hear them from the room next to them, barging in when you heard sobs.

,,What the hell did you do to her to make her cry?!’’ you hissed at Saeyoung, quickly hugging your child.

,,Mom! Don’t die, please!’’ your daughter finally spilled.

It took you a while to explain to your daughter that you weren’t dying and after she finally calmed down, after hugging her for a long time, you and Saeyoung finally shared your worries about her younger brother.

,,Mom and Dad don’t want him to be alone in school and so we’ve been worrying a lot lately,’’ you finally said.

,,But baby, you don’t need to worry. Why are you sad? Mom’s always worried about you guys!’’ you chuckled, stroking her head.

,,Because I love you! I don’t want to see you that sad! Of course I would tear up!’’

ᗰᗩᔕTEᖇᒪIᔕT

30.03.2022 // 21:32 MEST

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Sinking Friendships

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Language, Blood, Car accident, hospital scenes/talk, small talk of religion (sorry it just felt right for the story), angst, fighting, typos

-Words: 5.6K

Author note: Sorry for the shit writing, it was so hard to write the car accident. Tried to make it as medically accurate as possible. Most knowledge derived from Grey’s Anatomy/WebMD. Sorry this chapter is long. Feel free to leave comments or message me directly your feelings while reading the chapter. Every message I've received is so sweet thank you all.

*Anytime 3 dots/ellipses (…) its a sob/breath and a moment of reflection during dialogue.

Chapter 8: Sinking Friendships

Words: 5.6K

Sirens, flashing lights and screams were the only thing Henry remembered. It all happened so fast. One minute Henry and Rosie were laughing together getting lost in each other’s eyes and the next they were both unconscious awaiting their death.

There was no time for Henry to react in anyway. No swerves or movements were made to prevent the impact. A maroon truck had collided Roise’s side, jolting her entire body. Her door was dented beyond belief.

From the forceful impact caused their car skid on the pavement, wearing the paint job away, and crash into the street pole. Henry’s entire body screamed out in pain, his injuries weren’t as bad as Rosie’s though.

“Rosie? Rosie! Rosie!!” Henry called out, desperately wanting to hear her lovely voice. Panic and heartbreak ensued when he saw blood dripping down the side of her head.

Rosie wasn’t moving. How could she be full of life one minute and the next, not? Henry reached over and placed two fingers below her jaw searching for a pulse. He felt he was able to breathe once her felt her few and far between heartbeats, it was faint but it was still there.

“Darling, wake up. Rosie, wake up! Open your eyes for me.”

Henry could feel himself fading by the moment. He used his last breaths to tell the girl he loved he was sorry. Her life was hanging by a thread and in that moment Henry was utterly useless. Praying that she would wake and he would get to hold her again, as everything faded to black.

It had to be about 15 minutes. 15 minutes for an ambulance to arrive. 15 minutes that Henry and Rosie had been unconscious for. 15 minutes of complete stillness, as everyone outside the vehicle panicked. The witness had called 911 multiple times and the other driver was unconscious at his wheel.

After those brutal and possible life ending minutes, help finally arrived. They pulled Henry from the wreck, putting him on a gurney.

“Sir, can you hear me?” called out the paramedic. “Yes. My girlfriend, help her please,” Henry was pleading for his life. How could he be so careless, it was only an accident? “Sir, just lay back. Let us take care of you,” the paramedic uttered, putting her hand on his shoulder to hold him down.

“No. I need to make sure she is okay.”

“Sir, you need to restrain yourself. The other paramedics have got her.”

“ROSIE! Just please let me know if she is okay,” screamed Henry.

“Sedate him please. I’ll go check on the girl,” said the paramedic. Henry faded into a deep sleep a moment later.

“Hey, how’s the girl? Her boyfriend won’t stop asking,” asked the paramedic to the one attending to Rosie. “Unresponsive. She has head trauma and a pulse, thank god,” he murmured. Henry was sent along with Rosie to Kingston Memorial hospital. The hospital was 20 mins away, so much can happen in that time.

Everyone else was sleeping soundly within the walls of the Holland Manor. It started to become a common theme that phone calls in the middle of the night usually meant someone was hurt. This time it was Harrison calling.

“Haz? It’s so late why are you calling?” You asked, jolting awake.

“There’s been an accident and Tom didn’t answer when I called. It’s Rosie and Henry. It sounded bad, Y/N.”

“Oh my god. I’ll see you there,” you responded, barely forming the words as tears started to fall.

“TOM WAKE UP!” you screamed, shaking him awake.

“What?… I’m up. I’m up.”

“There’s been accident.” No more words were said, they just hopped in the car and drove as fast as possible. Tom knuckles grew white clutching around the steering wheel. He couldn’t even begin to fathom a world with his Rosie in it. Harrison was already there, pacing in the waiting room.

“Haz. Where is she?” you said, tears begging to fall.

“I don’t know they won’t tell me anything because I’m not family,” Harrison answered.

“Fuck that, you are our family. How’s Henry?” Tom exclaimed.

“He’s ok. Just a minor concussion and dislocated shoulder, he’s in there right now. They are putting his shoulder back in its socket. He was really lucky but, I am worried about Rosie.” Haz said, just as a doctor dressed in surgical scrubs approached them.

“Are you here for Rosie Holland?” asked the doctor, Tom just nodded in response.

“Mr. and Mrs. Holland, I presume,” continued the doctor

“Yes, that’s us,” Tom replied, clasping your hand in his. He tried to put on a brave face for his wife. You couldn’t both be a mess.

“Ok, Rosie is still in surgery. With extensive injuries like hers we like to keep the family updated as much as possible. Your daughter was the nearest point of impact. She came in with a puncture wound to the abdomen, a severe concussion, massive internal bleeding, many cuts caused by broken glass and severe trauma to her head.”

“Will she be okay?” you asked, accidentally interrupting the doctor.

“Let him finish darling,” Tom said, his grip on her hand tightening.

“It is still too early to know. I have to get back.”

“Alright Doctor, thank you,” Tom acknowledged. You just fell into Tom’s arms, letting all the tears you were holding back fall. You broke into a fit of sobs in his embrace.

“Tom, I don’t want to lose her. I can’t lose her. She’s our baby,” you whimpered, your tears staining his t-shirt

“Shh, darling. She’ll pull through. Remember she is just like her strong mother.”Tom whispered, rubbing a soothing hand over your back.

“Have you gotten in touch with Parker?” Asked Tom as he continued to comfort you.

“No, I’ve been trying. Leaving message after message… Why fuck isn’t he picking up?” yelled Haz. Just then, Henry had walked up, sporting a cloth sling His heart nearly broke as he saw you crying your eyes out buried in Tom’s arms.

“No. No, no, no. Don’t tell me she didn’t make it.” Henry cried as his knees started to buckle at the thought of losing Rosie.

“Henry no, she’s still in surgery. Hey, come here.” Harrison said trying to calm down his son.

“Henry, what the happened?” Tom asked, scared for his daughters life.

“What were you doing with Rosie anyway? It’s late.” Tom questioned again after Henry stood silent, growing louder.

“Hey, Tom. Back off,” Harrison said, standing in front of Tom.

“No. I want to know the reason why my daughter is in there fighting for her god damm life.” Tom screamed. Henry was like a deer caught in headlights. He couldn’t lie his way out of this one. His eyes just shifted between Tom, you and his dad.

“A truck hit Rosie’s side when I was driving, I’m sorry, it was an accident.” Henry cried, barely able to get the words out.

“Son, we know it was an accident. It wasn’t your fault,” Harrison said, comforting Henry.

“Where? Where were you guys?” Tom pestered on.

“Umm, we were on our way back from… from a date. We are dating.” Henry muttered, his eyes glued to the floor.

“What? Y/N did you know about this?” Tom asked, ready to throw hands.

“Yes, Tom,” you murmured, avoiding Tom’s disappointed glare.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Tom screeched.

“And for you. Who the fuck said you could date my daughter?” Tom bellowed, pointing his finger at the poor boy.

“I did kind of give them permission by keeping their secret. In your own time frame though you were supposed to ask Tom,” you muttered, bouncing between Henry and Tom.

“Wait. For how long? For how fucking long?” Tom cursed.

“2 months.” Henry whispered.

“2 months. 2 fucking months. You were lying to me?” Tom screamed, he was livid at you.

“I don’t want you dating her,” Tom growled with an unchanging expression.

“I’m sorry, sir. What?” Henry asked, dumbfounded by Tom’s response.

“Tom, what?” Haz faltered.

“Tom don’t do this, he is a good kid,” you begged.

“Break up with my daughter or there will be hell to pay,” Tom declared and with that he walked away.

“Tom, you can’t do that to them,” you yelled after Tom.

“Really Y/N watch me” Tom said, ignoring his family. His heart had been broken too many times tonight. First when he heard about the accident, another when he had learned of Rosie’s injuries and another when he found out that you had been lying to him. His mind needed to be on one person right now, Rosie.

Tom managed to cool off, but immediately changed the subject anytime you would start to apologize. He didn’t have the energy to focus or listen, all he cared about was Rosie. Parker had showed up 10 mins later, he was off doing god knows what.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Tom yelled, as he saw Parker come through the sliding doors.

“Sorry. I just got your message. Is she okay?” Parker explained.

“We don’t know she is still in surgery,” you whispered, trying to hold back tears.

“What I went out for a bit and shut my phone off. What’s the big deal?” Parker asked.

“The big deal is that I didn’t know where you were. I couldn’t get in touch you. Rosie was in a car accident and I couldn’t call you,” screamed Tom, still angry from the conversation that just perspired

“And Henry?” Parker question, ignoring Tom’s scolding.

“He’s ok. Haz is with him right now, they went to get some coffee,” you informed him.

“Are you okay, mom?” Parker asked, remembering the conversation they had the night before.

“I’ve been better. Just glad you are here,” you said, bringing him into a warm embrace. As they all stood together as a family, Rosie’s doctor came to update them.

“She is out of surgery and stable. Her heart did stop and we were able to resuscitate her, she’s in the ICU now…”

“Can we see her?” Tom asked, interrupting the doctor. A huge weight had just been lifted off his shoulders, his baby girl was going to be okay.

“Yes, but you need to know something. Her brain started to swell in surgery so we had to put her in a medically induced coma to bring down the swelling. We don’t know when she will wake up or if she will at all,” explained the doctor.

All the Hollands stood like statues, unable to process the news. You felt as though you had been punched in the stomach, you wouldn’t be able to handle losing your baby girl.

Minutes, hours and days had melded together. It had been 6 days since the accident and Rosie was still the same, laying unconscious in a hospital bed hooked up to various machines. All of you stayed at the hospital expect for Harrison and Henry. Harrison was running the mob for Tom, for the time being.

You refused to leave her side, spending every waking and sleeping hour right beside her. Seeing your daughter like this was killing you. You weren’t getting any sleep and your hair started thinning.

Rosie looked pale and lifeless, the only thing guaranteeing she was alive was the incessant heart monitor. Her bruises had started to heal, changing from a vibrant purple to an opaque yellow. Everyone prayed she would wake up.

Henry tried to visit everyday but Tom wouldn’t allow it. He was still furious his daughter was dating him and everyone else knew about it except him. Tom’s heart ached for Rosie to wake up and be his funny, sassy, brave girl once again. Tom, however couldn’t stand how the waiting was making you feel.

“Darling. Wake up!” Tom whispered, gently shaking you.

“What? Did something happen? Is Rosie ok?” You exasperated, jolting out of your sleep and trying to catch your breath.

“No, she’s fine. It has just been a while since you had gone home and cleaned up. It might do you some good, baby,” Tom pleaded.

“Tom, I can’t leave her,” you whispered.

“Y/N, it’s ok. Let me take you home and Parker will be here in case anything were to happen,” Tom explained.

You were hesitant at first but eventually agreed, it had been awhile since you had showered or had a decent meal. Living off of the same sweatshirt and hospital cafeteria snacks for the past couple days. All your energy had been put into watching Rosie.

While Tom took you home, Parker was tasked with watching his sister. As kids they were both active and had gotten hurt, only most ever being a broken bone, never a life or death situation. Not only was Rosie Parker’s sister, but she was his twin.

His built in best friend. There had never been a time where he didn’t know her, maybe the first 5 mins of his life, but Rosie soon followed. Sure they fought and argued like all siblings do, but they couldn’t imagine their life without each other. He needed her sarcastic comments and infectious laughter to brighten his day. He needed her warm, slightly awkward hugs and her bitchy attitude once in a while. Parker didn’t know what he’d do without her.

“Rosie, I don’t know if you can hear me but mom is a mess, dad has barely said to word and everyone just needs you to wake up. I need you to wake up…. We all do, especially Henry,” Parker whispered.

“God, he secretly loves you. He hasn’t had the balls to tell you yet, but if that it is what you need to wake up, then do it….Let that be it…. That he loves you, Rosie…. He loves you.”

“I know what it is like to lose someone you love. Charlotte didn’t have a choice, but you do. You can fight and come back to us…. Come back to Henry. He needs you. He calls me every night asking if you had woken up yet. Dad banned him from visiting the hospital. Really fucked that one up didn’t you Roo…. You should’ve told him about you and Henry, but that’s beside the point…. The point is let today or tomorrow or next week be the day I tell him you did…. Just promise me you will wake up ok. I know I don’t say it often but I love you.” Parker got everything he needed to say off his chest. Tears had managed to escape from his eyes as he held her hand. Henry was standing in the doorway, when Parker poured his heart out.

“Hey mate. Mind if I have a minute with my girl?” Henry spoke.

“Not at all. Perfect timing, my parents just left,” Parker said, getting up from his crouched position.

“Yeah, I know. I was parked in the parking lot, waiting for them to leave.”

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Oh, none. None what so ever.”

“So practically all of it?” Parker said in response.

“Yeah,” Henry just nodded along.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Parker said as left the room.

Now it was just Henry and Rosie.

Tom had forbidden Henry from seeing her, he hasn’t even gotten to hold her hand. Henry tried to hold back tears as he saw the girl he loved looking half-dead. Her skin had lost its color and her necklace, the one he had given her, was stained with blood sitting in a bag on her bedside.

“Hey Roo. I’ve missed you…. Life hasn’t been the same these past few days. I’ve missed all your good night and good morning texts and your smile.” Henry started.

“Everyone wants you to wake up. They need you to wake up. Can you just open your eyes and flash that smile for me? I need it and I need you…. Rosie,… here it goes,… I love you. I couldn’t stand the thought of you never knowing I love you. So there it is, I love you.”

“I love everything about you…. Your eyes, your laugh, even that weird snort you do. I love you and that has to be enough. It has to be enough for you to wake up and come back to me…. Don’t just do it for me, do it for Parker and your dad and your mom. They have all been losing their minds without you.”

“Rosie, please baby. I love you and that has to be enough,” Henry concluded as tears streaked his face. He moved to press a chaste kiss to her forehead when all of a sudden machines starting going off and beeping left and right.

“Rosie? Rosie stay with me!” Henry didn’t know what was happening. All he knew as that she was still alive and prayed to god he wouldn’t hear her flatlining.

Rosie’s body started to jerk and shake, involuntary. The room filled with nurses and doctors, rolling Rosie on to her side. Her muscles spasming everywhere.

“Sir, you need to leave,” said the nurse, prying Henry away from Rosie.

“No, please let me stay with her,” Henry cried, refusing to avert his eyes from Rosie.

“You need to leave. Let us help her.”

Henry stood crying, peering through the glass doors at the love his life slipping before his very eyes. Her seizure only lasted about 8 minutes but, minutes bleed to hours as tears refused to stop.

“Henry? What happened?” Parker said, running up to Henry crouched on the floor with his knees to his chest and head buried.

“I don’t know. They forced me to leave. Her body started shaking violently, I don’t know what happened,” Henry sniffled, titling his head up. His eyes were beet red and his face was riddled with tears. Parker just stood there dumbfounded. He only left for 10 minutes to get some water. How could so much go wrong in that time.

“Young man, are your parents here,” asked the doctor as everyone came out of Rosie’s room.

“No, they went home to grab some things. Why?… Is she dead?” Parker questioning, pulling at the roots of his hair.

“No, she’s alive, but we can’t share any further information till they get here,” explained the doctor. Parker just nodded in response and Henry was able to breath again, exhaling the breath he was unaware he was holding.

Parker was about to make the call he dreaded. This was the entire reason you refused to leave, in case anything were to happen.

“Parker, what’s up. Is Rosie okay?” Tom said as he answered the Parker’s call.

“Dad, no, you need to get to the hospital. Something happened with Rosie but, they won’t tell me anything,” Parker said, his voice wavering.

“Oh my god, I’ll be right there,” Tom said, hanging up the phone. He had been refusing the chance to break down, he felt as though he had to be strong for everyone else.

“Y/N! Y/N!!” Tom screamed through the house. The one time Tom tries to do something good everything gets screwed up.

“Tom, what?” You exclaimed, startled by his screams

“Something happened with Rosie,” Tom said, a fews tears dripped down his face.

“What? No. No, no, no. I wasn’t there. I’m her mom and I wasn’t there. Why the fuck did you make me leave?” You cried, feeling like a terrible mother. You never should’ve left.

“I’m sorry. Be mad at me later, let’s just go,” Tom said, grabbing his car keys.

Tom’s reckless driving was not the problem at the moment, you just need to be there for Rosie. At the hospital, Tom barely parked properly before they were running through the halls. He came upon Parker in the waiting room, looking disheveled as fuck. His eyes were puffy eyes and hair stood up, he could tell his son was tugging on it in frustration.

Tom needed something to take his mind off Rosie. He needed to punch something or beat someone up or even just take his angry out with words.

“Parker, what happened? Is she okay?” You said, scared for Rosie’s life.

“I don’t know. No one has come out of her room,” Parker explained and you just nodded in response, trying not to cry again.

“Parker, what the fuck is Henry doing in here?” Tom demanded.

“Umm,” Parker mumbled.

“I’m sorry sir, I needed to see her,��� Henry said profusely, apologizing

“I don’t care what fuck you needed to do. You are the reason she is dying. You were the one driving,” Tom screamed.

“Tom it was an accident,” you said, trying to reassure yourself in the process.

“Y/N I don’t understand how you can take his side when he almost killed our baby girl.”

“Like, I said it was an accident!” you explained.

“Nurse! Nurse!” Tom yelled.

“Yes, sir. Do you need the doctor?” asked the nurse, worried someone was bleeding.

“No. I want to know who the fuck let this boy in here.” Tom thundered.

“I don’t know sir, I’m so sorry. This won’t happen again,” she explained.

“Tom he can stay. If he is telling the truth about loving Rosie this concerns him as much as it concern us,” you said. This must be killing Henry like it was to you.

“No, he fucking can’t. Now get out, before I have you escorted out of here in a body bag,” Tom threatened.

“Alright, I’ll go. Just please, tell me if she wakes up,” Henry pleaded, slowly walking away. He wasn’t going to go home, he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave, not when Rosie was still in that state.

They all saw the doctor come out of the room and quickly cornered him. A grim expression draped across his face created uneasiness in everyone.

“I’m Y/N Holland, I’m her mother. What happened? I just left for twenty minutes,” you asked, tears streaming down your face as you barged in the room.

“We put her on a ventilator, the seizure was caused by lack of oxygen to her brain,” the doctor said.

“I’m sorry, what? She had a seizure?” Tom said, trying to put the puzzle pieces together.

“Yes. Her brain function has remained unchanged for several days now. In my expert opinion, her outlook isn’t very good. I would prepare yourselves. We can keep her comfortable if you would like or we can arrange her to be moved to a facility where she will possibly heal in the future,” explained the doctor.

“What are you saying? She’s brain dead?” asked Parker chiming in.

“It’s too still early to give a definitive diagnosis, but most likely, yes. I’m sorry for your loss.” The doctor said, exiting the room. You wanted to die right in that moment. A piece of you died the second those words slipped out, you were inconsolable.

“Y/N. Baby, come here,” Tom whispered. Trying to reach out for you, his broken wife.

“Don’t fucking touch me. I should’ve never let you convince me to leave,” you cried.

The guilt was enormous for everything. You were the one who let Rosie and Henry date, without that they would have never been driving together. Never gotten in the accident, you couldn’t help but feel responsible.

It was always the same feeling, you felt walking into Rosie’s hospital room. The feeling of drowning or being burned alive. It’s indescribable. A feeling felt by those who lose their children. You put them on this earth and for them to leave it before you was wrong.

“Rosie, I’m so sorry I left baby. I’m here now and I’m never leaving,” you said, combing your hand through her brown locks.

“But its okay if you need to. It’s okay. I’ll be alright, we all will be…. You can let go…. I love you so much sweetheart, don’t every forget how much mommy loves you…. You can rest now,” you said, moving to Rosie’s side to take her hand in yours. Seeing Rosie like this was tearing you apart from the seems.

It wasn’t long before all tears had put you to sleep. Tom had covered you up with a blanket. You talked to Rosie as though she could hear you. Maybe she could, maybe not but, you definitely wished she could. Tom hadn’t had the chance to break down like you. You needed him to be the strong one, but he was human too.

“Rosie, it’s dad. Everyone besides me has gotten the chance to talk to you, so here it goes,” Tom started.

“I know your mother said that is was ok to leave, but it is not. You hear me. Don’t you dare leave…. Rosie, darling you need to fight. Fight whatever it is that will bring you back to us. You are so much stronger than you lead on baby.”

“I love you so much, please come back to us…. I don’t know if your mother can take losing you. Also that boy you secretly hid from me. Once you wake up you are grounded. I don’t know why you fell for that scruffy looking kid but he needs you, baby. We all do,” Tom concluded. There was no easy fix to this problem. He couldn’t go out and torture somebody or beat them til they broke. Not even money could fix this. He felt completely and utterly useless.Tom reached out to the only thing that could help his daughter, God.

“Hey, god above, I don’t really have a name for you. You are just the one who watches over people, you could be from any religion. I don’t know,” Tom said, clasping his hand together as he spoke to the heavens above.

“I know we don’t talk often and I’m sorry for that and I’m sorry for the despicable acts I’ve committed but I need you help…. My daughter needs your help. She was in a car accident and she hasn’t woken up yet. She’s so young, she has her entire life ahead of her and I want her to experience it all…. I’d really like to walk her down the aisle someday. Can you just bring her back to me? That’s all I ask, just bring her back.”

“Thank you. Shit, I’m believe I’m supposed to say amen and I’m sorry for cursing a second ago. Just remember what we talked about, do this for her not me. God knows I don’t deserve it,” Tom said, ending his plea to the god or gods above.

Tom couldn’t of imagined better timing, with his speech, Rosie’s fingers started to twitch in his hand.

“Y/N wake up?” Tom yelled.

“What, I’m up. Is she ok?” You asked, confused by his outburst.

“Better than ok, her hand moved,” Tom explained.

“Oh my god, really? Parker go get the doctor,” you said, moving towards Rosie.

“Rosie?” Tom said as she started to stir.

“Rosie, baby. I’m here” you said, holding her hand. Rosie eyes fluttered open as she choked on the intubation tube, which gave her oxygen.

“Shh, you’re ok. You were in a car accident with Henry. You’re ok,” you said, softly. The look on Rosie’s face broke your heart. She looked so confused and overwhelmed all you wanted to do was hold her and never let go. Yes, she was a teenager but she will always be your baby girl.

Parker quickly brought the doctor in and he conducted a neurological exam. He removed the tube down her throat, allowing her to breath normally.

“Rosie, you’re awake. Don’t try to talk, it will feel weird for a while. I can get you something for the pain. I’m going to have you do a few tests. Blink once for yes and twice for no, ok?” The doctor explained. Rosie followed his instructions and blinked once. You and Tom were holding each other, praying Rosie didn’t have any brain damage.

“Follow the light for me please. Good. Squeeze my hand. Good grip… These are all amazing signs. Everything looks good. No neurological deficits, but I still would like to get an MRI for her. In the meantime, just rest. It’s going to feel weird as your brain has basically been sleeping for a week,” the doctor concluded, leaving everyone alone to rejoice.

“Mom?” Rosie said, her voice extremely hoarse.

“Yeah, honey. Take it easy,” you said. Words couldn’t describe how you were feeling, you got your daughter back.

“Where’s Henry?” Rosie croaked out.

“He’s ok Rosie, I believe he is outside. Would you like to see him?” You asked, much to Tom’s dismay. Rosie just nodded in response, trying to make everything seem less hazy.

“Rosie,” Henry said with a biggest smile on his face. Nothing could bring this boy down from cloud 9, she was ok. The love of his life was ok.

“Hi,” she said with a half-smile. That’s all she could must her up with her energy.

“Thank god you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Henry said, kissing her forehead.

“We will give you two a minute,” you said, pulling Tom and Parker out of the room. Tom was giving you a bunch of harsh glares, he knew what you were doing. However, he too ecstatic that Rosie was awake to be mad at Henry.

“Are you okay? How do you feel?” Henry asked concerned.

“I’m okay. Henry, I have to tell you something,” Rosie responded.

“I love you…. Walking up in the hospital bed just made me realize who cares if it’s too soon or if you don’t feel the same way, I just had to tell you. I love you,” Rosie declared. This was his chance, break her heart and walk away, she didn’t deserve to be here in a hospital bed. Tom was right, Henry knew what he had to do.

“Rosie, I think we should break up,” Henry said, already feeling like he made the biggest mistake of his life.

“What, why? Did I do something wrong? I thought we were happy. Just yesterday you said you were falling in love me. What the fuck happened?” Rosie faltered, confused by everything.

“Rosie, it’s just not working,” Henry exclaimed with the lamest excuse.

“Fine. Leave,” she said, trying to not let tears fall.

“Roo, we can still be friends.”

“Don’t fucking say that to me. You don’t get to call me that anymore,” Rosie screamed.

“Rosie, I’m sorry,” Henry tried to say something else but was cut off.

“Just get the fuck out. I’m serious, FUCKING LEAVE!!” she thundered as he left. Henry felt like literal shit and an asshole and a fucking idiot all at once. He had just broken the heart of the girl he loves. It was never supposed to happen this way.

“Henry? What’s wrong?” You asked as you saw Henry storm through the halls.

“Are you happy Tom? I did it,” Henry barked.

“Glad she’s awake. Y/N you should go in there, she needs you,” Henry exclaimed, before leaving for good this time.

“Tom, we need to talk about Rosie and Henry,” you said, furious at Tom and his decision to break them up.

“He’s gonna fucking break her heart and I won’t allow it,” Tom yelled.

“You can’t keep them apart and you already did that,” you said sternly, you couldn’t believe the nerve on your husband.

“Y/N end of fucking discussion. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. We don’t keep secrets from each other. For fucks sake, how fucking stupid are you? Letting our daughter whore around with that kid, just like you did,” he vociferated.

“Whore around like I did? Really? Why don’t you look in the fucking mirror?” You screamed, zero fucks were given.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Tom barked.

“I know about you and Jazz.”

“What?”

“You went to a hotel and met her there. Tell me I’m wrong,” you interjected. Tom was too furious to explain his actions, he let you believe he cheated on you.

“Your silence answers my question,” you remarked, wanting to break down inside.

“Tom, just so you know you're sleeping on the couch tonight,” you said. You had your answer now. How could Tom do that to you. I didn’t matter in that moment all that mattered was consoling your daughter who Tom broke.

“Real fucking mature Y/N,” Tom yelled, as you walked away.

“Rosie?” You asked, knocking on her door.

“Mom… he broke up with me,” Rosie said as tears fell.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know what I did wrong…. I swear to god if he met some other chick while I was in a coma.”

“No, nothing like that,” you said, trying to comfort your daughter. There is nothing like a first heartbreak.

“There has to be a reason. One minute I was in love with a boy who loved me back and now, I’m not.”

“Shh, it's okay,” you said, rubbing you hand down Rosie’s back as you pulled her into your arms. How could Henry actually do that to her and flee the scene like a coward. Parker managed to chase him down in the parking lot.

“What the fuck Henry?” Parker called after him

“I did it because I love her,” Henry exclaimed, continuing to walk away.

“Bullshit,” Parker yelled as he punched Henry square in the jaw.

“Owww.”

“I said, I’d fucking hurt you if you broke her heart.”

“Yeah, I know. It was still a shitty threat, but I deserved that.”

“I don’t understand what happened Henry. One minute you tell me you love her the next you don’t…. I don’t know if I will ever understand but you can’t come by the house for awhile,” Parker pleaded, wanting to know the truth.

“Alright. Just tell her I’m sorry mate.” Henry concluded, feeling like literal shit and an asshole and a fucking idiot all at once. He had just broken the heart of the girl he loves. It was never supposed to happen this way.

Author note: I'm sorry for all those who love Rosie and Henry. Don't be afraid to call me a bitch for breaking your heart, my brother did when he read it. Also Tom is a literal asshole in this chapter.

I really can't wait for you guys to read the next ones, even if you don't ask for it. I will post hints for the next chapter with emojis because it's fun.

Guns, Glamour, Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Fifteen — A Surface Memory

I sorta froze; this was the history I knew. My life, the bits with Mom? It stopped here, on this page, and yet we had barely made a dent in the photo album. Why was the idea of turning the page so daunting?

Dad wrapped one arm around my shoulder, the other coming into view as it slowly turned the page. 

5k words | 20 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Continuation on the mentions of loss, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Complications, Surgery, Drugs, Gangs, Terrorism, Mass Casualty. Not like, all at once or deeply described, but definitely mentioned. Imagine if that all happened at once, jfc

I turned the page again, this section surprisingly different; the photos were of Mom and some dude with a blue mohawk, all a bit rough at the edges; like they were old, but well preserved. Mom’s pink hair was still there, but she didn’t look as…edgy, I guess. Plain shirts and simple earrings and stuff. “This is Abbs and her brother,” Dad clarified for me. 

Brent, the first Brent. 

I didn’t know a lot about him at all. I imagine that was intentional, another thing Dad had to hide. “Did you know him?” I asked.

Dad shook his head. “He died before everything, even before your mom was a DUP prisoner.”

“How?” 

Dad suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “I…” he trailed off, biting at his lip. “Gang war bullshit.”

Oh. 

I mean, Dad said Mom had a history with drugs and the Akurans, but were they actually involved with that stuff? Not just victims? “Your mom had a hard start to life,” Dad started gently, as if reading my mind. “Had to…run away when she was a kid, ‘cause her parents were trying to turn her in for being a Conduit. Brent had taken her and ran and they…well, they had to survive somehow, you know?” 

“They were gonna give her to the DUP?” I whispered. 

Dad nodded. “It was worse back then than it is now,” 

And that’s saying something, ‘cause it was still pretty fucking bad. 

But they bought into the propaganda and were actually going to turn Mom in! How could a parent do that to their kid? “Were they gonna turn Brent in too?” I asked.

Dad hummed, confused at my question before realizing what I meant. “Oh, no, Brent wasn’t a Conduit. Just Abbs.” 

I knew there was some genetic explanation to becoming a Conduit; something about both parents needing to have a recessive gene — and even then there was only, like, a 1 in 1,000 chance of a child being a Conduit. The fact that both Brent — my Brent — and I were Conduits was a lucky draw. 

Or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it. 

“So he—“ I faltered, looking down at the picture of Uncle Brent using Mom as an armrest, sat on some kind of retainer wall. “He ran away with her? Or to protect her?” 

Dad shrugged. “Both.”

“Oh, wow,” I whispered. He didn’t look that much older than Mom — he had to only have like, three years on her, max. And if she left as a kid…there was a good chance Brent was one, too. A kid, a normal kid, who threw away a comfortable life for his sister. But…when those Akurans kidnapped me, and I had those three minutes where I thought Brent was the only Conduit out of the two of us…I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same. I was totally willing to, in fact — it’s why that gun was on my temple in the first place. 

I turned the page; this next section time hopped forward, summer on the trees just in front of the house. Mom and Dad were next to an old white truck, the back full of stuff covered with a tarp and strapped down. Next to it was Mom, a shaky shot, sitting reclined in an old leather chair, staring at a TV above the fireplace. “I was really excited to move her in,” Dad said. “Y’know, not just because she’d be there but…it was the first time she really had a home since she was a kid. She deserved something stable.” 

Another page, and another flash forward; Mom’s brown roots were taking over her hair, and she sat on a bench at the patio of the Longhouse, leaned back, arms protectively caressing a decent-sized bump. Another one had Dad sitting beside her and they just…stared off into the Sound. “I managed to get Betty to sneak quite a few pics because—“ he motioned towards the pile of books on his side, “—you saw my mom’s stuff. She’s barely in it. I wanted Abbs to be in pictures more,” 

Well, Dad had quite the foresight, then. 

Next page was something Dad called a gender reveal, something that died off a few years ago. Not that there were many people in the photograph; I could pinpoint like, three of Dad’s friends I already met, some girls I didn’t know. That old lady that gave me pads was there, and one caught Dr. Sims hiding off on the side away from everyone else. They were in the recreational room of the Longhouse, I saw it when I walked by it to go to the bathroom. One of just Mom and Dad, a big group one, a few of them milling. Flipping the page came with the actual reveal, blue confetti everywhere on the wood floor beside Mom and Dad. “You guys really thought I was a boy,” 

Dad laughed. “Like I said, Brent was the only one to ‘show the goods,’ so we had to assume.”

“That had to be a surprise,” I commented, turning the page to a baby shower feature. Everything was blue, including every piece of clothing they got. 

“What?” 

“Me, coming out a girl.” I looked up at him. “Was it weird?” 

Dad chuckled. “Weird? No. A surprise? Oh yeah,” his laughter grew. “Your mom thought they brought back the wrong kid at first,” 

“What?” 

Dad nodded, flipping the page; this one was a selfie of sorts, Dad holding up a peace sign with Mom glowering behind him in a hospital bed, the captioning explaining something about inducing labor. “You’ve gotta remember; she had surgery. It…” the laughter suddenly evaporated. “This went bad. I wasn’t even allowed in when they wheeled her to the operating room. Just got shown you two before they took you to the NICU. She wasn’t awake to see you two come out.” 

That shadow crossed his face again, that dark one when he was reliving something that involved loss. And I hadn’t realized it before, simply ‘cause I never really thought of it; if Mom had an emergency surgery, that meant it was an emergency. Could we have died, all three of us? 

Maybe that’s why this page only had the one picture. 

Dad turned the page again, two porty little potatoes wrapped up in white baby blankets, shoved under some giant warming light. They had tubing in their nose, wires sprouting from their blankets like growths on spuds. “Your mom…you know what a placenta is, right?” I nodded — I took health class. “She had an abruption. It…there was so much blood, and the heartbeat reads on both of you just took a nosedive. There wasn’t even any warning to it — one moment we were watching this zombie show and then she was gone for surgery. I only got a glimpse at you both before they took you to get oxygen.” He breathed shakily, rubbing a hand on his knee in an effort to rid himself of the nervous energy. “But after a few hours in the NICU, they figured you guys were okay,”

“But we did have to be taken care of?” I asked, pointing to the picture.

“For like, four hours. But I got to be there after finding out if your mom was okay,” 

“Ah, made sure Mom knew her other boy wasn’t switched out.” 

He smiled a bit. “Took some convincing but, yeah,” 

There were a couple other snapshots of these little babies, barely distinguishable from each other. Funny, for a few moments, we really did look like twins; fat noses and fat faces and fat. Just fat. Was it normal for babies to look so squished? I was the slightest bit darker, that’s literally all that was different. That and the giant weird red mark on Brent’s forehead. 

I turned the page again, greeted with the familiar face of Mom and Dad holding Brent and I, the same photograph Dad kept on his desk. The other page had some souvenir birth certificates from some hospital called Swedish, that same cursive on the wall in the nursery writing out my and Brent’s full name…with the last name Walker–Rowe. 

“We weren’t always Rowland, were we?” I asked, as if the proof wasn’t right there. 

Dad shook his head. “Your mom and I had a deal: hyphenated last name, and she’d be willing to change it if we ever got married.” 

Rowland was probably a part of the witness protection program thing we had going on. Keep us hidden, safe. I definitely didn’t plan to ask, at least; the shadow was still on his face, and I didn’t want to make him spiral any further. 

 I sorta froze; this was the history I knew. My life, the bits with Mom? It stopped here, on this page, and yet we had barely made a dent in the photo album. Why was the idea of turning the page so daunting?

Dad wrapped one arm around my shoulder, the other coming into view as it slowly turned the page. 

Mom was there, there for the trip home from the hospital and the Akomish Naming Ceremony, something Betty dressed up in full traditional garb for. There to hand one of us in a bundle of blankets over to Dr. Sims, there in the next pic laughing as he reacted to being spit up on. There for the sudden influx of pink clothes that she happily mixed with the masculine blues before forcing my chubby little appendages into them. There rocking Brent to sleep, there feeding me a bottle. Dad was there too, don’t get me wrong; there was a sweet one with him asleep on this very couch, me laid on his chest with some sort of headband-bow around my impossibly small head. But Mom. 

Mom was there. 

We got older, grew out of the awkward doughboy look and into actual, distinguishable babies. Brent started out blonde, surprisingly, and darkened rather quickly over the weeks. He matched Mom’s brown by the time he began pulling up to stand, propped up against furniture. I browned out a bit more from birth, never straying too far from Dad’s side once I started crawling. “You remember S’mores? How she’d always shove herself under our feet when we were walking in the kitchen?” Dad asked, and I nodded. I missed that cat. “You were like that with me when you learned to crawl.” 

My cheeks heated up. “I was a bit needy, wasn’t I?” 

Dad chuckled, “Oh, yeah,”

Once Brent and I got a handle on walking, though, the pictures changed drastically; anything with Brent always seemed to be mid-motion, snapshots of him running around like a miniature tornado while ones of me were more calm yet just as chaotic, on top of a kitchen table or under somewhere that looked impossible to reach. “You weren’t as energetic as Brent, but god you were a Houdini.” Dad laughed, shaking his head. “We had Betty babysit Brent once to just watch you and make sure there wasn’t anything Conduit you were doing to get wherever you wanted.”

I turned the page again, this time to one of me on the fridge. On the fridge, like atop it, standing in that space between the top of the fridge and the ceiling. “You guys had to study me to make sure I wasn’t using random powers?” 

“Yeah. Turns out you’re just smart and don’t stop until you get what you want. Like the toy I put on the fridge to stop you and Brent fighting. You used the kitchen cabinets as stairs.” 

Ah, that’s what that weird thing in my hand was.

Next set was of a birthday party, just Betty in attendance with Mom and Dad, stock little safari animals decorating the living room. The Christmas tree was still up, paper streamers wrapped around the branches in place of ornaments and with presents under it wrapped in paper that screamed HAPPY BIRTHDAY in bold. “Is this where the birthday tree came from?” I asked. We always kept our Christmas tree up till January 18th, the bottom of the tree holding bigger presents while the branches would hold smaller things like paint brushes or video game cases or gift cards. It was one of my favorite traditions.

“We were just lazy,” Dad shrugged. “You try finding time to put up Christmas stuff when you’ve got Brent learning how to open the front door and you trying to pull everything out of the kitchen cabinets to hide in them.”

Yeah we were definitely why he was graying fast at 44. 

“But yes, your Mom and I talked about doing it after getting you two to bed that night,” Dad added. “I wanted…it didn’t hurt to keep the idea after we moved to Portland, you know?” 

I nodded. A snippet of Mom in our life wasn’t something I was upset to have around. 

The next pages were of the nursery gutted or tarped, Mom handing Brent a paintbrush while visibly holding me back from trying to eat some paint out of a bucket. Nice. Glad that’s a memory now. The wall was tarped too save for a cut out square, the elephant’s canvas in it. “So you made it before we were born?” I asked, Dad nodding. I looked back at the pictures, the next one a close up on Mom. 

The smile began to slip off my face; Mom, she…she didn’t look the same. I mean yeah it looked like Mom but I hadn’t noticed her skin was a bit gray, cheeks seeming to become sullen. She looked sick. There was life in her eyes that didn’t match her body, but she just didn’t look right. 

This had to be what Dad was talking about. Whatever our birth did to her was starting to become obvious.

I flipped the pages, ignoring a lot of what we were doing more so to track how Mom declined; her arms got a bit skinnier, her collarbones more pronounced. There were less pictures of her in action with us and more of her sitting or laying down. There were quite a few pics of her with little wrappings on her elbows, the after effects of a blood draw or something. She…she looked like she was on borrowed time. If the Akurans never got to her, would she have lived anyways? She didn’t even have the energy to keep up with the dye in her hair, the brown roots coming back with a vengeance. She took to wearing baggier tees as summer returned and I wondered if that was to hide that she lost weight. S’mores was suddenly there, a Burmese kitten that looked like a toasted marshmallow, Mom holding her as if she’d melt away in her hands. “S’mores was Mom’s cat?” 

Dad nodded. “I got S’mores for her as a late birthday gift. You guys were not nice to her—“ he pointed to a picture of me with my hand on her head in a bad pet, S’mores glowering but otherwise unmoving, “—but she was a great cat. Let you do almost anything to her, and would only swipe if you pushed too far.” 

“She never used her claws,” I commented, remembering all the feverish little rapid patpatpatpatpat smacks she’d hit me with when I tried shoving her in doll clothes. She’d smack me, run to Dad yowling, and I’d get in trouble — but she never hurt me. I never even heard her hiss till her cancer got bad when we were 13. 

Dad was torn up when S’mores died, and now I got why; it was another piece of Mom, ripped away. 

There were Fourth of July pictures featuring only Dad and Betty, Mom missing from the festivities at the Longhouse. Betty playing with me, Dad holding Brent’s hand more to keep him in place than anything as they walked the shore of the Sound — but no Mom. Mom was on the next page, wrapped up in bed with Brent and Me under her arms, all three of us having some sort of movie night where she managed to placate us two into stillness. There was a little bit more color in her face, but it could have also been from the blush she gave the camera, caught by Dad. One beside it was Brent and I now fully active on the bed, chasing around a pink light that overexposed our faces on camera — but it didn’t erase the joy. Not at all. 

Next page was a cute family one, Mom and Dad wrangling Brent and I down respectively, posed on the front steps of the Longhouse. Another one of Betty losing her grip on us, but nonetheless laughing, reaching out to try to snatch Brent back up before he could run too far as I was slung over her shoulder, looking back at the camera and laughing. 

There weren’t any other pictures on the opposite side, nor the rest of the book as I flipped through. The memories stopped there on the Longhouse stairs. “That’s the day I proposed to your mom,” Dad said sadly. “Betty wanted a picture when we came back in celebration.” 

And a week later, Mom would be dead. 

I sniffed, trying to push back the tears. I had so many emotions flowing through me, all touched with a twinge of sadness. Mom was here. On this couch, in this house, at some point — and I had proof. I could sprint outside right now and scream to the heavens that I had a Mom, that she loved me and I had proof! It was right here in this old album, which I subconsciously brought closer to my chest as I closed it, breathing shakily. 

Dad’s arm on my shoulder tightened a bit in a side hug, drawing me closer into his side. “You okay?” He asked gently. 

I nodded rather feverishly, sniffing again. “Yeah, I…” I gripped the book tighter, like if I squeezed it hard enough it’d hug back. “She knew us.” I whispered. 

“Hm?” 

I tried to raise my voice higher, but couldn’t. I may as well have been vapor, the way it suddenly vanished. Everything welled up in my chest, trying to shove its way out. 

Dad’s hand rubbed against my arm softly, and he breathed deeply before saying, “She loved you. Both of you, and it’s been hard keeping these memories from you two because you deserve to know how much she loved you.”

Tears began escaping without my consent. God, I didn’t think I could cry anymore today. Dad’s other arm came around to grab me fully and I couldn’t hold back anymore, pain and joy and sadness all flooding out on choked sobs as I cried. I even felt Dad’s breathing shake, his nose sniff — he joined at some point, but never stopped consoling me. Didn’t worry about anything but how I was doing, keeping a hold on me even as I pulled out of the hug, throat raw. 

He let the silence hang as I composed myself, trying to steady my breathing and get those embarrassing hiccups to stop. I let the book rest on my lap again, freeing my hands so I could pull the sleeves of my shirt over them and wipe my face dry. Weird, you’d think the powers would deal with them. 

Dad’s thumb was rubbing a gentle pattern into my bicep, and I tried to force my breathing to match the rhythm of his movements somehow. “She was really happy you were a girl, by the way. After the whole scare that you got swapped out and stuff, she actually was so happy she cried. Something about not being surrounded by testosterone,” 

I snorted, the sound gross because of my congestion. Yeah, sometimes it sucked being in a house full of boys, I probably would have been relieved too. 

“Brent needs to see this,” I eventually said, my voice a harsh croak that required me to cough to even it back out. 

“He will,” Dad promised. “I’ll show him tomorrow at some point.” Dad then sighed hard, giving me a slight bit of room as he went from squeezing into me to leaned back on the couch. “How was he?” 

I shrugged. “He…upset. I missed whatever fit he threw, but that construction site is completely unusable now.” 

Dad blinked, looking down at me. “Really?” 

I explained what I saw, how absolutely destroyed the site and surrounding trees were — but Dad didn’t look surprised. In fact he hummed, as if it was a curious outcome. “I’ll have to talk to him about it. I think I might know what happened,” 

“Tommy just—“ I sputtered a moment, trying to find the words. “How could he? Not exactly being pro-Conduit is one thing but he sold you out! After everything!” 

Dad stared into the fire, which really needed a stoke, thinking. “You know, when we left here and I became Damion and everything, I sort of thought that…maybe it was a good thing. I was scared of what being Abigail Walker and Delsin Rowe’s kids was going to do to you two. Not even the death threats or the stalking or the harassment but…stuff like this, with Tommy. Especially when I thought you two were normal, I felt like I made the right move. That maybe we should have done it earlier.” 

What would that have done? Tommy would still be prejudiced, we’d still be Conduits, Dad would still be Delsin Rowe. Mom probably would have died from whatever made her sick. “We shouldn’t have to hide,” I huffed. “It’s not fair! I mean, why is it so wrong that we’re Conduits? You know how much good we could do?” 

“People are scared of what they don’t understand,” Dad said sadly. “And with Empire City and the Plague and Augustine’s stunts — they have reason to be scared. They’re worried they can’t protect themselves.” 

“They don’t need to protect themselves! It’s not like we’re hunting them for sport.” I scoffed. “And even if something happens, I mean — doesn’t it feel safer to have a Conduit help?” 

Dad was giving me a weird look, like he was analyzing all I left unsaid. Probably to chastise me for the curse words I was keeping out. “Jeanie, I want you to think back to when those Akurans had you. You couldn’t do a thing to safely get out of that situation, right?” 

I nodded, the idea of that day enough to cause knots in my stomach. Even after it all, the only reason I got away from his gun was because I turned to water in his arms. If I wasn’t a Conduit, or if I didn’t form powers then…would I even be alive? 

“That fear is what everyone has about Conduits. Guns and stuff can only do so much. If someone shoots at us, we can dodge or block it — and we heal fast. What’s to stop us from killing them?” 

Not much. 

“But we aren’t killers, Dad! You’re not, me and Brent aren’t, and none of those Conduits in COLE were either.” 

Dad’s soft smile he gave me was weird, sort of like he…felt sorry for me? “There’s a lot more to this than you know, Jean. It’s not always that easy.” 

Then fucking make it easy, Dad! I’m not a child anymore, I’m 99% adult and you can tell me what you really think instead of hiding behind the ‘you’ll understand when you’re older’ excuse. 

That’s what I wanted to say. Instead I sort of huffed under my breath and looked at the fire, grabbing the poker to stab at it a bit. 

A few embers shot out from my poking, and I watched them flitter down to the cold tile that lined the edge of the fireplace, dying midair before they could even hit the ground. My mind wasn’t on the argument I wanted to start with Dad at all anymore, but the absolute tragedy that happened earlier. “Dad?” He hummed. “Did…is it still at nineteen?” 

His hand came up from its lax position, running over his face. “Yeah. Didn’t go up, but there’s a couple people in critical condition,” 

So it could change. 

“So…how many of them did you know?” 

Dad’s eyes didn’t leave the fire, the flames haunting him as if he watched COLE explode in person. “All of them.” 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. 19 acquaintances or friends gone, snuffed out like those embers. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right. 

“There’s a vigil tomorrow,” Dad said. “Got an email about it. They’ve kept me on the email chains just in case I…” he shook his head as if resetting the thought, trying again with, “I hope they stay safe about it. Another big gathering isn’t the best idea.” 

The thought came to me, and left my tongue just as quickly: “You should be there.” 

Dad turned to look at me like I just ate ash out of the fireplace for a midnight snack. “What?” 

There was a brief second where I thought about shaking my head and saying ‘never mind’ — but there wasn’t a good enough reason not to. We didn’t have the liberty of reasoning anymore. “You should go. They — the Conduits need a voice right now and I know Dr. Sims is there but it’s—“ I shrugged, finishing lamely with, “It’s not you.” 

“Jeanie, I need to make sure you two stay safe—“

“Dad,” I cut him off, pulling out of his embrace to face him fully. He blinked, surprised by how serious I was being. “I don’t think we can hide anymore. It didn’t work, anyways — they found us. And besides, staying silent right now is admitting it’s the truth. They know you’re Delsin, and they know about me and Brent. There’s video and Tommy is ratting us out anyways so it isn’t like we can just pretend things are okay.” I thought back to that one on one I had with Betty on the patio; maybe she did know what she was talking about. “COLE was just blown up and I don’t — maybe if we did something no one would have died—“

“Jean—“ 

“But we can’t just leave them to fend for themselves! They need you. Not Sims, not some other guy, not the politicians, but the man they credit for freeing them. I don’t think anyone but Delsin Rowe can fix this.” 

Dad shook his head. “I’m not — Jean, this isn’t one of those comics you want to write. I can’t be that guy, I just care about you and your broth—“ 

“But you are.” I stressed, a few seconds away from dropping to my knees in a plea. “You’re that guy to them. I thought you were that guy too: you didn’t have to help them, but you did, and that’s what they care about. That’s why they need you. And I know you care, Dad! You wouldn’t have made COLE if you didn’t.” 

He looked at me for so long I eventually dropped my vision to my hands, chickening out of the staring contest. But it’s the truth: he should be there. For the people he knew, for the ones he helped. Everyone knew Delsin Rowe was alive, and it was too late to shove that fact back into its little box. We did have a choice, and ours was probably more important than any other average Conduit, because I fully believed Dad’s involvement could change the tides. 

“You really think that?” Dad finally asked, just above a whisper. I looked up; he was still staring, the ghosts of a thousand fears and the shadows of a dozen emotions crossing his face. 

“Yeah,” I answered with no hesitation. “I think they need you again.” 

Dad breathed deeply, squinting his eyes shut like the action hurt him. “I don’t want to leave you two alone, but I can’t take you back there right now,”

“We aren’t alone,” I shrugged. “Betty can babysit us so you know we aren’t drinking.” 

“Oh I’m not worried about that,” Dad suddenly chuckled. “You have a super high metabolism now. You’ll need to drink an entire handle to feel a buzz.” 

“What?” 

Dad’s stare tried to be disapproving, but cracked under the amusement. “You could pretend to not be so heartbroken, y’know,” but that pensiveness came back, and Dad went quiet. 

I couldn’t think of anything else to say. What could I say? I couldn’t force him there, and it definitely didn’t look like he was ready to decide what to do. 

So instead I shifted to lean against him again, grabbing the photo album and asking, “Do you remember anything about these pictures? Like, what was going on that day?” 

I didn’t look at Dad, but I could tell he was caught off guard by the sudden change in topic as he said, “Y-yeah, a few of them, why?” 

“Tell me about them?” 

For a moment, Dad tensed, and I was sure he was gonna shrug me off and tell me to just go to bed. But then he shifted, leaned into the couch so I fit more to his chest and opened the album like it was a storybook. “So it’d been…almost two months since I heard from your Mom — there were so many interviews with the FBI and Reggie’s funeral and Curdun Cay that we barely got a moment of peace. Didn’t even really say a proper goodbye to each other. But one day she called and asked if I was still close to Seattle, if I’d meet her at the warehouse where she sorta kicked my ass…” 

I fell asleep there, the rumbles of Dad’s chest becoming a white noise as I listened to him explain a past I was only becoming acquainted with. 

[andysbubba]

friends [ two ]

-> steve’s your best friend. you know damn well that won’t change. [ also you’re really stubborn in this au and steve has to deal with that ]

AKA two idiots in love but one doesn't want to admit it

link to chapter one | two | three | four |

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

-

10 years later, 2020

“How is it going with you two?” Bucky sips his coffee as he sits across you and Steve.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

“I would’ve expected a wedding invitation by now from both of you,” He looks at the two of you pointedly.

You choke on your latte and then glanced at Steve. “Seriously?”

Steve glances back at you and laughed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

Bucky bursts out in laughter. “Shit. That was priceless!”

“Oh shut up, Buck.” Steve rolls his eyes at his friend.

“Yeah, Barnes. We’re just friends,” You nudge Steve with your shoulder. “Right, Steve?”

Steve shrugs and nods, leaning in front and picking up a fork to cut into his slice of chicken pie. “Yeah,”

Jesus. What was that stinging pain in your heart?

Steve left for the washroom and it was just you and Bucky.

“Bitch move, Y/N.”

You look at Bucky cluelessly. “What did I do?”

“That guy is hopelessly in love with you and you just told him that you two are just friends.” He pointedly says.

You roll your eyes in reply. “You’re exaggerating. He’s not hopelessly in love with me, Buck.”

“Say that to his lost, sad, depressed puppy dog face whenever you get into a new relationship.” Bucky kicks your leg under the table.

“You’re just bullshitting now, Barnes.”

There was no way Bucky was right. Your mum’s told you the same thing, so did Steve’s parents. And then there was Natasha who said something along the lines too. Lets not forget Sam either.

Steve being in love with you? That’s just impossible.

“You shouldn’t deny the truth, Y/L/N.”

Steve walks back to the table. “Deny what?”

You turn to Steve in slight surprise before you quickly recovered. “Bucky was just saying some things about-”

“-About how you’ve been in love with Y/N since you were kids,” Bucky interrupts you.

Steve blushes immediately, the pink flowing up to his pale cheeks and he stuttered a little. “W-what?”

You step on Bucky’s toes with your boots and glare at him. His knee shoots up and hits the table as he groans in pain.

You turned to Steve and smiled kindly, “Nope, Bucky was just playing with you,”

Steve nods and settles back on the seat beside you.

You thought to yourself while the two guys chat about yesterday’s baseball game.

Steve gets sad when you get into a new relationship? And then he gets awkward when you say that you two are just friends.

Damn it, Bucky.

But Steve’s just being Steve. He’s always awkward... right?

-

“I’m not even kidding, Nat. Like seriously, Steve? Liking me?” You huff.

“Think about it this way,” She was lying on the couch, her legs resting on your lap. “He has a lot of flings and ex girlfriends. But why did none of them last long?”

You look down at her. “Because he hasn’t found the right person?”

Natasha shrugs. “That could be one. But you two already act like a couple.” She shifted and sits up straight, turning to you seriously. “He’s looking around for something he already has. Except, it isn’t official.”

You were meeting Natasha so you ended up leaving the guys earlier at the cafe. Apparently, they were planning on having some guys night with Sam.

You frown at Natasha. “We don’t act like a couple.”

Nat raised an eyebrow at you with a ‘really’ expression. “You cuddle, you know what each other like and dislikes, he spends money on you, you spend money on him and you sleep together on the same bed.”

“Isn’t that the norm for best friends?”

Tasha rolls her eyes. “You don’t see Sam kiss my forehead before he goes home or see Bucky buy me an iPad, now, do you?”

“I’ve known Steve since I was one.” You pointed out.

This topic was seriously making you think like crazy. You didn’t even know you acted like a couple with Steve. Like seriously???

“Valid point. But do you really think his exes give a shit about that when he helps you put on your coat and shit?”

“But-”

Natasha laughs at you, completely stopping your speech. “Denial is not a good look on you, sweetie.”

You sigh as Nat stands up and heads into the kitchen.

She comes back out with two bottles of beer. “Listen, Y/N. All I’m saying is, maybe you don’t see it but everyone around you sees what’s going on.” She settles beside you on the couch. “Your brain just functions at a slower rate than others.”

You gasp and smack her arm harshly. “Rude!”

Nat bursts out in laughter before calming down and snuggled into you. “Just, if it’s meant to be, it will happen someday. Forcing things will only make it worse.”

“Does he really sulk when I get into relationships?” You rest your head on top of Natasha’s.

“Yeap!”

You sigh again. “Okay then, why do my relationships not last long?”

“Because the intimacy you want with said partner is already something you share with Steve.” Nat stops and tried to think of a way to convey her thoughts. “Minus the kisses and sex.”

You sighed for what seemed like the nth time that day. “Alright lets change topics. How are your ballet lessons going?”

-

You had some guy named Jake over at your place a few days after your girls night with Nat. It was just a one night thing and he was already in the corridor outside your apartment when Steve appeared from the stairs, slightly breathless.

You see his face drop when he sees the guy standing outside your door. Wait- why have you never seen that before? It wasn’t the first time Steve came over while there was a guy at your apartment?

Fuckfuckfuck. Damn it, Bucky. And Natasha.

“Hey, Steve.” You turn to Jake, or was it Jacob? “Bye, Joseph.”

Said guy just looks at you in shock. “It’s John.”

“Yeah, potato, potahto.” You flashed him a grim smile before dragging Steve into your apartment and leaving the John in the corridor.

“I’ll make breakfast?” You ask Steve, already making your way to the kitchen.

He follows closely behind you. “I’ll help. What do you want?”

“Mom’s congee?”

Steve looks at you in shock. “You’re the best.”

“I know, Stevie.” You wink at him. “Just fry the chicken. And cut the onions, please, I beg you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Steve hurriedly washed his hand and took whatever he needed from the fridge.

“You wanna call the others to hang out?”

Steve shrugs, “Up to you. But you call. I just washed my hands.”

You took out your phone and shoot a text to the groupchat. The one with Sam, Nat and Bucky.

Y/N: congee day

Y/N: no beer no entry.

Sam: OOOO

Nat: beer and congee? seriously?

Y/N: hey, no one’s forcing you to come nat ??

Sam: there in an hour. with beer.

Bucky: is steve making his fried chiken

Y/N: yeah

Nat: fine i’ll be there with bucky in 20 mins

Y/N: bring gummy bears please thank you ily

-

Steve glanced down at his smartwatch at raised his brows at your last text.

“Gummy bears, really?”

“Gummy bears and beer is literally the best thing Stevie,” You snort, “But of course you wouldn’t know since you’re an old hag, Steven.”

Steve gasps, looking at you in shock. “Did you just-”

You smirk at him, casually walking to the fridge. “You know I did, Rogers.”

You looked inside the fridge, completely not noticing that Steve was already behind you.

You turn around after grabbing a can of Schwepps from the fridge. You jumped seeing Steve towering right behind you. “Jesus, Steve.”

“You wanna try that again?” He held his hands up on both sides of the fridge, eyes twinkling playfully.

You shake your head and pointed at him. “None of the food war crap. I had to clean up the mess the last time.”

Steve gazed down at you. “You better take it back if you don’t want a new mess to clean up.”

You took the time to look at him– really look at him.

Steve's hot, and goodlooking. You’ve already known that. But have you ever really looked at him?

How there’s that weird drain between his brows when he’s frowning, or how his chin is like a shade darker than the rest of his face. There’s a spot on his cheek and his forehead. You’ve never really noticed them before. His eyes always had a shine. The only time you saw it dull was at his dad’s funeral and then again when Sarah Rogers passed away about 4 years after. Your parents took him in straight afterwards.

Those blue eyes are always so intense. Whether he’s trying to get a thread into the needle or reading Paper Towns, Steve’s eyes are so goddamn intense. Like he’s trying to burn a hole through the pages of that stupid book.

“You’re staring,” He noted, even though his eyes were deeply staring into you too.

“You’re staring,” You dutifully told him in return.

“I’m looking,” You see his eyes glancing down to your lips quickly and then back into your eyes.

Your eyes shifted down to his lips too. You know how it feels firsthand. Plump and soft, and it feels so good against your own. The natural pink only compliments his pale skin.

It has never been this intense. He was staring into you and you were gazing into him. His body warmth completely overrides the cold air of the fridge behind you. And his presence was... present, huge. Was this what people called sexual tension?

Damn it, Bucky. And Natasha. And Sam. And your parents.

Fuck.

His gaze switched between your eyes and lips, leaning down slowly and hesitantly. You leaned in too, slowly going up on the tip of your toes.

You could feel his breath on your face.

“We shouldn’t,” You whispered lowly.

“I know,” Steve’s hand still shifted to your jaw, though and he's caressing very lightly.

Your hands trailed up and linked at the back of his neck, and you completely press your lips against his.

Fuck.

It has been at least a year since you’ve been this close to Steve. But this, this was just different.

Steve kisses you back, lips soft but a little rough. It reminds you perfectly of the first time you kissed him he kissed you.

There was a thought in the back of your mind about how this was possibly going to be awkward later. But, fuck. His lips feels too good to stop.

You pull away from him, just about an inch or two away from his lips. “Steve,”

He speaks lowly, “I swear if you tell me that we shouldn’t do this...”

“We shouldn’t.” You breathed deeply. “But we need to talk about this,”

“Talk about what?” His voice raises the slightest bit. “Talk about how I’ve been in lo-”

The doorbell rings.

And just like that, your moment broke.

Steve closed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, before he completely pulls away from you and turned around.

“Go get the door. I’ll get started on the chicken.”

You listened, stepping out of the kitchen and to towards the door. Your mind was still processing what just happened. Was he about to say... But, Fuck.

Even if he did say it, you have no idea what you’d do.

Your hand curls around the door knob and you pushed it down and pulled the door open.

Nat and Bucky were on the other side, holding up bags and something that looks like 10 bags of gummy bears.

Not that you have any complaints.

“Your face looks weird. What happened?” Natasha brushes past you as she strides into your apartment, dropping her handbag on the dining table and then going into the kitchen.

“Yeah, you look weird. Why does the house seem so quiet?” Bucky asks next, pushing past you and going straight into the kitchen.

“Yeah, cause I just kissed Steve. Of course it’s gonna be like the fucking Kardashians’ house, ain’t it?” You mutter lowly under your breath, knowing damn well they can’t hear you.

“Hey, Steve,” Tasha sets the bags in the counter before she goes over and pecks Steve on his cheek. “You look weird too. What happened between you two?” She glances between you and Steve with a question mark on her face.

“Did you have sex?”

You turn to Bucky almost immediately. “No!”

“Alright, no need to get so defensive, Tiger. Did you kiss?”

The blush on Steve’s cheeks and the silence from you was a good enough answer for the both of then.

“Oh, so something did happen, huh?” Natasha teased, eyes glinting with some sort of evil.

“Shut up.” Steve grunts as he continues dipping small chicken cubes into flour and then into the egg mixture.

“Did you kiss his dick or just his mouth?”

You roll your eyes, stepping towards the sink to wash your hands, completely ignoring Bucky’s question.

You eyed Steve from your peripheral vision. He was silent too.

Well, fuck.

-

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