#not to mention he carries the addictive gene on his dad's side

[lobo-inu]

Whats Robin like drunk. I wanna see that ohmes WASTED, drunkely flirting with Miraak while face on the table jdfhjdf no but actually, how is he? That nordic ale can not be good

oh no. i’m so sorry, but you have opened up the door for some of Robin’s extremely depressing lore.

on the contrary, Robin avoids alcohol as much as he can. he grew up with an alcoholic father who was a skooma addict (Dar’Jo my beloved); he doesn’t really remember much, but it definitely engrained itself into his subconscious. Dar’Jo wasn’t a violent or abusive drunk, but seeing your father constantly in an on-and-off state of Not Himself really just scared little Robin to his core.

another thing that turned him away were his experiences with drunk Mercer during their…. bond, if you will, while he was in the Thieves Guild. this is when Robin was around 19. he and Mercer’s whole situation is just a mess that i can elaborate on another time 👀

…lol, not to mention his first and last experience with Skooma when he was 17/18-ish was bad enough. while it isn't alcohol, it’s close enough in his brain to where it might as well be just as risky. turned Robin away from the idea of alcohol or other substances ever since.

on a lighter note, though, Robin is a stoner through and through haha. while initially scared to try because of the previous incidents stated above, he eventually got comfortable smoking hemp as he aged. sometimes Sleeping Tree Sap is also smoked medicinally to help him sleep or get through ptsd episodes / chronic pain /etc. whenever he travels to Whiterun, Robin always makes sure to pay Ysolda a visit whenever he needs some sap.

i think Miraak tries to smoke with him one evening for the first time. coughs up a lung and he has himself a damn time, alright… i don't think he'd like it very much. just means there's more for Robin, though 🖤

[universe-n-3276]

Carrying the Moon

Chapter 4

Five months had passed since Sander took one of the most important decisions of his life. It was mid-January, and the weather was still cold. A shy sun had decided to finally appear in the sky that morning, so Sander called Lucas, dressed Hero with beanie, scarf, gloves, and a warm jacket, not without several protests from the little one. He put him into the stroller, wrapping him in a blanket like a burrito, and took his son to the park.

It wasn't the first time they went there, but he always felt like a fish out of water, surrounded by women older than himself and certainly more experienced in caring for a child, so he decided to drag along Lucas, who showed up holding two cups of steaming chocolate in his hands.

They walked together for a while, taking turns to push the stroller. Hero behaved himself most of the time. He was curious about every single thing he laid his eyes on, even if, in that case, it was just an ugly icy landscape.

Arriving at the children's playground, which was semi-deserted, they sat on a free bench, and Sander lifted Hero from the stroller, taking him in his arms.

Lucas loved spending time with the baby, which immensely surprised everyone, especially Jens, who thought he knew his boyfriend like the back of his hand. Whenever someone dared to tease him for that reason, he simply answered that Hero wasn’t like any other child.

Sander wanted to contradict him every time, thinking about how often he had to get up unwillingly at night or clean the living room wall, on which Hero had scribbled with one of his markers. He even wanted to mention the mashed potatoes that were still stuck on the kitchen ceiling from two months before, but he didn't, because after all, everyone deserved some magic.

"He grows so fast."

Lucas was playing with Hero, who was sitting on Sander's lap. The little one laughed loudly every time he saw his uncle make a face. For him, it was the funniest thing in the world, for Lucas an unnecessary injection of self-esteem.

"I was thinking about it a few days ago. He can already sit all by himself, I’m so proud of my little bean here!"

He ran his fingers through Hero's ash-blonde hair, pulling it away from his forehead. It also got longer and darker, just like the twins’ natural hair color. Their genes were truly prominent, and it showed in Hero’s whole appearance.

"I don't know if it's time that passes quickly or if my head just got stuck at six months ago."

Lucas knew that Sander was happy with the decision he had taken, and that going back, he would have made that exact same choice a million times more, but there was always a shadow of sadness in his look. The twinkle in his eyes had disappeared long before, and that alone didn't mean anything good, although the boy pretended to be fine all the time, those who knew him well, felt that something wasn’t right.

"Talk to me. Please."

Sander grimaced and shook his head, so many words were trapped in his throat. Lucas knew, that his best friend didn't like to show his emotions, especially the sad ones, so seeing him like that hurt him even more. He wished he could take some of that pain with him, to ease the torment that the other was feeling. He took his hand and squeezed it, trying to comfort his best friend, glad that Hero didn't understand what was happening, because that child, after all he had been through, deserved only happiness and joy.

"Robbe?"

Sander nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. It was hard to talk about it, and for five months, he hadn’t mentioned what happened with his ex-boyfriend to anyone. He had kept it all inside, hoping that sorrow would disappear or at least diminish eventually. He wanted to feel better, to stop breathing underwater, to sleep an entire night without waking up and looking for Robbe, but it hadn't happened yet.

"When I chose to be Hero's dad, in another universe, I didn’t. I stayed with Robbe and my life had moved on in another direction. Do you think Sander from that universe is happy? "

The theory of the multiverse. Lucas was shocked when he found out that Robbe also knew about it. It was so important to him, that he passed it on Sander, who started to obsess over it as well. The point was, that Lucas and Robbe had found in that theory, a way to ease the weight of a decision, to be happy in any way, or universe in this case, but their coping mechanism was torturing Sander every day.

“I don't know, but I'm happy to live in this universe. Your courage has given us the chance to live a wonderful life with Hero, and since he arrived, I feel like we were a family.”

Lucas saw his friend's lips curl into a small smile. He lifted Hero up and gently pressed him against his chest, kissing his chubby cheek. The child chuckled happily, looking at Sander in absolute adoration. It was an incredible scene to watch because, despite everything, there was still so much love in their life.

“You are everything to him, you know that, right? You're a dad, Sander!”

"That word still sounds so weird. It makes me feel older than my father.”

Lucas laughed, stroking the baby's back. Over the years, Sander had managed to become the biggest drama queen, and that trait would surely become an integral part of his son's attitude. They just had to wait a few years to see it in its full force. It was going to be the funniest thing to witness.

"I always thought that having a relationship with a man was enough of a contraceptive. I guess I was wrong!”

Sander glared at his best friend, then narrowly dodged Hero's hand as he tried to pull his dad’s hair as usual when he wasn't getting any attention. He was six months old and was already terribly spoiled. The adults around him couldn’t do anything but shower him with affection and love. No one was able to tell him no.

“Hey mister, be careful! You don't want me to be bald at 23. Uncle Lucas instead... "

“Don't even try. Genetics is not on my side. Have you seen my father?”

Sander burst out laughing. A loud, genuine, and contagious laugh, that was able to put anyone in a good mood. Lucas hadn't heard him laugh like that in months, and at that moment, he wanted to make him laugh like that for the rest of his life.

The two of them had been through a lot. They had hated and insulted each other. They had screamed horrible things in their faces, but neither of them would ever have exchanged those memories for others with anyone else.

Lucas always told Jens that the way Sander was able to make you feel loved was something incredible. His love made you feel special, heard, seen. The lucky ones who were able to experience it, couldn’t help but become addicted to that feeling.

No one was powerful enough to give it up. That’s why, despite how things went, despite that winter was still so cold and gray, Lucas knew that Robbe would come back to Sander eventually. Winter would be over in no time and the sun would soon start to shine on all of them as it always did.

[previous] / [next]

[royal-shawn]

Crossroads || demon!shawn

A small part of me knows it’s wrong, to sacrifice myself for the rest of my family, but it was right. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen them. They’re part of a medical experiment, where since their superior genes they get tested on. Something went wrong, and they’ve been in quarantine since.

I drive my dad’s old truck to the gravel road intersecting Cedar Road, and Mahogany Drive. I pull to the side and turn off the truck. The sun was setting, spreading an array of colors across the paling sky.

I grab the small tin out of the passengers’ seat, before climbing out of the rusting truck. I have everything I need, except my wits, but I won’t need those. 

I take a deep breath and get onto my knees, digging into the gravel. I place the small tin in the shallow hole before covering it back up with the gravel. I stand back up and wait, the soft chill in the air lingering and making my hair stand up.  

After what feels like about five minutes, I sigh, kicking a rock and turning to walk to the truck. 

I come face-to-face with a black-clad chest. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, never thought I’d see you here.” The black-clad person says. 

I step back, looking up into the eyes of the person who would soon own my soul. “How do you know my name?” 

His pink lips curl into a smirk. “I know a lot.” He flicks a hand through his curly, brown hair. “Tell me, you’re a smart girl, and you have a lot to live for, why go now?” 

I sigh. “My family is dying.” The ground is suddenly way more interesting than the handsome demon standing in front of me. “I want them happy, even if I’m not around.” 

“Courageous, as always. You do understand what’ll happen to you, correct?” He asks. 

“I’ve done my research. You’ll own my soul, I’m aware.” I say, looking up at him. 

“Right, so, what’s your end of the bargain?” He asks. 

“My family, Brice, Mom, Dad, all get better and get released from quarantine, and they forget I exist.” I bite my lip. “I’m nothing but a mere first-trimester miscarriage.” 

“You don’t want them to remember?” He asks. 

“My dad’s the sheriff, he’ll stop at nothing to find me if I went missing,” I explain. “Brice is only ten, I can’t put him through the trauma.” 

The handsome demon nods. “All deals are sealed with a kiss.” 

I nod. “I know.” 

“My name’s Shawn by the way.” He introduces himself. 

“Nice to meet you.” I smile tearfully. 

He steps forward and cups my cheek. “You’re sure about this?” 

“Yeah.” I close my eyes. 

Shaen leans down and presses his lips to mine. 

He tastes like honey and chocolate, an addicting combination, I floss my fingers through his hair. 

Suddenly, it’s like a part of me is taken away from my heart and replaced with ice. 

I pull away from Shawn and place a hand on my chest, looking around. 

“It’s an odd twist to everyone, Hell is cold, and it chills past the bone, you’ll get used to it.” He shrugs. 

I look around at the seemingly black and white surroundings. with accents of dark blue and red. 

“Since, technically, you belong to me, you get to see my little corner of Hell.” He grins lopsidedly. 

“Great.” I continue evaluating the place with my eyes. “What’s your job around here?” 

“I’m not usually a crossroads demon.” He says. “Usually, I’m on punishing the evil, but today I couldn’t help myself.” 

I decide not to press. “Is this your house?”

“Sorta, kinda more like another dimension type deal, since I’m high up, I get to rule a little corner and have a private place.” He grins. “A few friends stay here too, usually.” 

I nod. “Will I stay here?” I ask. 

He nods. “Technically, you can’t be out of a hundred feet from me. So you’ll be in the room next to mine.” 

I nod. “What happens if I get away.” 

“I’m not sure, but I’m sure it’ll hurt.”

Time in Hell doesn’t exist, Shawn measures them in eternities, but I’ve been here a little while. 

Shawn takes me to his position, which isn’t technically punishing the evil, but supervising those who are. 

He works closely with Lillith, who calls herself the demon queen, but I don’t see anyone worshipping her. She has a thing for Shawn, but I don’t think he realizes it. 

“Y/N?” Shawn calls. 

I turn around from the balcony where I was watching two demons argue. “Yeah?”

“It’s time to go.” He grins. 

I nod, leaving the railing and walking to join him. 

He taps a four-digit code into his wristwatch which opens a portal-like hole, which we step through. 

“Lillith mentioned that you should start dressing more like a demon, so you blend in a bit more than you do in a yellow sweater and blue jeans.” He motions to my body. 

I look down at my outfit of muted colors, which makes me wonder how Shawn sees here, Since what felt like an hour after I got here, the black and white twisted to muted colors, the only prominent colors being deep blue and red. 

I smile. “She’s probably right, I do stand out.” 

“We can order them.” He motions to the hologram-like tablet mounted on the wall. 

“You pick them, I probably don’t have the best taste of what’s demon or not.” I smile. 

“You should still have input, you’ll wear these for eternities.” He smiles. 

I nod. “Okay, but you’re the demon here.”

His smile falters, but he nods. “You’re right.”

Shawn has a habit of staying up and watching the blue-hued fire flick in the fireplace, it’s only recently that I’ve started sitting with him, and even more recent that he’s held my hand. 

“Do you think that I belong down here?” I ask, looking over at Shawn, who was already looking at me. 

He shakes his head. “I’d like to think you would get married and have two dogs.” 

“I’ve thought that too.” I grin

“Great minds.” He returns my grin. “You know, I’m allergic to dogs.” 

“Really?” 

“Really, that’s why I don’t have a hell-hound, I would if I could.” He says. 

“Allergies carry over?” I ask, giggling softly. 

“Yeah, It’s weird, I know.” He laughs too. 

I scoot over, sitting closer to him. 

He scoots over too, and we sit and watch the fire until I fall asleep. 

The day after that, the atmosphere had changed. Shawn was more relaxed near me, instead of uptight and broody, but life goes on and he had to go supervise. 

Lillith seems to notice the difference and can’t seem to leave Shawn alone. He doesn’t say anything, so maybe he likes it. I don’t press, just stand near him and watch the punishers. 

“Y/N, Luci just notified me that I can get off early, just say the word and we can leave,”  Shawn says, before going back to his shift. 

I catch Lillith’s glaring eyes, before turning to look at the tormentors. 

“I’m ready whenever you are,” I mutter. “Just get me away from Lillith.” 

“Done and done.” He grins, typing the numbers onto his wristpad. 

“Do you ever miss them?” He asks. 

“Who?” I ask, looking over at him. 

“Your family.” He says. 

I nod. “But it’s better now that they’re healthy. I like it better this way.” 

He hums. 

“What about you?” I ask. 

He nods. “I think about them a lot.” 

“Tell me about them.” 

I let him speak about his family, his eyes lit up as he does, gesticulating wildly. 

He pipes down after a while, whispering about how much he misses his mom. 

Soon his shoulders are shaking as he sobs about how he regrets it all, and how much he wishes he could go back. 

I pull the big demon into my arms and let him cry into my shoulder until he’s done. 

He stays in my shoulder for a second before pulling away. “Thank you, I don’t deserve you.” 

I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. “It’s alright, I promise.” 

“Y/N, your dress is torn, come with me I’ll help you fix it.” Lillith fake smiles. 

Shawn looks back at me, then at Lillith. “Don’t take her too far.”

“No problem.” She grins, pulling me away, her nails poking into my flesh. 

We stop behind a wall and she immediately starts yelling at me.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for Shawn to like me! Forever! And you just rip him away from me! like he’s a toy! Not any longer.” 

She grabs my arm and drags me in the opposite direction of Shawn until a head-splitting migraine overrides my system. 

“How's it feel?” She smirks, her deep-blue eyes flicking to black holes. 

“Shawn!” I scream, the sound of the tormented people covering the sound of my own pain. 

I feel my eyes rolling back before everything goes black.  

I wake up in a bed that’s cozier than mine, with pajamas that are cozier than mine. 

My head aches as I open my eyes, but nothing compared to the migraines. “Shawn?” I call weakly. 

There’s footsteps and Shawn enters the room, a panicked look on his face. “Lucifer said I can take a bit of work off, he said he gets it. With the whole Persephone thing.” 

“Shawn, I’m okay.” I grin. “Well now that you’re here.”

He sighs, closes his eyes. “You scared me.” 

“Lilith scared me.” I joke. 

He climbs into bed and wraps me in his big arms. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” i grin. 

“That makes two of us.” He says, before dipping his head down to kiss me. 

Part 2 here

[mobscene-london]

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Eugène ‘Gene’ Moreau.   AGE: 25. PLACE OF BIRTH: Launceston, Massachusetts, United States. AFFILIATION: The French Organization. OCCUPATION: Drug dealer. FACE CLAIM: Dacre Montgomery. AVAILABILITY: TAKEN.

BIOGRAPHY:

(Warning: mentions of drug addiction and child neglect.)

When he was born into this wonderful world, an innocent baby boy at the mercy of the doctor who pulled him forth from his mother’s fruitful loins, his loving parents bestowed upon him two extraordinary gifts he still carries with him to this day: a nicotine addiction he’d acquired in the womb and the dumbest fucking French name to ever exist.

Granted, his name was all Eugène had ever gotten from his father. The pregnancy was an accident that turned the sweet taste of late-night booty calls sour in the mouth quickly, and it was almost honorable that the Frenchman had cared enough to sit out nine months before he made his swift exit. The guy had stuck around exactly long enough to name his firstborn son after himself before he successfully ditched him and his mother, never to be seen again. Narcissism was a classic French trait, Gene would later learn, and it was even worse in French mobsters. St. Clair loyalists getting cozy with waitresses at diners and spreading their DNA wasn’t a new concept. Gene wasn’t bitter that he never had a dad who didn’t care enough to reach out to his son. Sure, it was a dick move to leave behind his newborn child, but considering how much of a nutjob Gene’s mom was, he couldn’t really blame Eugène Sr.

No hard feelings when the baby mama was a living testament to why Karens lived true to their names.

In retrospect, child protective services should have kicked in their front door in the first two years of his life. His mom wasn’t abusive by any means, oh no. Not physically, at least, and what she threw at him verbally he learned to brush off as nothing but the woman’s own bitterness about a messed up life. When he got older, he could laugh about it, and once his wits had fully bloomed, he countered her spite with sarcastic comments. And, bless her soul, considering how poor they were, she did the best she could to keep Gene alive (which was a challenge in itself). She worked hard, took double shifts regularly to bring food on the table and dress her son in warm clothes. Even if delayed, and even if the power cut out on them countless times, she managed to pay the bills. Money had to come from somewhere – and that was exactly the problem. Working all day and returning home exhausted, crashing on the couch to chain smoke and drink, falling asleep on said couch deaf to the crying, screaming, wailing kid in the crib…. Gene felt justified in calling it abandonment. She tried, though. That was more than most would have done. 

Having no one to provide support and stability meant that Gene began making all the wrong fucking choices and getting mixed up with the wrong crowd. The French crowd, to be exact. School wasn’t of interest when he could hang out with his friends instead. Responsibilities were expertly ignored, the bed in his room left empty for days, and even his mom eventually became nothing more than a ghost of a life past. His friends gave him a sense of camaraderie and belonging he’d never known before, which was perhaps why he was so eager to please them, following them around like a puppy. Family was a foreign concept to him and yet, he had to admit that he yearned for it more than anything else. What little love his friends provided, he ate right up. It was they who introduced Gene to chemical drugs. It was them who got him hyped up before doing some stupid shit they would laugh about later, coked-up and high as a fucking kite. But they had his back, always.

The heavier stuff came later, but it took one bad LSD trip to instill paranoia and punch all possible screws loose in his brain. The change in his personality was almost immediate and crystallized fully with time: while he’d always been good-spirited and outgoing, now, Gene was absolutely fucking bonkers. It was like a switch had been turned on, and the off button was no longer functional. Nonexistent, actually. All sane thought was replaced by tinfoil hats, incomprehensible gibberish, and weird references no one understood. It was madness. He was mad. Gene was eccentric, loud, and unable to stop talking once he started. No violent bone in his body – whatever fights he got into were mostly instigated by his friends – meant that the French-American was rather harmless unless pushed into a corner. This experience didn’t stop him from experimenting with drugs, however. The inevitable first shot of heroin followed shortly after.

What other choice did Gene have than to seek employment with the French Organization? High school drop out, hooked on drugs in his late teens, no family to drag his ass out of the mud – what future did he have? What future could anyone like him have in a shit hole like Launceston? He had only one of two options: end up on the streets and eventually die in a ditch or work for St. Clair and sleep with a roof over his head. They always needed some asshole pushing their drugs, and Gene knew how to please his customers. Maybe it was because he could personally vouch for the quality of the drugs, and if he could get five stars on Yelp for that, he absolutely would. The French-American worked hard, trying to please his employees, his coworkers, his bosses, wanting nothing more than to prove that he was worth it. An asset, not a liability, a part of the gang, someone who could belong. That blind, trusting naïvety would come to bite him in the ass one day.

Because that was the thing about Gene: he wasn’t outraged by anything that had happened or what his friends had dragged him into. Like a broken spirit vying for his love, he was loyal til the end to those who showed kindness to him. And the St. Clairs had. They took him in when they could have left him to his fate and believed he was worth a damn. He would never forget this.

Which was why he was so hesitant to leave Launceston and make his way over to London. He understood that the expansion required manpower to help solidify their hold over the city, but Gene wasn’t so sure if he wanted to go. All he’d ever known all his life, his friends, his family, was in the States. The thought of abandoning Launceston terrified him because he wasn’t ready to lose what little he had built. It wasn’t like he had much say in it, though: his boss gave him a heeled boot, an encouragement to sway him towards going. Not because she wanted him gone, mind you, but because she knew he would do his job over there, and he would do it well.

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. FAMILY: Karen Moreau (mother, unplayable) CONNECTIONS:

Emilia Lefebvre: Good friend. The two met after Gene joined with the Organization, and although they aren’t ‘besties for life’ or anything, Emilia is dear to him. He appreciates her company and companionship and has nothing but respect for her capabilities. Her pure hatred for Russians sometimes startles him, but he can empathize and sympathize with the woman. Knowing that there would be at least one friendly face in London when he arrived made the transition easier.

The Underground Fighters, particularly Thierry Vendroux: Admires. Gene is both terrified and amazed by what the fighters are capable of. Although he can throw some serious punches himself, he’s a joke compared to them. He watches them fight in awe, cheers them on as loud as he can, and has nothing but respect for them. His favorite one is Thierry, and Gene hopes that his fellow French will get a chance to redeem himself for the loss at Lara’s birthday party.

Rutherford dealers: Dislikes. These little shits are a pain in his fucking ass. Like pests, they’re everywhere Gene is trying to push French drugs, and it’s frustrating to try and maintain control. He avoids open confrontations with them but one day, he knows it’ll be inevitable that the two sides clash.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

My Eyes - Part 14

Pairing: Bucky; Steve x Fem/Reader

Word Count: 4,701

Story Description: Steve is a good man, America’s golden boy, a hero. He’s Captain America for christ’s sake! So it’s normal to want what he has… right? Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t even deserve the second chance at life he’s been given. But Bucky can never let him know. Steve can never find out that his friend is in love with his best girl.

Story takes place post “CA: CW” and all tension has been resolved.

Previously On…

-- 3 YEARS LATER

A car horn beeped outside. Jimmy came bounding down the stairs with his backpack.

“Hey! Please eat some breakfast before you go!” Y/N called out to her teenage son.

“I’m not hungry. And Bucky packed me a huge lunch.” Jimmy called over his shoulder before bounding out the front door. But he came back seconds later and quickly he poured himself a cup of coffee to go.

“I got you addicted to that stuff too soon. Don’t you know it’ll stunt your growth?” Y/N teased her son.

Jimmy scoffed. He took a few steps towards the door again, but turned around and hurriedly gave his mom a kiss on the cheek. “Love you, mom.” Then he was sprinting out the door once again.

Y/N had her knees pulled up to her chest as she sipped on her own cup of coffee. She sighed and looked up at Bucky, who had watched the usual morning routine with ease. “I don’t know how the hell that kid grew into a giant without eating the most important meal of the day.” She stated sarcastically.  

Jimmy, quickly on his way to turning 16, had finally showed just how much of the super-serum gene he had inherited. He was even taller than Steve had been, reaching a towering height of 6’3. He was no longer the smallest kid in class; he was the tallest. His physique grew just as much as his height. Jimmy looked more like a professional athlete in his mid-twenties than a teenager going through puberty. His cute, boyish face turned into a handsome young man. Jimmy definitely didn’t miss out on Steve’s good looks.

Y/N called him a gentle giant. For as big and terrifying as Jimmy looked, he was still terribly shy and kindhearted.

But the move had given Jimmy the change he needed. He was still an outsider at school, but he had good friends. His best friend was Luke, who just happened to be openly gay; sadly, a rarity in the small town. He was the person that drove Jimmy to school everyday, already having his license and a car. For a while, Y/N believed there was a possibility Jimmy and him were secretly dating. Bucky quickly shot down her suspicions.

“How can you be so sure?” Y/N whined. “Gaydar wasn’t even a thing in your day. I think I know better than you.”

Bucky smiled at her frustration. “Trust me, doll. Jimmy and Luke are only friends.” He kissed her cheek. “He’s just terrified of girls…just like his dad.”

Y/N gave him a small smile at that. “For the record, I don’t care who he likes. I just don’t want him to ever think he has to keep secrets from me.”

“I know, Y/N.” Bucky chuckled.

Bucky had moved into Y/N’s house two years after her and Jimmy returned to New York. He had never been happier. Y/N and Jimmy had become the family he had always dreamed of having. They were so close to the Avenger’s facility that various teammates stopped by pretty much whenever.

Jimmy was constantly going over there as well. His abilities had developed not long after his terrifying fever that caused the move in the first place.

It turned out that Jimmy could control the density of his body. He could walk through a wall one second and the next he’d solidify his skin enough to stop a bullet.

To everyone’s surprise, Vision was the person to help Jimmy control his abilities more than anyone. Wanda was helpful too.

Tony tried to convince Y/N that Jimmy should just be homeschooled. The teenage boy learned more from the team than any school ever could. Jimmy could speak Spanish, French, German, and Russian fluently. He could even understand Wanda’s Sokovian… but wouldn’t consider himself fluent in speaking it himself.

Y/N asked Jimmy if homeschooling was what he wanted. But Jimmy knew how important it was to his mom that he had a normal childhood. They compromised with him going to a normal public school, as long as he could go to the Avengers’ compound as much as he wanted.

Y/N suspected that Peter Parker had something to do with it. He was in his late twenties now and knew what it was like to be special during adolescence. Sometimes New York’s friendly neighborhood spider was better at giving Jimmy personal advice than Y/N or Bucky.

Bucky now sat next to Y/N at the kitchen table with his own cup of coffee. “You know, Tony recently mentioned something about getting Jimmy a car for his 16th birthday.”

Y/N’s head snapped to him. “You better tell him that is absolutely not happening!” She immediately pictured Tony buying Jimmy a sports scar that cost more than their house.

“I tried, doll. But he just kept promising that it would be used and beat up.” Bucky smirked at the ridiculousness.

Y/N rubbed her face and groaned. She was still waking up. Her eyes were even still puffy with sleep. “Ugh…when is Tony going to stop acting like our financial backer?”

“Probably never.” Bucky pointed out with a chuckle.

Y/N shook her head, trying to get her mind to move on. “When’s your first class today?”

“Not until 5:30 tonight. But I promised Sam I’d go to the V.A. with him in a couple of hours.”

Thanks to Y/N’s guidance, Bucky’s retirement was filled with meaning. He taught self-defense classes consistently. Every once in awhile he would visit schools and be met with kids screaming in excitement. Sam also got him to visit the V.A sometimes. Bucky was somewhat of a poster child there, proving that things could get better for soldiers struggling to adjust back into civilian life.

Meanwhile, Y/N managed to work at the local library again. But she continued her art therapy sessions at a new community center too. After she realized how much it was helping children, she couldn’t imagine sitting back and doing nothing.

No matter how the two of them spent their days, Jimmy was always their main focus. For Bucky it was Jimmy and Y/N. Every day he woke up with her in his arms and wondered how the hell he got so lucky. Once in awhile, he would have a bad day: his mind would start convincing him that he was unworthy of this life of happiness. But Y/N always managed to talk him away from the ledge.

“What’s on your schedule today?” Bucky asked her.

“My day is completely free.” Y/N sighed in content. It was a rarity.

“Are you finally going to finish that stack of books you brought home?” Bucky asked mindlessly as he stared at the newspaper in front of him.

Y/N watched him for a moment. Bucky was still as handsome as ever. His scruff seemed to be a permanent fixture. His hair was in a messy bun on the back of his neck. One would never guess that he was retired seeing as his muscles were just as big as when he was a brainwashed Hydra killer.

“No. I definitely don’t want to read right now.” Y/N breathed mischievously.

Then she slowly got up from her seat and straddled Bucky. He didn’t seem as surprised by the gesture as she anticipated. Guess that’s what she gets for being with a trained assassin. Her hands rubbed his scruff and then brushed a piece of hair behind his ear that escaped his bun. His grip had immediately wrapped around her waist. His metal hand went under her t-shirt causing a chill to go down her spine.  

“I had other plans.” Y/N added.

Bucky grinned up at her. “Is that so?”

“You said you didn’t have to meet up with Sam for a couple hours…” Her voice was seductive and then her lips were climbing up the side of his neck.

He nodded, sometimes her seductions still made him speechless. Then he felt her lust drifting off through her empath abilities. Y/N knew it drove him crazy: knowing exactly what she wanted was a turn-on that Bucky could never describe.

Not being able to take the teasing any longer, Bucky captured her lips and pulled her body closer to his.

Y/N yelped slightly when Bucky roughly brushed his chair back and stood up. She giggled when he kept her body tightly in his grasp. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist as he carried her to their bedroom.

---

Bucky must have accidentally fallen asleep post-coitus. He woke up naked and alone in their bed with the sheets tangled around his body. His instincts made him sit up quickly. Waking up without Y/N always caused him distress. A sensitivity he didn’t like admitting to her. “Y/N?” He called out sleepily. There was no answer.

Bucky got up from the bed and moved to the window of their bedroom. It looked out into the backyard that was more of a forest than anything. His stress instantly disappeared when he saw Y/N in her greenhouse.

When she and Jimmy moved back, Bucky built it for her. He knew she missed her house in Montana; it was a sanctuary she built all on her own. Y/N had almost cried when he showed it to her. She made a garden right next to it too.

Bucky had a small smile as he watched for another moment before throwing on a pair of jeans, not bothering with boxers or a shirt.

He thought he’d made his footsteps loud and known, but Y/N still hadn’t heard his entrance to the greenhouse. He leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, observing her.

Y/N’s brow was furrowed, proving she was deep in thought. She just wore a silky robe. Bucky knew that was the only thing covering her body.

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked softly.

Y/N couldn’t help but jump.

“I tried to be loud.” Bucky apologized. His sly tendencies were a constant annoyance to her. She hated being frightened and Bucky was just too quiet.

She ignored him and continued whatever she was working on before he interrupted.

“What are you doing?” Bucky walked further into the greenhouse.

“Ugh…trying to figure out how to plant these things.” She mumbled without looking up at him.

Bucky looked at the discarded packaging on a table. It was peppermint, ginger root, and slippery elm. His eyes narrowed. She never planted anything like that before.

He looked at her again and started becoming concerned as he saw the tension in Y/N’s body. He gently cupped her cheek. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

She finally acknowledged him. Her body relaxed a bit by his touch.

Bucky’s eyes were filled with concerned as he tried to read her mind. “Did I do something wrong while we were…” He was too much of a gentleman to finish his question.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong…” Y/N sighed.

“Why aren’t you still in bed with me, doll?” Bucky urged.

“James, I-I have something to tell you…” She whispered. Her hand instinctively reached for his and pulled it away from her cheek so she could grasp it for comfort.

He nodded.

“But I have no idea how to tell you.” She admitted, shaking her head slightly.

“Alright, you’re starting to scare me, Y/N. Please, just tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.” Bucky assured her.

Y/N closed her eyes tight as if it was going to make her braver. “Right, okay!” She opened them and got lost in his blue irises. “I’m pregnant.” Her voice was such a whisper that Bucky wasn’t sure he would have caught it without his enhanced hearing.

He stared at her for a second and tried to figure out if this was cruel joke or something. But her face remained terrified, waiting for his reaction.

Then tears filled Bucky’s eyes and his new smile was beaming. “You’re pregnant?” He whispered in utter bliss.

Y/N still didn’t look relieved. But a nervous smirk slipped onto her lips and she nodded. “Yeah, Buck.”

Bucky lifted her up in the air and spun her in a circle. She couldn’t help but giggle at the reaction. When he put her down, he pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re sure?” He whispered. There went that dark part of his mind again, always struggling to believe in the good things that happened to him.

Y/N nodded. “Yes. After taking about three different pregnancy tests, I went to the doctor while you and Jimmy were on a hike.”

Bucky frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me then, Y/N?”

Their foreheads were still touching, but Y/N’s gaze fell to the ground in shame. “I-I didn’t know what you’d feel. We didn’t plan this and we never discussed it.” Then her expression darkened. “I don’t really have a good track record of telling people I’m pregnant.”

That’s when Bucky really understood her fear. It was coming off of her in waves now, whether she realized it or not. The last time Y/N told a man she was having his child, he died a few seconds later. She watched the life disappear from Steve’s eyes a moment after she told him she was bringing another into the world.

Bucky pulled Y/N into his chest. “Oh, doll. I’m so happy. Can’t you feel it?” He whispered as he stroked her hair.

Then a thought suddenly occurred to him. He pulled back to look at her and gripped her chin. How could he be so selfish?

“Is this what you want?” He asked her seriously.

“What? Having a child with you?” Y/N asked playfully. But she knew what he was really asking. “Of course. I’ve secretly wanted it for a while now, actually. I guess I should’ve told you.”

Bucky always speculated that he couldn’t have kids. Unlike Steve, he had been in and out of cryo so many times and Hydra had tortured him in so many ways. Bucky couldn’t help but convince himself that he was sterile.

Y/N probably kept her little desire to herself to protect Bucky. If they openly started trying and nothing happened, she knew he would only blame himself.

Bucky leaned closer to her once again, his hands mesmerizing her waist. “Y/N,” His voice was soft, yet husky. He kissed her passionately. “Marry me? Please?”

“Ew, Bucky.” Y/N pushed him away. “This isn’t the 1940s. You don’t need a shotgun wedding when you get your girlfriend pregnant anymore.”

But his face was serious. “It’s not about the pregnancy, Y/N. You know that.”

“Still a no.” Y/N chuckled and went back to her herbs.

This had become a game between them. Every once in awhile, when the moment arose, Bucky would propose to Y/N. It was always an intimate affair, always followed by her doing something that set a spark into his heart.

But Y/N never gave in. Yes, she had always wanted to settle down with Steve: raise a family and disappear from the public eye. But marriage was never a requirement or a desire for her.

Despite them viewing it as their little game, Bucky said ever proposal with the utmost sincerity.

But Y/N was a modern woman. Marriage held less and less meaning in society. She didn’t think it changed anything in a relationship. If you love someone, you love them. A piece of paper didn’t prove anything.  

“You don’t even have to change your last name.” Bucky would plead.

“We don’t need to have a wedding. We can just elope!” He would point out.

“If it’s the money for a ring, I already have my mother’s. Those Smithsonian assholes still had it.”

Y/N tried to understand why Bucky was so insistent. Obviously marriage was a much bigger deal in his heyday. But there had to be something else, and she had yet to figure it out.

“Can I borrow your phone?” Bucky asked, seeing it sit on a nearby phone.

She nodded and handed it to him.

Bucky stepped outside for a moment.

Y/N eyed him curiously. “Who did you just call?”

“Sam. Told him you were sick so I couldn’t go to the V.A. with him.”

She smiled, realizing that she wanted to bask in their little secret together for as long as they could.

Bucky wrapped his arms around her from behind. His hands graced her stomach, feeling her in a new way now that he knew there was a life waiting in there…A life that he helped create.

Bucky kissed her neck. “I know we were already successful. But I think we should keep trying, just to be safe.” He mumbled into ear before pressing a kiss in the soft skin behind it.

“Buck,” Y/N giggled. “We were never trying.”

“Exactly!” Bucky exclaimed softly. “We’re already behind.” Then he softly turned her around and embraced her with a loving kiss. Y/N squeaked when he scooped her up in his arms.

They were almost back in the house when Y/N smiled naughtily up at him. “It’s good that you’ll be around. If I’ve learned anything from last time, it’s that I get extremely horny when I’m pregnant.”

As if Bucky needed any further encouragement.

“Yep. It’s decided. You’re not leaving this house for the next 9 months.” Bucky growled. There were few sounds that could arouse Y/N more.

---

“Bucky?”

He didn’t hear.

“Bucky?”

The road hypnotized him.  

“James?” Y/N finally said urgently as she gripped his bicep.

He finally tore his gaze away from the highway to look at Y/N.

“You okay?” Her eyes were so tender and genuine as she asked.

Bucky sometimes forgot that she could feel everything inside of him if she wanted to. Y/N was too kind and polite to invade his privacy like that. But during times like these, she overlooked her principles. Nevertheless she always gave him a chance to tell her with his own words first.

“Just nervous.” Bucky mumbled.

“You’ve hung out with my family multiple times. I don’t understand what you think is going to happen.” Y/N smiled softly and gave his shoulder a little squeeze.

Yes, Bucky had interacted with her family on multiple occasions: Jimmy and Y/N’s birthdays, the holidays, and Jimmy’s middle school graduation. But he always assumed they were just being pleasant and nice to keep the peace with Y/N. She had already been through so much. They weren’t going to stop her from loving someone new after all this time. Her and Jimmy’s happiness were all they cared about.

But now that Y/N was pregnant again…pregnant with his child, maybe they wouldn’t be so pleasant. Bucky would be a permanent fixture in their life, whether it worked out with Y/N and him or not. But Bucky would die before he did anything to destroy their relationship or let it slip through his grasp.

“Yeah, Bucky. Now that I’m a hormonal teenager, they have nothing cute to fuss over. Grandma and Grandpa will freak out.” Jimmy said from the backseat.

Now Bucky felt guilty for not only worrying Y/N, but Jimmy too.

“I’m fine. I promise.” He announced to the car. Then he reached over and held Y/N’s hand to further assure her. She gripped it and sent calming waves with her empath power. He couldn’t deny that it felt good.

Y/N practically jumped out as soon as Bucky put the car in park. She missed her family so much. Seeing them a couple times a year was never enough. She was already inside the house before Bucky or Jimmy even unbuckled their seatbelts.

“Hey, Buck?” Jimmy asked quietly.

Towards the end of middle school, he had eventually dropped the Uncle part of his title.

They had a moment alone in the driveway.

Bucky had to slightly look up at Jimmy after his ridiculous growth spurt.

“I know my mom’s been stressing about how all of this affects me and everything.” Jimmy started. “I just wanted to say, I’m really happy for both of you.” He was looking at his feet and shifting as he shared the sentiment. Just like his dad, he had a good heart but wasn’t always the best at voicing it with confidence.

Bucky smiled at the boy. “Come here, punk.” He shoved him roughly into a hug.

When he pulled away, he gestured toward the house. “Think your grandpa will try to shoot me when we tell him?” Bucky joked.

Jimmy smirked. “Definitely not. But if he brings out a gun, I promise I’ll protect you.” He pestered before walking around him and entering the house.

---

“Honey, are you sure don’t want any wine? Not even with dessert?” Y/N’s mom asked once again at the dinner.

“I’m fine, mom.” Y/N whined. She looked across the table to see her older sister eyeing her suspiciously. Then her eyes shifted to Bucky, who was sitting to her left. He instantly knew this was their cue. His hand slid into hers for support. “Actually, we have news to tell you…”

Y/N’s mom dropped her fork dramatically. “Are you two getting married?” She practically shrieked in excitement.

Bucky’s jaw clenched at the comment.

Once again, Y/N sent him a swell of calmness and squeezed his hand.

“No…we’re not getting married, mom.” Y/N sighed, completely unfazed by her incorrect guess. “But don’t blame Bucky. It’s not for a lack of trying on his end.”

The whole family looked confused… even Jimmy, who was unaware of Bucky’s constant proposals.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I’m… ugh... I’m pregnant.”

“I knew it.” Her older sister smirked. “You never turn down wine.” Y/N playfully glared at her. “Congratulations, sissy.” She added sweetly.

“Oh, that’s just wonderful!” Y/N’s mom screamed in excitement. Then she was moving around the table to hug Y/N and, to Bucky’s surprise, she went right for him immediately after.

Y/N’s dad, who was much quieter and bad with expressing affection, just smiled at Y/N from across the table.

Bucky watched their exchange carefully, realizing that they were having some kind of unspoken conversation. He suddenly felt guilty for their announcement not being an engagement. Lord knows he was trying. Steve never had to deal with the possible disapproval from Y/N’s parents for having a kid without being married. Bucky wondered if he was going to take twice the blame this time around.

Y/N’s mother was practically cheering as she went into the kitchen to get dessert and somehow managed to drag her husband with her. Y/N’s sister and Jimmy disappeared to watch a movie in the living room together.

“I told you they would be happy.” Y/N whispered to Bucky before giving him a quick peck.

He gave her a shy smile before pulling her in for another kiss.

“I thought you’d be more relieved.” Y/N’s smile faltered when she could tell that something was still bothering him. “Buck, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m happy.” He kissed her again, prolonging it this time.

“Gross. Get a room.” Jimmy joked as he walked back in.

Bucky playfully glared at him and threw his napkin in the teenager’s face. “Congrats, you just won yourself dish duty.” He caught it before it could hit him.

Jimmy groaned but didn’t argue. Without another word from Bucky or his mom, he started picking up the dirty plates from the dinner table.

“And thank your grandparents for dinner!” Y/N warned before Jimmy left the room with his hands full of dishes.

“He already did...twice. Boy’s more polite than you are, Y/N.” Her dad interrupted as he brought in a plate of brownies. “I think you have to thank that man of yours for Jimmy’s manners.”

Bucky blushed at the roundabout compliment.

“Does that mean I can thank you for my rudeness?” Y/N teased.

It was moments like these that made Bucky so grateful for Y/N. She was the only thing in his life that ever made him forget his past. Whenever he was with her, he just felt normal.

He was brought out of his head as he watched Y/N shove too much brownie in one bite. Resulting in half of it hanging out of her mouth.

Then she squinted at him and babbled something he couldn’t understand.

Bucky laughed at her antics.

When she finally managed to swallow the brownie, she laughed. “I said, ‘See, I do have manners!’”

---

It had been over an hour since Y/N fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Bucky had just been staring at the ceiling. He didn’t feel even remotely tried, despite the long day they had.

Finally he gave up. As quietly as he could, Bucky slipped out of bed. Y/N’s parents had a pretty deck in their backyard. He figured it would be a good place to think alone. In just a baggy pair of sweatpants, Bucky sat down in a chair and stared out at the fireflies in the distance.

A few minutes later he heard footsteps from inside the home. But he knew they were too heavy to belong to Y/N and they were too slow to be Jimmy’s.

The glass door slid open and Bucky glanced over his shoulder to find Y/N’s dad with two glasses of whiskey in his hands.

“Figured you’d be out here.” He muttered as if this meeting had been prearranged and handed Bucky one of the glasses.

Bucky instantly misread the situation. “Sir, I believe I owe you an apology.”

“An apology? What for?”

“Not asking for your permission before proposing to Y/N. I know we’re not engaged… but Y/N made the comment at dinner and-”

His tangent was cut off when Y/N’s dad started chuckling. “That’s a little outdated, don’t you think? Y/N is her own person. She doesn’t need my blessing or permission for anyone to propose to her. If you haven’t realized…my daughter has always been rather progressive and headstrong.”

Bucky relaxed a little. But he had no idea what the purpose of this conversation was now. He decided to take a sip of the whiskey and wait for some sort of direction.

“You’re starting to doubt yourself, aren’t you?” Y/N’s dad said while looking straight ahead. “About being a good father.”

Bucky swallowed.

“That’s why you couldn’t sleep, right?”

Bucky turned to him and nodded uneasily.

“Same thing happened to my when my wife was pregnant with Y/S’s/N. I convinced myself that I had no right raising another human being.”

Bucky didn’t say anything.

“James,” He never called him Bucky. “I’m not going to try and pretend to know what you’ve had to go through in life. But I do know one thing: you’re a good man. I see how happy you make Y/N. And it’s apparent what type of positive influence you’ve had on Jimmy.” He took a sip. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that you’ll make a great father.”

“What changed?” Bucky asked softly.

“Hmm?”

“What convinced you that you could be a father?”

“Honestly? Nothing. I was too busy worrying about Y/N’s mother. I couldn’t be selfish and waste time doubting myself while she was already living the pregnancy. So I just focused on her. Then when Y/S’s/N was born, I just took it a day at a time. Listen, I know that’s not very helpful. But nobody knows what the hell they’re doing… Especially the men. But you’ll figure it out. I promise.”

They finished their whiskey in comfortable silence. Bucky never really knew what Y/N’s father thought of him. What would any father think about The Winter Soldier dating their daughter? Bucky always assumed he thought he wasn’t good enough for Y/N. But that suspicion couldn’t withhold after tonight.

Bucky realized it was ridiculous to expect Y/N’s dad to think so low of him. After all, he raised her. That kindness and quiet confidence didn’t all come from just her mother.

Bucky eventually got back into bed with Y/N, who was still peacefully asleep.

However her body scooted closer to him as soon as he was back under the covers.

“Everything okay?” Y/N surprised him my asking.

He could tell her voice that she was only half awake. Her eyes weren’t even open.

“Y/N… Am I going to be a good father?” He whispered.

“No… you’re going to be the best.” Y/N answered before immediately falling back to sleep.

Bucky chuckled. He doubted that she would even remember their little conversation in the morning. But it comforted him nonetheless.

-------

Part 15

Sorry this took me longer than usual. I was traveling and work has been crazy. Thank you for your patience. 

[letterstochristopher]

The worst phone call a sister could ever receive. April 13th. Day 5.

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write. And it’s scary to post this online, to be this vulnerable. But I feel compelled to share my experience. I thought maybe it could 1) be therapeutic, and 2) help someone who is dealing with the same thing. Suicide is such a weird subject. People don’t know how to talk about it. But it needs to be talked about. I need to talk about this. Because the sad reality is my family won’t be the last people to deal with this.

Saturday was a day like any other, although it’s so funny to look back as it was the last normal day of my life. My husband Clay, and I went to Starbucks down the street so we could work on taxes, and I studied for my NASM. Afterwards, we ran to Whole Foods to grab some ingredients to make curry. I remember feeling frustrated because I couldn’t figure out a good recipe. The things that would irritate me seem so insignificant now. I wonder if I had known then what I know now, how my day would have been different. I wouldn’t have cared about fucking curry.

We came home that night and watched “Shameless.” My hubby started loving that show recently, and after a few episodes I finally warmed up. This is a ritual of ours, cuddling on our couch in our new living room in Denver with our puppies. Normal. Happy. In the middle of an episode, Clay took the dogs out to walk them, and I decided to head to bed. I was standing in the door of our bedroom when Clay walked back in, talking on the phone. I thought he was talking to his mom, then he said, “Yes, she’s right here.” He handed the phone to me, walked behind me and held me tight. I knew it was my mom calling, and I knew it was something bad. She wouldn’t have called Clay otherwise. She learned the hard way to make sure he was home when she delivered bad news about two years ago, when she called to tell me my beloved Uncle Tim had unexpectedly passed away. That day, Clay had recently left for a bachelor trip out of state, and I was all alone. So I knew something was wrong when she called him first. I took the phone, thinking something happened to one of our dogs. Then I thought maybe it was Dad. My mind was racing. “Mom? Is everything okay?” She was crying, and through her racking sobs she said, “No, Jenn. It’s not okay. Chris shot himself tonight.” My legs collapsed, and I started screaming. Looking back, I don’t know how our neighbors didn’t come pounding on our door. Unless someone you love has died, you can’t possibly imagine the gut-wrenching need to deny that what is being said to you is false. I kept screaming, “NO! NO! NO!” I refused to believe it. I handed the phone to Clay, brushed off my tears and kept saying he was fine. Chris was fine. My baby brother wouldn’t do anything like this. He loves me. He wouldn’t leave me like this. My buddy. My everything. It wasn’t fucking possible. But I knew it happened. It was our biggest fear.

I remember when my mom told me she was pregnant for a third time. It was 1991, and I was in the bath, I remember being super sad because I knew this meant she would have to leave. To put it lightly, I had major abandonment issues as a child (we ended up being adopted by my aunt and uncle-who my siblings and I all call “Mom” and “Dad” now, even though I still have contact with my real momma).  My real mom had been abused as a child, and even with one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever known, couldn’t raise us the way she wanted to.

I actually named Christopher. Mom asked me what his name should be, and I named him after a boy I had a crush on. Christopher James, after his father. CJ was born March 24th, 1992. I had a journal entry in my huge second-grade handwriting where I talked about the birth of my little brother. I wonder what happened to it. I can’t remember her pregnancy, but I do remember looking at CJ in his crib and realizing how much I loved him. He was so tiny, and all I wanted to do was hug, kiss and protect him. Whenever he would sleep in the rocker in the living room, I would put my finger under his nose to make sure he was breathing. I remember laying in bed at night listening to him cry, as my mom tried to soothe him, and being amazed how something so small could scream so loud. I’m not being biased when I say CJ was the world’s most adorable toddler. His son, Carter, looks identical. Chubby, rosy cheeks. One dimple. Big blue eyes. Long eyelashes. Blonde hair. A total cherub. I remember the first time he laughed-he had this blow up clown that was weighted at the bottom so when you punched it, it would pop back up. I was play-fighting it, and CJ just laughed and laughed. I felt like the world’s best big sister.

When I was 11, I moved in with my aunt Anika, uncle, Steve and cousin, Nikea (we now call them Mom, Dad and Sister). My brother and little sister, Bethany, would follow two years later. This was CJ’s cowboy phase. He loved all things cowboy, and had a fake gun he used to “draw” (one of my favorite pictures of him caught him doing this-I think this will be my next tattoo) and had some boots our mom bought him that he wore everywhere, along with his cowboy hat. He always had his Woody from “Toy Story” he carried around. He also had a tiny guitar he would strum out on our front porch, a blade of grass between his teeth, as his cowboy hat shaded his big blue eyes. I remember him crying at night from growing pains, and his little heart breaking when Mom had to shelve the boots since we believed they were causing his poor legs so much pain. He also ground his teeth at night. It was so loud I could hear it through the bedroom walls.

This was the time I was “sissy.” He called me his “sissy,” and I loved it so much. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, so I cherished it. This is also when he couldn’t pronounce “girl,” instead saying “gware.” And when my sister and I would get annoyed and tell him to shut up, he’d get SO mad and yell, “DON’T CALL ME SHUT UP!” I know these are all tiny weird details that most people who didn’t know him don’t care about, but these are the memories I cling to. My sweet, silly little brother.

As CJ got older, we saw more issues in his behavior. He was moody, and had a low frustration tolerance. He had such a huge heart, but like me suffered from depression. My parents always saw it, and did everything they could to help. Therapy. Medication. Letting him know how much they loved him. I had a conversation with him when he was in middle school, begging him to never hurt himself. He hadn’t ever mentioned self-harm, but this was around the time I had started cutting myself and didn’t want the same for my brother. I always had fears of him hurting himself. He cried during this talk, and promised he wouldn’t. But the reality was my brother suffered from what is called Reactive Attachment Disorder, due to our unstable childhood, or RAD. While I have side-stepped a lot of the issues that come along with such a diagnosis, I have always struggled with many of the same things as him. Fears of abandonment. Suicidal thoughts. Depression. Anxiety. I wanted to shelter my brother from all the issues I had. I didn’t want him to feel the way I did. One of life’s cruelest facts is that we can’t protect the ones we love. I tried. We all did. But I couldn’t protect my brother from himself, any more than he could protect me.

A few years back, CJ met a wonderful girl named Bailey who he ended up marrying. You could just see how much he loved her. They had Carter James. But this marriage wouldn’t last, and I think this, plus my brother’s depression and addiction, was too much. It wasn’t just one thing. It was so many things. My brother had hurt his entire life as a result of RAD. He had gotten addictive genes from both sides (his father was an alcoholic), and he tried so hard to stop drinking. We tried to get him to go to AA. When he was home over his birthday March 24th (I wasn’t able to come, which fucking breaks my heart), our grandpa came from Indiana to go to a meeting with him and share his own personal struggles with alcohol when he was a young man. We tried everything. I’ve read through my texts, gone over our conversations so many times, and I am so fucking grateful that I was there for him. I understood the darkness, having struggled with it, too. I told him continuously that I loved him, that we all loved him, that he was so strong, that he could get through this, that he had so much going on for him, that shitty times pass. His texts were so tortured, about how he hated himself, how he was tired of “EVERYTHING,” how he’d be better off dead. That one is the hardest to read. But I told him we needed him here with us, and nowhere else. I was so frustrated with him, that he couldn’t see how worthy of love he was. But I am so grateful I never let that frustration show. I’m so grateful. My one regret is not talking to him more. The last few months I was going through my own issues (financial and health crap), and withdrew from everyone. And I always had a fear he would break my heart. I was scared he would try to hurt himself, but thought a fear of death would keep him from trying anything permanent. I was more scared he would drink himself to liver failure, or run off and we wouldn’t know where he went. I should have told him every day how much I loved him, how much I needed him, that I was so grateful to have him as a little brother and that I cherished him more than anyone in the world. But I think he knew.

Anyone who has lost someone to suicide knows how you go over and over those final moments. It’s torture. But there are some things that have brought me, while I can’t say “relief,” something to hold on to. For one, he didn’t suffer. Two, I think he was so at peace when he ended his life. His text to my mom, sent shortly before, was very well thought out and coherent. My brother always said exactly what he was thinking. If he was feeling tortured it would have shown through that text. He was sober, clearheaded. He just told Mom what he planned to do, said to set up an education fund for Carter, and ended it with “I love you.” Mom said she would send me the text. I told her no. I can’t bear to read my brother’s final goodbye. I just can’t handle it. But I really believe he was feeling at peace because he knew it would be over soon. He would be in Heaven and his heart would cease to hurt. I also know he wasn’t alone for very long. He had texted a girl he was seeing (who I need to reach out to and thank for loving my brother), telling her his plans. She immediately called the cops and they headed over. So when my mom received her text from him and called the cops, they were already on their way. I’ve read horrible stories of loved ones laying alone for days on end. I’m so grateful my brother wasn’t alone for longer than a few minutes.

I believe in Heaven. I’ve had loved ones who have reached out in ways that are unmistakable, which I will talk about another time. And my brother is no different. I was in the kitchen the other day, and this warmth came over me. It’s so hard to describe, but I heard this, “Look after Mom.” It wasn’t an actual voice, but I know it was my brother. He was so protective of us, especially Mom. He wants me to make sure she’s okay. That’s Chris. Being the protector. Thinking about that moment makes me cry, but just because reminds me that he is still looking out for us.

I don’t know how to get through tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the next week. Or the next fucking sixty years. I head home Saturday (flights during the week were far too expensive), and although I’m so ready to be home I know it will make his loss all the more real. He won’t be there. I know I’ll be expecting to see his lanky frame walking in front of the windows as he approaches the front door. Dad is going to Minnesota to collect his things. He didn’t have much, which I’m grateful for. It’ll be hard enough to go through all his clothes. Mom said she can do it, but I need to help. I’m his big sister. And I’m absolutely dreading seeing his urn. They will ship it. It’s weird to think of my tall brother (he was 6 ft) in an urn. But I have to keep reminding myself that’s not him. Our bodies are not us. We are not our bodies, our emotions, our hurts, our brain chemistry. My brother’s soul is here with me now. THAT is him. But as I write this, I am trying to find out the name of the crematorium where he is so I can get some of his hair. And I’m so scared they will say it’s too late. Or that there was none left. I don’t know if I can handle that.

How do I go on? How do I keep breathing when the person I love the most is gone? In one text I found today, I promised him I would always love him and never abandon him. But he abandoned me. I’m not angry with him-I understand why he did it. And I rejoice knowing he no longer hurts and is happy and well taken care of. But he did leave me. His big sister. He didn’t even text me goodbye. I don’t know if that would have made it better or worse. Part of me hopes he wasn’t thinking of me while he sat on that couch. But I know he was.

Chris, I miss you. So much. I don’t know how to keep breathing. I know I have to, because I don’t have a choice. It’s not fair. Why do I have to keep living when you’re gone? I don’t know how to do this. I need you. I love you. I love you. I love you.