#that was the longest and worst 14 minutes of my life

[imminent-danger-came]

Youtube "analysis" video misunderstood my favorite show, 12 dead 11 injured

[ddejavvu]

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 1) / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 11.3K / navigation / inbox

A/N: thank you to everyone who has encouraged me in my development of this series! it's three parts long, and each part will be posted one week after the one before it. that means you get chapter 2 next week, and chapter 3 two weeks from now. and after chapter 3 is released, i will post the full fic in one single post, so that it's easier to read. this series means a lot to me, it's the longest fic I've ever finished for this account, and I would really love to hear what you think of it. Thank you to the love of my life miss jade (@luveline), for being the first person to read this (!!), and for all of your wonderful feedback that cheered me on as I crossed the finish line for this series. I don't think I would have finished it if it wouldn't have been for your support, so thank you sweetpea <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

It’s 11:14 AM when you get the call. Your phone buzzes ballistically beneath your pillow, where you’d stuffed it haphazardly last night somewhere close to 4 AM. For the record, you’d only slept because your eyes hurt from being open for so long. You’re certain that, after what you’d done, you deserved to ache for eternity, but you’d succumbed to sleep when it pulled hard enough at you.

Raising the phone to your ear is a chore, especially because the number on the screen is unrecognizable, but you stretch your tired, bed-ridden limbs and hold the cool glass screen to your face. It’s jarring, and you long for the stuffy warmth of the pillow again.

“Hello?”

“Miss Y/N Mitchell?” It’s a man’s voice, deep and strong through the receiver. It’s no-nonsense, and you almost worry that you’ve misfiled your taxes, that someone from the IRS is tracking you down.

“That’s me,” You rub sleep out of your left eye, harder than necessary so that your vision is blurry when you open your eye again. You’re not very gentle with yourself these days.

“You’re listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Bradley Bradshaw. He’s currently a patient at the Naval Medical Center in San Diego. He was brought in at 9:37 AM this morning when his jet malfunctioned mid-exercise, and he crashed into a canyon below.”

Your heart stops. 

Your cheeks get hot, your hands start to tingle, and your stomach feels like it’s going to start turning cartwheels, sloshing your insides around until you vomit what little you’ve eaten.

Bradley’s dead, you think, Bradley’s dead, Bradley’s dead, Bradley’s dead.

“We were able to airlift him out, and he’s stabilized now-” Bradley’s not dead,  “-but he’s still unconscious. His parents are here, as well as your father, if you’d like to join them.”

It takes a long time for you to speak. It’s almost a full minute, and the man on the other end has to call your name to get you to respond.

“Miss Mitchell?”

“I’ll be there,” You blurt, heaving a shaky breath as you seal a hand over your mouth. You part your fingers only to make sure he hears you clearly as you confirm, “He’s alive?”

“Yes, he’s alive and stable.” The man informs you, “He’ll recover, Miss Mitchell.”

Bradley’s not dead. Bradley’s not dead. Bradley’s not dead.

“I’ll be there,” You repeat, and for the first time in almost 36 hours, you kick the crappy motel blankets off of your legs and stand, “Thank you, sir.”

--

Wearing a bra again after two weeks of lazing around in bed is awful. But you’ll do it for Bradley, if only to make up for the last thing you’d said to him.

“I can’t love you anymore!” Rings in your ears, and a vision of Bradley’s hands reaching desperately for you flashes through your mind, covering up the green light ahead of you.

Someone honks behind you, a BMW. You jolt to attention, stepping on the gas and jerking into the intersection.

Easy, you chide yourself, You’re going to the hospital to visit a patient, not to be one.

You’re able to pull into the hospital’s parking lot without nearly causing any more car crashes, and you briefly wonder if you should take the coward’s way out again as you trek over the asphalt towards the hospital. You’d run two weeks ago, why not now? Why not now, when what you’d been worried about that night has actually happened?

Urged by the regret flooding your veins since fleeing, you walk on, stepping through the automatic doors of the hospital and sidling up to the reception desk.

“I’m here to see Bradley Bradshaw,” You inform the nurse there, “Uh- Lieutenant. If that… helps.”

She sends you a kind smile, filled with sympathy that you’re thankful for as you stammer and stumble your way through speaking. You’re sure you’re not the most distraught person here, and you’re guiltily thankful for that. 

“Room 624,” The nurse tells you, and oh, what a sick coincidence, “Down the hall and to the left, take the elevator up and follow the arrows on the floor.”

6/24 is not only Bradley’s birthday, but your anniversary; the day you’d kissed him on the swings in his backyard with hot fudge sticking to your lips. He’d been glum about his dad missing his birthday on deployment, and, of course, your dad couldn’t be there either. Carole had done her best to brighten up her boy, but some things couldn’t be mended with gift wrap, and you all knew that.

You’d snuck out to join him that night with a sundae, offering him the serving spoon thickly coated in the chocolate. He’d accepted it with a huffy eye roll, upset that you’d managed to cheer him up even a little bit with just one spoon of ice cream.

--

“It sucks,” Bradley mutters around the chocolate in his mouth, the syrup sticking his words together, “I know he can’t do anything about it. But I still want him here.”

“I know,” You hum, taking a bite of ice cream for yourself, “I’m sorry, Brad. If it makes you feel any better, he’ll probably get you something, like, really good when he gets back. He’ll feel all guilty, that’s what my dad did and I got a puppy out of it.”

“We’ve already got a puppy,” Bradley gestures to the Bradshaw’s family dog, well on in years by the gray around his muzzle and his tendency to nap instead of move.

“Maybe you’ll get one that you can actually play with,” You offer Bradley another bite of the ice cream, and you only feel a little bad for making fun of Lewis. But the dog doesn’t understand your teasing, softly snoring on the porch.

“Maybe he’ll get me a car,” Bradley gushes, “A bitchin’ one, like a Bronco or something. Then we can put our surfboards in the back and go to the beach.”

“You don’t even have a license!” You elbow Bradley, laughing at his lofty dreams, “But a Bronco would be cool. You should send your dad a magazine clipping of one with your next letter and talk about how cool it is.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” Bradley muses, a smear of chocolate over his lower lip that he doesn’t lick away.

You scoff, stomping on his foot where it’s planted in the grass beside your own. He jolts away with a yelp, and in doing so, jerks the swing he’s sitting on, He catches his balance and you notice the syrup on his lip, reaching out to clean it with your thumb.

“You’ve got hot fudge on your face, doofus,” You sneer, happy to return his teasing, “You eat like a toddler.”

“I’m not the one who put three cups of it on the sundae!” Bradley insists, and his lower lip catches your thumb as he speaks. Teenagers in love, you’re hyperaware of touches like that, and your breath hitches in your throat at the contact. He notices it too, staring down wide-eyed at where your thumb hovers over his lips.

“Sorry,” He blurts, and in doing so, his warm breath fans over your hand. You jerk it away, eyes on the ground as you mumble away his concerns.

“It’s fine,” You mutter in a terrible attempt to remain nonchalant, “We’re not four, it’s not like I think you’ve got cooties or something.’

Bradley takes to the teasing, glad it’s not tense anymore, “That’s not what you say when I leave my underwear on the floor.”

“‘Cause that’s gross!” You launch into a rant, “That’s, like, personal! And they’re used too,” You shudder, handing him the sundae intent on scrubbing a hand over your face, “Nasty, bro.”

Despite your casual nickname for the boy beside you, you feel like anything but bros when his hand brushes yours. He takes the ice cream from you, and his hand half-closes around your own, sending a spark shooting up your spine.

Your breath catches in your throat again and this time Bradley hears it, looking at you through his lashes with those wide brown eyes.

Neither of you move away this time, frozen just like the treat in your joint grip.

You feel extra affection for the boy next to you today, the shared grief of losing your fathers every few months bringing you closer together. It’s what compels you to lean in, tilting your swing sideways to brush your lips over his own in a painfully awkward teenage-style kiss. Before you have the time to panic about whether you did the right thing, Bradley reciprocates, pursing his lips slightly to fit them around your top one. You follow his lead and it goes much better, a chaste kiss that’s sweeter than the chocolate staining your lips.

--

You’re glad you’d kissed him that day, you’re glad you had the balls to take the leap that resulted in a nearly twenty year long relationship. It would have been twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-five, fifty if you hadn’t chickened out two weeks ago, but you try not to think about that in the elevator lest you make yourself sick.

You find room 624 easily, the painted arrows on the floor leading you down the hallway that the room stands in. You wonder if you should knock first, you’re not too knowledgeable on hospital etiquette, but you decide that manners can be damned, your boyfriend- ex-boyfriend is in there.

You turn the handle and step inside, and Carole looks up from Bradley’s bedside immediately. You think she’s expecting a doctor, and her desperation for finding one breaks your heart. Her teary face splits into a sad smile, and she rushes to your side to envelop you in a hug. You let her have it because she’s grieving over her son, but you’re surprised she’s not immediately angry with you for breaking up with Bradley.

“Honey,” She gushes into your shoulder, “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re here! Brad’s gonna be okay, they said he’s just gonna need some help breathing until he gets stable. Then they can get him healthy and ready to go again!”

“That’s great,” You hold her close, relishing the last Bradshaw hug you’ll probably ever get, “Where’s Nick and dad?”

“Oh, they went to get food,” Carole releases you, swatting her hand in the air in an affectionately teasing manner, “You know those boys, always hungry for something.”

You laugh awkwardly, watching as she settles down by Bradley’s bedside again. She looks back up at you where you’re swaying on your feet, gesturing to the chair beside her, “Well come on, girl! Get in here!” She seems much more lively now that she has company, and you hate to think of her grieving her injured son alone.

“Oh- I, uh,” You stammer, darting for the seat beside her, “I wasn’t sure if-”

“Don’t worry,” She seems to misplace your concern, “He’s okay, sweetie-pie, you won’t hurt him just by breathin’ on him.”

“Right,” You smile, though its disingenuous with tension, “Um, so it was a mid-exercise crash?”

“Mhm,” Her face dims slightly, “Apparently there was some freak accident with one of the engines, 'set off the whole thing. And that’s two crashes in one week! First it was that Javy boy, I tell you, I think they should vet those engineers better. I mean, aren’t they supposed to catch that stuff beforehand?”

“Yeah,” You feel partially numb, but you’re not sure whether it’s emotional or physical. You’ve been trying to avoid looking at Bradley so far, using his bubbly, bouncing mom as a distraction, but now that the blonde has settled beside you your eyes drift. 

He could be perceived as sleeping, if the color wasn’t drained from his face. His skin is still tan but it’s duller now, golden brown fading to a sickly, colder shade of it, like there’s no life beneath it. His eyes are shut and there’s a breathing tube up his nose; you wonder how pissed he’ll be when he wakes up to find out they’ve had to trim his mustache around the thing.

“Must be a Bradshaw family tradition,” Carole breaks your concentration, laughing weakly, her voice lined with a hint of tears, “Crashing, scarin’ their girls half to death.”

You remember the day of Goose’s crash like it was yesterday. You’d only been three at the time, freshly so. But grief like that, the panic you’d observed, doesn’t go away. It can’t be forgotten, it can’t drift out of your brain like so many memories do with age. You and Bradley had sat together in the hospital with Carole and your dad, and Nick still had the crummy plane drawings you’d done for him while waiting for him to wake up.

Carole’s usage of the phrase ‘their girls’ unnerves you. She’s been exceptionally nice to you so far, especially considering that she’s fiercely protective of Bradley, and should have kicked you halfway to Mars for ditching him like you’d done. But she’s leaning towards you in her chair, and you come to the dreadful realization that she doesn’t know you’ve broken up with Bradley.

“Now, I know you wanted to keep things hush-hush,” She gushes, happy to look at your animated face instead of Bradley’s still one for a moment. She reaches over to brace her hands on your knees, leaning eagerly into your space, “But I have to know, babycakes, how did it go?”

“Hm?” You look dazedly at her, still partially staring at Bradley.

“The proposal!” She squeezes your hands, sniffling weakly with the remnants of tears past, “I know that boy was finally manning up enough to ask you, 'should'a put a ring on you years ago."

Any other time, you'd groan at Carole's opinion on your relationship. She's been urging the two of you to tie the knot for decades, but you'd felt no burning desire to go to the courthouse. You were comfortable in your life, why spend an obscene amount of money to get a piece of paper that tells you you're in love? You knew that for free, in the way that Bradley looked at you, in the way that he memorized all of your fast food orders, in the way that his hand so often found yours beneath the sheets in his sleep. Now her teasing is a sore spot, one that gapes the wound already bleeding in your chest.

"-But when I asked him how it went he said he’d ‘share the details later’. I’m sure you wanted to make some big announcement or something, but I need this right now, honey, tell me what happened.”

She’s staring at you like she always has, like you’re the sweet little girl she helped raise when your mama had chickened out. Cowardice must run in the family.

There’s such pretty hope shining in her eyes that you can’t bear to crush it, ready to spew lies about how glorious Bradley’s proposal had gone, how you’d fallen to your knees to kiss him, how you’d shouted ‘yes!’ from the rooftops. Fortunately, you don’t have to lie to her, because the door opens and your dad and Nick step through.

“Hey,” Your dad cheers, tossing you a plastic-wrapped sandwich, “There you are, honey. I was worried you weren’t gonna show up, ‘thought you’d be mad at him or something.”

“You know she was mad at me when we went down?” Goose gestures to Carole incredulously, and you can’t see behind his sunglasses but you know he’s addressing you, “I wasn’t even flying the damn thing and I got lectured!”

He lets up, goes easy on Carole, you’re sure because he’d had to comfort her earlier. You see a slightly dark, damp patch on the left side of his Hawaiian shirt as he leans in to hug you, probably her tears.

“Good to see ‘ya, kid,” Nick rubs your back, “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah,” You nod, voice slightly shaky as you smooth your previously-folded hands down your thighs. The movement catches Carole’s attention, and you look away before you can see her reaction to your bare ring finger.

“He’ll be fine,” Goose leans over to slap Bradley’s calf, and Carole looks like she wants to scold him for it, as if he'll die right then and there, “He’s tough just like’is daddy.”

“His daddy should go get me some tea,” Carole huffs, placing her hand over Bradley’s as if it would make up for Nick’s slap, “And take Maverick with you, I don’t want you getting lost.”

“Oh, again-?” Goose grumbles, setting his lunch on one of the plastic chairs around Bradley’s bed, “You could’a told me that before we left, honey.”

“Didn’t want it until now,” Carole insists, “Now shoo, get some for Y/N, too.”

The second the door shuts behind the two men, a stiff silence falls over the room.

Carole’s sweet voice breaks it, but it’s the last thing you want to hear, “Where’s the ring?”

You stare at the sandwich in your lap, like it’ll open face and read like a book, giving you instructions on how to lie your way through this.

“I know he asked you,” She presses on, voice pitched up with tension, “I- I gave him the ring Nick used to propose to me. That was almost a month ago. We swapped it out for a wedding band, and- and I thought Bradley could use the engagement ring for you, too. I know he asked you.”

“Carole,” You can’t bear to look her in the eyes, not the woman who’d fed you macaroni and cheese when your dad was halfway around the world in a fighter jet and tucked you in extra tight during a rainstorm so that the lightning couldn't sneak through the gaps in the blankets to get you.

“No, tell me, where is the ring?” She raises her voice, the way she used to when Bradley would leave his scooter out in the rain to rust, “Just tell me-” Her voice peters out into a weak whimper, “-tell me you didn’t say no.”

“I’m a coward,” You finally mutter as her answer, hateful and wicked, “I got scared. I wish I’d said yes, really, I- I wish I could take it back, but-”

“What did you do?” Her face crumples at your admission and she nearly shrieks, squeezing her hand tighter over Bradley’s, “Y/N, what did you do?”

“I said no!” You sob, chest heaving as you wipe away a tear from your eye heavy-handed, “I was scared, Carole. After Coyote went down,” You blearily recall the last plane crash you’d heard about, a member of Bradley’s own squadron caught in a bird strike. He’d been fine, but waiting for the news took you right back to your youth, and you’d been hit with the striking realization that it could happen to Bradley, too. It could be you in that chair, it could be your love on the line. You’d been so sick with dread that you’d backed away altogether, running away to preserve your emotions.

“I just- I didn’t want it to happen to Bradley,” You confess, “I didn’t want it to happen to me. So when he asked, I was-” You sniffle, hard, “I was so scared. I didn’t want to marry him and then lose him. For some reason this-” You suppress a sob, throat aching and chest heaving, “-dating a pilot is different than marrying one. Dating is- it’s temporary, even if you plan on it lasting forever. It’s less serious, it’s not set in stone. But marriage-” You hiccup, “-marriage is the real deal. It's like- It's like I was dating Bradley, y'know, the teenage boy who took me to homecoming because I was sad no one asked me. But- but then all of a sudden I was marrying an aviator. And that’s- that was scary! That was real. I- we’d been together for twenty years!” You gush, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “I should have known marriage wouldn’t be any different. It’s not like we ever thought we’d break up,” You sniffle weakly, “Marriage was always sort of silly to me, 'cause we just thought we'd be together forever regardless. But I never realized how real it would feel. So I- I freaked out. When he asked me, I made up some stupid excuse, and I chickened out! But-” Your chest heaves with a sob as you finally lift your eyes to Bradley, “He crashed anyway. He went down even though I said no, and it still hurts.” You cry, face scrunched in despair, “It hurts so bad, Carole, I didn’t think it would still hurt.”

“You fool,” She huffs exasperatedly, but she reaches out to clutch your hand like a lifeline. She’s holding Bradley’s with her other, and you wish for a moment that you could cut out the middleman and hold his hand on your own. You don't feel worthy to touch him anymore. “You don’t stop loving someone by leaving them, you stop loving them by moving on. Of course it still hurts, you didn't move on; you still love him. And- and leaving him didn’t stop him from getting hurt, it just meant he probably went down wishing he got to tell you he loved you this morning, so you'd know.”

The thought breaks you, Bradley ejecting with you on his mind. Evidently he hadn’t fully accepted your breakup, not if he hadn’t even told his mom about it. You wonder if he was planning on trying to get you back, if after work today he would have come over with flowers and a thousand pleas on his lips that you didn’t deserve.

“He loves you,” She continues, tears wetting her own cheeks, “And even if you did say somethin’ stupid, I don’t think there’s anything you could tell that boy that’d make him stop loving you. Apologize when he wakes up, baby, he’ll understand. He'll be hurt, no doubt. But he’s been scared before, too, believe me.”

“I will,” You gush, nodding as she squeezes your hand and Bradley’s in sync, “I will, I promise! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Just make it right,” She pleads, “Can’t have you two splittin’ up now, not after all this time.”

“I wish I hadn’t done it,” You weep, holding your hands to your eyes as if you can plug up the tears, “I- I just panicked! And I’ve been a wreck ever since, I- I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t-”

“Tea’s here!” The door opens, and Nick is suddenly a lot quieter as he sees you bent in half and crying, “Oh, honey.”

“C’mere,” Your dad edges around Goose, squatting by the side of your chair while Carole rubs your back. He’s always been fantastic at comforting you, which you marvel at because he was so active in his career. He wasn’t always around when you were little, but that didn’t stop him from knowing how you liked your back rubbed, your hair done, and your cookies warmed.

“He’s gonna wake up,” Your dad soothes you, wiping a tear away from your face, with the hand that isn’t rubbing your back, “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay,” Carole promises, and you know she’s talking about something else entirely, “It’s alright honey, it’ll all work out.”

Nick feels a bit useless now, standing there with two cups of tea in his hands while everyone else comforts you, but he’s quick to notice a frown work its way onto Bradley’s sleeping face.

“Brad- hey! Look,” He gestures with one cup of tea, only spilling a tiny drop, “I think he’s wakin’ up.”

All of a sudden you want to go home. You’re not sure you can do this, you don’t belong here with his grieving family. You belong in your bed, kicking yourself for your cowardice and wishing you’d done better by him.

But there’s no time to flee now, not again. This time you have to brave it, you have to watch as his big brown eyes slowly blink open, a haze of sleep and medication clouding them over.

“Agh,” He groans, hand twitching by his side, “What-?”

“Hey, Bradley.” Nick leans over the bed, tea now set aside on a tiny table, “How y’feelin’ bud? You had quite the plane crash.”

Bradley takes a moment to observe his surroundings, blinking blearily at your dad, then you, then his mom. His eyes drift back over to you and they feel like they’re lasers, boring searing holes through your chest where your heart used to be two weeks ago.

The slow and steady beeping that had been long since tuned out slowly started to increase while Bradley regained consciousness. Your dad looked warily at the machine, watching Bradley’s heart rate rise.

“I’ll get a doctor.” He ducks out, and Carole stands.

“We should go,” She grabs Nick’s hand, looking pointedly at you, “We’ll give you a minute alone with him, honey.”

Nick starts to protest about being led away, something about how ‘-he came outta my balls! I can’t see him when he wakes up in the hospital?’ but Carole’s already corralling him to the nurse’s station in search of your father. If you weren’t so fond of the woman you’d be cursing her for sticking you alone with Bradley, but you know you can’t let yourself succumb to fear again; this time you have to be a big girl.

“Baby,” Bradley rasps, turning your attention back on him. You watch him weakly, eyes apprehensive as he reaches for your hand, “C’mere.” 

You hesitate, and he lets out a weak chuckle, “Come on, now. You’re not gonna kill me by holding my hand.”

“Bradley,” You sniffle, reaching out for his limp fingers on the bed, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” He smiles lazily, eyes drooping, “I’m okay. Comes in the job description, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” You repeat, grief-stricken as you clutch at his hand desperately, “I shouldn’t have left, I- I wish I had stayed.”

“Baby,” His brows furrow and he laughs sympathetically, “They wouldn’t have let you stay, you know that. I work on a naval base, not at a chipotle. You can’t sit with me all day. Plus, there was no way you would’ve known I was gonna go down. I’m glad you weren’t there, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have wanted you to see that.”

All at once, your chest burns hot, blazing with panic. Is he not going to talk to you about it? Is he going to pretend nothing happened? Is he going to refuse to acknowledge what you’d said? You stammer, “What-?”

“Mr. Bradshaw!” The doctor comes in, cheery now that his patient is awake. You turn your head, still dazed and fear-stricken at Bradley’s demeanor. “Let’s see how you’re doing here. Any chest pain?”

“A little,” Bradley shifts in his bed, wincing infinitesimally.

“Probably just some discomfort due to the broken ribs. Headache?”

“Yeah,” Bradley admits with a groan, “That I’ve got.”

The doctor scribbles something down on his chart, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Bradley strains to think, “I… don’t know. I don’t even-" He grimaces, "I don't even remember the crash, ‘just know it happened ‘cause he told me.”

Bradley raises a shaky finger to point at Nick, who’s happy to see his son gain some mobility back, even if he is worried for the boy. The three adults had filed back into the room after the doctor, and you pointedly avoid Carole’s imploring stare.

“Think hard,” The doctor commands, and you squeeze his hand like it’s a play-dough machine, like memories will ooze themselves into his brain in star shapes and heart cut-outs.

“I remember…” Bradley rasps, turning his hand beneath yours to grasp it, “Jake’s birthday party. That was-” He glances over at you, “-last night?”

“That was three weeks ago,” This time your heart rate is the one to rise, echoing dully in your ears like the soundtrack of a horror film, “Is that-” You sniffle, “Is that the last thing you can remember, B?”

His eyebrows raise and he tries taking in the information, “Yeah- uh, shit. Three weeks ago. What does that mean, doctor?”

“It sounds like you’ve developed post-traumatic amnesia.” The doctor scribbles once more on his paperwork, “The good news is, we think you have only a mild concussion. And amnesia induced by mild concussions typically lasts only up to a week or two at most. But there’s a very real chance you could remember everything in just a few minutes.”

Amnesia.

He doesn’t remember.

“What I want you to do now is to rest, and we’ll have a nurse send up something to eat. Please,” The doctor eyes Nick knowingly, “Do not feed him the funyuns you’re holding behind your back.”

“Foiled again,” Goose laughs, tossing the packet of chips onto a chair beside his own lunch, “You got it, doc.”

“Alright, glad you’re awake,” The doctor bids you goodbye, “And- a nurse will be in to run a few simple tests later. For now, just sleep and eat.”

“Will do,” Bradley tries tightening his hand around yours but you worm away from him, and it’s heartbreakingly easy to do with his limited mobility. You stand abruptly, legs shaky and heart pounding in your chest as you stumble away from his bed.

Amnesia. Amnesia. Amnesia.

He doesn't remember.

“Honey?” Bradley calls warily, face scrunching into a tired frown.

His eyes follow you as you back right into your chair, the plastic scraping against the floor with an ungodly screech. Now the attention is all on you, and you give into that dreaded fight or flight response you seem to always fall victim to.

“I need to use the bathroom,” You ramble, rushing for the door, “I’ll be back!”

“Y/N-” Bradley tries calling, but his voice is weak enough where you can pretend you haven’t heard it as you try to refrain from running down the hall. You don’t make it ten steps before Bradley’s door closes with a sharp click, and the voice of one Carole Bradshaw cuts through the silence of the hallway.

“Y/N Mitchell!”

She’s using the same tone she used to use when you’d get in trouble for pulling a girl’s hair at school, or throwing mud at a boy who was mean to Bradley. You react just like you had then, spine stiffening and limbs locking. 

“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” She warns, stomping towards you in her half-raised heels, “Turn around, young lady.”

You follow her orders even if the nickname is outdated. She’s got her pretty eyes narrowed, and as much as it pains you to be on the receiving end of one of her seldom-used withering stares, it’s better than being in there and watching Bradley’s eyes shift when he suddenly remembers you’d been the biggest douche on planet Earth.

“Did you apologize?” She inquires, and you nod obediently.

“But- but Carole, he doesn’t remember-!” 

“He will,” She promises, “And when he does, you’d better apologize again. He needs you right now, y’know? He thinks it’s three weeks ago, before you ran off and left'im. As far as he knows, you’re still his adoring girlfriend who he’s probably yearning to see right about now. So go in there,” She reaches for your hand, “Kiss that boy on the mouth,” She demands, “And stop running away!”

“What? I can’t-” You gush, trying to pull away. But she’s stronger than Bradley is at the moment, and her hand tightens around yours, “I can’t lie to him! Not about this, I- how long am I supposed to pretend?”

“As long as you can,” She insists, already pulling you back towards his room, a woman on a mission, “You march right on in there, and tell him how worried you were, and let his memories come back to him on his own time. He’s traumatized right now, he just doesn’t know it yet, and he needs you there. If you break the news to him now, it’ll only stress him out more. Go play nice, and when he comes around in a few minutes, you can have a real talk.”

“I don’t want to lie to him,” You lament, and she stops pulling you down the hall to narrow her eyes at you.

“Babydoll?” She asks sweetly, and fooled by her kindness, you hum in question, “I don’t give a shit.”

She’s never foul-mouthed, so it catches your attention. She holds your incredulous gaze, “You want him back?”

“Yes.”

“You wish you’d never left?”

“Yes.”

“Well as far as he knows, you haven’t.” She huffs, the fabric of her skirt flowing near her calves, “So get in there and be there for your boyfriend of twenty years, and when he suddenly remembers you aren’t his girlfriend anymore, Grovel. Sound like a plan?” She raises an eyebrow, and you tamp down the nerves rising in your chest. You nod cautiously, resolutely, and she loosens her grip on your hand. She still holds it to lead you back to the room, but she stops outside the door to speak one last time.

“I know you love him,” Her voice is softer now, genuinely sweet and caring, “And I also know you like to run when things get scary. And that’s understandable, but it’s not okay, not right now. You can’t stop loving someone just ‘cause you don’t wanna lose ‘em. It’ll hurt worse if you walk away.”

“I know,” You breathe shakily, squeezing her hand, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, sweetpea,” She smiles, tears still gathered in her eyes, “Now get in there and kiss my son.”

“There they are,” Your dad stands as you reenter the room, “You ladies have a nice bathroom break?”

“‘Had the time of our lives,” Carole nods, letting you take the seat closest to Bradley’s head. Your feet feel burdened with lead weights as you step towards his bedside, and he watches you with worried eyes. You’re sure he knows you weren’t really going to the bathroom, not with the way you’d fled, but you’re glad he’s choosing to pretend for your sake. He seems worried, though, and you curse yourself for making this about you.

“Y/N,” He reaches out for you as soon as you’re in reach, his voice still hoarse. His hand squeezes yours instantly, and you feel for the panic he's probably experiencing. He deserves a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold, and it should be someone better than you.

“Bradley,” You murmur back, trying to stop your lips from trembling, “I- can I kiss you?”

Carole’s voice rings in your ears, and you don’t have to turn around to know she’s smiling at the two of you. Bradley pauses, then his worried eyes soften and he nods weakly against the pillow.

“Oh,” Nick teases as you brace your hand on Bradley’s bed, leaning down to press a feather-light kiss to his lips, “Lovebirds!”

The kiss is nothing but awkward. It’s hesitant on your end, because you can’t believe you get to do it again. You’d really believed the goodbye kiss you’d shared with Bradley before he picked up dinner for the two of you would be your last one, so fitting your lips over his in the hospital seems like something otherworldly. You’re careful, too, because you don’t want to hurt him, not that you think you could ever smooch him to death. He doesn’t reciprocate much, he can’t, but the familiar prickle of his mustache against your lip is a welcome feeling that makes your heart feel light again, if only for a few seconds.

When you pull away, it’s gone. Because you have to look him in the eyes, the same ones you’d forced tears out of two weeks ago, and pretend like none of it happened at all.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” You gush, voice cracking, and it feels right starting off with the truth. You can get to the lies later, the ugly little abominations you’re cooking up so that he preserves as much mental energy as possible while on bedrest. You know Carole’s right, you know he needs to heal as much as he can before you make it worse with the news, but lying feels so wrong. He’ll find out sooner or later, and what if he really was done with you? What if he hadn’t told his mom so that no family drama erupted, what if it wasn’t because he was going to try to get you back? What if he hated you, and what if he hates you even more when he knows you’re lying through your teeth to him?

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He promises, his fingers curling slowly and carefully around your own, "Are you? You ran off, I was worried."

"I'm fine," You insist, waving away his concern with a shake of your head.

He doesn't seem satisfied with your answer; he can read you like a book. But he accepts your answer, and you admire him for not wanting to pry in front of everyone. He changes the subject, glancing briefly around the hospital room, “Baby my- my phone, can I have my phone?”

“It’s here,” Your dad hands it to him, and Carole watches your eyes widen infinitesimally. What if Bradley sees his text conversations? What if he sees that you haven’t talked in half a month? What if he finds messages from someone on a dating app he’d used, a rebound-in-the-making?

What if he’s changed his background? What if he wants an answer as to why it’s probably some picturesque sunset, a jet plane cutting through the clouds above. Or maybe it’s of Lewis, he’d recently had photos restored of the dog.

What if he notices your contact name is changed to something like ‘Do not answer’? What if he realizes he’s blocked you? What if all of your pictures together are deleted off of his phone, and he wonders why?

There’s a thousand things that could go wrong.

“Coyote called,” Bradley rasps, upon first sight of his screen. Then, “Hangman. Twice. Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, I- I should send out a message.”

“I will!” You lunge for your own phone, digging in your back pocket with suspicious urgency, “Uh, I’ll let everyone know, you just- just rest.”

“Okay,” Bradley hesitates for only a second, letting his grip go loose around his phone so that it falls back to the bed.

He seems content to let you do it, if only a little deterred by your insistence. But you’ll play the part of the fussy girlfriend, not wanting her injured love to work harder than he has to.

Nick and Pete take the time that you’re creating a group thread to question Bradley more on his memories, and every answer he gives sets your heart on edge. Your fingers feel numb as you type out ‘Rooster’s stable now, he has a mild concussion and a few broken ribs, but the doctors say he’ll recover fully. His memories are a little hazy from the past few weeks but apparently those will be back soon. I’ll send you any updates we get.’

Before anyone even has a chance to reply, you set the thread on silent. You can’t bear even getting a notification that the message can’t be sent, because you’re sure Bradley’s team aren’t too fond of you right now, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they’d blocked you in solidarity for their friend. But Bradley hadn’t even told his mom, would he have told his team? Would he even need to? Or would they notice the circles beneath his eyes worsening, the stubble adorning his cheeks from a lack of motivation to do anything productive? Or, maybe even worse, would they have seen him with another girl hanging off of his arm at a bar? Would they have caught him out to lunch with a woman and figured it out themselves?

“Hey,” Bradley rasps, effectively breaking your zoned-out worry spiral. Your eyes don’t lose their intensity but they focus on his pale face, and he offers you a weak smile, “Anyone respond?”

“Always the attention seeker,” Nick laughs, creating a distraction so perfect that you don’t bother checking the text to answer Bradley. “Should we tell ‘em to bring flowers too, Brad?”

“Shut up,” Bradley’s voice is far too quiet to be menacing, but it’s the type of teasing he always engages in with his old man, “When you were in the hospital you said I had to draw you one picture a day or you’d think I didn’t love you.”

“And I only got fifteen out of eighteen,” If Goose is capable of a withering stare, it’s what’s directed at Bradley now, “I can’t believe I bought a Bronco for a kid who doesn’t love me.”

“Alright, you two,” Carole swats at her husband’s arm, “Cut it out, don’t overwhelm him.”

“His heart’s beatin’ real fast,” Nick snickers, “But that’s probably ‘cause Miss Mitchell is doting all over him.”

The attention’s back on you, and it means Bradley’s waiting to hear your response. You dry swallow after sending Nick a good-natured eye-roll, trying to act like your heart isn’t beating ten times faster than Bradley’s.

Miraculously, nothing awful awaits you in the group chat. There’s no error messages, no scolding, no pledges of hatred for you, and it makes you think that you really might be able to get away with this for a while. Carole won’t tell, and that doctor said Bradley might not retain his memories for weeks. It’s like everyone has hit undo on what might be your biggest mistake in life, and you don’t know how to take the opportunity.

“Bob says he hopes you recover soon,” You push the panicked fog out of your head, reading in a low voice, “Hangman says he’s gonna give you flying lessons when you get back so that you,” You snort softly, “Get the hang of it, and to that, he is receiving a barrage of middle finger emojis.”

Rooster lets out a laugh, one that’s genuine and thick from his chest. It’s unlike his voice has been so far, it’s not fractured or achy, and the sound warms your heart. Some of the sickly despair that’s been coating your heart like globs of poison dries up, and you almost feel normal again when you slide your hand into his. He holds your back, and it’s like nothing’s ever happened.

You have your Bradley back; the only question is for how long.

Lunch is a sorry state of affairs for Bradley. His tray consists of chicken and gravy that runs into his mashed potatoes, and the jello they give him has a layer of cherry red liquid pooling overtop. You and Carole take turns spoon-feeding the man, giving each other a chance to mow through your sandwiches between bites.

Your dad watches out for the doctors while you sneak Bradley some of your sandwich. It’s cafeteria turkey, and honestly you’d rather go for the chicken on his plate, but he hums gratefully at the spread of mayonnaise and mustard on the bread.

“Thanks, babydoll.” He croons, a smear of mashed potatoes in his mustache that you wipe away with watery eyes at the nickname. He puckers his lips to kiss at your thumb and it’s like you’re at home on his birthday, feeding him in bed and stealing kisses between bites.

Bradley’s eyes start to droop halfway through his watery jello, and your dad stands, brushing sandwich crumbs off of his jeans.

“Alright, buddy,” He squeezes Bradley’s foot reassuringly, “I’ll head out. Probably best to let you sleep. Get some rest, and make her give us updates,” He narrows his eyes at you, accusatory, “I know you’ll be too wrapped up in him to remember we exist, but take some time away from his lips to tell me if he’s still breathing out of ‘em, m’kay?”

“Don’t be makin’ out too much, “Nick goads, standing when Carole grabs his hand and does herself, “His heart rate’ll skyrocket and the nurse is gonna think he’s havin’ a heart attack!”

‘Yes, yes, they love each other very much,” Carole hums, leaning down to kiss Bradley’s forehead. He leans into it but his hand stays in yours, and you gladly accept the same gesture from the woman on your cheek, “Let’s leave him be, okay? Brad, I’m coming back tomorrow morning,” She promises, “Your dad and Pete have some work to do in the backyard, but they’ll join us after lunch.”

The men don’t seem to have known about this yard work until now, and they share equally exasperated groans. 

“And I’ll be here,” You throw in, meeting Carole’s appreciative gaze, “I’ll stay until they throw me out.”

“You could always handcuff yourself to the bed,” Your dad hums, and you pointedly ignore Goose’s comment about the pair of handcuffs you ‘probably keep in your nightstand.’ It gets him a sharp smack upside the head from your dad, and you’re sure Nick will choose a better audience next time.

“We love you,” Carole promises, squeezing Bradley’s arm as he bids her goodbye, “We’ll see you tomorrow, baby!”

“Love you,” Bradley hums, voice less gruff than before now that he’s used it again, “See you tomorrow.”

The entire time he’s been awake, he hasn’t let go of your hand. He turns to you with those sleepy eyes of his, big and brown and begging for a kiss. You lean in before you can stop yourself, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

His heart rate picks up.

You laugh against his mouth at the increased beeping, and he’s barely sheepish as he nudges his nose against your own. You feel like you’re loving on borrowed time, like any second now he’ll be slammed with the memory of you breaking his heart, stomping all over it like it hadn’t been yours for the past 20 years - maybe all of your life.

“I love you,” He murmurs, squeezing your hand, “Y/N, I- I love you so much. I don’t remember anything,” He’s slurring his words slightly with fatigue, and you kiss the corner of his mouth as he speaks, “But I know you could have lost me forever, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy to handle.”

He has no idea how true his words are. Of course, you’d nearly lost his life to the crash. But two weeks earlier, you’d lost his touch, his voice, his gaze, his love, and you’re grateful the tears that line your eyes look natural.

“Mhm,” You nod, sniffling, “It was- it was hard, Brad.” You admit, thinking back to the night you’d left. You’d checked into a shitty motel for the night, and you’d cried yourself sick in the shower. Even after your stomach was emptied you couldn’t bring yourself to eat for two days afterwards, and you’d only given into the mini fridge after nearly passing out. Your days were long and spent regretting your decision, wondering if you’d ever be happy without him by your side, and worrying that he might be able to.

“I just keep wanting to do it over,” You gush, feeling his hand tighten around your own as you sob, “I- I wanted to take it back, to-” You swallow a sob, remembering your lines, “-to stop you from going to work. If I’d just made you stay…” Your face crumples with a gush of tears you aren’t able to hold back, and you give up on speaking for now.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Bradley hums, kissing the space between your nose and your cheek. It’s all he can reach from the way you’re sobbing into his pillow, and you’re thankful for the comfort you might not be able to get soon.

“You couldn’t have changed anything,” He promises, and you nestle your head into his own to absorb his soothing voice, “My plane was still the one with the defect, baby. I would have gone down tomorrow if not today. ‘S only a matter of time.”

A wave of sickness washes over you at his choice of words, and you nod, trying to regain a grip. You lift yourself up from the pillow, neck aching as you crane it to kiss his chin. He smiles at you, his eyes so genuine and sweet that it makes you want to lose your lunch; it’s an expression you don’t deserve anymore, even if you long for it. It’s only a matter of time before he remembers everything, and you don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t want you anymore.

“You’re tired,” You hum, and he nods against the pillow, “Sleep, baby. You need rest.” You sniffle, wiping away a tear from your eye more forcefully than you need to. You try to lean back in your chair but Bradley stiffens, and feel him tighten his grip on your hand.

“Please don’t leave me,” He begs, and more of that nausea comes rolling in. They’re the exact words he’d whimpered just next to your ear two weeks ago, keeping the door closed with one hand while the other wound around your waist. Then, you’d wormed your way out of his grip, ripping the door open despite his efforts to stop you and running off to your car. Now though, you meet his eyes, scared and desperate and lost, and you nod, scooting forwards to lay your head on his chest.

“I’ll stay,” You promise, and he raises a hand to brace it against your cheek. You turn your head to kiss his palm, and he strokes a thumb over your face, “I’ll stay, Bradley, I promise.”

The nap that you take on Bradley’s chest is the best sleep you’ve had since you left. Being in his embrace once more practically erases your undereye circles, and it takes you a few seconds after you wake up to remember that anything is out of the ordinary in the first place. Then it all comes flooding back, and you cycle through each stage of grief respectively while still slumped onto the bed. Then you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder, and you realize that Bradley’s nurse has shaken you awake.

“Hi,” The man smiles down at you, “Sorry to interrupt. I’m sure you didn’t want to wake up.”

“Oh,” You laugh hesitantly, slipping out from beneath Bradley’s hand and wiping away a slight glob of drool that had accumulated around the corner of your mouth, “No, no, it’s okay. What time is it?”

“Dinnertime,” Another nurse chimes from by the door, carrying another tray of meat and potatoes for Bradley, “Around six-thirty, Miss Mitchell.”

“You’re welcome to eat here with him,” The first nurse informs you, “But you’ll have to get something from the cafeteria, or order in. And visiting hours end at eight,” He levels you with a sympathetic smile, “But if you’ve got one bite left I won’t kick you out.”

“Thank you,” You chuckle wearily, your voice barely thickened with tears, “I appreciate that. Bradley,” You hum, squeezing his hand and stroking your free one through his hair, “Wake up, baby. They brought you some dinner.”

He comes to groggy, and you don’t blame him. He blinks a few times, then recognition washes over his face as he remembers why he’s there, and hopefully nothing else.

The nurses get busy with moving his bed, pressing buttons on the little remote strapped to the side until he’s inclined enough to eat his meal. The tray hooks into the sides of the bed so that he doesn’t have to hold anything, but you take his fork for him anyways, leaving his hands completely free.

“Thank you,” You nod gratefully at the nurses when they retreat for the door, a smear of mashed potatoes already gathered on the utensil in your hand. Bradley’s happy to let you feed him, humming at the taste of the beef they’ve given him. 

“Better than the chicken,” He hums, his voice gaining back a bit of its grating quality from earlier. He’s usually rough-voiced after a nap, so you don’t worry too much about it. Typically you indulge in his raspy morning voice, but now it seems insensitive. 

“Good,” You croon, scooping mashed potatoes and gravy onto a bite of the beef, “And it doesn’t bother your stomach?”

“What’s there to upset it, salt?” He grumbles around a mouthful, “Barely tastes like anything.”

“Sorry, Brad,” You hum, stroking a stray strand of caramel colored hair back into place, “I’m not supposed to feed you anything else, though.”

“I know,” He relents, lips puckering to kiss your wrist instead of wrapping around the spoon in your hand, “Not your fault, baby. But,” He rears back to takes the bite, chewing thoughtfully while you wait for his next sentence, “Can you bring me cookies tomorrow?”

You laugh, trying to keep it quiet in the slowly darkening hospital room. There’s no one around, and the door is closed, but his voice isn’t loud and you don’t want to overpower him. 

“I just said I wasn’t allowed to feed you anything else,” You roll your eyes affectionately, a teasing gesture you thought you’d never be able to do with the man anymore, “What makes you think I’d bring you cookies?”

“Um, ‘cause you love me?” Bradley drawls, voice finally rising to a healthy volume. Maybe it’s the food in his stomach, or maybe it’s a switch that was suddenly flipped in his chest, but he sounds like himself again.

His words sober your fantasy intoxication, and you smile sadly at him where he lays in his bed. You set the fork down to lay your hand over his cheek, your palm soaking in the warmth of his skin that’s newly returned.

“I do love you,” You promise, leaning in to kiss him. You have to lean over his plate to do so, and you’ll worry later about any potential gravy stains on your shirt. You go slow and gentle, worried that he’ll push you away for reasons he doesn’t remember yet. But he doesn’t. In fact, when you pull away to give him some air, he catches your wrist in a surprising display of agility for his weakened muscles, and you freeze in place.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, mustache shifting slightly with his apology, “I can’t stop thinking about you getting that call. I never-” His voice cracks, “I never wanted you to go through that.”

“Me neither,” You feel tears pricking at your eyes again, the same that are shining in Bradley’s, “But you don’t have to be sorry. None of this was your fault, and what matters is that you’re okay now. I have you back, Bradley, I- I didn’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” He vows, and your lips sting with the force of your bite to repress a sob. 

He lifts his head from his pillow, the first time he’s done it since waking up. He kisses your temple as you try not to cry, lips dotting staccato kisses against your skin as you tremble slightly.

“I promise, baby,” He hums softly into your skin as his hand comes up to hug you, “You won’t lose me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” You cry, your fist gripping his hospital gown desperately. You want to believe him but it’s not even really Bradley talking, it’s three-weeks-ago Bradley that doesn’t remember you walking out of his life for self-preservation. It’s Bradley that doesn’t know the worst of you yet, but who could remember at any moment and cast you away.

“You won’t, I promise.” He coos, stroking up and down your back. You feel silly, accepting comfort from a hospital patient who went down in a fighter jet less than 24 hours ago, but you feel even sillier that it's the same man you’d torn to shreds days prior. But he’s comforting you, he’s rubbing your back, he’s kissing your face, and he’s promising you that you’ll never lose him, so you let him, because you love hearing him lie, even if he doesn't know he's doing it. 

“You promise?” You look up at him with watery eyes that blur out his face, but you see him nod. It’s unfair to ask, not when he doesn’t have the knowledge to truly promise. He cranes his neck forwards to bump noses with you, letting you cry against his skin.

“I do, honey.” He nods, holding you close like you’d never left at all,  “I promise.”

Going from crying into each other’s embraces back to eating bland mashed potatoes is hard, but you ease Bradley into it with a bite of granola bar you’d found in your purse. He’s grateful for something with flavor, and you’re glad to finally be rid of the half-eaten snack. 

“Oatmeal raisin cookies, please,” Bradley begs as he chews the snack, going as far as to bat his pretty lashes at you, brown eyes shiny with hope. 

You scoff, wiping a tear away from your face with a fond, albeit trembling smile, “Okay, Brad. Oatmeal raisin.”

“You’re the best,’ He hums, grinning with a mouthful of oats and chocolate. You check your phone to find that you’ve only got twenty minutes left until visiting hours are over, and your eyes dim as you glance back up at him.

“I have to go soon,” You lament, “Visiting hours are over in twenty.”

His face fades from its pretty smile, some of the newfound color draining from his skin once more. You’re sure he’ll have a nightmare tonight, something about jet crashes and dying alone, and you hate leaving him here so vulnerable.

“I’m sorry, baby,” You sniffle, squeezing his hand, “They open back up at 8 tomorrow, so as soon as I make those cookies I’ll be back, I promise.”

“I know,” He nods, raising your intertwined hands to kiss at your wrist, “It’s okay. Not your fault.”

“I’d stay overnight if I could.”

“I’d sneak you into my bed,” Bradley grins sadly, “S’alright, baby, just get a good night’s sleep. You deserve it after today.”

“You too,” You squeeze his hand, smiling sweetly at him, “And if you have a nightmare, text me, and I’ll crawl through the window, ‘promise.”

He laughs again, and now that he’s got most of his strength back it’s a normal sound. It’s not weak, it’s not subdued, it’s perfect. It’s Bradley.

“I’d like to see you try,” He teases, and you wipe a smear of chocolate off of his lower lip, remembering the first time you’d ever done that with a fond smile.

“I’m on the sixth floor.” He reminds you, and you shrug, sucking the chocolate off of your finger.

“Meh,” You crumble up the granola bar wrapper in your fist, “I could scale that easy.”

“Oh, really? Yeah, I bet you could,” Bradley chuckles, “You’re Spider-Man, suddenly? Sticking to walls? I must have forgotten your transformation.”

“Yeah, you did,” You grin with a laugh, “Actually, while I rushed over here to see you, a truck full of radioactive spiders crashed, and I got bitten by one. You’ve missed a lot, Brad.”

“Right,” Bradley’s brows raise, eyes alight with amusement, “Those radioactive spider trucks are a real nuisance, I hear.”

Giggling sweetly with him feels normal. The kind of normal you crave, the kind that isn’t settled for, but yearned for. And you’re clinging to it, pushing the truth out of your mind and playing the part perfectly.

A knock on the door interrupts your gigglefest and you turn in time to see the nurse from before entering, a bittersweet smile on his face. 

“I’m supposed to kick you out,” He jokes, holding Bradley’s chart, “And you’re free to sleep whenever, Mr. Bradshaw, we don’t need to conduct any more tests tonight. You’re just here to be monitored."

“Alright,” Bradley nods and you stand, still clasping his hand in yours. The doctor busies himself with straightening up the chairs around the bed, and you take the privacy he so kindly grants you.

“Sleep good,” You recite your pre-bedtime deployment sendoff to Bradley, the phrase having gathered dust in the back of your head since his last overseas assignment, “Sweet dreams, and call me when you can.”

“I will,” Bradley leans up to kiss you, going for your lips, then your cheek, then your chin, “You too, baby. Get some rest. I’m okay, I promise.”

“Yeah,” You beam down at him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, “You’re okay, Brad.”

"See you tomorrow!" He calls as you leave, and you turn to nod.

"See you tomorrow, baby." You promise once more, hand on the door handle, "Goodnight."

“Sleep well, Mr. Bradshaw,” The nurse bids Bradley goodbye with a smile and a nod as you trail out behind him, and at the click of the door behind the two of you, it’s like you’re the recovering amnesia patient. Now that Bradley’s not there anymore, not smiling at you, not telling you he loves you, it’s like you can’t be sure of anything, like you’re still that imposter you’d been when you’d first stepped in. You come to the sickening realization, only after the fact, that you'd loved lying to Bradley, and it makes you feel worse. Your reverie is shattered, and the nurse beside you notices your shaky breathing as you trail down the hallway.

“Miss, are you okay?” His brows furrow in concern, and you nod.

“Yeah, just-” You smooth your hands down your pants, your palms sweaty, “It’s a lot. Being in there, seeing him like- like that. I guess I wasn’t prepared.”

“No one is,” The nurse smiles sympathetically at you, leading you to an elevator, “But he’s right, Miss Mitchell. He’ll be alright. And hopefully, his memories will restore themselves overnight. There’s a good chance he’ll wake up remembering it all.”

You’re sure that was meant to soothe you, but it’s only sent more nausea rolling through your body. You nod, forcing a smile as the doors shut between you, “Thank you, Nurse.”

Once the doors shut, you want to burst into tears. You don’t want the reception desk to see that, though, so you rush through the motions of leaving, practically running to your car. Once you’re safely inside the floodgates open, and you’re surprised you don’t trigger the horn from how hard you’re sobbing against the steering wheel.

You try to channel Bradley’s voice, ‘I promise baby, you won't lose me.’ but it makes things worse, it piles guilt on top of your sickness and makes you want to run away again. Because he’d promised you that he’d never leave you, not that he’d ever let you come back if you’d left him. And that’s what you’re worried about now.

Running away hadn’t stopped anything bad from happening, it just made you feel worse when bad things did happen. Thankful for your second chance, you swear to yourself in the stuffy silence of your car that you’ll do anything to fix this, and that you’re not going to fuck this up again because you’re scared. Love is scary, giving yourself completely to another person is scary, but Bradley’s always been good at soothing your fears, and there’s no one you’d rather give yourself to.

You steel yourself as you prepare to drive back to your motel, but second-guess it when you remember that Bradley has his phone with him. You have each other shared on Find My Friends, and he doesn’t normally check it unless he’s worried about your safety, but you’re paranoid that he’ll find your pin at a crappy motel and know something is wrong. So you punch in Bradley’s address instead, the one you used to share with him, still labeled as ‘home’, and set off.

The drive looks familiar in no time, and it reminds you of how much you’d missed it. The big oak tree on your neighbor’s lawn, the flag perpetually at half-mast because the man across the street fell while adjusting it and never fixed it, the tricycle on the sidewalk beside your front door that the toddler next door always seemed to leave on your walkway. You check the mail and feel something stabbing at your chest when your name is on one of the letters, and your house key is cold with disuse as you slide it into the slot.

You hesitate when the doorknob turns beneath your fingers. Walking into Bradley’s space will tell you exactly how he feels about what happened between you. There’s either going to be empty bottles strewn everywhere with pictures laying around covered in tear stains, or there’s going to be a hot pink bra in his bed, and a new woman’s makeup kit in his bathroom. Hell, maybe she’ll even still be there, maybe you’re about to walk in on your replacement.

But the promise you’d made to yourself in the car wasn’t for show, and you turn the knob after taking a deep breath, stepping into the darkened home.

You call out an uncertain ‘hello?’ into the place, waiting with bated breath for a woman’s voice to respond. But it never does, and you flick the light on beside the door.

You’d been right with one of your guesses.

It’s messy. Not exactly the outwardly disastrous type of messy you’d imagined earlier, but knowing all of the little things about Bradley means that you know he’s let himself go over the past two weeks. His running shoes are gathering dust by the door, which seems to suggest that he’s been lazing in bed just like you have. The living room is pristine, the pillows all arranged the way you set it up that Bradley doesn’t care to replicate, and you wonder if he’s sat on the couch at all the entire time since you’ve been gone. There’s no grocery list on the fridge and upon further inspection, the appliance is close to empty, one lonely beer left alongside ketchup, mustard, and a rotting head of lettuce. Unless he was eating the worst burgers known to man, you don’t think he’s been eating anything from the kitchen. Your heart aches for Bradley; you hope he’s been ordering food in.

Walking through the space is like revisiting a crime scene as the killer. Everything here is because of you, the pictures stripped from the walls are gone because of you, the lonely toothbrush in the dual holder is because of you, the neatly made side of the bed with its messy counterpart is because of you. 

You realize that it’s your side that’s slept on, Bradley’s still tucked neatly in place, unused. You spot a red covering over your pillow, reaching for it and finding it to be an old t-shirt of yours that Bradley had raided your dresser drawers for. It’s one he’d bought you at a tourist trap on your vacation a few years ago, and it was your favorite to lounge in. You notice a dark spot on the fabric and only then realize that you’re crying, that it’s a tear that had fallen from your eye. Then it’s like everything hits you all at once, and you sink onto the mattress clutching the pillow. It smells like Bradley, and you know he’s been clinging to it every night, a thought that solidifies your sneaking suspicion that you might be the worst person on the planet.

You curl up and cry there, you don’t know for how long. All you can do is sob, soak your pillow with tears that you thought you were out of, clutch the bedsheets like they’ll reveal Bradley, hidden underneath and eager for a cuddle. This bed feels as empty as the motel’s had, maybe even emptier, because you’ve never slept in it away from Bradley. When he’s on deployment you always have a sweatshirt of his and a picture of him tucked under the pillow, but you know it won’t be there now. Now you’re alone, really alone. 

Your eyes droop and you know you need sleep, especially if you’re going to wake up early to make Bradley cookies in time for visiting hours to start. But you can’t bring yourself to sleep without the picture of him under his pillow, so you stumble out of bed to fetch it from your box of memories.

Your fingers close around the slightly wrinkled photo, a shot of you in a gown and Bradley in a suit. It’s one you’d taken yourself at your graduation, high school turned college sweethearts. He had wanted admission into the Naval Academy, but in order to spend more time with you, you’d enrolled together at a university. It’s your favorite photo to have with you, and you reach out to Bradley’s pillow to slide it underneath. Upon lifting the pillow, you find a stack of pictures already there. Each one of you, most with Bradley pictured in them too. They only make you cry harder, and you recognize some as the inserts of the picture frames that had been taken down from the hallway.

It looks like Bradley hoarded photos of you, and some are stiff and stained with tears. The sight is something out of a movie, a dramatic indication of the inner turmoil of its main character. You see a shot of your silhouettes together, faces darkened by the sun streaming in behind you. You’re kissing on the beach, and without paying much mind to the structural integrity of the photo, you clutch it to your chest.

You’re a wreck. You just want your Bradley back, but your Bradley isn’t yours anymore. You want three-weeks-ago Bradley back, the one who you didn’t run away from. But he’ll probably have his memories back by tomorrow, and there’s no telling if he’d even want you to visit again. Looking at the sorry state of his apartment, you know he misses you, but whether he wants you back is another question altogether. All you can do is wait and worry, and worry you do. As you sob and heave in the bed, your brain shuts down, and eventually you drift into a dreamless, unpleasant sleep, nose still buried in your shirt that smells like Bradley.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[bratshaws]

goodness gracious 18. brb x oc

a/n: ey yo, hi guys. I'm still a bit.......iffy? But I managed to finish the chapter :) i hope you guys like it! idk if the next one will be posted tomorrow since im still trying to figure out what to do with myself but!! ill let you guys know.

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: feelings make these two go BRRRRR

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey

-

The sun didn’t even peek its way out of the sky when Rooster was there, already suited up, sitting on a bench inside the base with his eyes looking down to the floor. In between his fingers a silver ring was turned this way and that, the pad of his thumb touching the curved indentations of the elvish script on it. He just turned the ring over and over, before one of his hands went up to rub his face, setting it in front of his mouth to support his head while his elbow was on his knee.

Yesterday was one of the best and worst days he had in a while. The best because he spent the whole day with Beatrice, not only because of the amazing sex, but mostly because she was such a lovely person to spend time with but it was the worst because he had to take her home late at night, hugging her tightly and promising to contact her however he could, whenever he could and it pained him seeing her worried eyes look up at him.But she smiled and said ‘I know you will’.

 His drive back home was the longest, he probably stopped at least twice to regain his bearings, breathing in deeply with his head leaning on the back of the car rest. His apartment felt so empty, her smell still lingered everywhere and her ring weighed tons inside his jeans’ pocket, so much he felt its weight pull him down to sit on his couch where he stayed, in the dark, for a few minutes.

Not so different from his current position right now.  Except the ring was in his palm, clenched tightly in fear it could slip away and roll somewhere where he could no longer find it. He didn’t notice a figure approaching him, stopping just a few meters away, looking at him. Pete watched Rooster stay in that position for half a minute before he got closer, “Rooster.” the younger pilot blinked in surprise, dropping his hand from his face to meet the origin of the voice.

“Hey,Mav.” he says then,running his fingers on his mustache “Didn’t see you there.”

“I know, you seemed to be lost in thought.” Pete smiles, walking over to sit down next to Bradley on the bench, his elbows on his knees just like Rooster was, “Nervous?” Rooster shakes his head, his hands returning to play with the ring, which calls Mav’s attention, “What’s that?”

“Beatrice’s ring.” he replies quietly, “She gave it to me.”

“Did she?”

“So I wouldn’t…forget her and to bring me good luck and safety.” He repeats her words with a bit of a heavy heart, his eyebrows furrowing a bit. Maverick moves his eyes from the young Bradshaw to the ring, then back to Bradley. He looks worried.

“That’s very sweet of her.” Bradley chuckles, dropping his head forward, “Did I say something funny?”

“No, it’s just…” he shakes his head with a smile, “That’s the thing you know? She’s sweet. She’s so sweet, it’s almost unreal that someone like her exists.” Bradley licks his lips, curling both of them into his mouth as he looks to the orange coming up in the horizon, shaking his head diminutively “I–I just can’t wrap my head around it, around her, around someone so amazing falling into my life like that.”

Maverick’s smile widens and he drops his head, then looks to the opposite side of Bradley to hide it, knowing the young man would probably think he’s teasing him. He knew from the other pilots that Bradley was absolutely whipped for Beatrice even before the two started dating, that he wanted to go slow to not scare her away. He never really had a moment to chat with Beatrice besides the usual greeting at the bar, but he did notice she seemed to be a very sweet girl with how she acted.

Rooster not getting how he could get someone like that made him chuckle under his breath, then looking up at the sky with the thought  ‘Goose, your son is more like you than I thought’ in his head. He still remembered when Goose started dating Carole and how terrified he’d get sometimes. It was hilarious and wholesome at the same time. He looked down to the ring, the sun peeking on the sky shone enough light to show that the ring had something written on it, “What’s that?”

Bradley looks down at the ring, wetting his lips and holding it up for Pete to see, “It’s a quote.”

“I don’t think I recognize the language.”

“It’s elvish.” Bradley replies, sending a look to Pete who just appears amazed and confused, so he chuckles “Yeah, I had the same reaction, it’s from Lord of the Rings. It’s one of her favorite books.” he looks down fondly, remembering the first time she showed him she was slightly buzzed and giggly, wearing that fairy dress that only made him fall for her even harder. Maverick continued looking, then arched his eyebrows for the younger pilot to tell him what it meant, “May it be a light for you in the dark places, when all the other lights go out.”

Maverick couldn’t help the smile on his face, “That’s a very nice quote, Brad.” he says, “It’ll definitely help you out there.”

“She believes in me, so much Mav.” he blurts out quietly, “She never got mad when I said I had to go for so long. She said she was upset, but she wasn’t angry at me, she– fuck.” he rubs his face with both of his hands, keeping them there for a while longer, then dragging them to interlace below his chin, “No one ever made me feel like she does, how do you– you know?” he gestures at nothing, his palms open “How is she just the sweetest, kindest person on this planet? How? How is she so understanding?”

Maverick looked up when Rooster stood to his feet, pacing in the small area with his hands on his hips, then dragged them up to his hair to run his fingers through the sandy strands, “You seem conflicted,” Pete mentioned, the young Bradshaw tossed his head back with a sigh, “Talk to me Rooster.”

“I think I love her Mav.” he says, genuinely, with his eyes not meeting Pete, his hands back on his hips as if he wanted to hold himself upright. Maverick blinked, but kept quiet, so quiet Rooster had to look at him, “You…aren’t you going to say something?”

“Like what?”

Rooster makes a noise, shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know? That this is crazy? That’s been only a month and how the hell am I in love with her? That it makes no sense?” 

But Maverick just purses his lips, then shakes his head, “I don’t think it's crazy.”

“It’s been one month,Mav. One.”

“Some people fall in love in less than a month.” While Pete didn’t elaborate, he had a feeling he was talking about his parents. Bradley just sighed, one of his hands coming up to rub over his face. He questioned himself if it wasn’t just his brain playing tricks on him because he hasn’t had a serious relationship in years and he was nothing but touch-starved for attention, but that made a bitter taste come up to his mouth. It wasn’t that, he wasn’t so cruel to the point he’d keep this going if it was.

His heart just felt like it was on fire, like the type of fire that doesn’t burn but it’s very warm, coating whatever surface with flames that never spread. He thought he fell in love once when he was fourteen and he had a crush on a girl from his Chemistry class, but obviously  it was puppy love and nothing else. It passed as soon as the year turned and he found out she had moved out. But with Beatrice it was different. This past month has been the best he had in a long while. He had so much fun with her, she was so genuinely kind and understanding he almost felt like it was a dream.

Maybe she was a fairy who put a love spell on him. One he didn’t really want to get rid of. He just couldn’t figure out if this was good or bad. Of course being in love is fine, but would she be okay with it? It was one month and here he was being deployed, he’d be away for two months and then what? He should just tell her? He even voiced the question out of Mav, who infuriatingly still had that knowing smile on his face, “It’s one thing to look forward to, isn’t it?”

Rooster didn’t know if he should be happy or worried about that idea. So he just huffed out a tired breath, clenching the ring in his hand before he slipped out his dog tags. Mav looked interested when he unclipped the latch and slid the ring through it, it’s weight making it hit the dog tags with a soft metallic sound. He then put them back on, hiding it underneath his suit “It’ll be safer then.” he replied to Mav’s unsaid question.

The older pilot just chuckled, standing to his feet with a grunt, his joints cracking just a bit. He then patted the younger pilot on the shoulder fondly, squeezing his shoulder for good measure, “It will.” he looked up at the sky seeing the sun was finally higher, “Come on, we need to get ready.” then he led the younger Bradshaw forward, still keeping his hand on his shoulder.

-

Most Mondays after she helped Penny and Shells check the bar, she’d go to her therapy session.  Honestly she was extremely thankful for it being so quick, her anxiety had been spiking since she woke up and sent Bradley a message of ‘stay safe!I’ll see you when you come back!’’ and almost wrote the L word out to him, but chose to send him a smiling emoji instead. She freaked out so much she dropped her phone and curled into a ball against her bed’s headboard, looking at the small device as if it was a wild animal she had to hide from.

She bounced her leg nervously while waiting for the time of her session, sitting on the navy blue chairs with her hands between her legs, clenching her bag strap. She took in deep breaths, feeling her heart about to burst out of her chest, trying to not look down her phone so if the numbers changed yet again. It wasn’t long until the divorced husband who had been coming before her for months left the door behind the receptionist desk that she stood to her feet. She could hear the heels hitting the wooden floors and a kind face appearing on the doorway, “Hello Beatrice.” Dr. Varma says when she meets the young woman, the crinkles in her eyes getting more prominent when she smiles, “Come on in.”

Beatrice nods with a quiet thank you, following the older woman through a hallway decorated with pictures of landscapes, until they reach another door. Dr.Varma opened it for her, smiling so the brunette could walk in first, sitting down on the black pleather chairs in front of the doctor’s desk, much like always. Dr.Varma fixed her dark gray colored suit, then her hair before she took her place in front of Beatrice. 

With her hands interlaced, her wedding band glinting with the light of the room, she supported herself on the desk with a kind grin, “How are you today,Beatrice?” she questions, still keeping her eyes on the young woman.

“I…I’ve been having some anxious thoughts today.” Beatrice chuckled weakly “Um…you remember my boyfriend,right? Bradley.”

“Yes, I do.” she says softly, “You two completed a month haven’t you?” the girl nods, “Congratulations, Beatrice.”

“Thank you…um…he was deployed today.” she muttered, looking up to her therapist to check her reaction. But like always, Dr. Lakshmi Varma just kept her face positively neutral, her light brown eyes held nothing malicious in them. Instead she moved her gaze away for a minute to grab the leather journal where she kept notes of all her patients from its drawer under her desk top, slipping on her dark rimmed glasses.

“That must be hard, Beatrice,” the therapist says, clicking the button on her pen to write something down then looking back up, “How long will he be gone?”

“Two months.” 

“I see.” the knuckles of the hand not holding the pen supported her chin “It’s quite some time.” the brunette nods quietly, so Dr.Varma looks down at her journal to scribble a note “Is that the reason for your anxious thoughts?”

“Kind of.” her therapist stops writing to pay attention to her ,”I…I almost sent him an I love you text.” she whispers like it's shameful, wringing her hands together so tight her knuckles crack. Dr.Varma again shows no negative reaction, she just looks to the side as if she’s thinking then writes more stuff down, “I shouldn’t, right? It’s one month…a-and he’s going to be gone for two months! Like, it’s crazy.”

“Why is it crazy?”

“Huh?”

“Why is it crazy to say you are in love?”

The green eyed brunette just parts her lips that move without words coming out, until they finally do, “Because it’s too soon, right? It’s too soon a-and if I do, he’ll think I’m desperate o-or trying to hold him back or–” she gestured wildly with her hands, one thing she does when the nerves would get too much for her to bear just in her mind. “Plus, what if it distracts him? I don’t know what he’ll do! What if he gets the text and doesn’t see something–”

“Beatrice,” Dr.Varma cuts her gently, “You are overthinking again. Remember what we talked about overthinking?”

Beatrice lowered her gaze, leaning back onto her chair, “That it’s just the brain adding more information to anxious thoughts…”

“Exactly.” The doctor gives her a smile, dropping the pen to the side to interlace her fingers on top of the open journal, “Ever since you told me you two are in a relationship I’ve seen you come with several doubts about yourself and your part when it comes to being a couple. Has Bradley complained about you?” Beatrice shook her head, “Was he vocal about not wishing to continue in the relationship with you?” again she shakes her head negatively, “From what you’ve told me, you two have been going quite strong, Bradley has been nothing but supportive of you and has shown interest in you multiple times.”

Beatrice’s face heats up as she remembers their weekend together, “Yeah…”

“So, why is it odd to think you are in love? Sure, it is a short time, but I wouldn’t say it is a bad thing.” Dr.Varma smiles warmly, “Love is one of the strongest emotions in the universe Beatrice, it could come fast and sometimes unannounced. Sometimes it takes you years to say you love your partner, sometimes it takes just a couple of weeks. What do you feel when you are with Bradley?”

Beatrice inhaled deeply, her chest expanding as she tried to think, “I feel…I feel like…I feel like I’m dancing on clouds.” she whispers with a soft smile, one her therapist reciprocates, “I feel like I’m dreaming, like it’s so good and so real and he’s so sweet to me. He’s so…so sweet to me, he looks at me like I’m the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and nothing else matters. He is...caring and he worries, he wants to know if I’m okay with certain things, he likes when I share my interests, he likes me for me. He’s–” her breathing catches in her throat and her eyes sting, “He’s not ashamed of me.”

Dr.Varma grabs a box of tissues, pulling out a couple to hand over to her young patient, who sniffles quietly while dabbing the paper under her eyes, “Of course not, you are a lovely person, Beatrice.” the brunette stopped flinching over compliments in the months they’ve been having their sessions together, which makes Dr.Varma smile in relief, “Bradley is very lucky to have you…we both know that your past relationship wasn’t good. But you should be open minded when it comes to Bradley. He’s not Eric, Beatrice.”

She frowns at the mention of her ex’s name, but her therapist is right, “He really isn’t.” Eric never did half of the things Bradley did, always looking bored or disinterested whenever she shared things about her favorite hobbies. He didn’t even care when she told him she was painting a picture for his mother for her birthday, only saying it’d be better to buy her a purse or something instead.

She made the terrible mistake of saying she loved him weeks before she found out about his cheating, he replied so happily she believed him. But it was all a ruse so she wouldn’t figure out about him and the one of many girls he was sleeping with. She did, eventually, with the thought if she loved him harder he wouldn’t leave. Didn’t work out in the end, obviously, but at least she came out stronger than before…still dealing with fears of rejection and not knowing how to deal if the L word ever happened to her again. Which was what happened right now.

“Did you tell your family yet?” Dr.Varma asked once she noticed the girl calmed down, “You told me how you were trying to find out how to tell them.”

“I didn’t.” she sniffs, folding the damp tissue in her hand, “I plan to…I might go from the easiest ones to the hardest. So…Guillermo and my parents will be last.” she hoped it would at least. She did promise Leo to talk to them soon after all. 

“Who’s the first on the list?”

Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows, “Sabrina. She lives in Boston but I can call her, then Marina, Michael and then the final heads of the Hydra.” she sighs, wrapping the tissue around her index finger, thankful there were only tears in there, “I’m just scared of them not liking him…or being like ‘oh so he’s Navy? How do you know if he won’t cheat on you when he’s away?’ you know? Those things.” she frowns even more, “Which is kind of a bullshit statement ‘cause my uncle Roberto was in the army and they don’t say those things about him.”

“Beatrice,” Dr.Varma begins, giving her a look with a little smile. Beatrice falters, looking at her hands.

“Overthinking again?” the therapist nods, “I just can’t help it when it comes to my family, you know? I told you how they are, how overprotective they can be…I’m just going to do my best to tell them about Brad and…make them see how much I care for him.” the L word went up to her throat, but she didn’t say it. 

Dr.Varma just grins, writing down more things in her journal “I’m sure you’ll do great.” Beatrice wished she had that confidence within herself more often, just like her therapist does to her. “Please let me know next week if it goes well, will you?”

“Yeah, I promise.” Bea smiles. It wasn’t long until her session was over and Beatrice left the building, walking to her Subaru with the cellphone in her hand. Bradley still hadn’t seen her message and she tried not to worry, he did say little to no contact after all, plus, he’d be fine. He wasn’t alone, he had others with him! So they’d all be fine!

While walking to her car, she frowned when she saw the scratch on the back door, sighing thinking she couldn’t just send it to be repaired again. Maybe she should just sell it and use the money to get a new car, because there was no way she’d be able to pay for yet another repair even if it was superficial. Mr.Guzman did tell her after all…maybe she should focus on that to pass the time too. It's definitely helpful.

Once she got back home, she decided she shouldn’t stall any more when talking to her siblings. It was three in the afternoon, which meant Sabrina was home already from school. She sits down on her couch, with Jojo placing her head on her lap as she types a message to her sister.

Beatrice (15:13)

Hey, Bri? You home? I kinda wanted to talk to you.

Brina (15:20)

Yeah! Sure sis! Give me a second. Is Video okay?

Beatrice (15:21)

Yeah, sure.

Beatrice sucks in a deep breath, waiting for the video call to happen. Her phone vibrates after a few seconds, then she sees her sister’s face on the screen, swiping to accept the call, “Hi Bri. Sorry to bother you today.”

“It’s fine! It’s been so long since we talked, I would have found time anyway.” her sister fixed her glasses over her eyes, smiling brightly at Beatrice through her screen.

Sabrina was the only one in the family to have their father’s deep black hair, she looked a lot like him too, much like Guillermo did. Her jawline was a bit sharper with her cheekbones high and angular, her lips full like all of their siblings but her eyes were big just like their mom. She never knew if Sabrina’s eyes were hazel or green, they always seemed to change color every time she took a closer look.

Her oldest sister was moving around her kitchen, the sound of liquid filling a cup breaking the short lived silence, “So, what did you want to talk about?” Sabrina questions, lifting the 1# Teacher mug to her lips to sip her coffee.

Beatrice licked her lips, it was now or never, “I’m dating someone.” she expected her sister to spit out the drink, but she didn’t, she just lifted her eyebrows with the mug still on her lips, “H-His name is Bradley, he’s an aviator.”

Sabrina lowers the mug to look deep into her sister’s eyes, then smiles, giving her a shrug, “Okay!”

“...o-okay?”

“Um, yeah?” Sabrina laughs, walking out of her kitchen to her living room, “Never thought you’d go for the Navy type but considering where you are now I’m not surprised.” she sighs while sitting down on her couch, combing her hair away from her face. It takes a few seconds for Beatrice to get rid of her shock, but once she does she’s all smiles, telling Sabrina all about Bradley and how they met.

Her sister was extremely supportive, just like Leo was, even telling her she’d visit whenever he was back so they could meet. They spent a good while talking, Sabrina telling her how her kids were too, how Josh was already going to start college next year, William started to play for the football team and Trevor joined the band. They were all so much older now, Beatrice remembered holding them up as babies when she was young herself. 

Sabrina was very happy for her, even telling her to not worry and if she needed she’d vouch for her alongside Leo because of Bradley. She said that ever since she moved out of the house, their parents seemed to mellow a bit more - only to go ‘yikes’ when Bea told her about Guillermo’s trip from New York just to check on her. 

“Either way, you got my support.”

“Thanks, Bri.”

Sabrina’s eyes soften behind the lens of her glasses, “You look happy,Bea. I haven’t seen you with such a good look in your eyes for a while.”

It’s what love does, a voice that eerily resembled her nonna’s thick accent said in her head, but she ignored it, just smiling back at her sister, “Thanks Bri…I’ll let you get back to it okay?”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you soon then?”

“Yeah! Bye Bri!”

“Bye, Little Bitty!”

She dropped the hand holding the phone to her lap, like it weighed so much she couldn’t keep it upright, then leaned her head back on the couch to let out a deep sigh of relief, “Two down…five left.” she whispered to herself, hoping the next conversations would go just as smoothly as this one did.

[songsforthepierce]

Odd Tracks: We Didn't Start the Fire by Billy Joel & Fall Out Boy Cover

So...uh I legit don't know how to start this. Okay, look, we all know the only reason I am doing this is because of the whole Fall Out Boy's quite not so good cover of it. But before I can actually talk about the cover itself we have to start with the original.

You know, as I listen to this I realized I had actually never listened to the full version of the song before. I would always hear the chorus but nothing else. This is not to say I had NEVER heard of the song before. It was that when people would use it in Anime Hell AMVs to Abridged series they would only play the chorus. Which I get why, it's the most memorable part of the song that and in my opinion the strongest part of the song.

So what is the significance of the song? Well the reason it exists in the first place was because at the time Joel just turned 40 and while he met Sean Lennon's friend who just turned 21 in the recording studio. Supposedly they had a conversation where said 21 year old talked about how it was a terrible time to turn 21 and Billy said,

"Yeah, I remember when I was 21 – I thought it was an awful time and we had Vietnam, and y'know, drug problems, and civil rights problems and everything seemed to be awful".

The young adult replied back with,

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, but it's different for you. You were a kid in the fifties and everybody knows that nothing happened in the fifties".

This took Billy aback and retorted with, "Wait a minute, didn't you hear of the Korean War or the Suez Canal Crisis?"

The main dismissal from the young adult would be the main inspiration for the creation of the song while the two headlines would be the main framework of the song. I do find it weirdly funny he mentions the Suez Canal crisis at the time when in 2021 the canal would be blocked leading to another historical event. Within the song there are 118 brief references to significant political, cultural, scientific, and sport events between the birth year of Billy Joel, 1949, to 1989. These would be listed in predominantly chronological order which makes the song feel very concise and easy to follow. That and it has a very clear intention, the world has always had chaotic events and always will. I do feel like here Billy's intent is from a genuine place of telling people of the era and even before that major historical events be it good or bad have always been a constant. That it is not new nor are the events that happened in the past any less significant than the issues in the current era.

So one of the main talking points sprouted from the recent cover is people debating whether or not the song is a low tier Billy Joel song or not. Well for me, it is in the middle. I do not think it is his best song but I do not think it is his worst. It gets the job done. But how does Billy see this song? Well in the 1993 film, Billy Joel: Shades of Grey, he talked about how he felt about the song on the more musical end with documentary director David Horn. Joel would compare the more melodic content in a more unfavorable light to his song, The Longest Time,

"Take a song like 'We Didn't Start the Fire.' It's really not much of a song … If you take the melody by itself, terrible. Like a dentist drill."

Then on chapter 14 of the book, In their Own Words by Bill DeMain, he interviewed Billy about the song and he states,

"I started doing that as a mental exercise. I had turned forty. It was 1989, and I said, “Okay, what’s happened in my life? I wrote down the year 1949… It was kind of a mind game. [It’s] one of the few times I’ve written the lyrics first, which should be obvious to why I usually prefer to write the music first, because the melody is horrendous. It’s like a mosquito droning. It’s one of the worst melodies I’ve ever written. I kind of like the lyric though."

While one could see his views on the more musical side of his song as mean I do get where he is coming from. As he stated, he prefers to write the music first then the lyrics second. When you write the melody first then you can figure out how the lyrics go but for some writing the lyrics first makes it so you have to figure out "Okay, what is the music going to sound like?" So while he may not really care for how the song sounds, it is clear he liked what he wrote. My own view of the song itself is in the middle I genuinely respect the intent behind it. The concept of showing that every era has it's negatives and positives historically is a good one. A reminder to anyone from the past and to the future. While I was listening to the song I saw these comments beneath the video,

Censoring the usernames because I don't want people to bother these people. But seeing these comments are from 1-2 years ago is funny. A forty year anniversary remake of the song would be a good idea. A lot has happened since 1989 and having an updated version of the song going from then to 2023 would be a neat expansion on the original's intent and a reminder to people about how while the era we live in now does suck in a lot of ways so too does the past.

Wait...we got that. The monkey's paw oh so curled...

Okay so let's start with a positive, the instrumental is fine. Not great but serviceable. But again, the original melody is not hard to screw up. But my main critique of the cover is the verses. The list of events are not in chronological order which makes the song feel like a mess of words. In the original the order is important, it emphasizes all the major events in a way to show the broad scope of what has happened throughout time. That and the events are in phrases. While that is true here it is bizarre to have "Michael Jackson dies" but then just have "Kurt Cobain" Like Michael Jackson dying is the only notable event of Michael Jackson's significance in the pop world while Kurt Cobain's existence lets the listener make the informed thought of BOTH his life and death are important.

You know what this cover makes me think? It really reads like a first draft. Like the band got together and went "Hey, what were the major things that happened from 1989 to 2023?" and just started shouting out what they remembered in no particular order. Then when they were done went "Yeah, that's good enough. Lets record" because I notice certain historical events are not mentioned like Occupy Wall Street, Kony 2012, Gamergate, Ferguson, Flint Michigan water crisis, Hurricane Katrina, Covid-19, and many more. It just feels so incomplete and emphasizes that his cover is such a big miss opportunity. While I don't want to assume no effort was put into this cover it does come off like the effort to passion wasn't really there. It makes whatever got intention they had get so muddy. Though the lyric change that stood out to me was in the chorus,

We didn't start the fire It was always burning since the world's been turning We didn't start the fire No, we didn't light it but we're trying to fight it

This is the strongest part of the whole cover. The intention of that while all this shit has been happening that we are trying to change things for the better. But the fact this is just a tiny nugget within a mess pile just makes said pile look more disorganized than before.

I know this is like the only to first time I have really made a review on something one would consider relevant I only did so because I am just baffled by it all.

[katblu42]

I posted 816 times in 2022

That's 242 more posts than 2021!

65 posts created (8%)

751 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@gumnut-logic

@janetm74

@gaviiadastra

@soniabigcheese

@the-original-sineater

I tagged 147 of my posts in 2022

#thunderbirds fandom - 33 posts

#thunderbirds fanfiction - 28 posts

#thunderbirds are go - 22 posts

#virgil tracy - 17 posts

#thunderfam - 14 posts

#thunderbirds - 14 posts

#youtube - 13 posts

#australia - 9 posts

#ask game - 7 posts

#flashfictionfridayofficial - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 98 characters

#i am virtually placing my ice-cold fingers on the backs of each of your necks to cool you all down

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Leap of Faith

I know it's technically too late, but this is for @flashfictionfridayofficial this week. (Stupid work stealing all my time!) Very short.

Thunderbirds fandom Approx 328 words.

“John, we’re out of options, and out of time.” Virgil’s tone brooked no argument as he checked one final time that the boy’s safety line was securely attached to his own harness.  “Scott?”

“F. A. B.” was forced out from between Scott’s gritted teeth, as One’s engines strained in the background.

With one solid plant of booted feet on rockface, Virgil pushed off the side of the mountain and activated the quick release mechanism on the now useless winch cable.  He held tight to the child clinging to his chest as they plummeted.  Even through the helmet he could hear the grinding screech of metal on rock as the weight of the Pod violently shifted at the sudden loss of their weight.

He turned himself in the air and curled his body protectively around the boy in the vain hope he could shield him from impact if the worst were to happen.

Then the welcome scream of engines filled the air and they were no longer falling.  Caught by the cargo net stretched out in front of Thunderbird One’s nose cone.  Virgil adjusted his position, keeping one arm wrapped around the terrified little boy, and taking a firm hold of the cargo net with his other hand as his big brother slowed his ‘bird and began to ascend away from the jagged rocks of the canyon floor below them, heading for the safety of the plateau where he had needed to leave Thunderbird Two.

“Thanks, Scott,” Virgil panted out in sheer relief.

“Any time, little brother.”  The confidence in the commander’s voice was laced with a fair share of relief in return, and something else Virgil wasn’t sure he could identify.  “On second thought, maybe don’t try that one again in a hurry.  You’re right.  It’s not fun watching a self-sacrificing idiot brother make a move like that.”

“I knew you’d catch me, Scott,” barely above a whisper.  “I had faith.”

“Just like I have in you.”

37 notes - Posted September 10, 2022

#4

Not having a significant other at this time of year has had me pretty fed-up with all the pre-Valentine's Day advertising, but it got me thinking that I really want to show some love to all of you for being such a lovely community.

40 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

#3

It's here, it's here, it's finally here!

My months of regularly trawling ebay for one of these finally paid off. Even had a last minute bidding war to win it in the end!

And the best bit . . .

See the full post

47 notes - Posted December 2, 2022

#2

Like Your Father

For @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt #176

With a prompt like this, how can it be anyone but Scott Tracy?

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go Word Count: approx 886

He’d been hearing those words practically all his life.  Almost always in a positive light.  When he was little it was invariably a reference to his smile or his eyes – or Grandma commenting on his tendency to want to get everywhere fast, or his infatuation with all things flight related.

As he grew he found himself wanting to emulate his father in so many ways. So, by the time circumstances unexpectedly thrust him into Dad’s shoes as a young man the comparisons were practically inevitable.

In Scott’s role as CEO of Tracy Industries it was so common for people to comment on the likeness that with every face-to-face meeting it was now expected.  Well, at least from board members, executives, competitors, clients and prospective collaborators who were old enough to have met the great Jeff Tracy in person. 

Sometimes the words went unspoken, but the way a person’s eyes would linger on Scott a moment longer than strictly comfortable while shaking hands said it anyway.

“You’re so much like your father.”

Most of the time it made Scott proud.  After all, it’s what he strived for – the result of the inner mantra that kept him asking himself “What would Dad do?” in any situation.  He wanted to be like Dad, to make him proud, to live up to the legacy.  And there was an undercurrent of fear there at times that he would never be able to live up to that.  So, hearing people remind him that yes, he was indeed a lot like his father was a reassuring comfort.

Usually.

Today’s meeting had started out ordinarily enough.  He and Virgil were in New York to meet with Nathan Twiner in order to discuss his proposal for a project he thought Tracy Industries should support.  The eager and over-confident inventor had given Scott that look as introductions were made.

“I had the pleasure of meeting your father once,” the greasy-haired, middle-aged man commented with a toothy smile and a firm handshake.  “He was a great man.  Such an inspiration.”

“Yes, he was.”  Scott returned the smile and deftly resisted the twist the older man tried to enact to literally get the upper hand grip in the shake.

From there it had all gone downhill.  Twiner’s idea was all hype and very little substance.  Virgil had politely pointed out a number of the many flaws he’d spotted in the designs and blueprints.  Scott himself could see some of them, and both Tracys had expressed their safety concerns when Twiner had tried to suggest the ways in which experimentation would find the solutions for any shortcomings in the design. 

But the main issue Scott had with Twiner’s idea was the fact that the end product would have no real benefit to society at large.  It was a grand idea which would need a great deal of time and money poured into it just to make it viable.  Scott agreed with Twiner that the finished product would likely sell, but Tracy Industries were not in the business of making things that amounted to little more than big toys for rich grown-ups to waste their wealth on.

Finally getting the message that Scott and Virgil were showing him and his idea the door, Twiner’s thin veil of friendly familiarity was abandoned.  He stood, he scowled down on Scott who remained seated across the table.

“This place has obviously gone to the dogs since the demise of the Great Jeff Tracy.  He was a man who knew a profitable idea when he saw one.  An adventurous man who wasn’t afraid to take risks.”

Virgil may have sensed what was coming.  A subtle shift in his position beside Scott brought his knee to rest against his big brother’s thigh beneath the table.  A small, simple gesture that served as a reminder that Scott was not alone here, and to keep calm.  Although Scott was managing okay without the gesture, he was very glad of it when Twiner delivered his parting shot.

“You are nothing like your father, and he’d be greatly disappointed in you.”

Scott rose slowly to his feet, keeping his voice steady and his fingertips lightly on the table.

“My father, in life and in business dealings, knew how to weigh up the risks and benefits of any situation he was faced with.  He took calculated risks, but his goal was always to help people, and to improve the world we live in.  Everything I know about running this business I learned from him, and thus far it has served me and Tracy Industries very well.” 

Scott’s glare was deployed with the desired effect, as Twiner’s self-assuredness seemed to melt away and he took an involuntary step back.

“Thank you for your time, Mr Twiner,” Virgil said pointedly as he rose from the table and strode over to open the door.

“You’ll regret this,” Twiner mumbled as he left.

Virgil closed the door again and turned back to his big brother in time to see him sag back into his seat.

“Scott?”

“I’m okay, Virgil.  I know what you’re going to say, and you don’t need to say it.”

Virgil waited a moment, knowing that while Twiner’s words had hurt, his big brother would be able to shake this off. “So, you don’t think he’ll take his idea to Fischler?”

47 notes - Posted November 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I need you all to see this amazing artwork @godsliltippy did for me!! It's absolutely beautiful and has such wonderful details in it! And I totally didn't expect when I commissioned it that it would be completed so quickly!

Cannot stress enough how much I absolutely love it! Thank you Tippy!!!!

The song he's playing/singing is Now I've Seen You from the musical Honk!

51 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[captaingondor]

8 & 9 for Seyetto, 12 & 17 for Rinnyx, 18 & 22 for Tavina, 23 & 26 for Aderin, 1 & 11 for Taron, 14 & 19 for Betrin, 3 & 21 for Dommill, and then 24 for The Machine and 4 for Valeraine (if that story is occupying brain space currently), please?

thanks for the questions! let's get to it

sorry that this took awhile! but it do be how it is

Seyetto

(I just want to note that this man was extremely recalcitrant.)

8. What's something you'd like to learn how to do?

Hm. I've been looking into Ornali enchanted weapons lately. I'd like to know how to operate some of those.

9. What's a nice compliment you've received?

Oh, let's see. I get compliments all the time, of course, but how many are sincere? (he thinks about it) My Uncle Hartin told me I remind him of my father.

Rinnyx

12. What's a pet peeve of yours?

Oh, haha, I don't think I'm very easy to annoy - (he suddenly remembers) Oh. People who talk a lot without saying anything. Just the most inane, empty flattery, or else self-aggrandizing, performative nonsense. It's... it's just so boring to translate.

17. How many people are you willing to die for?

Oh, I guess I'd die for anyone, if they needed it. I mean, if it would save their life, not if it would save them from being five minutes late to work or something. But for something serious, sure.

Tavina

18. What's the worst thing you've ever done?

I am very well behaved. Despite what some people would tell you. I don't know, maybe I've crossed a few lines fighting with Seyetto but it's the only way to get a reaction out of him.

22. Who knows you better than anyone?

My companion, Isletta Ellwynd. Out of all my ladies she's been with me the longest - since we were thirteen. I can talk to her about anything. And I do.

Aderin

23. What's the last thing you dreamt about?

I was late with an article because my editor kept giving me absurd specifications for what I ought to be writing and then rejecting my attempts when I followed them to the letter. I promise he's actually very good to work with in real life. I just tend to dream about stressful situations. Or remember those dreams. Maybe the stress wakes me up, and all the really nice dreams are lost to the night.

26. What's a talent you have that you're proud of?

I like to think I have a way with words. Useful for my writing, of course, and a little bit of Speaking on the side. It keeps my little garden beautiful.

Taron

1. What is the worst thing that's ever happened to you?

Oh, hm... well... you're supposed to say the war was really bad. I mostly didn't even get to see it, though. And the war made Cousin Seyetto emperor and it means I got to be king, so it was actually pretty good. Let me see.

11. If you could turn into any animal, what would it be?

Obviously I would turn into a dragon. I do already have a dragon (he says proudly) but if I could be a dragon I think that would be even better. As long as I wasn't a dragon all the time. There's nothing more powerful than a dragon. And they're just... so incredible.

Betrin

14. What's your best memory?

The last Queen's Night before the war. It always used to be my favorite holiday. The whole family was together then. My cousin was chosen the Queen for our celebration, and I was one of her handmaidens. It was great fun helping come up with commands that she ought to give. I got to stay for the dancing. Everything was so beautiful. I suppose they'll likely make me Queen this year, though I don't see the fun in that when you're queen already.

But thinking about times when everyone was still here sometimes makes me sad. So maybe my best memory is something simpler. The view from the our summer home in the mountains. The cake I had at my twelfth birthday. It was a very good cake.

19. If you could say one thing to everyone in the world what would it be?

I don't know. It isn't as though they would listen just because I sais it. And most things I would really want to say could get me in trouble. So I probably just wouldn't say anything.

Dommil

3. What food are you craving right now?

What am I not? Army rations aren't the most inspiring meals. I'd give a lot for a a plate or three cooked up by my mother in front of me.

21. What are your hobbies?

A lot of the men like to blow off steam setting up fights and wrestling matches and the like - sometimes we'll make a show of it for festivals and the like. I can put in a pretty good showing - been wrestling with my brothers moat of my life, ha. It's not quite as acceptable now that I'm an officer and all, but I don't completely fit in with the other officers anyway. I'll play cards with them but I won't gamble. I'm raised better than that.

And as they they are always occupying a little space in my brain:

The Machine

24. What would you do with 3 wishes?

How does it work? Are there parameters? Does it have to be within the realm of possibility?

(I explain to him that he can just wish for anything. He considers this.)

I would wish for that meddlesome being to let me go. I would not need to know what the rose is for then, but I would wish it anyway because... because I do not want a gap in my knowledge, that is all. Not because it is annoying me. I am above that. And I would wish for someone who can actually keep up with me to talk to.

Valeraine

4. What is your dream home like?

Huge garden, just flowers everywhere. Located in a busy spaceport, so I can watch all the ships flying in and out, and fly in and out myself when I feel like it. I don't really want one that's too big, not again, but I could do with a little more space. Room for family. Room for a nice workshop. A big balcony, or maybe a place on the rooftop. Somewhere I can go and look at the stars at night.

[shitishouldnotbepostingonline]

Unromantic

Bro really thought he could just ask.

One of my more lighthearted "men are pigs" stories. For a little background, I went to a small school and grew up in a small town my entire life. Everyone knows everyone. My school was an elementary k-6 and high school 7-12. Yes 17 year olds dated 12 year olds. Yes it was creepy. No that is not this story. My class was only about 35 people and the classes above us were around the same.

Small schools have a lot of dances and usually would raise a good bit of money for whatever club needed money. We had a Hawkins dance, Halloween, homecoming, Christmas, valentines, spring and prom. I know I'm missing one but every other month there was a dance. When I was in middle school, it was a big deal. Who you going with, should we sleepover after, should we get pizza before, can you wait for me by the door so I don't have to go in alone because I'm having a panic attack that I over dressed because what the fuck do you wear to a casual dance at 13 and my dad is dropping me off early so he can have a break, can your mom do my hair. Fun fun fun times. Most importantly, drama. A huge night for drama. Miss one dance, miss all the gossip. Miss one dance, your crush might have started dating someone else. Miss one dance, your an outcast for at least the next week of school. I never missed a dance. Commonly you would find me A. dancing B. consoling in the bathroom or C. gossiping. I'll admit I'm toxic, I know and especially in middle school I was horrible. I was a horrible person who was going through horrible things blah blah blah. Every teen sab story. We all did it. I wasn't the worst but wasn't the best either. Life was about being popular, having friends and especially a boyfriend.

So, one of these dances is coming up. It's the homecoming. One that you are definitely supposed to have a date to. I'm single, actually thinking about it, I think this time period was the longest I've been single ever. I'm single and chat up this guy a grade above me. Let's call him Mark. We share a study hall together and Mark's definitely not popular but he is older then me which will give me points on the invisible popularity scale. My first impression was he's kind, funny and dorky so we spark a friendship. We start talking on kik (rip) and everything is normal to a 14 and 15/16 year old texting in the early 2010's. He's a bit odd and talks to me a little weird. I would later on recognize this as misogynistic but I was 14 and it was a different time. Fast forward to the week leading up to the dance and I'm dropping mad hints that I want him to ask me. I was freaking out that I had no one to go with. I was in between friend groups and was kind of at my first "big depression" period. He finally agrees to go with me (I don't think he ever actually asked). I definitely wore him down with constant texting and always saying hi when we passed in the hall. I think the worst part is I didn't like him. I just felt like I need a boyfriend for the attention everyone gives you once you start dating.

We decided (I decided) to go to the dance together. We make a plan and Mark changes it last minute saying he's not going unless I meet him at his house so we could walk together. Mark also made it a point to mention he was home alone. Cool fine no red flag there. At least not to my 14 year old dumb fuck self. The problem being my dad is bring me. Dad doesn't know I have a date. Dad doesn't know this kid and is not going to like that Mark wants me to go over to his empty house. So what do I do? I just didn't fucking tell my father. Waited for dad to leave. Then walked on over to Mark's place. Dumb yes, but if you want to understand how I was raise by people who are hands off or overly trusting/don't care that would take 37 page thesis paper.

I find Mark's house and at this point the dance has started. Did I mention he had the tickets so even if I refused to go over I would not be able to get into the dance. It's cold, I'm in a dress, heels, and I come from a place where it fall is 40° at night. Anyways I knock on the door and he yells for me to come in. When I say that womanly instinct sent red flags off throughout my whole body, I'm not kidding. Rightfully so. I was lying about where I was, who I was with and what I was doing. To say I was nervous was an understatement. I was terrified. I go in the house and shut the door behind me. We just kind of stare at each other until I break the overwhelming silence with a

"are you ready to go"

In which he responds

"a yeah but do you want to chill here for a bit"

Me, confused because I just spend hours getting ready and had a plan of action laid out in my head says

"I mean the dance already started"

This kid, props to how much guts it probably took, asks me

"well I was hoping you would let me eat you out first, then we'll head over".

The only thing I picture now is him hyping himself up all day to ask me that but at the time it was a different feeling. I can not describe in words what the hell was going through my mind. Like what? You can just ask that? Did he just ask that? Like he wants me to just what lay on his bed as he eats me out???? We haven't even kissed, held hands, nothing was leading me to believe that we had reach that level of intimacy. We are not even dating. I do what most women would do in that situation and play it off as he's just joking. I laugh and say let's go in a lighthearted voice. But no he doubles down. I remember think Jesus Christ please stop you are ruining any chance of anything happening.

"So is that a no"

How do I respond with out sound like a dick but also not agreeing because this kids is persistent. So I say as simply and as nicely trying not to embarrassing him

"Oh um I'm not really into that. I was hoping we could just go to the dance"

Then the most awkward walk of my young adult life happened. We did like 2 or 3 slow dances together but I spend most of my time consoling a friend in the bathroom. He tried to kiss me before I left but I think I dodged it with a hug.

So what do you think happened next? I have to see him everyday and we texted like constantly. He may of even apologized for being weird. Friend zone? Ghosted to the best of my ability? Told everyone what the fuck that kid asked me? No no and surprisingly no. I kept it to myself for quite a bit. It felt like to much for me to process at that time to tell anyone. We ended up dating for 2 weeks. Worst 2 weeks of my life. I underestimated just how much people disliked him and was starting to get laughed at for being with him. Which I would take if I actually liked him at all. As soon as we started dating the only thing he talked to me about in study hall was his dick. I mean like hyping it up for me. Acting like I was going to drop my yoga pant right there and just jump on him. I made it 2 weeks and the second week was just because I didn't know how to break up with him. Which I did in person. First time I've ever broken up with someone in person. It was mean yes but all this kid did was talk about his dick for 40 minutes a day. I bluntly said

"I'm not going to do this anymore. You just keep talking about your dick and it weirds me out. So I'm breaking up with you"

That was that. Didn't ever really talk to him again. We weren't on like bad terms but not good ones either. He did date a girl younger then me for a hot minute but other then that I do not think he dated anyone else while we were in school. My mom said she saw Mark an said hi but that was years ago. I still have him on socials and he's been popping up recently which is what inspired me to share this tidbit. I hope he is a bit more romantic in the bed room for who ever he ends up with.

I know I am to blame and I was cruel for potentially leading him on. I take responsibility for my part of being a fucking asshole when it came to petty shit like being popular or seen so by your peers. Funny thing was about this time I start having a new group of friends who were the more "outcast" type. Eventually they would be my friends for the rest of high school. I would blow up every single one of those friendships slowly until graduation. Probably doing permanent damage to all of our mental health along the way. I am not the good guy. In most my stories I have, especially from high school, I am just as much the villain as victim. I know that. If I could go back in time and have a chat with myself, I would. Live an learn.

[wikiblair]

I posted 1,159 times in 2022

49 posts created (4%)

1,110 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@simauita

@searidings

@everythingfox

@saii79

@ampervadasz

I tagged 1,147 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#cats - 253 posts

#:-) - 238 posts

#:d - 211 posts

#animals - 152 posts

#supergirl - 124 posts

#😁 - 95 posts

#supercorp - 90 posts

#art - 69 posts

#:d :d - 65 posts

#xena: warrior princess - 60 posts

Longest Tag: 130 characters

#ale v současné sněmovně plné pravičáckých konzervativních sviní bohužel manželství pro všechny neprojde ani kdyby já nevím co bylo

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

You know, I am definitely not a writer. I don´t know how to spin a story with beginning, middle and meaningfull end (every time I am trying to write something I get tangled up in a plot and every inspiration goes to hell). But time to time I have this little scenes in my head and I think it´s time I put them out..

There is lazy sunday morning in National City. Sun is shining through the curtains of a window in high level appartment. One rustive beam finds it´s way straight to Kara´s face and wakes her up. She doesen´t want to. Especially when she knows this would be one of a very few calm days in her life. Well there is always a chance for Supergirl emergency, but otherwise it should be one of those lazy days which she plan to spend in her apartment. When Kara turns her head slightly to the right side, she saw pool of dark head. She smiles to herself. One year ago it seems impossible for her to be here, in her bed with woman she loves. And yet here they are. Happy and in love.

“Good morning”  said voice raspy with sleep . Kara smiles brighter. “Good morning. What are you doing up?” “Well, somebody is thinking so loud it woke me” came the mischievous reply. “What are you thinking about Kara?” come the soft question acompanied by soft hair tuck behind Kara´s ear. “Truth? About this. About us. About how much I can´t get enough of this. Of you in my bed next to me, sleeping peacefully. About how beautifull you look when you sleep with carefreenes and without fear. It seems almost imposibble we achive something like this. And I don´t want it to end. Ever. I love you Lena Luthor. More than I thought I would be able to love somebody.”

“And I love you Kara Zor-El. You definitely make my life brighter with every minute we are together. Even though it seems impossible few years ago. Hell even one year from now it seems like we would never overcome that barrier that rise between us. But I am so happy we made it.” Lena softly kiss Kara´s temple. “I know you are not very happy when somebody saying that but in my case it´s true. You are my sun. Your light shine through the darkness of my mind and of my soul. And I would be forever gratefull you never gave up on me. Even when things were at worst and I would definitely deseved to be gave up on and locked in some dark hole. Thank you for believing in me.” “Always”. Kara turn her head slightly and acompany her last words with soft kiss on Lena´s lips. “It´s still too early. Let´s go back to sleep, what do you say?” “Gladly, when I know that when I wake up, you still be here with me.”. Not long after that they both fall in peacefull happy sleep in each others arms.

9 notes - Posted February 3, 2022

#4

Mě naprosto fascinuje, jak jsou český čumbrrlisti totálně vyplácaní z shippování Petronel a a Uriáše, ale shipperský potenciál Eleny a Amélie z Princezny zakleté v čase tady naprosto NIKDO neocení a nedocení.... Shame on you..

10 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

#3

Lidi, mě se normálně dneska zdálo, že celou tu situaci s Goncharovem vyčmuchala NOVA a udělala o tom reportáž se stejným gustem jako o anexi Královce O_O.. A pamatuju si, jak jsem si v tom snu říkala, že jsem netušila, že zaměstnanci Novy mají někde tajný účet na tumblr.. :D. Už i mě ten Goncharov leze na mozek a to se tomu tagu snažím vyhýbat jak upír svěcené vodě :D :D.

13 notes - Posted November 25, 2022

#2

Brňákům prostě nestačí jedno dildo :D. Ukradeno z FB

15 notes - Posted December 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Me, after Isaacs speach:

31 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[thepinacleofintelligence]

Entry #1.

Life is cruel.

When existence is pain, what is the meaning? Why am I here.

I’m too intelligent for my own good, I often struggle in social settings. I often overthink every minute detail that I walk up to someone, stay completely silent, open my mouth to speak but I can’t, and apologize and walk away. That’s why I never walk up to anybody that I do not know. School is especially hard, but thankfully I go to a school with only around 100 people per grade. I know everyone in my grade. I keep track of who comes ans leaves, and I know many details of everyone. Almost as if they are indexed in my mind like a filing cabinet. Everyone I have ever met in my grade stays here. I would love to go into every single person, in fact, I’ll do it right now:

-1: one of the most genuinely stupid people I’ve ever met, unlike other people in my grade who pretend to have the IQ of a monkey, I’m pretty sure he is actually retarded. [yes, i can say that word, don’t even start] he is genuinely intolerable

-2: not so bright either, but tolerable. He is loud and annoying but he is nice, sometimes. He does not bother anyone, and shockingly does not bother me even though we have history together. I had an extreme obsession with him from second to ninth grade. It had waxed and waned over different times but it now has completely different disappeared due to my obsessions laying upon someone else. Good riddance.

-3: she is very nice and pleasant to be around. A swimmer, tall, athletic , and nice to everyone. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her swear. I used to swim with her, she’s one of the best on the team. I admire her a lot.

-4: An old friend of mine, we don’t really talk anymore, I know him best for being the first person in my grade to come out, he’s bisexual. He also has autism but he is very high functioning. I hate the fact he always falls for the worst people i know, like rapists and abusers.

-5: a slut. She’s dated more guys than I can count on my all fingers and toes. She also shares a name with me, my “deadname” at-least. Why is it that it is consistent that everyone who has that name is a gross person? Including myself.

-6: he’s just straight up stupid and lazy. And one of the tallest people in my grade. He also rides my bus, we don’t talk.

-7: ah, [name], she’s so nice. We’re good friends, she’s one of the nerdiest people I know. Short, blonde, and had at-least 5 books with her at all times. We used to be in scouts together too. I remember the time she punched me in the face in 8th grade student council and broke my glasses. She’s chilled out tho. I think she plays the violin.

-8: an absolute queen, I love her. We hang out together in the bathroom with her friends. I had a crush on her for the longest time.

-9: I dont really know him that well, I just know he hangs with the popular guys and has thick long curly black hair. We were in pre-k together.

-10: she moves here in eighth grade and quickly became one of the popular girls due to how beautiful she is. She has a large butt and big boobs, and she’s a devout Christian. She’s nice, I guess. she rides my bus. Apparently her mom and my dad are best friends or something.

-11: one of the only non-white people in our grade. She’s super nice, we used to be best friends for a long time but we kinda stopped talking. She’s genuinely the smartest person I know. She’s also super athletic and plays the violin, she’s perfect.

-12: my “locker mate”, his locker has always been right next to mine due to alphabetical order. He’s one of the popular guys, and he’s annoying, that’s about it.

-13: me, moving on.

-14: she’s short, blonde, and very nice. She’s very smart and is in band, I’m unsure what she plays. She’s also in my French class.

-15: one of my old best friends, we’ve had a lot of ups and downs. We don’t really talk anymore but we still get along. She was in my pre-k class.

-16: my current best friend. I’d take a bullet for them. They’ve been by my side since pre-k.

-17: a girl who moved here this year. One of the girls I hang out in the bathroom with. She’s super nice and she’s very pretty.

-18: annoying guy who’s in esports with me that has no spacial awareness. He’s super annoying, I avoid talking to him.

-19: ew. One of the popular guys, but idk how. He’s one of the most stupid, and the most annoying person I’ve ever met. He sits next to me in science and in front of me in math. I hope he moves away.

-20: one of my friends, she’s nice! She’s in band too, I can’t remember what she plays.

-21: annoying bitch, one of the popular girls. I hope she gets hit by a bus, she’s mean and loud and annoying. I wish I never had to see her face.

-22: another one of my friends, he’s really weird but it’s fine. I’m pretty sure he’s a neonazi, he also kills small animals?? Future criminal behavior. His older brother raped two girls in my grade.

-23: I want to kill him, I want to kill him, I want to kill him. The guy who abused and manipulated me for 8 months. I wish he was never born. I wish I never met him. I get panic attacks when I see him or hear his voice. Please leave my mind.

-24: tall, loud, and annoying blonde guy who moved here from Alaska. He’s in my honors classes but I don’t know because he is genuinely retarded.

-25: she’s very nice, we used to be best friends. We haven’t talked in a while. She’s the tallest girl in my grade, and very smart.

-26: very smart but very annoying. “future valedictorian” as stated by many of our teachers.

-27: short blonde guy. Idk him that well, I just know he’s a year older than everyone else.

-28: tall soccer player nerd. He wears headphones all the time, I think he might be sped but idk. He was in my pre-k class. He’s nice.

-29: most popular girl in my grade, she’s just super annoying like the rest of them. And boring.

-30: another girl I hang in the bathroom with, she’s very pretty, curvy, and super nice to me. She’s one of the toughest people I know, she could beat anyone up. She’s so cool.

-31: he’s neat, im pretty sure he’s a schizophrenic because he’s talked about seeing monsters and seeing them kill his girlfriend? Im not sure. He showed me a weird cursed video but nothings happened to me so I think he’s just a little nutty. He has very pretty eyes.

-32: she’s nice. She’s one hell of a soccer player. She threatened to kill me in 4th grade when she thought I liked her bf tho.

-33: one of my friends, she’s a huge book nerd. She’s always reading, she’s in orchestra, and she’s smart. She has a very hard to spell and pronounce last name.

-34: annoying guy with a lisp who gets in everyone else’s business.

-35: he’s in the honors class with me but I genuinely don’t know how, he never does his work and always slacks off. He’s also annoying. I used to have a crush on him in third grade.

-36: horse girl. That’s about it.

-37: i wish he was never born, he is genuinely one of the most stupid and annoying people I’ve ever met. I hope he gets hit by a bus.

-38: she got mad at me in eighth grade for the whole year because I called her a bitch once, which led me to have a crush on her for a while. Her and I get along now, she’s okay.

And this is where I leave off because I am tired, I got pretty far, huh? Maybe I’ll finish this some other time. Reminder for future me: left off on page 2, person 3.

[miabrown007]

seven is my lucky number — ch. 9.

“Dating you, platonically, and moving in with you, platonically, that’s definitely optimal! No problem at all!” Chat Noir said to Ladybug, and realistically, it should have been true. He was having a crush on Marinette for the longest time.

***

aka post-reveal pre-relationship roommates. but is it really pre-relationship if they are fake-dating?

seven is my lucky number (26,581 words, 9/14 chapters, Teen)

The delicate time-slice between the dead of night and the break of dawn was a strange phenomenon. No longer than a few minutes, still, everything seemed possible while it lasted.

Marinette’s brain was swimming in a thick alcohol-haze when the touch of something warm and safe registered in her mind. She didn’t open her eyes, content in the not too far-fetched assumption that what felt like the love of her life carrying her somewhere, was indeed her boyfriend’s arms around her. She cuddled closer and buried her face in the Adrien-scented softness. It filled her with an otherworldly peacefulness that made it easy to slip back into her dreams, a smile still on her face.

The next time Marinette came to her senses, all feelings of peacefulness were gone. Her throat felt like sandpaper, her head like it was being attacked by a lever press. She pried open her eyes and rolled to the edge of the bed she lay on. The pink sheets and the designs stacked on the floor let her know it was her own.

She tried to feel out her phone on the nightstand to check the time, her eyes half lidded in an attempt to avoid too much light. Her hand knocked into a glass surface and the next second water spilled down on her hand.

Marinette sat up with a grumble. The motion was accompanied by the violent protest from her head. She bent down to pick up the now empty water glass when the sleeve of a black hoodie slid down her arm.

Oh.

She had some memories of acquiring it from Adrien last night. Maybe she wasn’t dating him for real, but that didn’t make his clothes any less comfortable. Plus, he didn’t seem to particularly mind when she stole borrowed the piece. There was no rush to give it back.

She rolled up the sleeve so it didn’t dangle past her fingers, before she wiped up the water with a tissue. She walked out to the corridor and looked around, the glass still in hand. The apartment was silent, only the warm beams of the morning sun filling it with life.

Marinette padded to the bathroom and came face to face with her hungover self in the mirror over the sink. She grimaced at the deep wrinkles on her dress. The state of her hair wasn’t much better, either, but what really drove the whole look home was her make-up. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes and her lipstick was completely ruined from—

Oh no.

Marinette went white like a wall. She gripped the edge of the sink and stared at her kiss-swollen lips, before she grabbed a towel and started to scrub at the evidence intently.

She really would have appreciated it if someone told her that she did not just make out with the love of her life all night. That she did not just hide behind the pretense of a relationship, only to get so lost in the soft touches that she didn’t stop when there was no audience to play for anymore. That she did not just admit to organizing the most romantic date for Adrien’s birthday.

She would have really fucking appreciated if someone told her that drunk-Marinette did not just screw up the most important relationship in her life in the span of a few hours.

“I hate to break it to you, Pigtails, but that’s exactly what happened,” said a smug voice.

“Plagg!” Marinette yelped, her eyes flashing to the kwami in the mirror.

Apparently, just as drunk-Marinette wasn’t famous for keeping her love life in check, hangover-Marinette’s field of expertise didn’t entail intact brain-to-mouth filters.

“What? I’m just helping.”

“How is scaring me to death and confirming my worst nightmares helping?” Marinette asked. She didn’t take her eyes off of him as she filled, then downed, the glass.

“People usually don’t appreciate a heads-up when they are going crazy, but I thought you’d be different. And talking to yourself, let me tell you, it’s not a great sign," he shrugged, floating in the air lazily. “But it isn’t like it matters to me.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. Her grip tightened around the glass.

“You’re right.”

“That’s always delightful to hear,” the kwami said, much too satisfied. “Well, I just wanted to let you know. Thanks for the chat.”

Marinette's eyes snapped open. “Wait, that’s it?! Are you just going to leave me like this?”

“Why? What else am I supposed to do?”

“Well, for starters, you could tell me where Adrien and Tikki are. I haven’t seen either of them,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

Not like she was complaining about that. If anything, it was the luckiest thing that happened to her in the past 24 hours — she definitely wasn’t ready to face Adrien yet.

“They went down to the grocery store. Something about cap and glasses eating your breakfast,” Plagg said so indifferently, as if he wasn’t talking about food. “They didn’t leave long ago, if that’s what you care about. I pretended to sleep so I didn't have to go out.”

The corner of Marinette’s lip ran up at the notion. He really was just a tiny cat, after all. And in theory, cats loved naps and food more than anything. It was time to put that hypothesis to an experiment. Even if it was too soon to tell the result wasn’t just a coincidence, Marinette had always been of a result-oriented mindset.

“Tell me, Plagg. You like Camembert, right?”

Plagg regarded her with a curious look, his whiskers wiggling at the magic word. “Go on.”

Marinette did.

“So, theoretically... If I were to bribe you...”

“I’d let you,” he said matter of factly.

She flashed him a grin characteristic of cats and catwalks, and gave him a finger gun. "Say no more."

[read the whole chapter on AO3]

@mlbigbang, @miraculousfanworks, @discoveringmiraculouswriters

[dailydaydreamings]

Best in the Worst Way, Chapter 14

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

Okay okay, warning. This one got away from me (18+). Also, as always, I outdid myself on the swearing. It’s a little shorter, but for a reason. Thank you to all the responses! Enjoy this part :)

You have this memory in your head.

You’re not sure when it happened, it must have been early in your relationship though, because Steve and Bucky weren’t living with you yet.

The morning starts off so beautifully slow. Dawn breaks and your room fills with soft light. It was one of the few mornings you didn’t have to set an alarm.

You wake to feel slow, sloppy kisses up your naked back. You moan, curling back against Bucky. You feel the slow prodding of Steve’s fingers as he teases you awake.

You moan again, still not sure if you’re dreaming. “Good morning.”

Bucky grinds himself against your rear. You can feel Steve sliding himself over your entrance. You gasp, clutching at the sheets, desperation hitting you hard and fast. It doesn’t matter they kept you up all night. You wanted them both now.

“Please,” you murmur, leaning forward to wrap a leg around Steve. “Oh, please, please, please.”

Bucky’s stubble tickles that sensitive spot on your neck and you jerk backwards into his embrace. “So polite in the morning,” he bites at your ear. “But not very specific. Use your words baby, please what?”

His hands slide up to grasp your breasts. Steve moans in front of you, gripping your hips, but still not giving you what you want. Your hips buck faster, more erratically, hoping he can just slip in.

“Stop it, Steve,” Bucky grunts.

Steve practically whines but does as he’s told.

“No,” you keep moving on him, desperate now for some friction. “Please.”

“Please, what?” Bucky’s tongue licks the inside of your ear.

“Please,” your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Please fuck me.”

Bucky chuckles darkly, tweaking a nipple, “How should we fuck you, hm?”

You bit your lip, “I want both of you. To fuck me, just like this.”

Bucky bite on your ear lobe, “All you had to do was ask, baby.” And with almost no warning, he, already lubed, slides into you from behind.

“Oh!” You gasp, needing a second to adjust to the suddenness.

Steve leans forward, sucking on that spot to help you relax. In half a second you’re moaning and begging for more again. Steve grabs your leg, wrapping it around himself and enters you slower, more gently.

You moan deeply, your head falling back against Bucky’s shoulder.

“How does she feel, Steve?” Bucky asks, his hand stroking up and down your side.

Steve only moans in response. The sound causing you to drag your nails down his back. You reach back to grip the back of Bucky’s neck, withering between them. Steve sets the pace, grinding into you, sending you back into Bucky, who pushes you forward again.

Steve’s mouth comes down to your neck and that’s it, you’re release rockets through you thanks to the extreme pleasure of the two of them inside of you.

Their lazy, morning pace continues. They get two more out of you before the three of you are left gasping, clutching to each other for air. You could die right now, right here, and you would be perfectly happy, you realize.

Steve kisses the top of your head as he rolls away, asking if you want pancakes or French toast. Bucky kisses your cheek, saying he’s going to run out to your favourite coffee shop.

The rest of the day was just as perfect. You eat breakfast, you drag the boys to the beach. Bucky refuses to go in the water and Steve gets a wicked sunburn, but they fall asleep tangled together in the sand while you read your book. It starts to rain at some point, just misting. It wakes them up and as you reach the boardwalk, it starts to pour.

You take cover in an ice cream shop, with the most ridiculous flavours. Between the three of you, nearly all of them were tried much to the dismay of the shop owner, but then you each bought a giant cone.

The rain didn’t let up, and the air conditioning plus your wet clothing made it unbearable after a while. You make a break for the car and Bucky blasts the heat, while you sit there waiting for the rain to stop.

You head home, have dinner, and someone mentions that there’s a late showing of a new movie, you’ll make it if you leave now. You run to the car, and miss the previews, but you sit between your boys, happy as can be. Even if the three of you fell asleep and had to be woken up the usher when it was over.

It was one of the happiest days of your life. There was no work, no missions, no stress. Just the three of you. You could just be.

It is a moment you search for when things feel impossible. When you want to throw something at Steve. When Bucky forgets something and you feel like you’re losing parts of him. The perfect day. Even with the sunburns, the sand caking your bodies, the wet clothes in your car, the wasted movie ticket. None of it mattered, except for the people around you. Because it was also the day you realized you loved them.

It’s what you remind yourself of as you drive to the hospital as another contraction hits. Your stomach tightens painfully and your whole body goes rigid.

You cry out, your hand grasping the arm rest with a death grip. The pain would be worth it. The babies would be here soon. It’ll all be fine. Totally fucking fine. But holy fuck it hurt.

“Can you go any fucking slower?” You look over at Bucky. He, for the record, looks about ready to pass out but is still in better shape than Steve.

“I swear this is the only day ever there is traffic,” Bucky mumbles. He wasn’t wrong, the drive normally took less than twenty minutes. They’d already been driving for thirty.

Steve rubs your shoulders from the backseat, “Isn’t there that festival downtown today?”

You turn in your seat, swatting Steve’s hands away, “That would have been helpful before we left, you—”

You cut yourself off as another contraction hits. You brace your hands against the door. Holy shit this hurt.

“They’re really close together,” Steve mumbles.

“Thank you for your fucking observation,” you pant. Holy shit they were. Your head lulls back against the seat. You just needed a moment, just one second to breathe. Please.

Bucky’s hand comes to pet your leg, “You’re doing great, baby. Almost there.”

“I’m never fucking doing this again,” you mumble, wanting to curl into a ball as you can already feel another one coming.

You expected the pain, but this was too much too fast. There was no time to adjust. No break between contractions.

“I feel like I need to push,” you gasped as the last one finished. There was a new pressure. You’d always wondered what women meant when they said they needed to push and this was it.

“It’s way too early,” Steve rubs your shoulders again. “You’re hours away.”

You barely manage a moan, reaching back to grab his hand, desperate for some contact now. “I’m not joking. I really feel like I need to push.”

Bucky shot you a look, “We’re two minutes out. You’re not having these babies in the car.”

You groan. The longest two minutes of your life later, you’re pulling up. Steve is out, calling for a wheelchair before helping you to your feet. You lean against him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

A nurse comes running out, helping you into your chair, “How are we doing, mama?” She asks.

You shake your head, bracing yourself through another contraction. When it eases, you gasp, “I feel like I need to push.”

She shoots Steve a look, “How long has she been in labour?”

“About an hour and a half?” They’d guesstimated it. Your contractions really hadn’t been painful or consistent until you started dinner.

She shakes her head, starting to wheel you inside, “You’ve got hours to go before that, don’t worry hon.”

You grip the arm rests like a vice. You were not going to be able to handle hours more of this. If this wasn’t time to push, you weren’t looking forward to what it was going to feel like. The pressure was insane.

Bucky jogged up beside you as you were wheeled up to admitting.

“Are you the father?” The nurse asks.

“Yes.” Both boys answer in unison.

She looks up in surprise, but waves you all in. They help you into a gown, into bed.

Dr Lawrence waltzes in, “I was not hoping to see you three for a couple more weeks. How are you, y/n?”

Not well. The pressure you were feeling was becoming unbearable. You grasp the sheets, your teeth clench together as you grind out, “I’m telling you all, I need to push.”

Dr Lawrence shakes her head, “You have hours to go. I was going to have my student do your first look, is that okay?”

“Fuck, fine,” you cover your eyes with your hand. “I want an epidural. And soon.”

Dr Lawrence shakes her head, “We’ll let you labour for a while. It’ll only slow things down now.”

“Oh fuck me,” you murmur, pressing a hand to you eyes.

Bucky kisses the top of your head, “You’re doing great.”

Steve squeezes your other hand, “We just want what’s best, baby, it’ll be over before you know it.” You wanted to smack him in the face. No, the groin.

You life your legs into the stirrups as the student takes a look. You feel some pressure as they check your dilation and then, “Um, Dr Lawrence...”

Your head shoots up, “What’s wrong?”

Steve and Bucky are on either side of you, their hands tighten on yours.

Dr Lawrence practically shoved the student out of the way, “Let me see...” Her eyes widen, “Oh, you do need to push.”

You straighten, “What?”

She looks up at you from between your legs, “You’re ten centimetres dilated. I can see the first baby’s head. It’s coming right now.”

You frantically look between your boys, terror rocketing through you, “I want the epidural. Now.”

Dr Lawrence shakes her head, “oh, it’s too late for that now.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Bucky squeezes your hand, “You’ll be fine, baby.”

Steve leans forward to kiss your forehead, “You’ve got this, baby.”

“Oh the next contraction, you need to push,” Dr Lawrence commands.

Well fuck.

And you push. And push. And push.

You fall back against the bed. Gasping. Your whole body on fire.

“One more push!”

You wanted to shake your head, to turn away and cry. But the contraction built up and you screamed as you pushed. Hard.

And then the first baby is out. You grasp your boys hands to your chest as you wait for a cry. It’s too early, it’s only thirty-two weeks. You know that they might not cry, they might go straight to the ICU, but—

A wail fills the room.

You let go of their hands, desperately reaching for your baby.

“It’s a boy!” Dr Lawrence places the baby against your chest.

“Oh,” you gasp. “Hello.”

Your perfect, perfect baby boy. Who is still crying, but you wrap your arms around him, holding him close.

“Oh my god,” Bucky mumbles, reaching out to touch his cheek. His perfect little cheek.

Steve kisses the top of your head, “Good job, baby.”

You can’t keep your eyes off of him, you can feel your whole body trembling. The whole ordeal isn’t over, but he’s so perfect.

“I love you so much, Henry,” you murmur, as the nurse reaches out to take him from your arms.

“Okay, good job, y/n,” Dr Lawrence says, “One more to go.”

And you push. And push.

Nothing happens. This is harder than the first time. You collapse backward, gasping for air.

“Can we get some oxygen for her please,” Dr Lawrence’s voice cuts through the room, and a mask is fitted over your nose. “Okay, one more push.”

You push again. And again. And again. You flop against the bed. Your head is spinning, and no baby yet.

“Come on, one more push,” Steve kisses the top of your head.

You can only shake your head, you can’t even tell him you can’t. You can’t do this. Your body is failing you. The ones thing it is supposed to do, you can’t do.

“Damn it, prepare for a c-section,” Dr Lawrence calls out.

“What?” You hear Steve gasp.

“The last baby isn’t coming,” Dr Lawrence’s voice is beginning to sound very far away. “Y/n stats are dropping and so is the baby’s. We need to get the baby out now.”

Tags

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[the-royal-teacup]

I posted 648 times in 2021

45 posts created (7%)

603 posts reblogged (93%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 13.4 posts.

I added 0 tags in 2021

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#

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

This is going to be a bit of a nostalgic/pissed off rant post, so skip it if you’d like! 😳😊

So, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but these last couple of days I’ve been feeling very nostalgic/sad because I’ve been missing my grandparents, who are sadly no longer on this earth. Anytime I see a wholesome post of people with their grandparents, it makes me smile, but also sad. So, that got me thinking about Mr Markle and the way he treated his grandparents and the way he is still treating his grandmother, so here I go…

I was lucky enough to have my grandparents for 14 and 21 years respectively, but even that wasn’t long enough. My grandparents were a HUGE part of my life. My mum raised me and my sister as a single parent, so they were like an extra set of parents and we shared a beautiful bond from the minute I was born and the moment they died a little piece of me died with them. Dramatic? No. I don’t think so…

So, to see the way Harry has treated the Queen makes me mad. How he treats her as a Queen is bad enough, thinking he and his wife can dictate to her and back her into a corner is shitty enough, but imagine treating your 95 year old Grandmother like that. I can’t, because I wouldn’t. I respected my grandma, I treasured her and I would have done anything for her, to me she was the Queen of our family, and I would have bowed down to her if that’s what she had wanted! Harry’s grandmother protected him at one of the worst moments in his life; losing his mother. She went against her advisors, her government and even her people, to keep them at Balmoral and keep them away from the hysteria of the world over Princess Diana’s death. She was thinking only as a grandmother and not as a Queen, and it was the right thing to do. But, you wouldn’t think that with the way Harry is painting it, would you?

His grandmother lost the love of her life, and instead of being there to comfort her, he made it all about himself. Instead of coming home to say goodbye to his ill and dying grandfather, he sat down with Oprah and trashed his whole family, whilst his grandfather was sick in a hospital bed. I would have given anything to say goodbye to my grandad, but he left this world before I could tell him one last time that I loved him and that I was grateful for every last moment, every last piece of knowledge he had imparted. I would have given anything to just sit beside him again and just listened to him talk and tell tales from his life, and from our life together as grandfather and granddaughter. My grandad loved and protected me my whole life, from the minute I was born and I am so thankful to have had him in my life.

Prince Philip fought for Harry, he helped him, he handed over his treasured patronage’s to him and Harry upped and left with his bitch wife and threw it all back in his face. Philip walked side by side with him behind his mother’s coffin, he told him if he didn’t want to do it he would fight for him not to, but if he wanted to do it, then he would walk with him. Harry tells a different story now; it traumatised him and he hates that he was ‘made to do it’ here’s the thing most of us have had to walk behind the coffin of those we love, the only difference is we didn’t have the eyes of the whole world on us. But, we still remember it and it is still awful looking at that wooden box knowing someone you love is inside of it and they’re never coming back. But, do we blame people for ‘making us do it’? No. We don’t. And we certainly don’t blame the people that were there to help and pick up the pieces, especially not over twenty years later, on TV, whilst your grandfather is dying.

I feel like nobody ever knew the real Harry, at least outside of the royal family. I feel like the royal family knew exactly who he was, and they protected him, and when things did manage to leak to the public, they covered it up and helped him like a family does. They closed ranks, rehabbed his image and made him into the forever bachelor loveable rogue persona. Then, he meets Markle and all the work they had done over the years was un-picked stitch by stitch and we have the real Harry revealed; a bitter, selfish, disrespectful, two-faced, money grabbing coward.

How he has treated his grandmother, before and after Philip’s death is truly disgusting. How he’s treated his whole family is down right disgusting, but this was about grandparents and the respect you should have for them, especially if they have done nothing but love, protect and care for you. You should protect them, love and treasure them, end of.

Instead he paints the Queen and his family, as the monsters of his story; when in reality he was the monster all a long.

67 notes • Posted 2021-08-22 19:34:12 GMT

#4

See the full post

83 notes • Posted 2021-09-01 10:38:59 GMT

#3

I’m having a bad day. And just needed to vent…

I suffer with some health problems, problems that doctors can’t or won’t get to the bottom of. I’m in pain and get written off as it being ‘chronic pain’ that we can’t find a cause for, here’s some painkillers, oh and would you like some physio therapy? No. No I wouldn’t. I want you to find out why the fuck I’m in pain.

I was tested for a gene, the HLA-B27 gene that is associated with Ankylosing Spondylitis, I tested positive for this gene and finally received the MRI I have been trying to get for years! You’d think that would solve my problem, right? Nope. Apparently there isn’t enough damage to warrant any diagnosis, and the damage that is there they’re writing off as ‘wear and tear’.

I’m mad. I’m upset and just fed up of being in pain and no doctor connecting all the dots together and helping me. I don’t want to be ill. I don’t want something wrong with me; but I know there is something wrong in my body, the pain is there for a reason. I’m just so frustrated and just want a doctor to be on my side and help me.

To anyone else that is going through anything similar, I sympathise with you and I’m sorry if you’re dealing with it too. Feel free to rant in the comments or send me a message and we can commiserate and rant to each other!

Rant over. I just needed to vent into the void, I suppose. Feel free to scroll and ignore me!

99 notes • Posted 2021-11-26 23:25:14 GMT

#2

Watching the dinner time news this afternoon and what should be classed as a worthy news story? Yep, you guessed it Murky’s newest bullshit on trying to back the Queen of England into a corner again over the ‘recollections may vary’ comment and how the racism allegations weren’t addressed! How, how is this news worthy? There are bigger and more important things happening in this world.

So, it all comes from, Scobie’s newest edition chapter (that he likes to say isn’t new chapters 🙄) added to the fanfic, to ya know, set the record straight on how Murky and Harry feel on the Queen’s statement after their bullshit allegations. We know how you feel, we hear nothing but how you feel, we are sick of hearing it. Nobody cares how YOU think the Queen should have dealt with the allegations, because here’s the thing, they were just that, allegations made by two over inflated egos who thought by threatening the Queen of England and her family on national TV that she would bow down to you and give you everything you wanted. When she didn’t, you started throwing your toys out of the pram and started threatening her, again.

When she said it was a family matter and would be dealt with within the family, then she damn well meant it and you shut up and deal with it behind closed doors like she said. She is the Queen and she doesn’t bow to you, you bow to her. End of.

111 notes • Posted 2021-08-19 14:06:50 GMT

#1

‘Pipe down Lickspittle’ 🤣🤣🤣

EXACTLY, Piers. Where was her worry for the Queen’s mental health? It was nowhere to be seen, as she trashed her and her whole family on national TV, as she was losing the love of her life. All she was worried about was poor little me, feel sorry for me. She used the suicidal/mental health because she knows what a big hot button that is for a lot of people, and she knew it would get her sympathy from a lot of people and then when someone dared to call bullshit, she threw her toys out of the pram and tried to shut it down; she lost.

Markle doesn’t give a shit about anyone else’s mental health problems, it wasn’t her worried about other people not being believed; it was about HER and her LIES not being believed. She thought if she made a complaint it would back up her lies, it didn’t, it backfired well and truly.

240 notes • Posted 2021-09-01 13:45:21 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[ltlemonpop]

I posted 12,892 times in 2021

562 posts created (4%)

12330 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 21.9 posts.

I added 807 tags in 2021

#shush lemon pop - 251 posts

#mcyt - 99 posts

#philza - 76 posts

#dsmp - 71 posts

#peeps chattin w/ me - 66 posts

#dream smp - 62 posts

#reblog - 54 posts

#sbi - 49 posts

#mcyt incorrect quotes - 40 posts

#incorrect quotes - 39 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and when i say i don’t agree with techno take that with a grain of salt bc i really don’t care about the stan fights and i am here to watch

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Tubbo : oh! Wilbur put notes in our lunch boxes again!

Jack Manifold : "notes"???! Tubbo that's a ten page essay!

Tubbo : yeah, Wilbur does that.

Jack Manifold : wait- why does Tommy have two different essays?

Tubbo : Wilbur can't decide between writing a loving note or a hate filled note so he just writes both.

726 notes • Posted 2021-02-19 15:40:31 GMT

#4

Philza headcanons 

- he is very light on his feet, often goes on his tippy toes when he is focusing and wanting a better view of his surroundings

- when he doesn’t have enough hands he holds stuff with his teeth (ei holding an axe in his teeth or having a potion in his mouth as he brews)

- he sometimes uses techno as a springboard when he wants to scale a tall object if he can’t find a ladder 

- when he gets anxious he wants to be higher off the ground (cause birds) and sometimes when he is extremely stressed he has to fight the urge to bring his wings out and fly away because he can’t fly anymore

- he has gotten really good at doing braids because of techno

- he usually puts techno’s hair in a simple braid when going into battle but when there is longer periods of peace he does more complex designs

767 notes • Posted 2021-03-27 14:40:43 GMT

#3

Quackity : ya know Phil, maybe your first response to a inconvenient problem shouldn't be stabbing it with a sword?

Quackity :

Quackity : im sorry

Quackity : pHIL NO IM SORRY I APOLOGIZE PLEASE IM SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN IT PHIL

831 notes • Posted 2021-02-12 15:41:02 GMT

#2

Phil: and there you have it. my oldest son eating raw potatoes out of the ground

Scott smajor or whatever: Shouldn't you stop him?? thats super unsanitary.

Phil: No, no. Trust me this is not that bad. My other sons are way worse. One ate mud and the other eats sand.

Scott: Your son ate mud? Like on purpose?

Phil: That's not even the worst part. My other son, addimently endorses eating sand. like he went on a 15 minute rant.

Scott: oh my god, why????

Phil: no clue, I can't make him stop.

Scott:

Scott: So if all of your son's eat weird stuff, what do you eat-

Phil, immediately: the souls of the innocent.

Scott: what?

Phil: what?

1061 notes • Posted 2021-01-04 15:41:10 GMT

#1

Techno : okay- Phil. You remember that you are on your last life correct?

Phil: yah

Techno : good. Now please explain to me why you are LITERALLY ON A DATE WITH DEATH!

Phil, holding Kristens hand : but it’s our anniversary :(

3075 notes • Posted 2021-03-02 15:41:05 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[megatraven]

I posted 14,315 times in 2021

8084 posts created (56%)

6231 posts reblogged (44%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.8 posts.

I added 8,598 tags in 2021

#meg speaks - 2929 posts

#lovestruck - 1257 posts

#beautiful art - 1134 posts

#astoria - 730 posts

#afk mc - 609 posts

#lovestruck voltage - 460 posts

#alex - 456 posts

#video - 423 posts

#alex x mc - 327 posts

#reblog - 273 posts

Longest Tag: 143 characters

#also it’s nice bc. we had the ghost lady for halloween. then santa’s son for christmas. and now we have a nonbinary deity for valentines 💛💛💛

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

things i love about miraculous

-that time adrien’s own father manipulated and akumatized him into a supervillain that floods an entire city/country and whom destroys the moon

-that time adrien lived through the same (though different) five minutes over 25000 times and failed to protect the love of his life each and every time until he couldnt take it any longer and gave the miraculous back

-that time when chat noir accidentally killed someone with his cataclysm and broke ladybug’s trust in him all in the span of a few minutes so he abandoned his miraculous with her and left because he thought she didnt need him anymore

-that time when chat noir saw timebreaker make a move to steal ladybug’s life and threw himself in front of her and she hugged his body as he faded out of existence

-that time when chat noir’s worst nightmare brought to life was a version of ladybug that didn’t need him and turned on him

haha what a fun kid’s show <3

608 notes • Posted 2021-01-15 05:42:07 GMT

#4

girl help, my life is crumbling around me and my love life is in the gutters and i just broke up with all my friends including my best friend and i annoyed an entire theater of movie goers and my room is infested with magical creatures that don’t know how to properly interact with people anymore

1145 notes • Posted 2021-04-18 02:57:09 GMT

#3

milf

1480 notes • Posted 2021-05-03 01:02:54 GMT

#2

smelly..

1481 notes • Posted 2021-11-12 04:14:52 GMT

#1

glasses

1733 notes • Posted 2021-11-12 05:00:59 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[incognitajones]

20 stories, 20 first lines

@cats-and-metersticks tagged me!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

[cut after the first five, because this gets long]

1. True and False: “Kaytoo said you wanted to see me.” Jyn hadn’t been happy to hear it—a summons from General Draven was rarely good news—but she’d swallowed her reluctance, like the good little Alliance soldier she was trying to be, and reported to the briefing room.

(I cheated & included two lines because starting with dialogue is always a little limited, imo)

too long, but at least it outlines the dynamic quickly

2. ask again later: Jyn knew what she was doing when she went behind Cassian’s back.

pretty decent, sets up the main story issue right away

3. we haunt ourselves: Davits Draven is a haunted man, but that’s nothing unusual.

clichéd, but gets the job done

4. Trick or Treat [a random collection of prompt fills, but the most recent chapter posted is long enough to be a stand-alone story, so I decided it counts]: This was supposed to be the perfect date.

not bad; you can sense the "but" coming, which gives it some tension

5. Unexpected: Tall, dark, and miserable at the end of the bar was drinking expensive bourbon like soda pop.

somewhat better attempt at establishing setting & mood right away

6. pulse to pulse: Cassian’s bones burned from the marrow out and lightning crackled along his nerves.

aiming for evocative, landed on vague and meaningless

[These next three are drabbles, which makes it hard to judge, since one sentence can be 10-20% of the whole thing]

7. Healing Process: Bodhi tells himself this is not so different: maybe he’s never been with two people at once before, but sex is sex.

8. Revealed: Din never saw his second mother’s face until the day she died.

9. Recruitment: Draven didn’t expect many useful recruits from Dantooine’s smashed Separatist cell.

10. Design Flaw: “Bodhi Rook. Are you unoccupied for the next five to ten minutes?”

a good example of why it rarely works to start with dialogue

11. Life Sentence: The most confusing thing about being rescued from prison was the lethargy and lack of purpose.

possibly the worst of the lot; not only is it boring, it's grammatically wonky

12. root system: It takes far less time than Prax would’ve expected to disentangle him and his daughter from an entire life on Ganymede.

a bit clumsy but again, at least it establishes the premise quickly

13. Filling the Role: Jyn Erso never listened to her impulses; it was too dangerous to act without knowing each and every variable, as far as possible.

not bad - it's appropriate that it sort of plays against type for the character, since this is an AU

14. what stranger miracles: Ben can’t even manage to die right, apparently.

another short but decent one

15. It Must be Christmas Time: Jyn walked into the the café and stopped short, almost skidding on the wet floor in her snowy boots.

meh--the only thing it manages to do is establish the season, but the title alone would do that

16. ask me no questions: Early afternoon is a slow time at the spaceport on Ord Mantell, and the mag train out is nearly empty.

double meh

17. A Presence of Departed Acts: Rey didn’t recognize Kylo Ren’s face at first. But then, she’d only seen him unmasked twice, and the last time had been seven years ago.

this one is pretty good, especially with the second sentence (which is included since I waffled back & forth on whether to combine them into one)

18. Bilateral Treaty Negotiations: As soon as he handed his invitation to the protocol droid for scanning and stepped inside the Royal Palace of Alderaan, Bail realized this gala, announced as a celebration of the coming of spring, was actually a job interview.

the longest of the bunch--definitely too long

19. disassemble my despair: Poe was one of the few people Rey trusted to fly her anywhere, but her fingers still twitched with the desire to grab the throttle out of his hands.

another extremely meh one

20. Dispatches [another collection of prompts, so I picked the last chapter added]: The tiny shed that Cassian called his office was crammed to the ceiling with boxes of disposable gloves, gauze pads, and other stuff Jyn couldn’t recognize.

not great but conveys setting

Wow, I knew I wasn't good at writing pithy but evocative opening sentences but it's kind of a let-down to see it proven, lol. Out of 20 I'd rate 8 as decent to good. I don't see any strong patterns, although they do tend to be fairly short, and I open with dialogue less than I'd have guessed. Of these, my favourite is probably #17 since it plants a hook pretty well and it's one of the few that came to me easily.

I've lost track of who's done this meme recently and who hasn't, so I'm just tagging @englishable and @fulcrumstardust --but I love reading these, so anyone who wants to should join in!