#and only bobby is allowed to do so and live

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Well, boohoo, I am so sorry your feelings are hurt, princess!

[Are you under the impression that family's supposed to make you feel good?] Bake you an apple pie, maybe?

[They're supposed to make you miserable] That's why they're family!

[luvjunie]

— headcanons. what life is like for miles!42

a/n: i honestly didn’t mean for these to get so angsty oopsies!! i kept adding on so they’re also very lengthy wc: 1,751

contains: mentions of grief

Everyone thinks he’s rude and impossible to approach—but that’s a common misconception. In reality, he’s actually quite shy and simply prefers to keep to himself. His quiet nature often causes him to come off ill-mannered, which is completely unintentional on his end and partially the fault of those who assume what he’s like instead of actually getting to know him.

He used to be open to making friends and spending time with peers, but after everyone found out his dad died— which was impossible to prevent considering the man who used to drive him to school now had a giant mural made in his honor— he began receiving a ridiculous amount of pitied stares in the halls, began hearing hushed whispers about how hard things must be for him at home now. And even though they were, he hated that he was being treated differently by those he once kept close to him, like a charity case. As if he were fragile and would break— like he often did when he was alone.

His old friends were supposed to be his distraction, something to take his mind off how he now had to grow up faster than he’d liked. Something to remind him that his trauma hadn’t aged him as much as he feared; that he truly was still a kid at heart. But instead, they served as a constant reminder of the worst thing he’d ever had to live through— skated around him like he’d blow up the second they said the wrong thing; responded with heartfelt condolences instead of laughing with him whenever he’d tell a funny story about his dad. So eventually, he drifted away from them and began keeping to himself all together.

Don’t put him in a box because of his prowler side hustle, this boy is smart as hell!! Especially with one parent now being gone and his mom struggling to pay the bills? He takes his academics very seriously, he has no choice. He has to get it out the mud somehow and he doesn’t have the privilege of skipping classes as much as 1610-miles does. He’s working two years above his grade level in AP Calculus and AP physics, and has been accused of cheating on his tests a couple times due to how fast he completes them, as well as the fact that he has never once asked a question from the seat he chose in the back of the room.

It’s not something anyone would expect, but he enjoys baking a lot and he’s damn good at it too. When he was younger, he’d spent one summer with his Mamá Lena (Rio’s mother), who had him in the kitchen helping her cook and bake almost everyday and it just stuck. It’s a secret talent of his that never really comes up in conversation, and that you wouldn’t know about unless you’ve seen him doing it. His banana bread muffins using a recipe he took months to perfect taste like the gods themselves made them, and he’ll slip one into his mom’s work lunch whenever he makes them because he knows they’re her favorite.

He’s a lover boy at heart, if you were to look into his playlist, the songs you’d find in there probably wouldn’t be what you’d expect. Listens to bobby bland, which was heavily influenced by his uncle, old school rap, and he really likes love songs from the 90s because they make him feel calm, and allow him to imagine what his life would be like if he could have something like what they’re singing about. He’s terrified he’ll never be able to experience that due to his inability to open up to others. And often, he doesn’t even try to express the emotions that are tough to swallow, a firm believer in the saying that ‘once you’re down, it’s hard to get back up.’

Keeps his room pretty clean. It’s probably the one and only thing he has control over in his life, a constant for him. His room is his safe-haven so he treats it as such. It’s basically the same as 1610’s, just with a more matured look, a lot less color and less expression. He unfortunately lost that spark for a lot of his interests, so you won’t see more than a small punching bag, some boxing gloves hanging from the doorknob and few stragglers in the form of posters he didn’t feel like taking down.

He doesn’t like to argue, at all. He hates fighting with anyone he loves and he’s very quick to forgive them or squash the disagreement all together now that his dad is no longer here. When Jeff died, they were still on rocky terms from their previous dispute and even while years have passed, Miles still has yet to forgive himself for that. So now, he usually lets bygones be bygones, and never lets a conversation end on a bad note.

Continued growing his hair out once he realized it was a way for him to bond and spend more time with his mom. Within the little availability they do have, between her working doubles at the hospital, him being pulled in every direction now that he’s the ‘man of the house’—uncle Aaron’s words— and having to do things he’s not proud of to assist her while still going to school during the day, they make the time. Miles only gets it braided by her, and he enjoys the talks they have when he’s sat on the floor between her legs with his back to her. And when she’s done, regardless of how ridiculously embarrassing it is, and how he’s now over a head taller than her, he always lets her pinch his cheeks and call him her ‘handsome little man’. He hasn’t looked at a pair of hair shears since.

On that note, he is very, very defensive when it comes to his mother. Miles is not the kind to go around beating people up just for kicks; mostly because he’s not that kind of person, but also because even if he wanted to— he can’t.

In preparation for stepping into the prowler role Uncle Aaron put Miles into boxing/m.m.a classes when he turned fourteen, and he took to the skill very quickly. So well, in fact, that his hands can now technically be considered deadly weapons in the eye of the law due to his extensive training— which means he could get slapped with a ridiculous assault charge that would have him doing some time in a juvenile correction facility over a simple fist fight. (if he’s not masked as the prowler obviously).

But, some kid in his history class thought it’d be funny to make a slick comment about how Mrs. Morales was ‘single’ and ‘up for grabs’ now that his dad had passed, and the situation ended with Miles suspended for a week after he’d basically thrown his desk over to get to the kid, his knuckles bruised, and a tirade of complaints from the boy’s mother about his now-rearranged nose. However, after hearing the disgusting comment he had made about Miles’ mom, she was kind enough to not press charges and forced her son to apologize to the both of them.

That woman is his saving grace, literally. She stepped up in ways he didn’t even know were possible after his dad died, barely taking time for herself to grieve because she wanted to make sure her little boy didn’t fall apart. He doesn’t let anyone disrespect her and that’s always made known by him. He’s a mama’s boy.

They kind of have a titfortat thing going on, him and his mom. Like how she always stops in to ask him how his day was, if school is going well or if he needs anything, even if the time isn’t ideal and she’s talking to a sleepy Miles at 1am in the morning who can barely keep his eyes open. Or how his uniform is always freshly ironed and laid out for him in the morning, regardless of how exhausted she is and how badly she wants to crawl into bed after her shift. Or how when he’s sick, she’ll drive all the way across town to one of the only fresh markets that sells yuca root and white yautia so she can make him sancocho (a traditional puerto rican dish). It’s the one thing she knows always makes him feel better.

And Miles does nice things for her, too. Like draping a blanket over her sleeping form when she dozes off on the couch in front of the TV. Or making sure her phone is plugged in, so her alarm goes off in the morning, because sometimes she knocks out before she can bring herself to do it. He even goes as far as to secretly slip some extra cash he’s made from a recent job into the ‘RENT’ jar she keeps on her dresser— dropping a hundred in every now and then when she’s not there to see him do it. She’s never once asked him for help, but the one time he took it upon himself to offer it, he was shot down in seconds, and was made to promise her that he wouldn’t worry about it ever again. Her exact words being “You’re too young to worry about something like this mijo, okay? You take all the money you make from your after school job, every single penny, and you save it. Mama’s got this.”

But sometimes, she doesn’t. And Miles knows that she wants to be strong for him. For them. But it takes two, he knows that as well, so he helps out anyway.

And with prayers that they’re not short— Rio counts everything in the rent jar towards the end of the month, and a string of celebratory whoops and hollers will always sound from her room when she realizes they surprisingly have some extra cash that’ll allow her to take some days off and relax for once, and maybe even do something fun together. He’ll listen from his room with a knowing smile, more than happy to let his contributions remain undisclosed to affirm her efforts of providing for them the best she can. With her energy so depleted from how demanding her job is, she’s never suspected it was him discreetly assisting, and chalked it up to her forgetting how much she’d mindlessly dropped in there after each paycheck.

[magentasdoodles]

So in @novalizinpeace’s poppy playtime au, specifically in the cartoon portion, the critters have these magic pendants that give them certain abilities. This isn’t limited to the gang, and all sorts of different pendants exist for different characters, but there’s a catch.

In this post, they talk about how if the magic in the pendant overwhelms a critter, it can transform them into a myth, a magical, monstrous being with incredible power, but can sometimes be incredibly dangerous to the people around them.

So I decided to take the 8 main critters and turn them into horrible little beasties for my amusement, and now I wish to show you guys the fruits of my labor.

tw for mild body horror and psychological horror under the cut

Dogday - Sol

This is the only ‘canon’ myth critter that exists in the au. Every time Dogday is pushed past his limit and gets too angry with something he transforms into sol, who is a mindless flaming warrior with no logic or regard for their surroundings. This leads to them being pretty dangerous to be around, but Sol isn’t evil, they just want to protect their user from any harm, and if left to their own devices, would probably self-isolate to protect themselves (and others) from harm.

2. Hoppy Hopscotch - Notus

The first of my original designs. Notus is the transformed version of Hoppy, and has the same weather manipulation powers, just to a much larger degree. Although she mostly uses it to make her storms larger. Notus’s mental state is much more stable than Sol (relatively), specifically in that she can remember her past life, but not specific people, so friends and even family are hardly whispers in her mind, if even that. She is quite competitive, viewing her storms as a contest to see how big she can make them, and will never back down from a challenge, doing everything in her power to win, but she is also a graceful loser, and hates cheaters. Her name comes from the Greek god of south winds, who is associated with wetness and the coming of rains.

3. Bubba bubbaphant - Ganesha

This guy’s name comes from the Hindu deity of new beginnings and the patron of the sciences and arts, who is also represented by a man with an elephant’s head and four arms. His mental state is similar to that of Notus, in that he can remember specific events from his past, but not people. He has become incredibly intelligent, being able to solve complex equations and understand lots of different subjects, but his already prevalent neuroticism has been turned up to eleven, with even the slightest infraction driving him to a rage, which can make him incredibly dangerous to deal with, but also rewarding, as his intellect allows him to answer many questions. He can also spin webs, because spider.

4. Bobby Bearhug - Callisto

Callisto is a little different from the other myths. She can remember her name, and her past, and the people around her, but only sometimes. You see, her pendant’s natural power is to absorb the excess emotion around her, and it still does that, but if she absorbs to much, then it leads to her transformation into a massive bear like monster with one goal, to make the excess stop by any means necessary. This has led to her voluntary exile in order to stop herself from hurting the people around her, which causes Bobby a great deal of pain, but it’s better than letting herself hurt the people she cares about the most. Her name comes from a nymph who was transformed into (what else) a bear by a furious Hera.

5. Pickypiggy - Limos

Unlike most of the others, Limos can hardly remember who she once was, much less the people in her life or what they mean to her. Instead she is driven by her one deepest instinct: to care and provide for the people around her. She works tirelessly to cook and prepare extravagant meals for anyone who might need it, leading to her neglecting her own health and her living environment. She also has to deal with a ravenous hunger that pains her every moment, and often leads her to devouring her dishes as soon as she finished, causing even further distress. Her name comes from the Greek goddess of starvation, which i don’t think is a very good comparison, but I can’t think of anything better, so eh.

6. KickinChicken - The Roc

Kickin’s transformed state is probably the least actively dangerous to be around. He’s a large, powerful bird capable of flying incredibly fast, as well as being incredibly loud and aggressive, but never actively harmful. His mental state is kind of the opposite of Notus and Ganesha, in that he can remember specific people and places, but not his past nor his name, and goes out of his way to try and help others. The key word being ‘try’, as his loud and aggressive demeanor often end up causing more damage than assistance. His name comes from an Arabian creature that is described as a bird of prey large enough to carry an elephant, which I thought was a good choice, and I couldn’t find any mythological chickens that really fit him.

7. Craftycorn - Apophis

Her name comes from an Egyptian monster that is said to be the embodiment of chaos and disorder, although Crafty is significantly less malevolent than her mythological counterpart. The main effect of her presence is the chaotic shifting of her environment, colors swapping and shapes changing into maelstrom of chaos around her, with the effect getting stronger the closer you get towards her, and any critter who does so has the very real risk of being torn apart. Apophis herself isn’t doing much better, with her entire body constantly melting into multicolored goop that has a consistency similar to that of candle wax. Not much is known about her mental state, as no one is brave enough to get close to her for risk of being killed, but there has to be something left of her as her maelstrom very much has the capacity to expand over the entire world and destroy it, the only reason it hasn’t is because Crafty appears to be holding it back through sheer force of willpower.

8. Catnap - Ouranos

Ouranos is probably the one who’s the most ‘in there’, besides Callisto in her non murder mode. He can remember his past life quite clearly and the people in them. In fact the only difference between him and normal Catnap is that Ouranos is slightly more apathetic towards outside events. He’s floated off into space and now observes to world from the heavens, watching as everything drifts by, because he can’t exactly leave. He can, however, see his friends suffering, and wishes he had the capability to help them in any way he could.

Once again thanks to @novalizinpeace for the au and all concepts belong to her.

[lewmagoo]

six summers | bob floyd

description: it's been six years. six years since you walked away from the man you loved. six years since the night that your own foolish actions led to the disappearance of sixteen-year-old melissa seresin. you’ve spent these last few years living with crippling guilt. and after everything that happened, the last thing you are expecting is an invite to return to the camp and reassume your role as counselor. but here you are, staring in disbelief at a letter asking you to do just that. providing you with the opportunity to make things right. will you be able to come to terms with the past and allow yourself to accept this second chance? or will you let your guilt consume you?

characters: bob floyd x reader, the dagger squad as their respective characters, pete mitchell, penny benjamin, a number of my own ocs

warnings: 18+ only, mentions of death, guilt, references to sex, mentions of anxiety

series status: ongoing

listen to the playlist here!

this story is inspired by @ryebecca and this fantastic moodboard she made ; i also drew some inspiration from riley sager's the last time i lied

*this is my own original work - i do not consent to having it reposted or redistributed in any way

July 30th, 1980

1:15 am

All you felt was terror. Icy cold, like someone had shoved their frigid fingers beneath your shirt, digits pressing harsh, angry bruises into the skin while they were at it. Your arms were wrapped around yourself as you stood in the damp morning air, your eyes flitting about nervously, your gut churning with nausea. 

“You do realize that your negligence in this situation is going to come with consequences, right? How could you be so stupid?!” Penny Mitchell’s voice had a sharp edge to it, despite her lowered tone. Her eyes were piercing. You couldn’t look at her.

“Don’t try to pin this all on her. I’m just as much to blame.” That was Bobby’s voice, coming from beside you, an air of protectiveness emanating from him as he stepped closer, standing in solidarity with you.

“Oh, trust me, I’m holding you responsible, too. But she’s the one who was supposed to be in charge of that cabin. If she would have been at her post, this wouldn’t have happened. But no! The two of you were off doing God knows what, while one of our campers wandered off into the night!” 

Penny got into your face, pointing her finger, her anger palpable, radiating off her in waves. “You had better pray that girl is still alive, because if she winds up dead, her blood is on your hands, counselor.”

May 18th, 1986

10:30 am

“Mail’s in!” The voice of your roommate carried through your apartment, pulling your attention from the rhythmic tapping of the antique typewriter you’d picked up from a yard sale. Without a second thought, you sprang from your chair, flinging open your bedroom door, bare feet quick against carpet as you hurried toward the kitchen, where Margie was just walking through the door with a stack of mail. 

“Any of it addressed to me?” You asked, a hopeful inflection in your voice. 

Margie nodded, tossing the envelopes onto the countertop. “Yeah, you’re popular, got two letters addressed to you.”

Eagerly, you shuffled through the stack before you located the letters she was talking about. One had no definitive markings, so you had no idea where it was from. But the other had a promising logo on the front– The Capital Gazette.

“The Gazette sent something back!” You exclaimed, flipping the envelope over, fingers trembling as you tore into the seal. 

Margie gasped, her attention immediately zeroing in on the letter you held. “What did they say?!” She exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

“Gimme a minute!” You shot back as you rushed to unfold the paper. Your eyes hurriedly scanned the contents, but within moments, your shoulders fell, the thrill of hope fading away to heavy disappointment. The words we regret to inform you were all you needed to read to know what the letter was about.

“I didn’t get the job,” came your glum statement.

“What?” Margie snatched the paper off the counter when you let it drop, reading it for herself. “Oh, come on! You’re the best damn writer I know, how could they turn you down?!”

You shook your head, fighting the tears of disappointment that had gathered on your lash line. “They don’t need me. They’ve got better writers.”

“That’s bullshit!” She huffed, shaking her head, knocking some of her unkempt curls loose from her haphazard ponytail. 

“Whatever,” you said, bitterly. “There are other newspapers I can apply to. Other magazines. People are hiring all over the place,” you said, hoping to instill hope in your own heart. But it did little to lift your spirits. 

Your roommate sighed softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. “I’m sorry. Really.”

“Thanks, Mar. So am I.”

Her attention shifted to the other, unopened letter on the counter. “What’s that one say?”

With a clueless shrug, you reached for it. All it bore was your address in handwriting that was oddly familiar. Tentatively, you tore into the envelope, brows furrowed as you unfolded the paper and began to read.

And then, “holy shit.”

“What is it?” Margie demanded, curious. When you looked at her, she noticed the expression of worry etched into your brow. 

“Camp Mitchell,” you whispered. 

At that, the woman’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God.” And then, she waved her hand, motioning you on. “What does it say?”

“They…they want me to come back as a counselor.”

I hope this letter finds you well. I am reaching out to you because I wanted to extend a formal invitation to return to camp as a counselor this summer. I know that things ended on a sour note for all of us involved, but Pete and I desire to breathe new life into this camp. We want to give other campers the chance to experience the wonder and magic of summertime at Camp Mitchell. I understand if you would prefer not to return, but it would be an honor to have you back with us again. Think we can agree to let bygones be bygones? I sure do hope so. Please give me a call at the number below and let me know if you would like to return and reassume your role as a camp counselor. Arrival deadline for counselors is May 24th. Hope to see you soon!

Best wishes, 

Penny Mitchell

You stared at the words in absolute shock. They wanted you to come back? After everything that had happened? After your own foolishness had resulted in a girl going missing? You had to admit, it was a bold move on Penny’s part. 

The police had heavily investigated you when young Melissa Seresin went missing six years prior. Penny had even blamed you for the girl’s disappearance. It was hard to imagine her wanting you to come anywhere near her camp ever again.

“I need to sit down,” you muttered, tossing the letter back onto the counter and stepping toward the kitchen table, where you hurriedly pulled out one of the chairs and lowered yourself into the seat. Two life-altering events had just taken place in the span of five minutes. You needed to process all of it. 

As you tried to regain your wits, Margie scanned over the letter. Then, she sauntered over to you, letting out a sigh as she pulled out the chair across from you and flopped down into it, her legs parted, arms falling down to dangle over the sides. She blew a pesky curl away from her face. 

Sympathetic brown eyes landed upon you, and the girl before you smiled softly. Understandingly. “What are you gonna do?”

“I really don’t know,” you said. “Since the job with The Gazette fell through…I might have no choice but to take up the offer to go back to camp. At least I’d be making some kind of income during the summer while I try to figure things out.”

Margie raised a dark brow. “Listen, you do what you think is best for you. But…after everything that happened there, are you sure you’re ready to go back? It’s only been six years.” She was not coming from a place of judgment. She was coming from a place of genuine concern for her friend. 

You groaned softly, placing your head in your hands. “I dunno know what to do. Honestly, I’m not ready. But then again it might give me closure. And maybe that’s what Penny is thinking. If she wants to make things right with me after the way things ended…maybe I should go.”

The girl sighed. “Yeah, I guess closure might be something that comes outta this. I just don’t want you to have to go through all that shit again, though.”

Your mouth quirked into a grateful smile. “I know, Mar. I’ve gotta think about it, first. I’m not making any decisions yet.”

“Well, let me know what you decide. Whatever choice you make, I’ll support you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

As Margie left you at the table to be alone with your thoughts, you considered the weight of the situation. It had all happened so fast, and you felt as if you were caught up in a whirlwind. You only had a week to make a decision, because you had to be at camp on the 24th if you decided to go. 

Were you ready to go back, after only six short years? The thought made your stomach turn. Camp Mitchell was a place that held a lot of trauma for you. Your life had fallen apart there. 

You had been a first-year counselor in the summer of 1980. A job meant to get you through the summer, before you returned to college in the fall. You remembered being so hopeful and excited about what the summer held. 

Camp Mitchell was a camp situated in Michigan’s wilderness. Secluded, surrounded by forests as far as the eye could see. Quaint little wooden cabins. A mess hall. A volleyball pit. A lake. All the other amenities that a typical summer camp would have. 

You were put in charge of the junior/senior girls' cabin. Eleventh and twelfth graders. You were slightly intimidated because you were only a few years older than they were. You worried that they would not respect you. But much to your relief, the girls accepted you with open arms. 

Throughout the many weeks of camp, you bonded with several different girls who passed through your cabin. But none of them connected as well with you as Melissa Seresin. 

July 1980

She was the younger sister of one of the other counselors, Jake Seresin, and she was sweet as could be. She attended camp most of the summer, because her brother worked there, and she didn’t want to remain stuck at home alone while her parents traveled for the summer. 

So, she tagged along with Jake. Unlike her brother, she was not cocky. She had a very kindhearted demeanor. A little spoiled, once in a while, due to being the youngest and only girl of rich parents and a doting older brother, but nothing you couldn’t tolerate. 

Melissa remained a semi-permanent fixture in your cabin, even as groups of girls from different places — schools, church youth groups, family groups, so on and so forth — passed through all summer. 

She knew the camp like the back of her hand, and had spent a few summers there already. You didn’t have to worry about her like you might other campers, because she was well aware of the camp’s procedures. 

That was why it was so jarring when, one night in the middle of the summer, she disappeared without a trace. 

Late one night, after lights out, the girls in your cabin noticed her absence. Melissa was always in bed come lights out. Not always asleep, but certainly always present. Her neatly made, unoccupied bed raised suspicions, but it was her missing backpack that made the girls think that she had left altogether.

You were not at your post like you were supposed to be. Earlier that night, you had enforced lights out, but soon after had slipped out into the night to meet someone. The girls ranged from fifteen to eighteen years old, so you were not particularly concerned about them getting up to mischief. But in your haste to leave, you neglected to double-check that Melissa was present. 

To your utter shame, you had left to meet up with another counselor. The head counselor of the seventh and eighth-grade boys' cabin, Robert Floyd. Bob to his friends. Mr. Bob to the campers. Bobby to you, and only you. 

It wasn’t in your nature to sneak around. Neither was it in Bob’s. But you had gotten tangled up in an impassioned summer fling, and you took advantage of every free moment you had to be together. 

It was in that time span of you and Bob sneaking off to the lake, that Melissa had gone missing. And when you returned to the cabin an hour later, the girls were all awake, in a slight state of upheaval. 

“Where have you been?!” Asked Claudia, one of the senior girls. “I was about to leave and go find Mrs. Mitchell!”

“I needed some air. Why, what’s up?” You cautiously asked. 

Claudia motioned to Melissa’s empty bed. “Melissa never made it in for lights out.”

You stared at the bed, its covers untouched and meticulously tucked in, as a hotel bed would be. That was the way she made it every morning. She hadn’t been in that bed since last night. “No, she was here when I left!” You insisted. 

“Um, no she wasn’t,” Marissa, another senior, piped up. “Plus, her backpack is gone.”

“Oh, God. Well, that’s my bad for sure. Okay, um, I’m sure she can’t have gotten far. She knows this camp well. Don’t worry, I’ll go take a look around. The rest of you, stay put. Lemme just do a count to make sure nobody else went off with her.”

After a headcount, you came up with fourteen girls. Melissa would make fifteen, so she was the only one missing. Huffing out a sigh, and attempting to keep yourself calm and neutral so the girls wouldn’t panic, you squared your shoulders.

“I’ll go grab another counselor and we’ll take a look. Claudia, you’re the oldest, so you’re in charge. Make sure no one leaves. The rest of you, try to get some sleep. I know you’re a little freaked right now but it’s gonna be okay.” The biggest lie you could have told them. It was, in fact, not going to be okay.

“What should we do if she comes back?” Claudia asked, running a nervous hand through her thick brunette locks. Her dark eyes were fearful, although she was trying to appear brave, just as you were trying to do. 

“Just make sure she stays put. I’ll come back and check in a bit, if I don’t find her, and we can touch base then.”

Once you were certain the girls understood the plan, you excused yourself again, stepping out into the humid July night. Crickets sang as you ambled down the path that led to the boys’ cabins, but the pounding of your heart in your ears drowned out the sound. 

Your hands shook, unsteady as you held your flashlight before you. Tears blurred your vision, and the heat of embarrassment washed over you. How could you be so stupid? Here you were, off getting laid while one of your girls was nowhere to be found.

You had to look for her, but you weren’t going to do it alone. Hurriedly, you ascended the steps of cabin 13, the first of the boys’ cabins. Light on your feet, so as not to step on any squeaky boards, you crept closer to the door. 

Three soft raps, five seconds apart. That was your code. And sure enough, within moments, the door inched open, and there was your Bobby. You had just seen him twenty minutes prior, but he’d already changed into his sleep clothes. An old camp shirt and basketball shorts. 

Brow furrowed, he quietly closed the door behind him, stepping out onto the porch. You reached for his hand and guided him off the porch, onto the soft, sandy ground. “What’s goin’ on, Kit?” He asked. The nickname he’d dubbed you for reasons so much more lighthearted than the situation you were facing.

“Melissa’s gone,” you whispered. “The girls said she was never there for lights out.”

“Huh? But you checked on them before you left.”

“I did, but I…I guess I just missed Melissa. I thought she was there, but tonight was so chaotic…God, I can’t believe I could be so stupid” You despaired.

“Shh,” Bob soothed, reaching out to run comforting hands down your arms. “Hey, she probably just went for a walk. I’m not close to her, but I know she likes to go and write in that journal of hers a lot. She’s probably doing that.”

“But that’s not like her. Yeah, she writes in her diary but she’s never done this before. Just…up and left like that. I’m scared, Bobby. I think something might’ve happened to her. And it’s all my fault.”

But he was already shaking his head. “No, don’t even let your mind go there. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” His hands had moved to cup your cheeks. “Tell you what, I’ll help you look for her. If we don’t find her in the next hour, we can tell Penny and get a search party goin’.”

You prayed it wouldn’t come to that, but the sick feeling in your gut told you otherwise. It was your fault, no matter how much Bobby tried to assure you it wasn’t. If Melissa was truly missing, then you were the one to blame. But you didn’t dare speak it into the air. You couldn’t.

“O-okay. We can look together, then.”

And so, the two of you set off on the search for Melissa Seresin. Missy, as her brother liked to call her. You thought of Jake, who was in charge of the senior boys’ cabin. You knew he’d be pissed that you didn’t wake him up immediately and tell him what was going on. He was very protective of his baby sister. But you didn’t want to involve him just yet. You had to try to find her yourself, first. 

You set out to search all the places she frequented. Melissa wasn’t as outgoing as her brother. She had a vibrant personality, but also had introverted tendencies. She cherished her alone time, so it wasn’t odd for her to be at the lake, or the horse stables, writing. But she was always visible, and she had never sneaked off before. And certainly not after dark, either. 

These woods were terrifying at night. It was easy to get lost in their vastness. Even a girl who knew her way around could get lost. But you prayed that wasn’t the case. 

You took to searching her usual hangout spots. The lake, even though you and Bob had been there a half hour ago, and hadn’t seen her. Sure enough, she wasn’t there. Then, you took a peek in the horse stables. The camp had not yet obtained horses to occupy the stables, so it was just an empty building.

Hopeful, you followed Bob inside, holding your breath as he called out, “Melissa? You in here, honey? It’s Bob Floyd.”

But you were met with dead silence, so deafening it brought a shiver down your spine. “Oh, my God. She’s gone. She’s gone forever. This is all my fault!” You panicked, burying your face in your hands. 

Bobby, ever the calm and steady one, gently soothed you. “Hey. Hey! Look at me.”

You lifted your tearful eyes to his face, illuminated by the yellow glow of your flashlight. 

“It’s gon’ be okay, alright? We’ll find her. We just need to go get Penny and Pete and tell ‘em what happened. We can get a search party organized. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

Lovingly, he took your hand, and together, you made the trek back toward the main part of camp, where the office, mess hall, and staff quarters were. The entire walk, your mind was spiraling with all the possibilities of what could have happened to Melissa. 

Something was wrong. You knew it. 

And, as it would turn out, you were, unfortunately, right. Melissa Seresin never was found. Not when you and the other counselors organized a search party. Not when the police got involved. Not when Jake and Melissa’s dad, an agent in the FBI, got his team involved. It was as if she’d vanished into thin air. Gone without a trace.

Jake blamed you. But that was okay, because you blamed yourself, too. 

Your own negligence was the reason Melissa was gone. And the police grilled you for it. Much to your utter relief, the Seresins chose not to press charges. But you were left to live with the guilt, and that was punishment enough.

And now, here you were. Six years later. Wounds from the past only partially healed. Presented with an opportunity to go back to the place where it all started, and ended. If you did return, would those wounds reopen, and drain the blood from your veins? Or would those wounds finally heal?

And most importantly, did you have the guts to find out?

One Week Later

A ticket reading Harper, Michigan was clutched tightly in your hand, the paper rumpling from your grip. Your suitcase and duffel bag were beside you, as you stood at the bus depot, waiting for the Greyhound to pull up and take you to your destination.

“I still think you’re crazy for this,” Margie spoke from beside you. She’d come to see you off. 

You turned to her, taking in her soft smile, despite her disapproval of your choice. “I know,” you replied. 

“But I also understand why you want to do this. I really hope it gives you the closure you’re looking for.”

You threw your arms around your friend’s shoulders, hugging her tight. “Thanks, Mar. I’ll try to give you a call at some point in the next few weeks, but the only phone on the property is the one in the main office and I doubt I’ll have time.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can tell me all about it when you get back,” she assured you. 

You took one last good look at her, as you knew you wouldn’t see her for a few months, if you fulfilled your commitment to work the entire camp season. The late morning sun shone down from the sky, illuminating her dark curls. Always so unkempt, but the style suited her. 

“I’ll be seeing ya,” you finally said.

She nodded, squeezing your hand. “Take care of yourself. And good luck.”

The bus pulled into the stop as you bid your final goodbyes, and then, you handed off your luggage to the attendant to pack away beneath the bus before you climbed the steps into the large vehicle, flashing your ticket to the driver. You took a seat toward the back, settling in and placing your purse beside you, hoping that you would get two of the tackily upholstered seats all to yourself. 

As soon as you were settled, you fished your Walkman out of your bag, unraveling the headphones and placing them on your head. As soon as you hit play, the opening sound of the 1975 Eagles album, One of These Nights, filled your ears.

You had purposely chosen this tape to accompany you on your trip, because it held a lot of nostalgic memories for you. Namely, it had been a gift from your Bobby. He’d given it to you in the beginning stages of your romance, after you’d expressed to him that the album was one of your favorites.

“I want you to have it,” he insisted. “A memento that you can have all the time, to remind you of what a great time we had together here.”

And you did have a great time. But the trauma of Melissa’s disappearance had soured the whole thing. All you had left of Bobby was this tape, and a few braided jute bracelets he had made you, from plant fibers. You still wore them on your wrist to this day. 

He had tried to keep in contact with you after the camp shut down. He’d sent letters. Called your home phone. But you never answered. As much as you loved him, the reminder of what had happened was too painful, and you let your connection to him fizzle out. 

But as you listened to the familiar cords, a rush of memories flooded you, the wave so intense that it took your breath away. Flashes of Bob’s beautiful face. Twinkling eyes, blushing cheeks, a crinkled button nose. The prettiest laughter you’d ever heard.

Large, warm hands exploring. Lips trailing searing kisses down your sternum. Whispers of your name. Groans of pl–

With a gasp, you snatched the headphones off your head, eyes flickering about, as if someone around you could have heard your thoughts. But everyone else was in their own little world, completely oblivious to the salacious flashbacks you had just experienced.

But they made you warm with shame nonetheless. 

You’d be foolish not to admit that you’d thought of Bobby over the years. Looked back on your encounters with fondness. With desire. You’d been sexually involved with a few other people since then, but the entire time, you could only think of him. It was why you’d stopped seeing other people. They weren’t your Bobby. 

You wondered if he thought about you, too.

More importantly, you wondered if he’d be returning to Camp Mitchell like you were. Were you ready to face him again? The thought made your stomach flutter with butterflies. 

You imagined he’d moved on. He had to. Hell, he probably had a wife and kids already. Imagining such a thing sent a queasy rush through you. You still weren’t over him, and you supposed you never would be. He was your first great love. 

But he wasn’t the only person you would potentially face from your past. 

Your mind went to the other counselors you’d worked with that fateful summer. Specifically, you thought of Jake Seresin. Surely he wouldn’t return to camp, right? Not after his baby sister had disappeared from that very place. It had to be too painful for him. 

Little did you know, everyone you had worked with was also traveling from their own respective homes and cities, headed right for Camp Mitchell, just like you were. 

The camp was founded by Pete and Penny Mitchell, a husband and wife duo. They had started it with the best of intentions. It was in its fifth successful year when you came on staff. And that just so happened to be the last year it was in operation. 

Until now. 

What had made the couple decide it was a good idea to reopen the camp, you had no idea. But you were going to give it a chance. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, after all. 

But several hours later, as the Greyhound pulled into the station in Harper, a tiny town boasting of a general store, a bus depot, and a long, winding road that led up to the camp itself. 

As you stepped off the bus, you realized one very important detail: you had no idea how you were even getting up to the camp. Would they send a driver down to retrieve everyone? 

Your question was soon answered when you caught sight of a large white poster board propped against a nearby lamppost. CAMP MITCHELL STAFF WAIT HERE. A DRIVER WILL ESCORT YOU TO CAMP. 

With a sigh, you rolled your suitcase over to the post, hoping you wouldn’t have to wait long. And you didn’t. About five minutes later, an old teal-colored truck came down the road, its engine obnoxiously loud. On the side, Camp Mitchell was printed in bold letters. 

You straightened, smoothing out your travel-rumpled clothes as you grabbed your belongings, prepared to help load everything into the truck. It didn’t even occur to you that you might know the driver. You expected to meet someone entirely new. 

As soon as the vehicle pulled to a stop at the curb, you were already moving to the truck bed, hoisting your duffel bag over the side, letting it land with a satisfying thump. 

“Here, let me,” a familiar voice spoke up, and in moments, a pair of hands were stealing your suitcase away, heaving it into the bed. 

You looked up at the man assisting you, and your blood ran cold. As he turned from putting your luggage in place, he froze, too. Wide blue eyes, no longer hidden beneath a pair of wireframes, locked with your own. 

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. 

But he did. In a voice as smooth and soft as butter, yet breathless with surprise. “Kit?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. 

Kit. The nickname he’d dubbed you six years ago. It was something so simple. So silly. You’d had an affinity for KitKat bars that summer. They were the only candy bars you liked from the camp store. As a joke, Bobby had said “I should call you KitKat, since you like those things so much.”

And thus, it was shortened to Kit. The name stuck. 

Hearing it again made your head spin. You felt woozy on your feet. You swayed a little. A memory flashed in your mind. You and him. Sitting under the old weeping willow. His fingertips wiping chocolate from the corner of your mouth. 

It sent a burning ache through your chest. 

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “B-Bobby.” The first words you’d spoken to him in six years. 

He let out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “I didn’t think you’d show.” 

You gathered yourself, trying to regain your composure. “I didn’t either,” you whispered. 

He offered a tentative smile. “That doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you, though.”

You lifted your head, brow furrowed in confusion. “You are?”

“Gosh, I am. It’s been too long. I didn’t…didn’t know what happened to you. You never responded to my calls or letters. I thought maybe…” He wouldn’t speak it out loud. He couldn’t. 

But you inferred what he meant from his tone. He’d feared that the trauma of what had happened had been too much for you to handle. That you’d succumbed to it all. 

“I was working on myself. Trying to heal.”

He nodded. “Understandable.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled again. “I really am glad to see you, though. You look well.”

You shrugged. “I’m workin’ on it. And I’m glad to see you too.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and you realized how much he’d changed, but also stayed the same. He’d filled out. His shoulders were more broad. Muscular. His glasses were gone, presumably replaced with contacts. His hair, once close-cropped, was longer now, curling at the nape of his neck, peeking out from beneath the baseball cap he wore. His jaw was shadowed with stubble. 

He looked like a man. 

But there was still that boyish glint in his eyes, and hiding behind his smile. Still that same gentleness reserved particularly for you. It was overwhelming, and you could feel your chest beginning to tighten. 

“Are you, uh, are you ready to head up there? Or do ya need a minute?” Bobby asked, his voice low. Laced with concern. 

You stepped back. “I thought I could do this. Maybe I can’t.”

He let you have your space. “Take all the time you need.”

The rush of memories flooding you was overwhelming. The last time you saw him. The last thing you said to him. 

Six Years Ago

The day you left camp, it was raining. Pouring from the sky in sheets, washing everything in a gray hue that made the world look like a watercolor painting. 

The sandy ground squashed beneath your feet as you walked toward that old truck, with the camp’s logo on the side. Your luggage was stuffed into the truck bed, wrapped in plastic garbage bags so it wouldn’t get wet in the downpour. 

As you climbed into the cab, Bobby came running out of the main office, making a beeline for the truck. He scrambled to wrench open the door and join you inside, breathing labored as he settled into the seat. 

For a few moments, it was silent, save for the sound of him moving to start the engine. He fiddled with the heat dial, hoping to reduce the fog on the windows, as the rain had made the air unseasonably chilly that morning. 

You both sat there, staring out the windshield, watching the water trickle down the glass. He made no move to put the truck in gear. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. 

“Bobby—”

“No, listen to me. I’m sorry it came to this. It shouldn’t have.”

“What’s done is done. Please, let’s just get out of here. I can’t stay in this place another minute.”

Bobby lingered for a moment, his eyes on you, even as you refused to look at him. You were afraid that if you did, you’d melt into a fit of tears. So, with a soft sigh, he put the truck in drive, and began the journey down the winding dirt road that led out of camp. 

The trip was silent. You had nothing left to say, because you’d exhausted all your words these last few weeks. Countless hours of interrogation. Recounting that night over and over again. The conclusion was that a girl was missing, and it likely would not have happened if you’d been doing your job. That was a sense of guilt that you would have to live with for the rest of your life.

Bob pulled into the bus station fifteen minutes later, and you didn’t hesitate as you hurried to slide out of your seat, shoes colliding with wet asphalt. Your chest was tight, eyes blurring with tears as you rushed to grab your luggage. 

“Would ya stop for a minute?!” Bobby exclaimed, reaching out to gently grab at your arm. 

But you jerked away from him. “Please, don’t…don’t make this harder than it is,” you whispered.

He stared at you, brilliant blue eyes wide, filled with emotion. “So, what, you won’t even say goodbye?”

You feared that saying goodbye would break the dam, and you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together. You’d fall into his arms, sobbing your heart out, and you would never get on that bus. The man before you sighed, shaking his head before he moved to haul your suitcase out of the truck, placing the plastic-covered bag on the sidewalk. 

“That’s it then?” He spoke, his tone grim.

Squaring your shoulders, you nodded, forcing yourself to hold it together. “Goodbye, Robert.”

You turned to leave, and he watched you go, his heart falling to pieces within him. He was losing you, perhaps forever, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wanted to go after you. Wanted to shake you and tell you to just listen. But you were so entrenched in the trauma of what had happened that he wasn’t sure you could listen to reason at all.

So he let you leave. He watched you climb onto that Greyhound, bound for home, all while he was left there with a wound in his heart, wishing that things could have ended differently. Wishing that your love for each other had been enough to keep you with him.

But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. And that was something he had to live with.

May 1986

Seeing you again was a lot for him. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. Even more so, now, if that was possible. He was also hit with a rush of emotions. He never thought he’d see you again. When he’d received the letter from Penny, inviting him back to camp, he had thought about you, and was sure you wouldn’t come back.

But here you were, standing before him, uncertain and anxious, and he found himself wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms and comfort you. But he kept his distance, not wanting to invade your personal space. You weren’t his any longer. He could not touch you the way he used to. 

You took a moment to pull yourself together, taking a deep breath, counting to ten, trying to ground yourself. Then, you fixed your posture, and nodded in Bob’s direction. “Alright. I think…I think I’m okay. We can, um, we can leave if you’re ready.”

“Okay. Let’s go then.” He opened the passenger door for you, and you climbed into that old truck once again, just as you had six years ago. 

Everything had come full circle.

Bobby rounded the truck and settled into the driver’s seat, and soon, he’d started the engine, pulling away from the curb, turning onto the road that led up to camp. Your gut churned with anxiety. You were really doing this. There was no turning back now. 

The radio played softly as Bob drove. Some old country song. Hank Williams, you thought. Its grainy, peaceful tune did well to calm your anxiety. Your hands had stopped trembling.

“It’s been a while,” the man beside you murmured. His accent seemed to have gotten thicker, a slight twang to it. 

“I know,” you replied, staring down at your lap. Then, “God, I’m so sorry, Bobby. I shouldn’t have gone no contact like I did. I got the letters you sent. And I got every message you left on my answering machine. But I just…I couldn’t bring myself to respond.”

He shook his head. “No, I get it. I should’ve given you more space. I know everything that happened was a lot for you.”

“But that’s no excuse for me to just ignore you. It wasn’t right of me. I’m really sorry.”

“Apology accepted. It’s in the past, Kit. We can leave it there.”

It was that easy. A soothing sense of relief washed over you, warming you from head to toe. That exchange made you feel a little more at ease, and the conversation soon shifted.

“Did everyone come back this year?”

He nodded, humming lowly. “Most of ‘em, surprisingly. Bradley, Natasha, Mickey, Reuben, Javy. Half got here last night. The rest came earlier this mornin’.”

You hesitated, picking at a jagged nail on your right hand. “And…Jake?”

Bob was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, him too.”

You recoiled in confusion. “But…why would he come back?”

“Penny didn’t say it in her letter, but they’re doing a dedication ceremony for Melissa. There’s a new garden area they installed in the main part of camp. It’s gonna be called Melissa Jo’s Garden. They had a plaque made and everything. Jake agreed to come for the ceremony. I dunno if he’s staying all summer though.”

“Oh.” It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from your lungs. You had not left things on a good note with Jake. He harbored deep resentment toward you for neglecting to watch over your cabin. He blamed you for his sister’s disappearance. 

“He seems to be handling everything alright. He might actually be okay with seeing you again.”

But you weren’t so sure. There was that nervousness again, roiling in your gut. Did you have the nerve to face him? And how would he react? You doubted he’d welcome you back with open arms. 

You’d soon find out, because just up ahead, the Camp Mitchell sign could be seen. Large, deep green in color, with white lettering. So familiar, yet so foreign all at once. 

You couldn’t believe you were back. What if this turned out to be the most foolish decision you’d ever made?

You didn’t have time to consider that, because Bobby was pulling into the common area in no time, and killing the engine. It was time to face the past you’d been running like hell to get away from. 

As Bob got out to gather your luggage, you pushed the old, squeaky passenger door open and let your feet land in the soft sand. 

The scent of pine and honeysuckle filled your nose. It sent an intense wave of nostalgia through you. So much had changed, and yet nothing had, all at the same time. 

The layout was still the same. Clinic. Main office. Mess hall. Common area. But in the middle of the main entrance was a small garden. Stone paths weaved throughout. Spindly bushes, multicolored flowers, and other plants decorated the soil. Right in the middle of the garden was what appeared to be a large stone, covered with a tarp. You assumed the plaque for Melissa was hidden beneath the tarp. 

And then, a voice caught your attention. You looked up to find Penny Mitchell approaching you. Blue cotton shorts, accessorized with a belt. A blue and white striped t-shirt tucked into them. A pair of hiking boots were on her feet. Practical, that one was. Always ready for an outdoor excursion at a moment’s notice.

You braced yourself, unsure of how she would behave toward you. She had rightfully held you responsible for Melissa’s disappearance, and you weren’t sure if she’d moved on from that. But, if she’d invited you back, she had to have at least found it in her heart to forgive you. You hoped so, anyway. 

“Welcome!” She said, sweeping her arms out in greeting. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“Oh, um, thanks. Me…me too,” you said, unsure of the proper response. 

Bobby sidled up beside you. You didn’t feel so alone with him there.

“Did Bob fill you in on everything on the drive up?”

“Kinda, yeah,” came your answer.

Penny nodded. “Once everyone is settled, Pete and I will take you on a tour. We’ve made a lot of changes these last few months.” Then she looked at Bob. “Would you show her to her cabin? We’ll put her in cabin five.”

“Sure thing,” he replied.

“We’ll have a little orientation meeting after dinner. There’s a whole itinerary we have to go over. I put a schedule in your cabin. Any questions?���

Yeah, lots. You stared at her for a moment. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you invite me back? After everything that happened?”

She regarded you silently, her expression neutral. Then, she said, “Because I believe in second chances. Or, rather, my husband does. He wanted to bring all of you back and start with a clean slate. Whether or not you’ve earned that second chance remains to be seen. But I hope you have.” Her words sent a painful ache through your chest. You didn’t blame her for being wary of you, but it still hurt. 

As she excused herself, you were once again left alone with Bobby. “Y’alright?” He gently asked, cadence low and comforting.

You processed his words for a moment. “Yeah…yeah. I’m okay.”

“You need a minute?”

“No. Let’s just get my stuff to my cabin.”

With a single nod, he grabbed your suitcase and duffel bag, moving to walk up the hill. You followed closely behind, letting the rush of memories ebb through you. The cabins were small, build from dark wood, with green paint detailing the shutters and doors. They looked like they’d received fresh coats of paint, but otherwise, everything was still the same.

It didn’t take long to reach cabin five. Bob carried your things inside, and you slowly followed, your heart quickening as you stepped through the door. The scent of cedar and pine was familiar and painful all at once. 

This wasn’t the cabin you’d been in when you were here last. You were in cabin two then, just one over from this one. Even so, it looked so eerily similar that for a moment, you were transported back to the summer of 1980.

Funnily enough, Bob had been the one to show you to your cabin for the first time that year, too.

“You’ve still got ‘em.”

Your eyes flickered to him, and your brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“The bracelets I made you.”

Oh. You looked down, eyeing your wrist, where the two braided jute bracelets remained, from when he’d made them for you that year. Dyed faintly with berry juice. Fraying at the edges, but still intact. “Um, yeah…I do. Guess I just could never bring myself to take them off.”

He stepped forward, reaching his hand out. You let him gingerly take your wrist into his palm. His fingers brushed against the braided rope, and his touch sent goosebumps across your skin. “After all these years,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, his voice would fail him.

All at once, you were floored with an intense wave of emotion, so powerful it nearly drove you to your knees. It hit you out of nowhere, like a gut punch. “Bobby,” you whimpered.

Shocking blue flickered to meet your wide-eyed gaze, and his face crumpled, bottom lip quivering. “Kit.”

You weren’t sure who moved first, but you were in each other’s arms then, holding on tightly, as if the other would float away if you loosened your grip. The sound of soft sobs reached your ears, and you realized that they were coming from you.

“I never should have walked away from you. Never, ever!” You cried against his chest. “I’m sorry!”

“No, shhh,” he soothed, cradling your head against him. “Don’t do this to yourself. It’s okay, you’re forgiven.”

You pulled back to look at him, shaking your head. “It’s not okay!”

Two large hands came up to hold your face. “It hurt me, alright? I’ll admit that. Broke my heart in two. But I never held it against you, because…because I knew everything you’d been through. I know that summer was the worst time of your life. It made sense to me if you didn’t want to speak to me ever again. I would’ve just been a reminder of everything that happened.”

“But I did want to talk to you, Bobby. I did. I just couldn’t get past the goddamn trauma.”

He shook his head, his face kind. “I know. But we’re here now, together. That’s gotta count for something.” Maybe we’ve been given a second chance, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to move too fast. He was well aware that your romance might never be rekindled. However, he was content to just remain friends with you if it meant that you would be in his life again.

You went quiet, letting your head fall against his chest again. You couldn’t believe you were here, standing in the middle of a cabin at the place where you had lost everything. It felt so surreal. It was as if a million years had passed since you saw him here last, and yet, it also felt like no time had passed at all. 

There was so much that needed to be discussed. But there was no hurry. For now, you were just relieved to know that you had not burned a bridge with your first great love. If nothing else went right for you this summer, he was the one good thing that would come out of it. 

“I’m glad…I’m glad it was you who picked me up at the station,” you admitted.

Bobby smiled softly. “So am I.” He searched your face, as if memorizing it. “I really thought I wouldn’t ever see you again.”

You hummed in agreement. “Me too. But I guess fate wanted us to meet again.”

“She’s a tricky one, that Fate.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Finally, he parted from you, though the absence of his body made yours feel cold. He didn’t want to overstep. “Well…I guess I’ll let you get settled.” He moved toward the door, but your voice gave him pause.

“Actually, wait for me. I don’t want to face everyone alone. I’d prefer it if we walked together.” Bobby might be the only person in this damn place to accept you again. You wanted to cling to that, and the security it provided.

He gave a single nod. “Alright. You want any help getting settled, then?”

Together, you set about getting everything situated. Bob went around and checked the cabin for spiders, because he knew you weren’t a fan of the little (and sometimes big) guys. He found one, which he very gently coaxed into his hand (murmuring “c’mon, little buddy” as he did) and released it outside. 

Once you had your stuff organized, and did a quick clean sweep of the cabin, you were ready to join everyone else. There was a paper posted on the wall just beside the door, detailing the itinerary for counselors and other camp staff. In about fifteen minutes, dinner would be served in the mess hall. 

Directly following that, there would be an orientation meeting in the meeting hall, a place where staff meetings usually took place. Assemblies with the campers were also held there. It ws in that hall that you would be forced to face people from your past. Namely, you’d have to face Jake again. 

The thought made your stomach churn, and your hands tremble. But then, Bob’s gentle presence brought you back to the presence, and your racing heart calmed down a little. 

He offered you a kind smile. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod.

Together, you walked out of that cabin and into the camp grounds, falling into silence as your steps synced up. There were so many things Bobby wanted to say, but he didn’t want to inundate you with questions and confessions, so he left it. He knew you had to be terribly overwhelmed as it was. He didn’t want to be the cause of more stress.

So, silence it was, all the way until you got to the mess hall. He stopped to open the door for you, and you hesitated. 

“It’s okay,” he assured you. “I’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

You liked the sound of that. 

So, with a deep breath and squared shoulders, you stepped through that door, entering the room. Dark wood stretched out before you. The mess hall was a similar design to the cabins, just much bigger. High ceilings with unfinished wooden beams. Wooden floors and walls. Dark green paint detailing. Windows on each wall to let in natural light. A large stone fireplace in the middle of the room. 

It was very cozy, but as your gaze shifted to the table of faces to your left, you felt a chill run over you. Here goes nothing.

You appraoched the table, taking in each person seated there. At the head of the table was Pete Mitchell, Penny’s husband. He lifted his head and offered a smile, but you couldn’t quite place the look in his eyes. Beside him, Penny glanced up at you.

Then, to her right, you saw Natasha Trace. Another person you had once had a connection with. She was good friends with Bobby before you met him. The two of them had gone to school, and eventually college, together. Beside her was a woman you’d never seen before, but judging by the way Natasha held her hand, you inferred that they were in a relationship. It was no surprise to you. Nat had always made it clear that she only had eyes for women.

Then, on the other side of the woman was Mickey Garcia, another one of Bob’s good friends. His best friend, in fact. Mickey offered you a smile, and you took that as acceptance of you. He always had been rooting for you, all those summers ago.

Beside Mickey was Javy Machado. You couldn’t get a read on him. His face bore a neutral expression as he regarded you. Back then, he’d been best friends with Jake, and had therefore been completely on his side. You assumed the sentiment was still the same. 

Then, of course, there was Bradley Bradshaw. He was Pete and Penny’s surrogate son, in a way. After Bradley’s mother died when he was a teenager, Pete had brought him on to learn how to run the camp. One day, he would take charge of the place, after the husband and wife duo retired.

All of them were seated around that table, but you noticed that one was missing. You had no idea where Jake was. Maybe he wasn’t joining everyone for dinner. Maybe he’d left. A part of you hoped so.

“Wanna sit here?” Bobby asked, motioning to two seats next to Bradley. 

You nodded, and he pulled out your chair for you. Once you were seated, he took his own seat beside you, between Bradley and you. The other man leaned over the table, and you got a look at his face for the first time in six years. He’d lost his baby face, and was now sporting a defined jaw. A neatly kept mustache shadowed his upper lip. You thought it suited him. “Good to see you again,” he said.

Bradley’s statement seemed to break the ice, and a few murmurs of greeting echoed around the table. Even still, an air of awkwardness hovered over the group. You wanted to crawl out of your own skin. But you were here now, and there was no turning back. 

The food was set up around the table like a regular family dinner. Simple foods. Sandwiches. Veggies and dip. Chips. You grabbed a sandwich, but you found your stomach in knots, and the thought of eating anything nauseated you. 

“Well, Penny, you did it. Got us all to come back. Good on you,” Natasha spoke up.

Penny shrugged. “Pete and I have been talking about it for a while. I know the way things ended back in ‘80 was…bad, to say the least. But we really feel that this place has potential, and we could breathe new life into it.”

“What do the Seresins think about that?” Javy asked, his brow raised.

“We think it’s an okay idea,” a voice spoke up from across the room. 

The group looked up all at once to see the man stepping through the door. You tensed, taking in a breath. Your heart rate picked up, thudding against your chest as the chill of anxiety crawled along your spine. 

“Really?” Natasha piped up.

Jake nodded as he approached the group. “Yeah. Seeing as how Penny wants to dedicate this place to Missy. We all remember how much she loved it here. I firmly believe she’d want it to keep going.”

Penny smiled. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, Jake.”

He stopped at the empty end of the table, hands coming up to rest upon the back of the chair there. “But I do have one question.” 

“What’s that?” The woman asked.

Jake smiled, but you could tell is wasn’t a real smile. In fact, when you looked at his eyes, the pale green was filled with snake’s venom. “What the fuck is she doing here?” He jabbed his finger in your direction, and you froze, your eyes growing wide.

That was more like the reaction you’d been expecting. 

Penny faltered, her smile fading. Beside you, you felt Bob stiffen. But you didn’t dare pull your eyes away from Jake’s accusatory glare. 

“I-I just thought that–”

“I don’t care. Look, Penny; I really appreciate you putting this all together, but in what world did you think it was okay to invite the person who had a hand in my sister’s disappearance?”

“She isn’t the one who wanted to invite her. I am.” Pete stood from his seat, his eyes narrow. “I thought that she deserved a second chance. And I wanted you to find it in yourself to allow her that chance.”

“Oh, really? What, is she gonna bring my sister back? Hm?” Jake’s gaze was so cold. You wished the ground would swallow you up. How on earth could you have thought this was a good idea?

“No, but–”

“If she stays, I’m refusing the dedication. She’s the reason I lost Missy. She doesn’t get to just stand there and pretend she’s sorry, while my parents and I are still grieving.”

Your eyes had blurred with tears, and your chest was tight. You should never have come. 

But then, “leave ‘er alone, Jake.” Bobby stood up, facing the other man. 

“Oh, you coming to her rescue is rich, Baby on Board. Wasn’t it your dick she was sucking when my kid sister went missing?”

The room went dead silent.

Bob took a breath. Then two. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. She’s here, whether you like it or not. And she deserves another chance, just as much as anybody.”

“No, you know what? You’re right. This was a mistake. I should never have come,” you spoke up, rising from your chair.

But Bobby grabbed your arm. “No. Don’t let him drive you away.” His eyes were pleading.

You pulled away from his grasp, sadly shaking your head. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Then you turned to Jake. “I wish I could bring your sister back. But I can’t. You need to know that I cared about her. And I should have been more thorough when I did bed check that night. I regret it every day, and I’ve lived with that guilt for the last six years. But my guilt is nothing compared to the loss you and your parents have had to endure. And for that, I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll leave, if that’s what you’d prefer. I never should have come in the first place.”

With that, you ducked your head, pushing your chair out of the way as you scrambled toward the exit. You could hear Bob calling your name, but you ignored him, your legs carrying you quickly toward the door. Your vision had tunneled, and your chest was heavy. You had to get out of that building. You felt like you were suffocating. Like someone had pulled a plastic bag over your face.

You threw your arms out in front of you and shoved the door open, letting out a great heaving sob as you stumbled down the front steps. You made it a few feet from the stairs before you leaned forward, hands braced on your knees as you fell apart.

“Oh, God!” You cried. You heard footsteps quickly approaching. It made you whirl around. “Just leave me the fuck alone!” Came your wail.

“No! I don’t care what he says, you deserve to be here!” 

It was Bob, you realized. 

“What do you want me to do, then?! He doesn’t want me here, Bob! And I never should’ve come. So just…just pull the truck around and I’ll get my luggage and get the fuck out of here.”

“No.”

“Either you take me back to the station, or I’ll get someone else to do it!”

“No other buses are running until tomorrow morning, so you can’t leave anyway! You’re stuck here for the night.”

“Goddammit!” You yelled. “I just want to leave!”

He grabbed you by the shoulders. “You’re not listening to me! I can’t handle watching you walk away from me again. I lost you once, and I’ll be damned if I let Jake Seresin be the reason I lose you again!”

And then, silence.

“Oh.” 

He released your shoulders suddenly, his face stricken. “I-I’m sorry. I’m coming on way too strong. This is probably super overwhelming for you and I’m just making it worse.”

“No. No, you…you aren’t.” A pause. And then, “I don’t want to walk away from you again, either.”

“If you want to leave, then I’ll take you to the station tomorrow morning. But I just want you to try and stay. I know Jake doesn’t want you here, but I’m sure Pete can convince him to at least give you a chance.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

However, back inside the mess hall, a discussion was happening. “I’m sorry, Jake. I know we should have told you we invited her back. I take full responsibility for that oversight. But your parents…they knew she was coming. We checked with them beforehand. Your mom is of the belief that we should give her another chance.”

“What?” Jake asked, incredulous. 

“Yeah. So, I know it’s hard for you, but if your mom is willing to forgive, then I’m going to respect that, and give this girl a chance. You know she’s lived with this guilt for so long. I think that’s punishment enough.”

The blonde sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t like it. If it was up to me, she’d be on the next Greyhound outta here. But if my mom wants her here…” He looked out the window, eyeing you and Bob as you spoke to each other. “It boggles my damn mind, but I’ll respect my mom’s wishes. That doesn’t mean I forgive her, though. I don’t think I ever will. But you go ahead and keep her on staff. Something tells me it ain’t gonna end well, but what do I know?”

And with that, Jake stalked off in a huff. 

He swung the screen door open, and your head shot up, your eyes widening as you saw him coming down the steps. Bobby took a protective step toward you. 

“You can stay,” Jake said as he walked past. “But only because my mom is the one who wanted you here.” Then he leaned in close. Well, as close as Bob would allow him to get. “But just know this. If you fuck up in any way, shape, or form, I’ll ship you back home myself. We clear?”

“Y-yes,” you responded with a curt nod. 

“Good.” 

And with that, Jake Seresin walked away.

You let out an unsteady breath, your shoulders slumping. Bobby looked at you, his gaze questioning. “What are you gonna do?”

You shook your head. “I…I don’t…”

“You don’t need to decide now. Just sleep on it. Make your decision with a fresh mind, alright?”

“Yeah,” came your whispered reply. “Yeah, that’s–that’s what I’ll do.”

He took his baseball cap off, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot for you. Do ya wanna just turn in early? I’m sure they’d understand if you skipped orientation.”

You considered his words, and finally, you shook your head. “No. I’ll, uh, I’ll try to go, and see how I do. But I think I’m going to just go and lay down for a while until then.”

“Want me to walk you back?”

“I’d like that.”

With a soft smile and a nod, Bobby began to guide you back toward the cabins. Your hands were shaking, and your head was spinning. It felt like someone had shoved their hands into your chest and taken hold of your lungs, squeezing them with all their might. 

It was a painfully uncomfortable feeling, and you hoped that it would pass soon. But as long as you were here, in this place that held so many memories, it would probably remain a permanent fixture in your body. The only thing that soothed it was Bobby’s presence.

Even after all these years, and after the sour note you’d left him on, being near him still felt so comforting and peaceful. It was an odd, but welcome, sensation. You hadn’t expected it to be this way. When you thought of seeing him again, you imagined it would be painfully awkward, or that maybe he would refuse to speak to you. 

But this was Robert Floyd you were talking about. He didn’t hold grudges. And if he did, then he’d been deeply hurt beyond repair. It was a relief to know that things were not beyond mending between you. At the moment, you were too overwhelmed and emotional to even consider what it might mean for you in the future. You were just grateful that he was near you again.

So much had changed. When you’d left him, he’d been more gangly. Twenty-two years old. Large wireframes perched atop his nose. All round cheeks and softer features. Now, he seemed a little taller. Or maybe, his slight bulk made him appear so. Gone were those gangly limbs, replaced with muscle that had been defined by physical labor. 

His hands, though. His hands had stayed the same. They’d always been big, but he’d grown into them. They suited him now. Strong and steady. Farmer’s hands. 

“You want me to come get you when it’s time for orientation?” The low cadence of his voice jarred you from your daydream.

“If you would? I forgot to pack my battery alarm clock, so have no way of keeping time.”

He nodded. “Sure. I can get ya one of those clocks. I actually have two, you can have one of mine.”

“You sure?”

“Yep, I don’t need two anyway. I’ll bring it to you later tonight.”

You shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Together, you stopped just outside your cabin, lingering at the foot of the stairs. Bob’s face was gentle, his eyes kind. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. I know it’s a for you lot to be back here. And Jake didn’t help anythin’ by reacting the way he did. But if no one else is happy to see you, I want you to know that I am. I’ll respect whatever decision you make, but I really do hope you’ll stay.”

You considered his words, mulling them over in your mind. He didn’t expect you to decide at that very moment, and you knew your brain was too overworked to make that decision then as it was. So, the best you could do was nod your head. “I’ll see you in a bit, Bobby.”

He hummed, mouth quirking into a smile. “See you in a bit, Kit.”

You watched him walk away, his footsteps sure, his stance confident. He had a swagger to him that he didn’t have six years ago. It suited him well. 

With a soft sigh, you finally turned and made your way into the cabin. As soon as the screen slammed behind you, you surged forward, collapsing into your bed, which was right near the door. Immediately, you buried your face in the pillow, and everything you’d been keeping inside came spilling out of you in bitter waves.

What had you gotten yourself into?

to be continued...

-

taglist (tagging those who showed interest; if you want to be added let me know)

@withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @ryebecca @up-thereinthesky @oldfangirl30 @attapullman @sebsxphia @delopsia @damrlova @fairyheart @hangmanapologist @laracrofted @callsignspark @bobfloydsbabe @milesmillergf @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @floydsmuse @senawashere @creatchie8

[matan4il]

Buddie 618 meta

Since this could have been the show finale, not just this season’s, I hope you allow me to do a small overview of the ep as a whole with this in mind.

I’m gonna be honest, I want to send ABC a bouquet of flowers, because if this would have been the show’s last ep, it would have been an incredibly disappointing one. Not that it didn’t have merit. 911 has always been about the importance of the good that we do - for ourselves, for our loved ones and for strangers. That’s why the significance of this ep’s emergency was actually great. We got to see the 118 saving themselves, each other and be saved by a complete stranger, who wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for the 118 saving him four seasons earlier. My issue with it is that it would have been better IMO to spread out this emergency over two eps, really give it room to resonate emotionally, in much the same way that Buck’s lightning strike did. That would have also left more airtime for the team’s personal lives to get closure.

When looking at the personal resolution to the 118’s stories, I did like the return to Henren’s adoption via foster care storyline, it needed closure and I’m so happy this is the one it got. I have talked in more than one fandom about the importance of showing how same sex couples ACTUALLY go about becoming parents, so I think this is extra significant. I can’t wait to see this not just being a wink at the end of a show finale, but an actually developed storyline in s7. I also think “Here’s to more chaos and more love” is my fave line in this ep and a perfect summary of the best of 911. I also loved Bathena getting to go on their honeymoon, getting to live carefree for a moment. They absolutely deserve this, and it felt even better thanks to being a callback moment. I also enjoyed seeing Madney seal the details of their wedding. I have loved and enjoyed them since Maddie called Chim cute in 206, they deserve all the happiness and joy, and to me, having to see her twice this season bracing herself for the possibility of losing Buck and / or Chim (in 611 and now) made it even more meaningful to see Madney happy by the end of the ep. Again, I can’t wait to see the actual wedding in s7. It’s gonna melt all of our hearts. Still, all of these resolutions felt a bit rushed and I believe they could have had more of an impact if they were more than blink and you miss it moments during the final montage.

But if those felt underdeveloped, that’s nothing in comparison with Buck and Eddie’s personal lives’ resolutions. Was 911 really going to leave them with the “endgame” of women who literally only showed up as Love Interests in the last couple of eps of the show? If I weren’t a part of fandom, as a casual viewer, I would sincerely not have even remembered Marisol from her emergency, so I would have been confused by her and Eddie’s conversation. In fact, I found it funny that when Eddie wants to text her, it’s presented as a disruption to Bobby’s talk, just like Buck’s call with Kameron. I also thought it was wild that we discover Marisol and Eddie exchanged numbers, because that most certainly wasn’t even hinted at during 617. We clearly saw him walking away, they exchanged a last look, and that was it. Eddie and Marisol are so underdeveloped, we don’t even know how they happened! Did Marisol rush after Eddie? Did he come back to ask her for her number? Did they both decide to take the leap? How did the conversation go? Why was their phone call in 618 so awkward if they had already made their intentions clear when they exchanged numbers? We have zero answers to these questions. This was so forced, so unearned, so underdeveloped, it makes it painfully obvious that it was done just to not leave Eddie heterosexually single. Because I’m sorry, homosubtextually, he’s been married for years.

Which brings me to Buck and Natalia. I gotta roll my eyes at my own 615 meta, where I talked about the meaning of her name connecting her to birth, now we literally had her at the birth of Buck’s bio kid. What a piece of ironic foreshadowing. And yet, despite Natalia being a bit more developed than Marisol, despite the fact that Buck had what was maybe the most invested in personal resolution in the finale, it was still a let down for me. We have mostly seen why Natalia doesn’t suit him in eps 615 and 617. She did come back in the finale, but then so did Taylor in 414. That doesn’t mean either woman fits Buck as a partner. I’m left with the uneasy feeling that we have here a rerun of that s4 finale in terms of the ep shoving both men into relationships with underdeveloped LIs. TBH, the juxtaposition makes 618 worse IMO. Because the comparison with Marisol and Natalia actually makes Ana and Taylor look slightly more invested in! That says a lot about how little 911 cares about the 618 LIs. But it also gives me this bad sense of stepping in place with Buck and Eddie in terms of their romantic development. For example, the fact that Buck ends up tying yet another one of his couches to yet another gf at a way too early stage of their r/s (too much time couldn’t have passed between Kameron giving birth, ruining Buck’s couch, and his conversation about getting a couch together with Natalia since he was just getting around to having the old one looked at to see if it could be saved. He’s once again rushing into commitment with a girl he doesn’t yet know well enough, and who we saw in 615 he was idolizing as truly seeing him, when the truth was very different or she wouldn’t have run out on him in 617. I also can’t tell you why Natalia came back based on the few interactions we’ve seen between them, we haven’t had a single meaningful moment between them so far to explain it, making it clear he’s going in circles. I do suspect Buck doesn’t realize this is him repeating past mistakes, he thinks this is progress given his ability to let go of the baby, which could be an interesting angle to explore in s7. But probably what makes giving Buddie rushed heterosexual “endgame” LIs worse is that every bit of development either man made that isn’t about their love life got sidelined in this ep...

I think in a sense, the underdevelopment of all of Buck and Eddie’s LIs, even the “endgame” ones in what could have been the show’s finale, might actually be a testament to the power of Buddie. If a showrunner knows they could never hope to develop any LI to have with either Buck or Eddie even a tenth of what they have with each other, that can explain not even trying. In fact, we got a reminder of the strong bond between these two men during the call. Buck saved Eddie, just as Eddie saved Buck during the lightning strike. The way they looked at each other, the zoom in on their hands grasping one another, was very emotionally poignant exactly because we have seen these two losing their whole damn minds trying to save the other man on more than one occasion. And Buck used the words “I got you,” a reminder that they will ALWAYS have each other’s back, on and off the field. 

The good news is that ABC has a chance to correct the course of where this finale left off. I do believe the move is being done knowing they would have to rejuvenate 911 if they want it to fare better than on Fox, and I think that giving Buddie the room to become canon would be exactly that. But I have said in more than one of my ask replies that to me, no matter what, this show has been telling the epic love story of Buck and Eddie, with the little family they built. Whether TPTB go through with that canonically or not, this is what they gave us. And nothing will take that away from me. If 911 ends with Buddie being single, I’ll just assume their feelings realization and confessions happen after the end of the show. If 911 ends with “endgame” heterosexual LIs, I’ll just know that those couples eventually break up at some point during the 118’s post-show future, and then Buddie finally get together. Because that’s the story we got over the course of the last 5 seasons, one that only has a single possible resolution, whether the show itself gives it to us or whether it forces us to have to imagine and write it down in fix-it fics ourselves. We ALL know what we saw. We ALL get what Buddie have. We ALL see how that inevitably would lead to them getting together sooner or later, and if it doesn’t happen during the show, then later it is, but it WILL happen. That’s how I look at the show, and that’s why even if this were the last ep of it, it still wouldn’t have destroyed Buddie for me. I hope this POV can help others, too.

~~ I’m gonna be here during the hiatus, if anyone wants to be here with me. Thank you so much to all of you who made s6 a lovelier ride by taking it with me! I’m endlessly grateful for every single one of you. xoxox

~~ (my weekly meta posts) (my Buddie gifs) (all of my content)

~~ My tag list will follow in the reblog, please let me know if you wanna be added/removed here.

~~ Thank you to the amazing @whosoldherout​​ for making this season so much better with your gifs, for these meta posts and in general!

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buck & Eddie: An EXPLANATION (NOT AN EXCUSE) for the basketball incident

After rewatching different scenes included in 7x4, the basketball scene where Buck appears to ‘intentionally’ bump into Eddie which caused Eddie to be injured pissed me off.  It frustrated me so much that I wanted to figure out why the scene was included in the episode because they were playing a friendly game of basketball and there shouldn't have been any injuries.

Even though I’m not well versed in sports, I do know enough about them to understand tackling someone usually happens in U.S. football not basketball, so the full body contact wasn’t necessary if Buck just wanted to block Eddie’s shot (get it… Buck was trying to block Tommy’s shot with Eddie, it’s a double entendre 🤪😜).  The point is, I figured there had to be more to Buck’s behavior than him just being ‘jealous’ of someone he met like once a couple of weeks prior.  Also, I wanted to know why Buck didn’t immediately apologize to Eddie and I think I may have found the answer.

Full Disclosure: I do NOT condone violence of any kind in any instance because it’s unacceptable behavior no matter how it’s viewed!  It’s never the answer to a dispute and use of words can usually resolve a matter when there's a disagreement.  In this scene BUCK DID NOT DO THAT AND I HATED IT!  Therefore, his actions on the basketball court were unfathomable and it doesn’t matter if they were INTENTIONAL or not since he bumped into Eddie so hard that Eddie fell and injured his ankle.  He could have broken it or received a permanent injury from it, so IT WAS NOT OK!

Before I delve into my interpretation, please understand I don’t think Buck was fully aware and I hope he wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt Eddie.  However, I do think his actions were 70% subconscious and 30% conscious because he had to know on some level, that his actions were over the top especially since he told Maddie he didn’t like how he felt left out from Eddie spending time with Tommy after only two weeks.

THIS POST DOES NOT INTEND TO PROVIDE AN EXCUSE FOR BUCK’S BEHAVIORS, IT’S SIMPLY A POSSIBLE EXPLANATION FOR THEM.

Please note: these are my interpretations and observations of episode 7x4; therefore if someone doesn’t agree, it’s ok because two people can have different opinions and they can coexist.  One person’s opinion about a scene or an episode doesn’t have to be like someone else’s and it doesn’t make one person’s opinion right and the other’s wrong or vice versa.  Everyone consumes and interprets media differently and just because one person sees something one way and they liked it, it doesn’t make it so for someone else since everyone has different backgrounds and experiences.  Please try to use GRACE when reading other’s thoughts on a matter.

Now back to the regularly scheduled program…

Don’t read below the cut if discussions and interpretations of the shooting, Eddie’s breakdown or the basketball scene are triggering.

Before you start reading, please note, THIS IS NOT ABOUT OS!  HE’S THE ACTOR WHO PLAYS BUCK SO DON’T GET THIS POST TWISTED.  BUCK IS A FICTIONAL CHARACTER AND OS IS A REAL PERSON.  NO ONE KNOWS OS PERSONALLY EXCEPT FOR THE PEOPLE HE ALLOWS IN HIS LIFE.

Another Reminder: before you read this please REMEMBER this episode was told from BUCK’S POV!

After carefully analyzing the basketball scene, I remembered something about Buck’s past.  Everyone who knows the character is fully aware that he doesn’t want to be left behind or abandoned again.  That's why it's important to note that in season 7, Maddie’s getting married to Chimney, Bobby and Athena almost died on the cruise and Hen and Karen are adopting a baby.  Everyone in their found family is moving on with their lives and IMO, when Buck realized Eddie had moved on too, he couldn’t handle it because Eddie’s supposed to ALWAYS be there. They have each other's backs and have had them since 2x1. But it seems like Buck forgot one thing, he pushed Eddie away in 6x15 with that BS line about Natalia seeing him and outside of work, they weren't spending time together anymore.

In 7x4, Eddie found a new friend (who wanted him but I’ll elaborate on that in another post) and he was having a great time going to fights in Las Vegas, spending time working on his cars and going to karaoke, basically he was doing the damn thing but Buck couldn’t handle it since Eddie and Chris are his FAMILY!  They’re the two people in his found family that are his but he’s either too scared to say something or I don’t even know what but the point is, he expects them to be there whenever he’s lonely and wants to cook some lasagna or something.  But this time they weren’t since Eddie moved on and Buck didn't know what to do about it (Hint: all he had to do was open his mouth and talk🙄). 

After I remembered the aftermath of the shooting and Eddie’s breakdown, I realized, in Buck’s mind, he thinks the only time he gets to be with Eddie in the way he wants to be with him (AS HIS HUSBAND) is when Eddie’s hurt (related post linked here) which is FALSE AND UNFOUNDED but in Buck’s mind, he doesn’t know that.  If this is his rationale, then he needs to go back to therapy because it’s not true.  Eddie added Buck to his will and named him to be Chris’ legal guardian but it appears he still hasn’t fully dealt with his abandonment issues yet and until he does, it's likely he won't be able to move past them.

Before Eddie found a friend with similar interests (which I thought was great) Buck got to be Eddie’s everything and he was Chris' other dad. He's never been a guest in their home and he's slept on their couch numerous times (related post linked here).

That was then and this is now since things changed in season 7 because it appears Buck started to believe his position in Eddie’s and Chris’ lives was in danger and that’s why he reacted the way that he did in 7x4.  He thinks the only time Eddie and Chris need him is when Eddie’s hurt and to prove my point, I’ve included two examples below.

In 4x14 (full video of the shooting linked here), after Eddie had been shot and he was in the hospital, Buck was at 4995 S. Bedford St. taking care of their son Chris while Eddie’s then girlfriend, Ana was sitting by Eddie’s hospital bed even though he was in a coma. 

Buck had full control of the house and he was fully responsible (with Carla’s assistance whenever he had to go to work) of taking care of Chris, making sure he went to school all while they waited for Eddie to wake up.  Make no mistake, Buck was sitting in Eddie’s chair at the dining room table.  He’s Chris’ other dad and has been for years.

In 5x14 (video linked here), Buck was literally living with Eddie and Chris after Eddie’s breakdown. He was taking care of the house and their son whenever Eddie went to therapy. He made sure Chris did his homework and he was waiting for his HUSBAND (EDDIE) to come home so he could cheer him up👀.

Chris called him in a panic and Buck rushed over to help.  Now, even though Buck had a girlfriend (whom he used to help him get information on how to help Eddie with Equine Therapy), he was literally staying with them to make sure Eddie and Chris both got what they needed.

Bonus points: Buck called Bobby (his found dad) to stay with Eddie so he wouldn’t wake up alone while he left to take Chris to school.

In 7x4, Buck tried everything he could to get EDDIE’S ATTENTION (it was Eddie’s attention he was seeking) but nothing worked since Eddie was so enamored with Tommy and all of Tommy’s toys (I’ll elaborate on this topic too in another post).  Buck was pissed so he encouraged Chimney to go to the basketball game with him but trust and believe Buck wanted to be there so he could see EDDIE!

It appears Buck was irrational and irritated and the more he saw the new bond between Eddie and Tommy, the more furious he became.

This is where things get messy because in Buck’s mind (reminder this is from his POV) it’s possible he thought that if he physically injured Eddie, he’d get his place in Eddie’s life back and he’d be able to play the role of HUSBAND (to Eddie) and DAD (to Chris) like he did in the past.

Buck truly believed Tommy was a threat to his place in Eddie’s life and that’s the reason why he reacted the way he did during the basketball scene.  The idea of him losing Eddie was real this time just like it was during the shooting and Eddie’s breakdown but there's ONE MAJOR DIFFERENCE.

EDDIE’S HAPPY!

He’s not hurting or pressing Buck to hang out with him and Chris because he went and found a life while Buck was entombed in his loft with the death doula.  It’s something Buck couldn’t process or comprehend since he wants Eddie to be there waiting for him.

Buck can’t fathom a life without Eddie and Chris because they're his family and trust and believe he’s never felt threatened by Ana or Marisol because he KNOWS Eddie’s not into them.  Reminder, he was the one who told Eddie to breakup with Ana instead of him trying to stick it out like he said he was going to do. 

Buck is HYPER aware of Eddie in every scenario which is the reason why he noticed Eddie's discomfort in 5x2 while Ana and Chris were at the firehouse. Also, he ignored Ana when they were there. He wouldn't even look at her. Buck's not bothered by Marisol either because if he was, he would have told Eddie in 7x1 to have her talk to Chris about women instead of asking him to do it.

When Buck’s facial expressions are examined, it’s easy to see he looks mortified at what he'd done to Eddie and the hints of their shared trauma from his past was mixed in too. 

This was especially true while Eddie was on the ground.

Bonus points: when was the last time Buck saw Eddie injured and lying on the ground?

Ding, ding, ding… THE SHOOTING!  Buck risked life and limb to save Eddie after he was shot in the middle of the street. And I believe he would have reacted differently if Tommy hadn't stepped in and said something that caused Buck to deflate.

Things were different this time because Eddie wasn’t shot but he was injured but Buck caused it and he wasn't able to fix it or save Eddie and take him home or to the hospital. Buck tried but Tommy shot his own shot which caused Buck to foul out of the game and by proxy he thought out of Eddie's life.

In the above GIFs, it’s easy to see how he wanted to reach out to Eddie but his hands wouldn’t move the same way he couldn’t touch him in 4x14 while they were riding in the back of the 133’s fire engine.

Before I end this post, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention how Buck has hurt someone before; it wasn’t physical that time but it was emotional. 

BE CLEAR, I’m not a fan of Taylor Kelly’s and I’m not comparing him asking her to move in with him after he did a dumb thing (his words to Maddie in 5x13) with the way he injured Eddie.  But I am using this as an example to show his lack of comprehension regarding how his actions affect others and the way it continues to persist.

In 5x13, when he went back to the loft and she was sitting on her own couch, he said, “You think I trapped you” and she responded, “Am I wrong?”, his response was, “I’m not sure”.  I think on some level he did know since he was afraid someone else was going to leave him. Eddie wasn't at the 118 and Maddie, Chimney and Jee-Yun had just returned to Los Angeles.

Two years later, in 7x4, Maddie asked him, “You didn’t mean to hurt him (EDDIE), did you?”; he responded, “I don’t know”.   His response was very similar to the one he gave Taylor and on some level, I believe he does know since he was 'jealous' of EDDIE hanging out with someone other than him.

IMO, Buck wasn't able to get the emotional skills one usually obtains while they're growing up because of the raggedy Buckley parents since they emotionally abandoned him and Maddie.  He’s deathly afraid of losing those he loves but he can also be selfish with his presence whenever he gets to make things all about him.  Reminder, he admitted it to Eddie in 3x9 during his second apology about the lawsuit. He said, "I'm sorry I wasn't there Eddie. You and Chris needed me and I had my head so far up my own behind with that stupid lawsuit." He was able to fix it back then and there wasn't any other people like Tommy hanging around to get at Eddie.

Additionally, two more examples of the way he makes things about himself happened in season 5 when he was dating Taylor and they remained entombed inside of his loft.  They never went anywhere except for the separate trips they took to Oklahoma when she went to visit her dad in prison. It happened again with Natalia at the end of season 6.  Since he wasn’t visiting Eddie and Chris, it appears he was entombed in there again with her so there’s that.

Be CLEAR, Buck is 32 years old (not 30 like the show lied and said he was in 6x11 because he was 28 in season 3 (3x1 Maddie said it to Bobby and Athena) and he was 29 in season 4 (4x5 proves it when he said it himself to Maddie) and since MATH IS A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE, it’s the same no matter where someone lives.  The fact is 2 + 29 = 31, therefore he was 31 in season 6 and he should be 32 in season 7). Buck should be able to express himself with words instead of acting like someone in middle school.  That’s possibly the reason why Maddie told him about the kerfuffle she had when she was 14 years old and told him not to act like someone that age.

The point of this post is Buck was/is afraid Eddie’s leaving him again but this time it’s different.  Buck had all but abandoned Eddie and Chris while he was dwelling inside of his loft with the dEaTh DoUlA and when he finally emerged after breaking up with her, he thought Eddie and Chris would be there waiting for him but this time they weren’t.  Eddie found a new friend and Buck felt left out so in his conscious and subconscious mind, he figured if he hurt Eddie, he would be the one there to take care of him like he’s done every time in the past.

But… Tommy stepped up and said, “I can take him because I brought him and there’s an urgent care near his house”.  If you look at the expression on Buck’s face, you can see he felt like it was over.  He’d finally done the one thing he thought he’d never do (even though he broke Eddie’s heart in 6x15 with his BS line about “She sees me”) but anyway, he didn’t have a leg to stand on anymore since Tommy was there for Eddie and he helped him by taking him to urgent care. 

I HATE THIS SCENE AND I WISH THEY HAD FOUND A BETTER WAY TO HANDLE IT.  I don’t like it when either of them gets hurt.

Finally, Buck needs therapy to deal with his inability to handle his emotions.  I know a lot of people want him to just move on from his traumas but the fact is he hasn’t and that's why he needs to get help to be able to learn how to process his thoughts instead of him just providing lackluster responses like, “I don’t know” or “I’m not sure”.

His behavior was inexcusable so HOPEFULLY, he’ll have to APOLOGIZE in CANON to Eddie who’s never intentionally injured him.

Will he apologize to Eddie for acting like a middle schooler in 7x5? Only the showrunner, writers, producers, actors and actresses know the answer to that question.

[samwinchesterswifu]

Dark Side of the Moon (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Requested: No

Season 5 x Episode 16

Warnings: none :))

MINORS DNI

A/N: I'm having such a good inspiration going back and re-watching the show. Including little moments that could have happened if either boys had a partner.

Word Count: 615

Summary: Unaware of being dead, the reader takes a moment to indulge in a memory that she had long since forgotten.

Completely unaware of the current situation unfolding, she finds herself in the entrance of Bobby’s house. However, she was dressed like how she used to when she was 16. A baggy white t-shirt and loosely fitting jeans. The shirt seemed to stretched out, and a cheap cologne came from the top hem of the t-shirt. Realizing it was the old cologne Dean used to wear when they were-

“Y/N?” 16-year-old Dean pops from the kitchen to greet her with the biggest grin on his face. His voice still slightly high from not hitting puberty quit yet.

A small grin forms on her face, she hadn’t seen this version of Dean in years. The Dean she knew.

“Come on, I got this situated on the couch,” Dean motions to follow him. She gives a small nod, following him into the living room.

Next to the couch was a small side table pulled out. A hot cup of tea, presumably fresh, and a thick lore book with a bookmark sticking out on top.

Dean sits on the edge of the couch, one leg stretched out, the other on the floor. He pats his lap, motioning for her to lay down. Doing what he asks, she gently lays her head on his leg. She looks up to Dean briefly, another wide tooth grin forms on his face. This was their favorite summer activity. Bobby was gone, and John had probably left the three of them there away on a hunt. The windows were open slightly, allowing the fresh breezy air to swift in.

Dean picks up the lore book and begins reading were they had left off previously. While at the same time, he began to pet her hair. Hearing Deans soothing voice, she began to drift off to sleep.

However, she was rudely awaken by the sound of rushing footsteps coming from the kitchen. Jolting up from her spot, younger Dean was not responding to what was happening. Merging around a corner, she spots a much older Dean, and much older Sam. The two stopping in their tracks looking between her and the Younger Dean that was left on the couch.

“Guys?” She asks, confused on how they got there.

They quickly explain everything, how Roy and Walt had killed them and they were in heaven living out their greatest moments. Hearing that, a deep blush forms on her cheeks.

“So this is yours..?” Her Dean chuckles lowly. Surprised but also understanding. She could only muster up a small nod.

“Is this what you guys used to do when I wasn’t around?” Sam asks honestly bewildered at how slow Dean used to be with her around.

“Yeah,” She admits with an embarrassed tone on her voice.

Another chuckle is heard from Dean. He walks towards her. Cuffing the side of her cheek and giving her a sweet kiss.

“I miss these moments too sweetheart,” Dean whispers. His green eyes shining like how they did whenever he was happy.

Suddenly, the world around them started to shake, and a bright light flashes into the windows. The boys mention for her duck and to stay quiet. They explain its Zacharia looking for them and that they had to find the next road. Discussing quickly, the boys make a decision to try the front door.

They all move towards that area. Sam opens the door and mentions that it was the correct move. Before leaving with them, she takes one final look back at the young boy the couch. He was in the same position, reading a loud the same book. She smiles, happy to have had a chance to relive that memory.

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

So what is the sleeping arrangements for the Toys since there is around 80 some of them being very tall in a kinda cramp house

And let’s not forget that there are issues with Toys with each other like DogDay(the Best Boy) with the Mini Critters you can guess why, along with CatNap, plus CatNap with Mommy Long Legs

So definitely issues

I talked about this with my beautiful and amazing partner and completely forgot about responding this ask! Okay, so:

During the first few months post-factory escape, the toys are all living in Angel's super small house. Things are cramped and only get worse after the authorities find the remaining smiling critters, still alive although all really pretty beat up. For this house, the sleeping arrangements are... Complicated.

We have a kitching, living room, Angel's single bedroom, bathroom and laundry room. With this setup, we have:

Huggy Wuggy, PJ Pug-a-Pillar and the mini huggies make a giant cuddle pile in the living room, where the rest of the smaller toys sleep.

Mommy Long Legs gets the couch because unlike the others she isn't made of pure fluff. The mini critters use her as a pillow.

Catnap is always awake during night time, keeping an eye out for intruders, so when he's doing his "patrol" the mini critters occupy his corner in the living room, waiting for him to come back. During daytime that corner is where he stays at taking naps.

Kissy Missy, Poppy and Dogday use Angel's room. Angel themself is always sleeping close to a different toy because everyone wants their attention.

Bunzo is ALWAYS sleeping next to Angel, he doesn't care, he's Baby and has bad separation anxiety.

Miss Delight grabs a cushion and sleeps in the kitchen because she's too used to sleeping alone and she's a bit paranoid at first. With time, some of the smaller toys start using her as pillow, after she allows them to do that.

When the other Smiling Critters finally start leaving the hospital, the arrangement changes to fit everyone.

Hoppy, Boxy Boo and Bubba go to Angel's room.

Huggy and the mini huggies sleep in the laundry room because they're all super flexible and love the cramped space. Angel doesn't like that at all but can't do much about it.

Kickin, Crafty and Bobby make a cuddle pile in the living room.

Picky goes to sleep in the kitchen because she can't bear staying close to the other critters after she ate pieces of them in order to survive.

When Angel finally finds the farm house, everyone basically speedruns moving out. There's a LOOOOT of bickering about who gets which room to sleep with whom, but I think the final arrangement is this:

Poppy, Kissy, Bobby and Crafty in their own #noboysallowed shared bedroom.

Huggy + the mini huggies, PJ and Bunzo in their own #nogirlsallowed (except Hoppy because she's really cool) room. This is also technically Boxy Boo's room but he has nightmares when he isn't sleeping next to Hoppy.

Hoppy, Mommy Long Legs and Piggy, even though Piggy sleeps more in the living room for the first few months. Some small toys also live in their own corner of the room here.

Bubba and Miss Delight, because they're the only ones who Get how the other works when it comes to room organization. Delight also sleeps in the living room for the first few months at first, and she and Picky become best friends during that time period.

The mini critters and small toys share a room that's also technically Catnap's, but he sleeps more at Prototype's hut than in there.

Dogday and Kickin have their own room! It's right next to Hoppy's, with she often also sleeping with them thanks to her nightmares.

Angel has their own room in theory because they're always sleeping in someone else's room. The toys still fight over their attention, rip.

Prototype has his own hut, and there's a place just for Catnap in there.

The farm house has some other rooms as well that are all repurposed into things like a small study room, a play room, etc. One room is left empty for when people come over to visit. This room is what becomes Catnap and Dogday's future room as well!

Prototype uses Angel's room to sleep when there's a thunder storm outside. Angel is afraid of him getting struck by lightning and their room is in the middle of the house where they can look out for the other toys, so Proto feels safest in ehre.

[bradshawsbaby]

No Words

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST. Miscarriage in the second trimester, intense grief, marital struggles, brief reference to a D&E procedure, mentions of blood, a hopeful ending.

Author’s Note: This was not an easy story for me to write, but it was one I really wanted to tell. Though I have not personally experienced a miscarriage, it’s something that has deeply affected my family, and an experience that many women I know, love, and care about have been impacted by. I don’t think it’s talked about nearly as much as it should be, which is what leads so many people to grieve and suffer in silence. This story is a tribute to the experiences that many people I know have gone through. Please know that if you or someone you know has experienced a miscarriage, you are allowed to grieve and mourn in the ways that you need to. My heart is truly with you.

This story was written for @cherrycola27​’s #top gun taylors version challenge. It was inspired by the song Bigger Than the Whole Sky, particularly these lyrics:

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye You were bigger than the whole sky You were more than just a short time And I've got a lot to pine about I've got a lot to live without I'm never gonna meet What could've been, would've been What should've been you

There were no words.

As the days faded into weeks, and the weeks melted into months, you tried and failed more times than you could count to find the words to make those around you understand the devastation and grief that you were grappling with.

But there were no words.

How could there be?

How could there be words sufficient enough to explain the way you cried yourself to sleep every night, salty tears soaking your pillow until your body finally took pity on you and allowed you to fall into a restless, miserable slumber? 

What could you say to make people understand that the throbbing ache in your body, the pain that still robbed you of breath when you were least expecting it, was surpassed only by the unbearable agony in your heart? 

How could mere words convey the thousands of ways your world had fallen apart, the way your dreams had shattered, the way your soul would never be whole again?

They couldn’t. They wouldn’t.

And so you had stopped trying.

You had stopped responding to texts from friends. You no longer picked up the phone when your family called. You had groceries delivered to the house.

The kitchen counters, which had once been covered with home-cooked meals and baking supplies, were now littered with restaurant menus and take-out containers.

On the days when you did manage to drag yourself out of bed, you usually made it only as far as the couch, where you’d curl up under your favorite blanket and stare blankly at the walls surrounding you, walls that had been home for well over a year, but which now felt as foreign as the mysterious, far-flung kingdoms you’d read about in the fairytales you’d loved so much when you were a little girl.

But you were no longer a little girl. And this wasn’t a fairytale.

He was worried about you. You knew he was.

You could see it in his blue eyes every time he looked at you, his gaze brimming with the tenderness and deep love that had always made you confident he was going to be yours forever.

“Sweetheart,” he would whisper every night when he came home from work, kneeling beside you where you lay on the couch and gently stroking your cheek with his calloused fingertips.

His name, so precious and beloved to you, always sat right on the edge of your tongue, but you weren’t able to get it out past the lump that seemed determined to remain permanently embedded in your throat. So you’d just look up at him, the sadness in your eyes mirrored in his as he brushed your hot tears away.

And every night, he’d carry you to the bath where he would wash your body clean with gentle hands. If only he could do the same for your heart.

Tucking you into bed, he’d lay beside you and hold you close as you sobbed, “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby.” Over and over and over again, his name falling from your lips like a litany, your voice raw with desperation.

“I know,” he whispered, rubbing your back with his strong, sure hands and pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. “I know, sweetheart.”

But did he know? He was the only one who could understand what you were going through, but did he really know?

You weren’t sure that he did, and that knowledge cut you deeper than words could express.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You and Bob were supposed to be happy. You were supposed to be glowing and bursting with anticipation, waiting any day now for the newest member of your family, your sweet little bundle of joy, to arrive.

But instead, your womb and your arms were empty, and your husband came home every night to a wife who could barely make it through the day without falling apart, a wife who turned away from him when he reached for you, determined to hide from him the tears that still choked you every night, even four months later.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Everything had been going so well. The joy you’d felt when you first saw that little positive sign on your pregnancy test had been exceeded only by the look of pure awe on Bob’s face when you told him the news that he was going to be a father.

You’d had so many grand plans for how you were going to tell him, so many sweet ideas swirling in your brain for how you were going to make this life-changing announcement. But in the end, your excitement had gotten the better of you and you’d found yourself flinging your arms around your husband as soon as he walked through the door, sobbing and laughing in tandem as you shouted, “We’re having a baby!”

You’d done everything right. You took all your prenatal vitamins, went to all your appointments, took care not to put too much strain on your body. Every time you and Bob walked out of your doctor’s office, hand in hand with a new ultrasound picture of your growing babe, you felt like you were floating on air. Was it possible to be so happy?

Turns out, it wasn’t.

Because despite doing everything right, despite taking all your vitamins and eating all the right foods and following all the prenatal exercise plans, despite every appointment going perfectly, despite making it to your second trimester and telling all your family and friends, you were still met with the most devastating words you’d ever been on the receiving end of:

Your baby no longer has a heartbeat.

You had known something was wrong the second you saw the ultrasound technician’s smile falter, her brow furrowing as she gazed intensely at the black screen. The smile she quickly pasted on as she turned to you was tight, though not nearly as tight as Bobby’s grip on your hand as she rose from her stool with a murmured “Please excuse me for a moment” and hurried out of the examination room without a backwards glance.

Your mind knew what your heart refused to accept as the technician returned several painfully long minutes later with your doctor, who took the stool she’d vacated and lifted the ultrasound wand once more, pressing it firmly to your rounded belly. You felt the sob catch in your throat, saw Bobby lower his head as your doctor turned to face you with a sorrowful look in his kind eyes.

“Mr. and Mrs. Floyd, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I’m afraid your baby no longer has a heartbeat.”

It was all a blur after that. You were aware that your doctor was talking, but he suddenly sounded so far away. You could feel your husband’s eyes on you, his large hands gently squeezing and caressing, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the ceiling of the examination room. Had you ever noticed that it was painted light blue before?

The words came to you in fragmented pieces, none of them seeming to make sense.

Late miscarriage.

Often caused by chromosomal abnormalities or congenital defects.

Never detected in any of your scans.

Sometimes these things just happened, and no one could explain why.

Sometimes these things just happened.

Being so far along…it would have to be a D&E…could be performed right here in the office…recovery could take up to a couple weeks…

Sometimes these things just happened.

No one could explain why.

Sometimes these things just happened.

Why?

That was the only question, the only thought at all, that kept echoing in your mind after it was all said and done and Bobby finally brought you home, your body feeling battered beyond repair.

You didn’t cry at all those first couple days, when the anesthesia and the grogginess were still working their way out of your system. You saw the silent tears that streamed down Bob’s face as he held you—he’d taken off two weeks from work to take care of you in the aftermath of the procedure—but you just couldn’t understand. It was like your mind was trying to shield you from the awful reality, from the truth that your baby was gone, by blocking out any consciousness of it.

But that fragile illusion could only last so long.

When you woke one morning to painful cramps, tears glistening on your lashes before you had even opened your eyes, you sat up with a gasp and pushed the covers back, only to find your inner thighs and sheets soaked with blood.

You didn’t even realize you were screaming until Bob came frantically running into the room, his eyes quickly taking in the sight before him as he rushed to your side, cradling your face in his hands until you met his gaze.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he assured you, keeping his eyes locked with yours. “I’m here.”

“The blood, Bobby, the bl—”

“The doctor said it was normal. That it might happen for a couple weeks after the—after the—”

He couldn’t say it, but you knew. With sudden, sickening clarity, the pieces fell into place inside your brain and you could no longer hide from the truth of it.

Your baby was gone.

Once the tears came, they couldn’t stop.

Bob tried everything in his power to give you the comfort that you needed. He held you tightly as you sobbed for hours on end. He patiently accepted how you pushed him away whenever your paralyzing grief turned to raging anger, and he was quick to offer words of forgiveness when you tearfully apologized afterwards. He made sure you ate, made sure you took your medication, made sure you bathed each day, even when the thought of getting out of bed seemed an insurmountable task.

He was so good to you. He loved you so much. Through the haze of your own grief, you knew he was grieving, too. And yet, as the weeks passed into months, you found it harder and harder to talk to him.

There were just no words. Not even for the man who shared the burden of a grief as heavy and desperate as your own.

You had tried so hard in the beginning to make everyone see. To help them understand how you felt. But how could they? Your friends and family were so supportive, constantly checking in and asking what they could do to help, but the answer was nothing. They could do nothing to help. They couldn’t bring your baby back, and that was all you wanted.

Your grief was all-encompassing. You felt like you were drowning in it, and you couldn’t figure out how to make them understand that. You couldn’t make them see that you didn’t know how you were supposed to go on, living with this giant hole in your heart. It felt impossible that someone could still be able to breathe and walk and talk and go through life when their heart had been destroyed so completely.

But still, you tried. For weeks, you tried. You saw the sympathy, the sadness, the desire to help in your loved ones’ eyes. But you never saw that flicker of understanding.

No one understood.

A month after your miscarriage, you decided to try going back to work.

“Are you sure?” Bob asked, worry furrowing his brow after you told him of your intentions. “Mr. Buchanan said you could take as much time as you needed,” he reminded you. Your boss had always been a kind man, and that had proven to be even more the case in the wake of your unimaginable loss.

“I know, but I think it might be good to try getting out of the house. Maybe it will help start to take my mind off things,” you told him, trying to offer him a smile, though you had a feeling it came out more like a grimace.

“Okay, sweetheart. But only if you’re sure,” Bob nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He drove you to work the next day, squeezing your hand encouragingly before you could climb out of the car. “I’m going to keep my phone on me at work today. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

As it turned out, you needed him much more quickly than you could have anticipated.

After only being back in the office for a few hours, you locked yourself in the bathroom, the tears streaming down your face as you pulled out your cell phone with trembling hands and called your husband.

“Sweetheart?” Bob’s voice sounded anxious over the line as he picked up after only one ring. “What’s wrong?”

“Bobby, please,” you sniffled, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “I need you to come get me.”

Your husband didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Bob was the one who spoke to Mr. Buchanan, wrapping his arm around you and shielding you from the curious glances of co-workers as he led you out of the office building where you’d been working for the past few years.

Neither of you spoke on the drive home. Bob kept his gaze firmly on the road ahead, and you stared out the window, tears streaming down your cheeks.

It wasn’t until the two of you were finally back inside your house and seated on the couch in the living room that Bob slowly asked, “Sweetie, what happened?”

That was when you broke down completely.

“They didn’t even care!” you sobbed, your voice breaking as your shoulders slumped forward and you buried your face in your hands. “They didn’t even—they didn’t—” You could barely catch your breath, you were crying so hard.

“Hey, hey,” Bob murmured soothingly, moving closer to you and wrapping one strong arm around your shoulders, tucking you against his chest and resting his chin atop your head. “Slow down, sweetheart. You’re going to make yourself sick,” he told you in a gentle voice, rubbing slow circles on your back until you calmed down somewhat, small hiccups escaping your lips. “They didn’t what?” he prompted carefully, once he thought you had regained some of your composure.

You looked up at him then, your face streaked with tears and your eyes brimming with a pain he would have given anything in the world to take away from you.

“I—I wanted to t-talk about the—the baby,” you explained in a shaky voice, laying your head on his shoulder as he continued to rub your back. “I just—I wanted to talk. But—but no one would let me. Every time I tried, they just told me how sorry they were and then changed the subject. One w-woman even told me that it would be okay because soon I’d have another b-baby and then I’d forget all about this.” When you looked up at your husband, you saw the pained expression on his face at your words. “Forget about it? How could I ever forget about it? How?” you wailed.

Bob’s jaw clenched as he held you closer, brushing your hair away from your face and pressing kisses to your temple and the top of your head. “People try to be nice, but sometimes they don’t understand how ignorant their words are—how hurtful they can be, whether they mean them to be or not,” he said, his voice pinched as he tried to remain calm and steady for you.

“No one cared, Bobby! They didn’t even want to know his name! It’s like he didn’t matter, like he didn’t even exist. But he did!” you cried, wrapping your arms around your husband’s neck and clinging to him as you fell apart.

“Yes, he did, sweetheart. He did. He was our son,” Bob whispered, leaning back on the couch and pulling you onto his chest as you continued to weep.

You and Bob had known you were having a baby boy. You’d found out just a few weeks before you’d lost him.

“A boy! Oh my goodness, Bobby, a boy!” you’d exclaimed happily when you’d opened the envelope from your doctor’s office. “Are you happy, honey?” you asked, wrapping your arms around your husband and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Bob beamed proudly, turning slightly so that he could capture your lips with his own in a sweet kiss. “So happy, sweetheart. I love you so much,” he whispered, resting a hand on your small bump. “You and our little guy.”

The two of you had even picked out a name—Oliver Robert Floyd.

“We could call him Ollie,” you giggled one night as you and Bob were lying together in bed, fingers intertwined as you dreamed together of who your baby would be.

“I like that,” Bob nodded, his face splitting into a wide grin as he gazed at you. “And who knows? Maybe he’ll end up with a call sign of his own one day,” he teased.

“Oh, would you like that? To be an aviator like Daddy?” you asked, glancing down at your belly and poking gently. You felt a tiny flutter in response, which made your heart sing. “He says he’d like that,” you told Bob, laughing brightly as your husband lowered his head to kiss you.

But Ollie would never get to be an aviator like his daddy. He would never get to be a little boy with big dreams. He would never get to be a man who carried on all the things you and Bob had taught him. He would never get to be anything.

Your son was gone.

But he had been here once. He had been real. You had felt him.

You couldn’t just forget him. You would never forget him.

And yet your co-workers and colleagues didn’t even care to know that he had a name.

After that disastrous first day back to work, everything started to go downhill. Mr. Buchanan said you could take as much time off as you needed, and you did. You didn’t want to go anywhere. You didn’t want to do anything. You didn’t want to see anyone. You just wanted to be left alone.

No one understood. No one knew what it was like to have to say goodbye to the child you had never even gotten to meet, never gotten to hold in your arms or give gentle kisses to. No one knew what it was to wake up every day and wonder who your child could have been, would have been, should have been.

It was a pain, a grief, an agony that you carried alone.

As time continued to pass, and the hurt only seemed to get worse and not better, you found it too difficult even to talk to your husband about it. And that hurt, because you loved your Bobby more than anything in the world. But as the weeks continued to slip by, it felt like he was able to move forward, to continue with his life, while you were caught in this intangible place of mourning. He was moving on, and you were stuck here, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do much of anything.

Bob could feel the distance growing between the two of you. You knew he could. He’d reach for you, and you’d stiffen or pull away. He’d try to talk, and you’d tell him you were tired and needed to lay down.

The hurt that flashed across his face each time you pulled away was like a constant knife in your heart, but you didn’t know what to do. The chasm just kept widening every day, and you no longer knew how to cross it.

“I stopped by Dr. Morales’ office today on my lunch break and picked this up,” Bob told you one night when he returned home from work. You were sitting on the couch and just blinked at him blankly. He set the glossy pamphlet down in front of you. “It’s for a support group at the hospital. For women who have miscarried or lost their babies. Dr. Morales highly recommended it. He thinks it would be good for you.”

You just stared down at the pamphlet, but didn’t make a move to grab it. You didn’t say anything either, just continued to sit in silence.

“Sweetheart, I really think that we should—”

“I’m tired,” you said flatly, rising off the couch slowly and turning in the direction of your bedroom.

“Sweetie, please.” Bob begged, reaching for your hand, which you swiftly pulled out of his grasp.

“I just want to be alone,” you snapped, more harshly than you intended. Swallowing, you tried to look away from the pain that bloomed across your husband’s face.

“Of course, I’m sorry. I just…” Bob sighed, hanging his head. “Go get some rest.”

Turning away and fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over once more, you wrapped your arms around yourself and stumbled on unsteady feet towards your room. You resolutely refused to look at the door on your right as you passed by it, the door that had remained firmly shut since the day you had been given the news that your baby had no heartbeat.

All you wanted to do was sleep. At least when you were asleep, you could escape the pain that had been your constant companion these past four months. Not to mention, you could also escape the reality of the constant pain you’d been inflicting on your husband lately.

He was so good, so full of gentleness and love and compassion, and you just felt so broken.

Crawling under the covers, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried not to think about how perfect things had seemed just a few months ago.

When you woke with a start a few hours later, your bedroom swathed in darkness, you were startled to realize your husband wasn’t beside you. It felt as though he’d never come to bed at all. Trying to swallow back the nausea you sensed rising up your throat, you pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed slowly, padding across the room on quiet feet.

When you opened your bedroom door, you were met with darkness in the rest of the house.

Where was he?

Taking a tentative step into the hallway, you began moving slowly in the direction of the living room and that was when you saw the light up ahead. It was faint, as it was spilling from behind a door that was only partially ajar.

The door you hadn’t opened in four months.

You felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest, but you forced your feet to keep moving, one in front of the other  Your pulse quickened in your veins and your breathing grew more shallow the closer you came, until you were standing right outside the room.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, you carefully pushed on the door to your son’s nursery, widening the opening without stepping inside.

You had thought your heart was already broken beyond repair, but what you saw in that moment proved that that must not have been true, because you surely felt your heart break all over again.

There, kneeling on the floor beside the crib that he had proudly spent hours putting together with his own two hands, was your sweet husband, cradling the little teddy bear that the two of you had bought not long after you first discovered you were pregnant. The first gift you’d purchased for your baby boy.

Bob had his face buried in the bear’s fuzzy belly, his back turned so that he didn’t see you standing in the doorway. You were fairly certain he wouldn’t have been able to see you anyway, not through the tears.

Your husband was weeping, a heart wrenching sound that immediately cut through the fog that had been blanketing your heart and mind for weeks.

Letting out a soft cry, you immediately raced into the room that you had sworn you would never look at again—the nursery that you and Bob had spent so many happy weeks designing and decorating and organizing before all your big dreams had come to a crashing halt. Collapsing on the floor beside your husband, you wrapped your arms around him and held him close as he cried.

“Why?” Bob rasped, the tears streaming down his face as he lifted his head slightly, still clutching the teddy bear tightly to his chest. “Why?”

You felt the tears running down your own face as you shook your head, cradling his head against your chest and running your fingers through his honeyed hair. “I don’t know. I keep asking myself that same thing, but I don’t know. I don’t have any answers,” you admitted, resting your cheek against his soft hair.

Bob clung to you desperately, like a drowning man would cling to a life preserver. You held him just as tightly, the two of you weeping together in the center of the nursery your son would never get to see.

“I miss him,” Bob confessed quietly, his voice laced with such agony that it pierced you straight through. “He should be here with us, and he isn’t, and it isn’t right. It isn’t right,” he sniffed, his tears soaking the front of your shirt. “I miss him so much.”

“Oh, honey, I miss him, too. More than words can describe,” you cried, stroking his hair. “Every day, I wake up and for a second I think I’m going to feel him still inside me, or hear him crying in the nursery, and then reality hits me and I—I just can’t do it. I can’t even get out of bed some days.”

“I don’t want to either most days,” Bob told you, looking up to meet your gaze with his watery blue eyes. He’d never told you that before. “I wake up in the morning and I go through the motions and I get in the car and drive to work and I cry the whole way there.”

“You do?” you asked in surprise, eyes widening slightly. “You never—you never told me that.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Bob admitted, suddenly looking ashamed. “I wanted to be strong for you. I wanted to be your rock.”

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, reaching to cup your husband’s face in your hands.

“You’ve been through so much, and you’ve been suffering, and I didn’t want to add to any of your pain or make it harder for you in any way. I wanted to take it all away. And I knew I couldn’t do that if you were worrying about me on top of everything else,” he explained, a few stray tears trickling down his cheeks, which you brushed away with your thumbs.

“We’ve both been through so much,” you insisted, caressing his cheek lightly. “And you shouldn’t have to carry your grief alone. We’re supposed to carry it together,” you told him, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes for a moment. You took a deep breath before opening them again and continuing, “I thought—I thought maybe you were moving on.”

“What? No! Never,” Bob shook his head adamantly, cupping the back of your head and holding you close to him. “Did you think—oh, God, you didn’t think that I was just getting over it, did you?”

Your breath suddenly caught in your throat as you choked back a sob. “I didn’t know what to think. It felt like—I knew you were grieving, but our grieving looked so different and I didn’t understand yours and it felt like you were moving forward and I was just stuck here and I was going to be left behind because you were learning how to live with it and how to move on and I couldn’t and I—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bob gasped, the teddy bear still clutched in one of his hands as he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his nose against yours, seeking an intimate, close contact with you. “Oh, my love. No, no, no. I would never leave you behind. Never,” he promised, his lips brushing warmly against your forehead. “I was struggling because I didn’t know how to help you. It felt like everything I said was the wrong thing and every time I tried to get closer, you kept pulling back, and I was so scared to see you withdrawing like that, and I just didn’t want to push you too far. But I should have been honest with you. I should have let you see that I’ve been struggling, too. So much.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry,” you apologized tearfully, burying your face in his neck. “It’s been so hard trying to make people understand how I’m feeling. But I realize now that, as much as they may love me and want to help, they’ll never really be able to understand. But you do. You lost him, the same way that I did. You’re the only person I can share this grief with. And I’m so sorry that I pushed you away instead.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Bob murmured softly, wiping your tears away with gentle fingers. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry. Grief is messy, and right now we’re in the middle of the mess. I don’t know how long we’ll be here. Maybe a part of us will be here forever. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone but you. And I want us to get through this together,” he said, taking your hand in his and squeezing it tenderly.

“I want that, too,” you whispered, your voice cracking on the last word.

Bob pulled you into his lap and the two of you sat for a while in silence, your husband rocking you slowly back and forth as you sat on the floor of the nursery. You looked around at the walls, which you and Bob had painted a light blue—“Like the sky,” Bob had smiled when you’d chosen the color.

“I thought I’d never be able to come in here again,” you confessed, biting down on your lower lip. “I thought—I thought it would hurt too much.”

“I know,” Bob nodded, kissing the tip of your nose. “I know you never wanted this door open. But tonight, I just felt like I had to come in here. And when I did—well, it felt like a moment frozen in time, y’know? I looked at the crib and the rocking chair and the toys and the clothes and I just…” He let out a heavy sigh. “I just broke down. I just kept thinking about what could have been. What should have been. And who he would have been,” he murmured, running his fingers through the ends of your hair. “Sometimes I feel so broken, and other times I feel so angry.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” you told him, curling up against his chest. “I feel the same way.” You paused for a moment, turning something over in your mind before you went on. “I think part of me is afraid to let go of all this grief and anger because—well, because it’s all I have left. And if I let it go, I feel like it means I’m letting him go,” you admitted, your voice breaking as you started to cry again. “And I don’t want to let him go. I don’t.”

“Oh, honey,” Bob whispered comfortingly, squeezing you close to his chest. “I don’t want to let him go either. But you know what?”

“What?” you sniffled, wiping at your nose and looking up at your husband.

“We don’t have to,” he told you, grasping your chin in his hand and gazing deeply into your eyes. “He will always be our son. Always. No matter what some lady at work or anybody else says. He wasn’t just some moment, here one minute and gone the next. We’ll always have him.”

You nodded at that, your tears trickling down your cheeks and soaking his hand, which was still holding onto your chin firmly.

“But I don’t think that means we have to hold onto the pain forever,” Bob continued, kissing away your tears with gentle lips. “The grief will always be with us. We’ll carry it in our hearts forever. But I do believe that we’re going to be happy again. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. But soon. We’re going to be okay, sweetheart. I know we are.”

And for the first time in four months, you really believed that. For the first time since your life had come to a standstill, you had hope that tomorrow would be a brighter day. Like Bob said, the grief would always be there, a pain that you would have to learn to live with over time. And you would learn to live with it, so long as you had this man by your side.

Shifting in Bob’s arms so that you were facing him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, a bit shyly at first and then with more confidence. “I love you so much, Robert Floyd. I always will. Forever.”

Bob smiled, a genuine smile, and cupped your cheek in his hand as he pressed another kiss to your lips. “I love you with all my heart. Forever and always.”

The two of you sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, for a while longer until Bob finally rose, lifting you up as well. “Do you mind if I bring this with us to our room?” he asked, holding up the teddy bear he’d been holding tightly to all this time.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” you told him with a small smile, leaning against his side as he led you out of the nursery. Once the both of you were out in the hallway, he reached back to shut the lights off and was going to close the door, when you suddenly said, “Leave it open.”

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked down at you.

You were quiet for a moment, but then you nodded. “I’m sure.”

Gazing at you proudly, Bob slipped his arm around your waist and led you down the hallway to your bedroom, where the two of you slipped under the covers and found your way back into one another’s arms.

And as you slowly fell asleep, resting safely atop your husband’s chest, you realized the ache in your chest had lessened for the very first time.

You and Bob would survive this grief, together.

You would be okay.

Your husband had finally given you the words you had been searching for.

[evankinard]

Buddie Secret Relationship Conspiracy Manifesto

Hello. Welcome to possibly the most delusional buddie theory yet. This is a collaboration with @swiftiebuckleys, and as such I would like to cite our sources accordingly: dude, trust us.

Okay so I know a lot of people have talked about the theory of buddie possibly being in a secret relationship that is even a secret from the audience during season 6. For me, this started during 6A. It started because I was thinking about how 601 started with such a poignant and domestic Buckley-Diaz family scene that, as a part of a premier that was meant to establish where the characters are after four months of hiatus, told us Buck, Eddie and Christopher are living in each other's pockets as their own little family at the start of the season (I even wrote about this in this meta I posted while 6a was airing lmao).

But then for the rest of 6A there really wasn't any significant on-screen buddie or Buckley-Diaz moments, even though there was plenty that was implied at, including: Buck and Eddie planning to go to Marisol's house to help with repairs without the rest of the firefam, Buck and Chris hanging out so Chris potentially telling Buck the secret about skipping school even though he didn't tell Eddie, Buck and Eddie sitting in the back of the waiting room together separate from the rest of the firefam while they waited for news about Karen, and Eddie giving Hoover to Buck and convincing him to keep him even though his building doesn't allow dogs. What do all but one of these moments have in common? They're moments where Buck and Eddie were either alone or away from anyone who would know them from the rest of the gang and wouldn't feel the need to hide their relationship. When at work, Buck and Eddie had a reasonably normal amount of on-screen interactions, but it was only their moments happening outside of work that was pushed to the off-screen. (Bonus: one on-screen 6A moment that lives in my head rent-free and screams of secret relationship is that shot of them stepping into frame together and holding eye contact while the song lyrics in the bg go "I want your sex and your affection when I'm holding you close" in 609.)

However, while this^ is all well and good, it's 6B that really gives the secret relationship theory its wings.

Episode 10 gave us the lightning strike with a sequence that was shot almost entirely from the perspective of Eddie. While in the initial aftermath of the strike we see the shock on Hen, Chimney, and Bobby's faces, the scene is in slow-motion and muted until Eddie realizes what's going on and we watch every minute facial expression on his face as the horror dawns and he snaps into action. Eddie's reaction is what sparks everyone else's movement and then we see him completely forgo his own injuries and his own safety to save Buck. In the secret relationship trope, the near-death experience is a lot of the time what forces the couple to blow their cover and reveal their relationship. That didn't happen here as buddie were already close enough to warrant the strength of Eddie's reaction and Buck was unresponsive and there wasn't any time to lose. HOWEVER, episode 11 and the absence of a scene with Eddie alone at Buck's bedside can be explained by the fact that he couldn't be shone there or his bedside confessions would have given them away to the audience. As it is, other than Margaret and Maddie, Buck's mother and sister, he's the only one dressed in all black, his composure crumbling and unable to make eye contact with Buck's body in the hospital bed, the perfect picture of a grieving widow.

Episode 12 has the infamous couch scene which is meant to signal to the audience that Eddie is the couch Buck has been searching for, even if Buck himself doesn't know it. However, in the context of the secret relationship theory, what if the total lack of reaction from Eddie about Buck falling asleep on his couch is because they already know this?

Episode 13 has the infamous poker scene and this is where the theory actually diverges for a lot of people. Going with the original theory that buddie have been together since before 6A, this would explain Buck's lack of reaction to Eddie telling him to get dressed up and taking him out on what is essentially a date - he wasn't surprised or suspicious because it wasn't unusual. If you go back and watch the scene, you'll notice that it opens right when Buck and Eddie are approaching the door and about to be in the presence of other firefighters, but initially they're walking away from a dark alley while fixing their clothes - why would they need to fix their clothes unless they got messed up in the first place? Why wouldn't they show us the before or after of the poker scene, why only the parts where they're in the presence of other people from the department? Plus, Eddie really was looking TOO blatantly hungry in that entire scene, and he wasn't really hiding it from Buck - maybe because he's allowed, and expected, to look. This isn't even to mention the scenes of Buck, Eddie, and Christopher being a family, but I will go back to those later.

Where this episode splits this theory is the alternate potential for them to have gotten together after the poker game (my initial post after the episode first came out.) This would have been the perfect opportunity because there's really no way that if they weren't already together, the thought that this might be a date hadn't crossed Buck's mind (and, again, Eddie really did look too fucking horny in that scene it wasn't something you could ignore.) The next outside of work scene we see the Buckley-Diaz' in is the baking scene with Buck and Christopher. Eddie's location is completely unknown - he could be on shift, he could be running errands, he could be with Pepa - but the fact that Buck and Chris are together and baking for his class and planning dinner really drives home the fact that they are a family once again. However, the easy confidence of Buck parenting Christopher and the way he glowed with happiness in that moment would make even more sense if he had had his place in the Diaz family as Eddie's partner and Christopher's other parent confirmed to him.

One way to possibly combine the two theories is if we assume that Buck and Eddie were actually fwb throughout 6A (an idea given to me by @captainragtag) but actually got together after the poker scene. ANOTHER way is if we assume they've only been fwb, even after the poker scene. Them being fwb would potentially explain some holes in the theory, moments where they should have had a bigger reaction to something or known something beforehand if they were in a relationship (kind of the sperm donor arc and Eddie's reaction, but that could also be explained by Eddie's lack of reaction being because he already knew and was just pretending to be finding out for the first time with everyone else.)

Going into episode 14, all of these theories could explain the *gestures vaguely* everything about Eddie's storyline in the episode. If they're hiding a relationship, the absence of any mentions of Buck when talking about Eddie (and Christopher) being alone would make sense, especially after how pointedly the previous episode showed that Eddie is always spending his free time with Buck, with or without Christopher. It would also explain Buck's extremely unsubtle date-ruining advice - either they're together and Buck just doesn't want Eddie to go on the date because he doesn't want to share even to keep up pretenses, or they're fwb and Buck is jealous and afraid to lose Eddie and their relationship if Eddie starts actually dating. Also, considering how many pure fanfic tropes the writers have used before, it's safe to assume they have at least a baseline knowledge of how buddie are written by fans and what's the first trope every fanfic reader in this fandom learns about? Christopher's first and foremost wingman duty is to pack his stuff and go to a sleepover so his dads can do unholy things to each other. Christopher being at a sleepover when Pepa told Eddie to come over and him insisting that he was alone at home when just last episode we saw buddie spending all their time off shift together is just a little too sus if you ask me. Another secret relationship moment in the episode is Eddie going for the wrong gear shift in his own car. He initially reached for the gear shift on the center console when that's not where it is in his truck. But do you know where the gear shift is in a jeep? I'll give you one guess. Do we know anyone who owns a jeep? I'll give you another guess. This would make total sense since we know Eddie is a passenger princess and Buck would be driving them everywhere if they were in a relationship. Even when Buck isn't the one driving, Eddie would be much more likely to borrow his car more often if they were in a relationship and basically living together.

If this all doesn't convince you, I would like to leave you with the reminder of a moment that I'm sure has haunted all of us since 614 came out:

Actors are always aware when they're on camera and even if they aren't, the dozens of production people, including the director, would be. Do with that what you will.

(If anyone has anything they'd like to add to this feel free to message me or send me an ask and I'll make edits! And, I mean, this is all just for fun not to be taken seriously, but if there is a point that you think really brings the theory down also feel free to send me an ask about that lets see if I can provide a suitable explanation.)

edit: another thing to keep in mind as pointed out by the brilliant @swiftiebuckleys is the precedent set by 606 "Tomorrow" for flashbacks showing the start of a relationship.

[warnersister]

Make a mockery of Me.

Robert (Bob) Floyd x Reader

In which Bob introduces his girl to the rest of the dagger squad, but needs to remind you just who you’re talking to with that tone.

Warnings: just pure filthy smut

“Baby on board has a girl? How’s he pull you gorgeous?” Hangman asked, surprised: boisterously laughing as Bob introduced you to his work friends seeing as you had both ended up in Miramar due to work. “What do you mean?” You ask, leaning into your boyfriend’s side as you got acquainted with the other aviators and some familiar faces. “Well Bob is.. Bob’s Bob! But you.. you are a total babe!” Jake said matter of factly, taking a swig out of his beer; toasting to Bob “gotta hand it to you, you must have some game Bob” you crease your brows and look between your Robert and the others who seemed just as shocked as Hangman that you were a living and breathing thing.

“What hangman’s tryna say honey,” Rooster begins, dropping his sunglasses to the end of his nose in order to get a better look at you “is ol’ shy Robert Floyd here couldn’t pull a feather with a rope tied to it. Just a bit shocked you’re real, tha’s all darlin” he says with a shrug and you fairly pout, looking up to Robert with an almost shocked expression. “Bobby have you gone all shy?” You ask in a slight baby voice and the man tightens his grip on you, jaw clenching as you absentmindedly join in on the mockery with his coworkers. “Bobby here’s the most outgoing one back home, ain’t ya babe?” You ask, elbowing him. “Bob? Nah!” Coyote says and you nod “got a video of him doing body shots on the bar-” “Mkay that’s enough babe.” Bob says shortly, starting to pull you away from the hustle and bustle of the surrounding aviators and beginning to weave you through the bustling crowd of growing Hard Deck customers and straight into the large bathroom, locking the door as soon as he’d managed to shove you in.

“Bobby what-” “who the fuck do you think you’re talkin’ too little lady?” He asks, trapping you against the door as you quieten. “Bob I was just-” “just making a mockery of me in front of my friends, thought it was funny, oh Bobby’s gone all shy.. hmm?” He asks, using one hand to grab your jaw so you couldn’t look away. “Funny.. you didn’t think it was so hilarious when I was fuckin’ you stupid that night?” He eyes your face as you begin to notice the expression of lust developing in his eyes; there he was - there’s your bobby.

“Just had to go be a damn best didn’t ya?” He asked and shook his head, “guess you need reminding. Just because I call you princess, don’t mean you gotta act like one.” He says, fumbling with the perfected belt adorning his summer whites. “Why don’t you be a good girl and put that bratty mouth to good use huh? Go’on now, get on your knees angel.” He says as he releases your jaw and you slowly drop to the ground, careful to not let your dress get caught under your knees so it didn’t rip, taking his best dressed in your hands to skilfully unclasp the confinements and revealing what was being so painfully constrained.

You draw out a few testing swipes before taking him into your mouth, but this time he didn’t give you time to explore him, he just rutted at an ungodly pace into your mouth, allowing himself to use your throat as some kind of scape goat and fucking your brains out as intended. “See how you make fun of me when you can’t fuckin’ speak, huh angel?” He asked rhetorically, taking a few more fast paced thrusts before cumming into your throat and forcing you to swallow around him.

He took himself out of your mouth, a small string of saliva connecting him to your plump lips, eyes dilated. “‘M sorry Bobby.” You slur. “Ain’t good enough girl, ‘nd it’s sir to you girl” he tells you, picking you up off the ground only to push you against the door again your legs instinctively knowing to wrap around his toned torso. A hand wandered under your dress, only to discover what was.. or rather, what wasn’t there. “No underwear? Fuck you’re just tryna get fucked ain’t ya? Stupid slut.” He mumbled, positioning himself only to force himself straight back into you at an unwavering pace, your hand shooting over your mouth to prevent the agonising yet blissful screams that retaliated his motives. “Don’t wanna let them hear? Don’t wanna let them hear how shy ol’ Bobby fucks ya senseless like some cheep slut?” You shake your head “should think before you speak then, yeah girl?” He asks, but doesn’t offer an opportunity to reply as his pace increases “Bobby-” “Hm?” “-sir please” you whine between your fingers. “What was that? You’re mumblin babe” he taunts and you bring your hand away. “Sir please. Need to cum,” you beg and screw your eyes shut. “Hm, think you deserve it?” He asks and you nod reiteratively “so fuckin’ desperate.” He says “alright darlin’ seeing as you asked so nicely” he allows and you cum around him, him following suit a few moments following, time stopping as all movement was halted, the only sound a few rasped and desperate breaths.

“You alright angel?” He asked, bringing you down onto shaky legs as you nod and he holds you to get your balance momentarily. You move to try get some toilet paper to clean yourself but he grabs you “nuh’uh that’s gonna stay right where I left it.” He says, pulling you against him again “go wait at the truck” he unlatches the door “but Bobby, your friends” “go wait at the truck angel. I’ll be out in a minute” he instructs, pushing you out the door and you notice no one had taken note of your disappearance, only a bustling crowd of packed-in aviators.

You managed to walk out and stand by the red truck parked out front, leaning against the door for some sense of stability. Robert had headed over to Penny to pay his tab and bid farewell. “Did Baby on board just get laid?” Hangman shouts over the music but Bob just swallows and blushes slightly, b-lining for the door to see you struggling against the side of his old pick up. He smirks, unlocking the car and opening the door for you, picking you up to rest you down again in the car, staying silent only to walk around and get into the drivers side. He sits in his seat, reaching over to pull you into his lap so your back was against his door and sat between his legs. “Breaking a traffic law? Who knew Robert Floyd was such a daredevil!” You fawn with a gasp and he smiles down at you, stroking the back of your head as he offers you a deep kiss.

He starts the car and pulls out, ready to head back to the small house you’d both been put on for this station. “You really that shy?”

“Watch your mouth”

[anonymous-dentist]

Absolutely obsessed with Spiderbit's record books because:

Cellbit's official residence isn't his castle. It's Quesadilla Island's Federation Headquarters, aka the offices you get to via the train station

They actually have his blood type on record!

Also, does this mean that his employee number could be 435? Which is interesting because his coworkers and all the other Federation employees refer to him as "Mr. Cellbit", which is kinda like the Census Bureau because Cellbit more or less works under Cucurucho directly. And, as we know now, Cucurucho isn't actually a Federation employee, so maybe Cellbit isn't officially an employee, either.

Roier's home, again, is not listed as Cellbit's castle, which is where he's been living basically since his marriage. Everybody knows that he doesn't live in Bobby's Castle or Bobby's City because that's all just an extension of Bobby's Tomb, and Roier hasn't been in his house more than ten times since Bobby's death six months ago.

And then there are the kills:

(Cellbit, left. Roier, right.)

I've been sitting here for a WHILE trying to think of who they've killed-killed, and I think I've figured it out?

Cellbit, I believe the day before his wedding, murdered Maximus because Maxo was talking about politics, and that was Not Allowed. Outside of that time, he has made a point of not killing any players because of his Trauma- the only players he's ever properly attacked outside of that kill have been Forever (day of the wedding, Roier asked him to) and then Maxo again during the Gordinho Gostosinho interview (Maxo triggered him by bringing up his past, and he got revived by Richarlyson iirc.)

Outside of players, Cellbit has killed Abueloier once. He tried to kill him for good, but it somehow didn't stick. Abueloier doesn't count as a player because he isn't part of the experiment (aka he's played by cc!Roier as an NPC.)

Roier, meanwhile, has made a point out of not attacking literally anybody first because he doesn't like resorting to violence. He just doesn't Do That, hence why Etoiles was so happy when Roier started going apeshit and murdering people during Purgatory. He never even attacked his mortal enemies, Quackity and Spreen, after their betrayal (but tbh what he was gonna do to Spreen is worse than death.)

So who did Roier kill?

Well, a while ago he was running around playing with explosives, and he foreshadowed the hell out of the Purgatory ending when he blew up Maximus on a tiny little island, killing him and erasing little baby Trump(et)'s last sign.

Poor Maxo?

Anyway idk what any of this means, I just think it's super interesting

[thewolvesof1998]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Tagged by the wonderful @watchyourbuck @giddyupbuck @spotsandsocks @wildlife4life @hoodie-buck @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @wikiangela @malewifediaz @disasterbuckdiaz @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @theotherbuckley

I thought I would take inspiration from some of my mutuals and give you a tease of multiple fics:

Alright, Cowboy, Go Get 'Em (Masterlist of posts about this fic):

Eddie sits up and wraps his right arm around Buck’s waist, using his grip to help him bounce. The closeness allows him to place kisses on Buck’s chest and lick at his salty skin and bite nipples and suck marks onto his pec. He adorns Buck with his marks until he’s a panting, whining mess, unable to anymore more than roll his hip in a desperate grind.  “Ed’s please” Buck begs “What do you need baby?”

Bank Robbery Fic (prev snippet):

“-listen to me you son of a bitch, you can ask for all you want but make sure to add a medkit because if she dies because of you, I will make your life a living hell.”  Buck’s phone slips from his hand as he turns towards the speakers where a voice he would know anywhere, even in his sleep, just came through. Eddie. Eddie is in the bank.  Buck is lunging forward before he ever makes the conscious decision to move. He feels arms grab onto his coat and then there's a body in front of him. He smells Bobby’s cologne and arms wrap around him as he collides with Bobby, halting him in his tracks.

Pirate AU (previous snippets):

“You’re new,” A deep voice says and Eddie turns to look at the man. He’s got blondish-brown hair that is curling in the humidity, a pink mark above his eyebrow and at the corner of his pale blue eyes that almost seem to shift colour like the sky before a storm. He’s got the start of a beard that frames lips as pink as his mark. They look pillow-soft and sinful and he’s wondering what they would feel like under his before he can think better of it. He’s wearing a white shirt, its loose fitting, the buttons undone to improper level and sleeves rolled up to his elbows displaying strong forearms and ink.  “What?” He asks, dragging his eyes away from the man’s arms.  The guy chuckles, “I haven’t seen you here before.” “I’m new to town,” Eddie manages to get out without embarrassing himself further.

No Nut November (previous snippets):

Buck’s been babysitting Chris a lot lately now Eddie’s been going on more and more dates with Marisol. He loves it but he does miss his best friend, if it wasn’t for work Buck’s pretty sure he’s seen Chris more than Eddie this month. If he didn’t know better he would say Eddie’s avoiding him, but he wouldn’t do that, he has no reason to. It always gets like this when they date, they see less of each other but that's completely normal. This is just the anxious voice in his head making him worry about something he doesn’t need to.

Halloween Fic (previous snippet):

“These are my favourite jeans of yours,” Buck slides his hands around and squeezes Eddie’s butt, “Your ass looks amazing in them,” He lets go and slips his hands around the front, his fingers graze against Eddie’s straining dick before going to for the button, “So I’m going to be nice and not destroy them.”  Eddie is only a little bit disappointed, would have loved to see Buck use his strength to seamlessly tear the denim but that's pushed out of his mind as Buck swiftly undoes the jeans, pulling them down, along with Eddie’s underwear, until he can easily step out of them. Buck’s hands slide up his thighs and around to squeeze Eddie’s now bare ass. Buck kneads the skin, pulling it taunt and apart until Eddie can feel cold air against his hole.

tagging: ​ @eddiebabygirldiaz​ @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @911-on-abc @shitouttabuck @911onabc @spagheddiediaz @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @sammysouffle @smilingbuckley @carrierofthepaperclips @jeeyuns

[wandering-winchesters]

Do It.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3,408

Summary: The reader is taken captive and has given up hope of being rescued or escaping. Yet when Dean does appear, his life is the one at stake.

Trigger Warnings: SPN level violence, swearing, mention of weapons, injuries.

Requested: No

A/N: This has been floating around inside my brain for awhile and I finally managed to find the time to write it down. I apologize for the lack of posts, I am in the process of buying a house and it has been an emotional rollercoaster. As always, please let me know what you think. xx

Masterlist

It was not often that I would accept defeat, I was too stubborn for that. I have lived my life by the philosophy that there is always another option, a way out, some way to make the outcome different than what I feared. It had gotten me pretty far, I had managed to get out of some pretty sticky situations. It was a natural occurrence when spending time with the Winchester boys, hellish situations seemed to follow them wherever they go. They made friends easily, but enemies even easier.

That is how I wound up here, bound to a wooden chair. Zip ties digging into my ankles and wrists, my body aching with every breath that I take. I can feel the bruises forming on my skin every second that I am forced to sit on this god forsaken excuse for a chair. My jaw aches, forced apart by the t-shirt that had been stuffed into my mouth to keep me quiet. The only sound in the room besides my own labored breathing was the clock ticking away on the wall. Each twitch of the second hand mocking me louder than the one before. It had been hours, I had been here for hours. 

From the moment I had managed to open my eyes, I had been fighting against the restraints. Panic had been held at bay until I realized that the knife that I kept hidden in my clothing, for times such as these, was no longer there. A curse would have left my lips, if it could. Internal curses had sufficed, my brain a constant swirl of colorful curse words and a means to escape. The only thought that kept me going was the Winchesters. They would be looking for me, Dean would search heaven and earth to find me. Unless, he wasn’t able to look because something had happened to him. 

No, stop that. Dean is looking for you. Sam is looking for you. Hell, Bobby is probably out looking for you. Breathe.

I force myself to reset my breathing, taking a sharp inhale through my nose. I stretch my neck in either direction as far as I can, closing my eyes and allowing a rush of oxygen to flow over me. 

Think. C’mon Y/N, Think! 

My eyes snap open and once again I survey the room, looking for something, anything, that I can use to my advantage to get myself out of this goddamn chair. Nothing. There is nothing within reach and the chair is bolted to the floor. 

What kind of person bolts a chair to the floor? 

Fear once again begins to creep in, a shroud of darkness impeding my thoughts. My breath catches in my throat as my heart rate increases ten fold. There is nothing I can do to stop it, I am truly stuck. All at once my thoughts come crashing down on me. I am stuck sitting here until Sam and Dean find me or until Gordon comes back. That thought is a punch to the gut, Gordon. He knew what he was doing by taking me, he knew that Dean would come searching and in turn Sam. It was a trap and there was nothing I could do about it. 

The floor above me creaks and I freeze. I close my eyes, attempting to shut off every sense except for my hearing. Footsteps. Someone is coming, the question is who? I steel myself, my eyes closed except for a sliver. I sit and wait, praying to any God or Angel that might listen. The door creaks open, slowly, ever so slowly and I hear not one but two sets of footsteps enter the room. 

“Y/N.” His voice is hushed but it is enough. My eyes snap open, relief floods over me as I see Dean. He is quick to holster his gun and close the distance between us. His eyebrows are drawn together in concern and he crosses the floor to my side in two strides. I wince as he gently tugs the gag from my mouth and I flex the stiff muscles in my jaw slowly, easing my mouth fully closed for the first time in a few hours. A hiss leaves my lips as he moves to undo the zip-ties on my wrists, the sharp edges of the plastic had already caused multiple small cuts to form around them. 

“Who did this to you? Where are they?” Dean asks, his voice still hushed. It is at this moment that I remember the urgency that lies around this moment. 

“It was Gordon, he got the jump on me in town. I have no idea where he went, he knocked me out before he tied me up down here. Be careful Dean, he could be anywhere.” 

As I speak Dean continues to to work on the remaining zip ties, he’s on the last one when Sam quietly enters the room. Our eyes meet and he gives me a soft sympathetic smile, followed closely by a frown as he takes in the scene before him. 

“Gordon’s nearby, Sammy. We have to be careful.” Dean mutters, his knife tugging against the stubborn plastic still wrapped around my ankle. I yelp as he finally gets it to snap, the plastic leaving one final mark on my skin. Dean is quick to help me to my feet, his hands steadying me gently as I ease myself into a standing position. Every muscle in my body is screaming in protest, aching from the sudden movement. 

There is a loud clatter from the room above us, Dean glances at me and I nod, he immediately jumps into action, flying towards the stairs. Sam is right on his heels and I can hear them moving quietly towards the disturbance. The pit in my stomach builds again, this doesn’t feel right. It all seems too easy, they were able to walk right in and it seemed as if we would be able to leave without incident. I follow the boys towards the kitchen, slowly and every step more painful than the last. Yet the need to be in the reach of Dean outweighed everything else. I make it to the top of the stairs, my body aching with each step. I turn the corner and begin to head towards the room that I can hear the boys moving around in, I am almost to the doorway when my progress is halted. An arm slips around my waist, yanking me back roughly into the body behind my own. A hiss leaves my lips as a blade is pressed firmly against my neck, the cold steel causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. 

“Shhh, better not fight it Y/N. Wouldn’t want to make you lose that pretty head of yours.” Gordon whispers in my ear, his lips brushing against my skin cause a wave of nausea to flood through me from his touch. He pushes me forward with the arm that is still wrapped around my middle, forcing me towards the room where Dean is, my Dean. I square my shoulders as much as my current situation allows, unwilling to allow myself to appear weak in front of this awful excuse for a human, well vampire. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Gordon announces our presence, keeping a tight grip on the knife pressed to my throat. He presses harder as Dean whips around, his eyes locking onto the situation before him and anger overshadowing his prior expression. His chin tips down, his gaze fixed on the life at my throat. His forehead relax, but eyes dark. His lips are parted and his chest heaves with exertion, absolute fury coursing through his veins. 

“Don’t touch her!” He spits taking intentional steps towards us, an action that Gordon meets by pressing the knife against my throat tighter. An involuntary whimper leaves my lips as the blade slices through my skin, leaving a deep, but not deadly cut on my neck. Dean halts, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. HIs eyes now focused at the point where the blade meets my flesh. 

“I wouldn’t make demands here, Dean. You don’t exactly have the upper hand.” I can’t see Gordons face, but I can picture the smirk that is plastered across his face even though he’s behind me. My eyes are focused on Dean, pleading silently with him to look at me, but he doesn’t, his eyes remain locked on Gordons. 

“What do you want?” Sam asks, stepping into view besides Dean. His hands are raised, displaying that they are empty and that he is not currently a threat. Gordon laughs, the vibrations from the sound traveling through my body due to the close proximity. 

“Oh Sam, you know what I want. I want the two of you. She was just bait.”  Sam watches carefully, his face calm and unreadable. 

“Then let her go. Take us instead.” Dean spits, one of his hands coming up to rake mindlessly through his hair. 

“No, Dean don’t do th-“ Dean stops me with a look, his eyes fierce and I understand what he’s communicating. He has a plan and I need to just go along with it, for everyones sake. I bite my tongue, keeping quiet and waiting for his next move.  I’m caught off guard by Gordon loosening his grip from my body, before he shoves me away from him. I fall hard, my knees and hands hitting the wooden floor abruptly. In the moment, I don’t notice the pain. I’m too focused on getting to Dean, I scramble to my feet and close the distance to where he’s waiting. His hands tug me behind him as quickly as he can, he steps between me and Gordon. Shielding me from danger as he always does. I dig my fingers into his shirt, balling the material in between my fingers, in an attempt to keep Dean close. It doesn’t last long. Gordon demands that Dean face him like a man, and of course, Dean follows through. 

Dean steps forward, his fists balled by his sides, fingers twitching to find solace around Gordon’s throat, but he wouldn’t risk putting me in danger. 

I am not alone for long, Sam must have closed the distance between us, because the next thing I know he is tugging me behind his tall frame. His body fully blocking my view of the horrible scene before us. I step to the side, ever so slightly, just enough so I can still see Dean, I can’t bear to take my eyes off of him. Not now. Not ever. 

A sob rises in my throat as I see what I had missed in those brief seconds hidden behind Sam. Gordon has a knife to Deans throat, similar to how he had it to mine seconds ago. But this time, Dean is standing in front of him, facing him. His eyes are boring into Gordons, a glimmer of rage flashing across surface of the green orbs. His lip twitches up into a sneer, silently daring Gordon to finish what he started, end it. 

“Y/N, close your eyes, you don’t need to see this sweetheart.” Dean says, his voice barely loud enough, but I hear him. I don’t realize that I am walking towards the two of them until Sam grabs me by the wrist and pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me and sheltering me within his grasp. I hadn’t realized that I was protesting and yelling at him, I could hear myself. I couldn’t feel the tears falling down my cheeks. 

--

In that moment, my life flashes before my eyes. More specifically, the life that we had shared together. The day I had met the love of my life, so many years ago, when we were still children. It was a couple years after Mary died, I lived in the same neighborhood that they did. I knew that Sam and Deans mother had died, but I had never interacted with them. I fell off my bike in the street outside of their house, scraping my knee in the process. I had burst into tears, in the natural way that a six year old would when they got hurt. Dean was only a little older than me at that point, but he helped me up and walked me home. An act of compassion, that I would find out later was unusual for the older Winchester. 

How, years later in high school, Dean beat up a group of boys that had been bullying me. Something I wouldn’t find out until after I graduated. He was always protective of me, but I could never really figure out why. We lost touch for a few years when I went to college, I would call him on occasion and get his voicemail and when he would call me he would get mine. Phone tag in every regard. It wasn’t until the day I lost both of my parents, that we finally reconnected. None of my friends understood how that felt, the loss of a parent. But I knew who would. I had called and left him a voicemail, pleading with him to return my call, that It was urgent and I didn’t know what to do. Well, instead of calling, he tracked my phone and showed up at my door. An act that freaked me out at the time, but now I can see why he responded in that manner. 

We have had many fights over the years, varying in seriousness. Some of them petty disagreements that would end in playful fights. Others, volatile and filled with anger and one of us storming out. This was how I found out about the supernatural world, he had been dodgy and unresponsive. It made me angry, we had just started dating and I could never get him to give me a straight answer as to what he was doing and where he was going. So I followed him, right into a nest of vampires. That was a bad night, but I see now that he was just scared. He didn’t want to lose me, he couldn’t lose me. Just like how in this very moment, I couldn’t lose him. I was terrified at the looming possibility that tonight is the last night that I would see him alive. He could die. He was about to die. 

--

I snap back to reality, my face still buried in Sam’s jacket. His hand is cupping the back of my neck keeping my head pressed against him, not allowing me an inch of wiggle room. I knew he didn’t want me to see what was about to happen, but I wanted to. I needed to see for myself if Dean died, otherwise I would never believe it. 

I fight against his grip and I gain an inch, the ability to crane my neck enough to see Dean again. Still in the same position that he had been in moments before, only now there was a trickle of blood running down his neck, similar to the one on my own. 

“Please, Gordon, don’t.” I plead, fighting harder against Sam’s grip on me, but I can’t move any further. I can’t get any closer, I can’t stop him, I can’t take Dean’s place. “Do it.” Dean spits, his eyes unwavering from Gordons. Even though I know it’s not possible, Deans eyes seemed black. Emotionless and dark. As he finished his sentence, his jaw clenches and he lowers his chin, a small grin replacing the frown that had been there moments before. 

I am confused, why is Dean grinning? He seems almost elated at the prospect of his life being taken away at the hands of the evil man before him. It is only then, that my eyes drift past the two of them to the dark doorway behind them. I see a shadowy figure and almost scream out a warning, before I realize I recognize the way the shadow is moving. It’s Bobby. He is completely silent, the way his feet drift over the floor completely silently and he makes his way towards them. His machete raised high and poised to strike. 

“Oh I will do it and with pleasure.” Gordon smirks, his muscles flexing in order to apply more pressure to the blade. But just as he begins to pull his arm back, to then return in a slicing motion, Bobby pounces. Bobby lunges forward, his machete slicing though not only the air, but Gordons neck. There is a satisfying and gut wrenching thump as his head hits the wooden floor. I scrunch my eyes shut, no longer needing to see what was going on in front of me. We were safe.

The second danger is no longer looming, Sam’s grip on me loosens and I am bolting. I throw his arms off of me and run straight to Dean. I wrap my arms around him so tightly that he takes a quick step back and it takes him a second to return the embrace, but he does. I let out a sob that I didn't know I was holding in. I snake my hands under his shirt, seeking comfort in the warmth of his skin. An action that we are both very accustomed to, a calming routine that helps the both of us. He presses a kiss to my forehead first and then my lips, before he whispers soothing words in my ears, none of which stick around long enough to register.

"You damn idjits, you're lucky I followed you." Bobby grumbles, wiping the blade of his machete with a dirty towel he must have found on the floor. A small argument breaks out between the three men, Dean jumping to defend their actions. It ensues loudly, until my knees nearly give out from underneath me. Dean notices and grips me tighter, his sentence cutting off in the middle and his attention is fully devoted to me once again. It's then that he takes in my condition, the multitude of cuts and bruises, the dark circles under my eyes.

"I'm dizzy De." I whisper, resting my forehead against his chest, my arms slipping down to my sides.

"I've got you sweetheart, let's get you home."

--

That's what he does. He is quick to pick me up, his hands gentle with me. How we got from the abandoned house back to Bobby's is a story that you would have to ask him. The second we climbed into the back of the Impala, I was asleep. My head tucked under his chin and my arms wrapped around him as firmly as I could manage. He carried me into Bobby's house, setting me down gently onto the kitchen counter. A mumbled, stay put, the only thing he needed to say. He addressed all of the injuries he could see, nearly waterboarded me with the amount of water he made me drink. Insisting that I was dehydrated and if I didn't drink, he would make me go to the hospital.

He was now fussing over a smudge of dirt on my forehead, a dirty washcloth pinched between his fingers.

"Dean," I sigh and reach up to push his hand away. "I'm okay, baby. I promise. I'm here. You're here. Let's just go to bed. Please." He doesn't budge and attempts to return to his previous task, his tongue pinched between his teeth. I push his hand away once more, holding it down against my knee this time. "De, please. I'm so tired. I just want to sleep in your arms." This time he listens, a sigh leaving his lips and he nods.

The second we got into bed he was asleep, a restless and anxious sleep. A slumber that I knew would soon turn into nightmares. The grip that he had on my body was tight, almost unbearably so. Yet I knew he needed it, just as much as I did. I shift slightly, allowing myself to be pulled even closer to his sleeping body. The love that we shared was unimaginable, I couldn't do any of this without him. I truly hope that tonight was the last time I would come that close to losing him. I close my eyes and allowed sleep to overtake me.

Little do I know, that was far from the last time something would try to separate us. It was only the beginning.

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester

[lewmagoo]

can't stop thinking about cockwarming bob okay bye

this got a little long, so it's under a read more. anyway, bob deserves a hearty meal and cockwarming after a long, tiring day.

everything was too loud. his mind, his surroundings. he was entirely overstimulated and in desperate need of solace. and he knew exactly where he’d find it. in the safety of his home, in the arms of the one he loved.

when he walked through the door that evening, you could tell something was up. he was tense, and much quieter than usual as he sat to unlace his boots. you approached, standing before him while he remained seated on the little bench you kept in the entryway. your heart ached as his tired, owlish blues peered up at you from behind his wire rimmed glasses.

"rough day?" you asked, reaching down to run your fingers through his honeyed locks. he let out a hum, eyes drifting closed as he leaned into your touch. "you don't even know," he sighed wearily. "i'm sorry. is there anything i can do to make you feel better?" you wanted to help in any way you could, because he always did so much for you.

"just wan' be close to you," he whispered. you smiled, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. "i can arrange that," you replied, fingers still in his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp and drawing a satisfied purr from him. "dinner's ready. we can snuggle up on the couch to eat it." that seemed to appeal to him, so you quickly set about plating dinner while he headed to your shared bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes.

by the time he was finished, you'd set everything up in the living room and were waiting for him on the couch. his mouth quirked into a gentle smile, and he stepped forward to join you, settling into the softness of the sofa. you spread a fluffy blanket over both of you, and your cozy dinner commenced. you shared quiet conversation, and bob filled you in on some of the details that had made his day so terribly difficult.

soon, dinner was finished, and you were huddled together, bob's head resting in your lap as you, again, ran your fingers through his hair. the gel he'd applied that morning had begun to wear off, leaving his hair soft to the touch. like this, with your hand in his hair and his head in your lap, he reminded you of a little cat.

"mm," he hummed, shifting beneath your touch. when you looked at him, you saw a pink glow blossoming on his cheeks. he lifted a hand, snaking his fingers under the fabric of your shirt to brush against your bare skin. "wanna be close to you." at his words, a little spark of need flickered to life in your belly. you knew what he was insinuating. he always asked for this whenever he was overwhelmed.

"yeah?" you breathed, and he nodded, slowly rising to sit upright. "been thinking about it all day. i think it's the only thing that'll help me calm down," he admitted. you leaned in, stealing a sweet kiss from his lips. "use your words, sweet man," you encouraged, your hand resting on the side of his neck. you swore you felt his pulse quicken against your palm.

letting out a whispy breath, his eyes fell shut before he opened them again. "i want to be inside you. need to feel you around me." his tone held an air of desperation, and you weren't about to deny him of what he needed. so, you kissed him again, this time more deeply, going as far as to delve your tongue into his mouth, at which he let out a soft whimper. oh, he needed it bad. with your mouth still connected to his, you shifted to your knees, breaking away only to shimmy out of your lounge pants.

once you were entirely bare, with bobby's eyes watching you intently, hungrily, you moved your attention to him. you tugged at his carhartt sweatshirt, and he moved to allow you to pull it over his head, exposing a deceptively strong upper body, complete with a minimal tattoo of a compass on his left ribcage. one he'd gotten because he liked to say he always found his way back to you. the sight of it always made you smile, and you brushed your fingers over it before you shifted your attention to his sweatpants.

he lifted his hips, allowing you to pull the fabric down his legs, and you were more than pleased to find he'd decided to forego underwear. your mouth was on his again before he could say anything, and you quickly straddled his thigh, settling against him, every inch of your body pressed to his. you let your forehead rest against his, your noses bumping, mouths just barely touching. then you reached dow and took his cock in your hand, languidly stroking him to full hardness.

a strangled moan escaped his throat, mouth parting as his head fell back. he could feel your cunt against his thigh, and when he realized you were moving your hips, rhythmically grinding against his leg, he moaned again, searching for your mouth desperately until he was kissing you again. heat blossomed between you, your breaths quickening. but all too soon, you stopped, only to settle over his lap, hand still wrapped around his cock as you angled it with your entrance. then, you sank down onto him with ease, and you both gasped.

bob's hands settled on your hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of him inside you. you felt so full. beneath you, he hummed lowly, and when you finally looked at him, there was a dreamy smile on his face. "this is just what i needed," he sighed. you couldn't help but smile in return. "glad i could be of assistance, bobby." soon after, you settled into each other. you grabbed the blanket and pulled it around you both, enveloping your bodies in warmth.

bob wrapped his arms around you, and you let your head rest on his chest, with his chin resting against the top of your head. you could hear his heartbeat, and it sent a calm washing over you. this was where you were meant to be, joined as one with the man you loved. it brought you both peace, and it calmed the loudness in bob's head. you overtook every one of his senses, until all he knew was you, surrounding him, enveloping him. the stressors and anxieties of the day melted away, and all that was left was two lovers connected in the most intimate of ways.

"i love you, darlin," he breathed, whispered into the air like a reverent prayer. you pressed your lips against his chest, over his heart. you didn't respond verbally, but you didn't have to. bob already knew you loved him, just as much as he loved you.

[tvseries-writings]

Road Trip VIII

Road trip masterlist

Wandanat x Bioquake x reader (Bobbi x reader platonic!)

TW: blood

Summary of previous chapters: When Nat, Wanda, Daisy, Jemma and reader have an accident, reader is injured so badly that Jemma and Wanda must combine science and magic to save her with only one side effect...special healing powers that allow to project the injuries onto someone else but at a high price. What happens when the girls find out what this “high price” consist in?

Silence invades the room since you told them the truth about the tests. You had hoped that lie would last at least a couple of weeks, but instead it hadn't even lasted a day. Jemma looks at the papers in her hands, barely holding back tears and quickly shaking her head.

They say there are five stages of grief. And even if that is not their mourning, not yet at least, each of them, knowing the truth, is going through at least one of those stages.

Jemma is facing denial, rereading again and again those words that are incomprehensible to you but which Fitz has diligently summarized for you, as if by doing so he can find a permanent solution to your situation that you can accept.


"No, no, there must be something we can do...if you don't use your powers then, maybe-"

Daisy paces back and forth across the room, making her shake just barely, almost imperceptibly to anyone who doesn't know her. Daisy is incredulous, bewildered by a revelation of such magnitude.

"This is not your choice, all right? I wanted to tell you because I was forced to," you cast a glare at Daisy before continuing to speak, "and you have no say in the matter, get over it."

You know you've been hard on them, you know it and you see it in their looks but it's for their own good and for your own sanity. No one banned them from using their powers, even when they were hurting them so they have no right to ban you...not if you can save lives. You could even heal cancer with your powers, how can they not understand that.


"You may be right, sometimes our powers hurt us but we don't sign a death warrant every time we use them detka." Wanda takes a few steps toward you but you back away, shaking your head.
"I could save who knows how many lives, I...you are special, you always have been, by your powers or your qualities and now I too will finally feel useful in something" "Even if it means your death y/n? Because that's what we're talking about, you can't deny it and each of us is all too aware of it; do you realize that if you keep using these strange and dangerous new powers, you'll only destroy yourself until there's nothing left of you?"

Natasha struggles to keep the fear from seeping into her voice but you know her, you know she is only scared and afraid of how far your recklessness may take you this time.

You look away, unable to sustain the former widow's sharp but concerned gaze.


"I'm aware of that Nat, I know I'm signing my own death warrant but if it will help even one person then I'll be more than happy to take the risk."

"This is bullshit! Are we really going to allow her to do something like this? This is stupid and dangerous. You're committing suicide y/n and I can't stand by and watch you do it, at the cost of stopping you by force."

Daisy raises her arm toward you, she doesn't know why either but hopes to stop this madness even though both you and she know she would never hurt you. In fact, after a few seconds in which you all remain silent, the inhuman lowers her arm with a defeated air.


"Please love, please...we would not survive without you."

Daisy lets tears line her cheeks as she collapses to her knees, repeatedly shaking her head, "you can't choose to leave us if you have the option to not to, please..."

Your heart breaks and your body moves before you can stop it. You kneel next to her and hug her, kissing her cheek and whispering that it will be okay even though you know it is a promise you cannot keep. Wanda approaches you and joins the embrace, Jemma follows her while Nat remains motionless, just a few steps away from you. She would like to join but the pain she is feeling right now prevents her from doing so.


"Nat" Wanda whispers, turning toward her lifelong companion, inciting the redhead to join but the latter shakes her head.
"Please" you look up, mimicking the word with your lips, and she resists for a few seconds before complying with your request. This warm squeeze is supposed to be for Daisy but actually, if you have to be honest, you think it serves all of you.

You don't know how long you stay like this but when you speak again, your mouth is dry and your voice trembles.
"I'll...I'll be careful, I'll only use them when I think it's necessary okay?"

The girls nod, not what they wanted to hear but they know they won't get anything else from you.
"All right but first I want to do some tests and many, many blood tests so I suggest you prepare yourself psychologically."

You huff dramatically and hide in Wanda's arms.

"Wands save me" you whimper and Nat pats you on the butt shaking his head.
"I don't think you're going to get off that easy" "No no, Jemma is right and in fact, we'll help her hold you down for as long as detka" Wanda leaves a kiss on your temple and smiles when you let out another whimper.
"If you're going to have your way at least you have to suffer a little" Daisy sticks her tongue out at you and you kick her on the shin which makes her pout and massage the injured area.

"I hate you" "No you don't" "No you don't...I hate you very much."

"Y/N!"

.................................................................................

During the next three weeks Jemma doesn't give you a break and Bobbi certainly doesn't help. You have pitted arms and think you're missing a lot of blood after all the blood draws the biochemist forced on you. Just like she's doing today.


"Stop it Bobbi, that's the third one today..please."

You sigh, shaking your head and withdrawing your arm from the blonde's hands and almost injuring yourself with the needle.
"Y/n! Be careful or you'll hurt yourself."

Bobbi removes her gloves and places them, along with the syringe, on the small table to your right.

"I know you hate all these rockstar withdrawals and I know how terrible you are as a patient but-"

Your phone rings and as soon as it does, you immediately recognize the ringtone.
"Director Fury, tell me."

Bobbi watches you throughout the entire call, trying to figure out what your boss is telling you but can't. She has never been good at reading other people's emotions, let alone their looks.

"All right director, no problem. We'll leave right away."

You end the call, putting the phone back in your pocket and getting up from the infirmary bed. A dizziness forces you to sit back down and Bobbi snaps toward you, grabbing your arm to keep you from falling to the floor.

"Hey hey, easy. I just took a liter of blood from you, I don't think it's a great idea to get up so fast without even drinking your juice."

Bobbi hands you the juice and watches you carefully as you drink it all so as not to infuriate her.

"Can I get up now boss?"

A smile of defiance paints your face and the spy rolls his eyes, nodding his head to give you permission.


"What did Fury tell you?"

Bobbi tosses the used syringe and gloves into the trash can, but continues to watch you out of the corner of her eye to make sure that once you're on your feet you don't get hit with dizziness again. 
"We have a mission and we need to leave right away, it's a 084."

"Origin unknown..." Bobbi whispers and you nod. You both know that code all too well, as does Daisy.
"We need to warn the others and move now."

You head for the infirmary exit but Bobbi blocks you.
"You can't go on the mission, Fitz hasn't finished designing the electricity absorber for your neural connections yet and if anything goes wrong Jemma would kill me, non-" "Bobs, I know. It's going to be okay okay? I promise. Now get ready, I'm going to call the others."

When you finally find them, they are all four ( or almost) engaged in a violent, but also deeply exciting, sparring session.

Natasha is on top of Daisy, pushing her against the mat beneath them while Wanda and Jemma watch them on the sidelines with mischievous smiles on their faces.
"Do you give up Agent Johnson?" "Forget it Romanoff."

It takes Daisy a couple of tries before she gets the better of Nat and knocks the redhead to the ground, holding her hands above her head and legs apart.

That sight makes you hot, but as soon as you remember the real reason you came after them, to your regret, you interrupt the little scene before you.

"As much as I hate to interrupt you...Fury called me, we need to leave immediately for a mission. It's about an 084."

Daisy untangles herself from Nat's grip and looks at you with a look you've never seen on her before.
"When do we leave?"

………………..………………………..…………………………….

In less than four hours, 084 turns out to be much more "known" than expected, and you, Daisy, Bobbi find yourselves tied, in a cold, dreary gray cell, to each other, because of a white, misogynistic, and, above all, psychopathic Nazi asshole.


"I remembered you dead."

You spit on the floor; the mix of saliva and blood settles inches from his designer leather shoes.

You cast a glance at Daisy and Bobbi. The former is still unconscious but the rise and fall of her chest indicate that she is still alive while the blonde is awake and struggling against the handcuffs as she watches that being torture you helplessly.


"Oh my dear, you know how we Hydra people are...when you cut off one head two more pop up."

Whitehall smiles; a crooked, sick smile so sadistic it makes you cringe, even if you don't show it.
"Although it's been years, I see you still use the same jokes. Old age is looming eh? Indeed, since you ran out of your beauty serum, quite a few wrinkles have appeared."

Another fist crashes against your jaw and is so hard that your head snaps to the side and more blood joins the blood from before on the floor. Whitehall wipes his hand on a handkerchief taken from the pocket of the ivory jacket he is wearing.

He shakes his head, smiles at you and grabs your face with his right hand, cupping your chin between his index finger and thumb so hard you think he might shatter it. Despite his age, the asshole still has a lot of strength.

As long as he takes it out on you and leaves Daisy and Bobbi alone, though, he's more than okay. At least until Nat, Wanda and Jemma come to your rescue. Knowing them, they will already be hot on your trail.


"Now tell me agent y/n, where is the journal that S.H.I.E.L.D. seized from me?"

Whitehall grazes your cheek with the scalpel, causing a small cut that makes Bobbi wiggle even more from her restraints; you know that look, she's telling you not to pull too hard.

"For the umpteenth time, you Nazi prick, I don't even know what you're talking about!"

Blood drips from your nose, probably broken considering the throbbing pain. Obviously you know what he's talking about, it's no secret that S.H.I.E.L.D. came into possession of the red journal inside of which were engraved the super-soldier activation words but I doubt that a Hydra bigwig would need it so badly that he would kidnap three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

Daisy lets out a groan as she slowly opens her eyes and you freeze, aware that Whitehall will now focus all energy on her.

And to think he only managed to capture you with a sedative in the form of gas...uh, Nazis, those assholes never change.

"You Americans are so stupid...the red diary, from Hydra. Seems obvious to me."

Whitehall cracks a smile before carving you one more time with the scalpel only this time, the cut is deeper and all too close to your carotid vein and Daisy, who has just woken up and recovered from the sedative, as soon as she sees how you are reduced struggles against the handcuffs and yells at Whitehall to stop.

"The destroyer of worlds...glad you could join us in this pleasant reunion."

He turns away from you, focusing on Daisy. The Inhuman tries to activate her powers but can't, the collar on her neck prevents her from doing so, and the Hydra scientist smiles as he sees her tenacity.


"Daisy Johnson, Quake, the Destroyer of Worlds, many names but without powers you are nothing."

Whitehall approaches one of your soulmates, and when he injects something into her neck, you can't see anymore and the handcuffs become completely useless against the rage you're feeling and the fear that whatever that was inside that damn syringe might cause Daisy harm.

It all happens quickly; Whitehall reaches down and grabs you by the chin again and then uses that same hand to dab the blood that suddenly comes out of the wound in his neck-the exact same wound he gave you that is now gone from your skin and transferred to his. The blood from your nose comes out even faster and more copiously so that your head starts to spin but you can still make out a smile on that psychopath's face.

"Ha Ha, I knew the rumors were true, and a little water injected into one of your lovers gave me the confirmation I was looking for. What amazing powers, the gift of healing and destruction as sides of the same coin."

Whitehall shakes his head while continuing to smile as he takes his handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabs the blood coming from your nose; not that it has much effect since the bleeding is due to your powers.
"I look forward to experimenting on you, my dear. It will be painful but you know, breakthroughs require experimentation."

He turns to the two energetic men on either side of the door, the only way out of that room, and motions for them to take you away.


"Pick her up and take her to the room. I'll prepare for operations; we must start now. Science does not wait!"

Bobbi watches intently, and as soon as Whitehall and one of his two henchmen emerge from the gray and far too brightly lit cell in which they are keeping you locked up, the handcuffs that held her bound fall to the floor. The sound the handcuffs make as they hit the floor makes Igor the enforcer turn toward the blond spy. Bobbi picks up the chair to which she was tied and smashes it over the giant's head, and within seconds the latter falls unconscious to the floor before he even realizes what is happening.

You observe your surroundings without really doing so. Your head is spinning and the nosebleed still doesn't seem to have stopped; in fact, you don't know if it has; you are so dazed that you don't realize it. Passively, you watch Bobbi untie Daisy and then pick up the gun that the giant idiot dropped after being stunned. And then, as Daisy approaches you and Bobbi unties you, you feel yourself return to the reality around you. At least in part.

"Hey, look at me, are you okay?"

Daisy takes your face in her hands, tearing off a piece of her shirt and dabbing at your nose to the best of her ability.

Bobbi keeps her gun pointed at the door as her spy skills take over, though that doesn't keep her from checking you out with her eyes every few seconds. After all, she is one of your closest friends and she cares a lot about you.
"You're an idiot, you shouldn't have used your powers for me."
"You would have done the same for me Dee," you whisper, concentrating on focusing on her face and straining to pronounce the words correctly. Daisy does not respond and merely looks at you, continuing to hold the now blood-soaked piece of her T-shirt under your nose.

"Shit Bobbi, it won't stop bleeding. What should I do?"

Bobbi continues to watch the door as she kneels down to slip something metallic from her right boot before tossing it to Daisy.
"This is the neural connection stabilizer that Fitz designed, it's only a prototype but it should help. Besides, it's not like we have much choice right now sestra."

Bobbi shoots you a look, startled by how out of it you seem and lacking connection to reality. Daisy applies two electrodes to the sides of your temples, attaching them to the thick and particularly heavy iron headband at the back of your neck, and then, as soon as she presses the power button Bobbi points to her, the pain suddenly fades and your head stops spinning considerably, the same way the blood stops going down.


"How I love Fitz," you smile, shaking your head just barely to try to ward off even the dazzling nausea that unfortunately has not yet gone away.
"Yeah well, don't push it, we don't know how much it holds and I'm not about to find out y/n" Daisy gives you a warning look before helping you to your feet. You sway dangerously to the side as the world tilts but Daisy keeps you firmly anchored to herself, giving you a concerned look. It takes a few seconds before you stabilize.


"I just feel a little dizzy, that's all. I'm okay Dee."
"Yeah, sure, you're okay...if you're okay, I'm the director of S.H.I.E.L.D."

You roll your eyes and snort, giving Daisy a gentle nudge and realizing only then that the Inhuman is still wearing the collar that blocks her powers.

"Bobbi, can we get it off without hurting her?"

You turn to the blonde, and when the latter shakes her head, you tighten your lips, thinking how much you'd like to put a good bullet through Whitehall's skull.

Noises outside the door alarm you and you waste no time in grabbing a broken chair leg to use as a weapon.
"Oh, that's scary."
"Better this than air."

You stick your tongue out at Daisy, and for a few seconds you think you are safe, perhaps on the couch, sitting between the women you love most in the world as you watch a few movies on one of your movie nights.

Then, three gunshots cause you to take a defensive stance, putting yourself in front of Daisy to protect her just as the door to the closed cell you are in is smashed open and falls to the floor with a thud.

Bobbi doesn't lose sight of the entrance, but when she recognizes the silhouette of the person standing in the knocked-down doorway, a smile breaks out on her face and her shoulders relax as she lowers her gun.
"Did I step on your moment?"

Natasha smiles and runs toward you and Daisy, squeezing you in a hug before exchanging a pat on the back with Bobbi.

"Good entrance Romanoff, I see you still like to show off."
"Oh Morse, you know me well. My ego comes first."

Natasha presses the earpiece she has in your ear, looking at both you and Daisy relieved to see that you are both okay albeit with a few bruises and some blood.
"Jem, Wands...yes, I found them, they are fine. Whitehall escaped but we will find him."

...............................................................…………..

The journey to the Zephyr is silent, methodical and full of bullets lodged in the heads of Hydra soldiers. When you arrive on board, you are greeted by a warm, smothering embrace from Jemma and Wanda, and even Bobbi cannot escape it. And then, as was bound to happen, Jemma drags all three of you to the infirmary.

"Come on Jem, I'm fine. Really." you grumble as the biochemist wipes the crusted blood off your face, ignoring your protests.
"You're not fine, you used your powers and you shouldn't have. It was stupid and reckless, so let me do my job."
"That lunatic injected who knows what into Daisy, I couldn't stand by and do nothing Jemma! You would have done the same. All of you would have, don't lie."

Jemma shakes her head, casting a glance at Daisy before moving to the front of her crib.

"Oh, don't start with me. Think y/n."

Daisy gives you a dirty look, one of those that a brother gives his sister after the latter has ratted you out, and you amiably show her your middle finger. You two really love each other only you have a strange way of showing it, that's all.

The biochemist tilts the Inhuman's head, looking closely at the tiny little hole the syringe has left in Daisy's skin.

As Jemma drains Daisy with at least two vials of blood, you approach Bobbi and brush her arm with your hand.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You whisper and Bobbi nods, sighing so softly you almost heard it.

"You went too far, it could have been bad," the blonde whispers and clenches her jaw. You look away, doing anything to avoid meeting her eyes," she could have killed you and I couldn't have done anything about it. Do you understand that y/n? You cannot jeopardize your life like this...your life is not worth less than my life or Diaisy's life."

You shake your head and flinch away from Bobbi, drawing the attention of the other two girls in the room.
"I had no choice, you know how fixated Whitehall is on Daisy and her mother!"

Bobbi remains silent, she probably would have done the same thing in your place but the fear she felt at almost losing her best friend a few hours earlier still grips her stomach.

"Y/n, Bobbi is right. My life isn't worth more than yours and I don't want you to do shit like that ever again."

Daisy gets off the crib and walks over to you, taking your hands between her own and drawing circles on your skin.


"Yeah, I'd say we have enough stubborn, reckless people in this relationship already."

Natasha says, entering the infirmary at that moment. Behind her, Wanda crosses your gaze, turning a small smile.
"Honestly-and happily-I still don't know how you are all unharmed considering you never think before you do anything."

Jemma shakes her head and emphasizes a sigh of exasperation to let you know how much you stress her out.

You smile and the tension that seemed to hover in the room before quickly dissipates. Jemma picks up the tablet next to the crib Daisy was on, looking at the results that the fast S.H.I.E.L.D. machines have sent her.

"Well, then Dee looks like Whitehall was telling the truth. I don't know if it was water but it didn't alter any of your values so at the moment I'm satisfied...Not that you're safe from any future tests in the days to come, let's be clear."

Daisy snorts and Wanda hugs her to comfort her, unsuccessfully holding back a smile. After Jemma finishes observing your test results, the biochemist clears Bobbi for any substantial damage, simply giving her a palliative for a nasty bruise on her shoulder, and then, after long and careful consideration, decides it is time to remove Fitz's device.

She has you lie on the crib, though your protests are anything but feeble, and then hooks you up to a million machines. Heart rate, blood pressure, breathing, CO2--everything.
"Bobbi come here, Wanda stand by in case your intervention is needed."

You feel like that crib is your bedside, with all the people you love around you and wires poking out of your body everywhere. Jemma lifts up your shirt, gluing the two electrodes one above your left breast and the other under your right armpit.
"Oh Jem, I don't think we should do this right now," you whisper, pretending to be scandalized as Jemma pats you on the shoulder. The whispered word "idiot" and the laughter that follows make your heart warm.

Daisy, Wanda, and Natasha remain silent as they watch Jemma slowly and carefully detach the electrodes on your temples, also slipping off the iron tube behind your neck.


"How do you feel?" Bobbi says, watching the monitors and checking your vitals, noting a gradual increase in your heart rate.
"Simmons, heart rate 95 and BP 130/85 and rising."

Jemma runs to one of the drawers; you can't quite make out her movements or the faces of your girls despite the fact that they are inches away from you. Your vision is blurry and you're pretty sure your nose has started bleeding again and profusely too, considering the concern-laden tones of voice of the girls around you.
"Shit y/n, stay awake," Bobbi says to you, slapping your face a couple of times when she sees you squint.

Natasha is dabbing your nose with all the paper she can find, and her face contorts more and more from worry with each blood-soaked handkerchief she throws on the floor. And then, in the general chaos, while Jemma is injecting you with drugs for hypertension and to try to lower your heart rate, Daisy does the only thing that makes sense to her: she takes the electricity absorber and puts it on you in the exact same way it was just moments before. And everything disappears, your vitals return to normal and stable, and the nosebleed stops.

In your regained lucidity, you rub your suit sleeve under your nose, trying to get the crusted blood away.

"Well, Fitz really did a good job."

A small smile curls your lips as Jemma leaves a kiss on your cheek, breathing a sigh of relief.
"You're going to kill me one of these days, really. And anyway, you're going to stay on this crib until I'm sure you're okay, and we've got to find a solution to this," the biochemist taps you a couple of times against Fitz's jaw-dropping invention.
"We'll probably force you to stay there for life, considering the heart attacks you're giving us" Wanda giggles, wiping away tears she hadn't been able to hold back.

"I agree" Natasha leans over, leaving a kiss on your lips and being immediately followed by Daisy.
"Not bad for an agent without a degree, is it?"
"You're an idiot."

"Daisy Johnson, you know you're not just a stupid piece of paper to us. You don't-" "Jeem, I was joking. Chill."

You shake your head as Jemma continues to rail at a poor, helpless inhuman who nevertheless deserves every single word the biochemist is saying. Ah, they are so cute when they bicker. You love them.

Thanks for reading! I know it's been a long time but hey, at least it's a very long chapter come on. Comment, share and tell me what you think. If you want to support me, this is my ko-fi link☕️ and as always: have a great day!

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