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supercorpkid · 3 years

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Recovery is hard, but not far.

Part 5 of T is for Trauma - The Series

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2580.

Warnings: Injuries. Just a small amount of angst now.

Previously on the series – part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.

It’s been a couple of days since you’ve left the DEO. Kara flew you home, and soon enough all the yellow sun lights were placed around your bed, and you’ve been lying under them ever since. Things are still hard. You still feel very weak and heavy-hearted. You don’t know how to explain the feeling, but you feel that something broke inside you.

Your moms never leave your side. They look as beaten up as you do. Lena looks tired, like she hasn’t slept in weeks. There are bags under her eyes, her hair is a mess, and she’s wearing nothing but jeans and sweaters. It’s distressing. Kara looks wretched. You’ve never seen your momma looking so miserable all your life. And she hasn’t left her sweatpants in days. You don’t think they have worked in weeks, and sometimes you want to ask them about it, but you’re scared that will send them away, and you can’t see yourself being alone right now.

Jamie visits every afternoon. And the only time you feel slightly like a normal person again is when she’s telling you about school, and the people from it. Alex also comes by a lot, but it’s all very medical. She examines you, makes you talk, walk, and checks if you’re recovering. Kelly came by a few times and tried to access how you were feeling, but you couldn’t tell her, because you don’t even know exactly how it is. To the surprise of no one, she pointed out that you need therapy, and you agreed to do it once you’re feeling strong enough.

You don’t talk much. Not because your voice is still not coming out, but because you don’t have much to say. Your powers are still not back, which feels weird. Even though you can’t control them very well, you’re used to having them. So, you’re feeling very empty inside.

“Hey, you’re awake. Did you sleep well?” You hear Kara’s voice as soon as you open your eyes. You agree with your head, so she knows you can hear her. “Do you need to go to the bathroom? Or do you want to eat first?”

“Bathroom.”

Kara picks you up and takes you to the bathroom. You appreciate the help; your leg still hurts a lot when you try to walk. Probably because you don’t have your powers. But it feels weird being carried everywhere, and helped with everything.

“Are you done?” Kara asks from the other side of the door.

“Mhm.” This is almost humiliating, isn’t it? She goes back inside and picks you up again. “Bed, please.”

“But your mom made a huge breakfast for us, all of your favorites are the-”

“Not hungry, momma. But thank you.” You try to smile at her, but it’s not a real smile. You haven’t been able to do that in a while. Kara puts you back in the bed and lays down next to you. “You can go if you want to.”

“Do you want to be alone?” She asks, and you know she’s only worried you might be feeling suffocated with them around you all the time, but your heart starts beating fast with the thought of being alone, and she hears it. “It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. Hey, hey, baby.” Kara puts her hand on your chest to feel your heart, even though she can hear it. “You’re ok. Mommy is here.”

“I’m sorry.” You try to hold your tears and even your breath.

“Baby, you don’t have to apologize. It’s ok.” She kisses your temple, and wipes the tear that is falling to the side of your face.

“Can you hold me, please?” You’re not even finished with your request and Kara already has her arms wrapped around you, and she pulls you so close you can hear her heartbeat. You like that.

You don’t know how long you two stay like that for. Probably hours. You only let go of Kara when you hear her stomach growling loudly. Jamie walks in right at that moment, and Kara can finally leave you and go eat.

“Hey little Danvers.” Jamie throws herself in your bed and looks at you with a smile. “That looked nice. Does it mean you talked to them?”

“About what?” You ask, confused.

“Well, you know, about the science fair thing.” Jamie props herself up in her elbows to look at you. She knows you haven’t by the look on your face. “Seriously? They’re in here all the time and you haven’t had the single most important conversation possible?”

“That all seems really stupid after you almost die.” You mumble under your breath, but she can hear you either way.

“Yeah, ok. I get it.” She shows her hands trying to admit defeat. “But it’s how you feel. And once you recover, things like that can happen again if you don’t let them know how it affects you.”

“Aunt Kelly said I need therapy… Does she know you say things like that to me?” You try to say it as a joke, but Jamie knows you better than you know yourself, so she’s aware you’re just trying to deflect your feelings.

“Listen, I’ve known you my whole life. You’re funny, smart and powerful.” She sits back on the bed and holds your hand. “There’s no one like you. Really. Aunt Kara is powerful, but she’s not smart like you. Aunt Lena is smart, but she doesn’t have powers. You have both. And to top it all up, you’re a genuinely good person.”

“What do you want? Money?” You raise an eyebrow at her and she breaths deep.

“See, this is what I’m talking about. You can’t even take compliments!” Jamie rolls her eyes. “You literally saved National City from destruction while our parents were frozen in time, and when everyone started applauding, you ran away from it! Why is it so hard for you to accept appreciation?”

“It’s not!” You defend yourself, but you can see her face of disbelief. “Well, you said it yourself, I had to. It was up to me. I had to save everyone.”

“No, you hadn’t! I was just trying to make you overcome your fears. If you didn’t exist, I’m sure Superman or like, the entire Justice League, would've shown up and done something about that.” You furrow your brows thinking about it. “But they didn’t have to, because Superkid was there to save the day. And Superkid was there to save her mom from being killed, and you, dipshit, created a mind reader, just because I went like ‘ok make me a mind reader’. I mean, who does that?”

You don’t answer, you just keep looking at her, waiting for her to get to the point. Which you kind of already know what it is.

“I think, and I’m not a therapist so I might be wrong, but-” Jamie holds your hand again and smiles at you tenderly. “You keep underselling yourself, because you’re afraid your moms are not going to be impressed by anything that you do.”

“I-I am-WHAT?”

“You put them on this pedestal and you look at them like they’re some goddesses who are never wrong, and you feel you can never be wrong so you can be a part of this family. But I have to tell you, little Danvers, they’re not perfect. And you… You have to stop trying to be.”

“Um…” You don’t even have words to what she just told you. Is she right? Did Jamie just read you perfectly?

“Well, anyways, I brought your homework.”

She drops the subject just like that, and takes both of you guys homework from her backpack, so you could do that instead.

“You know what’s not fair? You haven’t been to class in almost a month, and your grades are still better than mine.” She fakes complain and you roll your eyes at her. “Mom said you can go back to school when you want to. You can use a leg cast or something.”

“I don’t have to go to school, I already have better grades than you.” You joke and she sticks her tongue out at you.

Jamie spends the afternoon with you, and when she leaves Lena takes her place next to you, so you’re never alone.

“Did you manage to get any work done today?” You ask when she sits next to you. She pulls you to lay your head on her lap.

“Eh, who cares about that?” Lena says, while stroking your hair. “What I care about is that you didn’t eat enough today. You didn’t have breakfast, you barely touched your sandwich at lunch, and I saw that Jamie had to force you to eat your snack. So, what do you want me to make for you to eat, baby?”

“I’m ok.” You say and you hear a loud sigh in response. “Really, mom, you don’t have to worry.”

“Oh baby, all a mom does is worry.” She smiles and strokes your cheek. “Especially when her little monster stops eating.”

You smile at her, and close your eyes, getting comfortable enough to sleep. But you can’t, because Jamie’s words are in the back of your mind, and god dammit, she was right!

“Is, um, momma on a Supergirl call?” You ask, and your answer is Kara poking her head on your room.

“Nope. Why? Do you miss me already?” Kara says with a playful smile and she sits on your bed too. “Or do you want to talk to us about that thing Jamie was talking to you earlier?”

“Eavesdropping much?” You joke and Kara smiles at you. “It’s nothing. It’s old news.”

“Well, I would still like to talk about it.” Lena says and she helps you sit on your bed so you can look at them. “You were right baby. The reason why what you said hurt us so badly, it’s because you were right. We made a promise, and we should’ve kept it. I don’t want you to think that my job is more important than you. It is not. Nothing is.”

“Yeah.” Kara scootches over and wipes your tears. “CatCo, Supergirl, all of it, it’s just a job. This family is way more important than any of that. You know that, right?”

“I know it. I just don’t feel it sometimes.” You shrug, and you feel Lena kissing your temple, and Kara kissing your forehead at the same time.

“It’s our fault. And we’re going to work very hard to get better at that, ok?” Lena says and you agree with your head.

“But baby, you have to tell us how you feel. You can’t keep saying it doesn’t matter to you, when it’s hurting you so badly. We need to know, so we can do better.” Kara holds your hand and you breathe deep. Guess it’s time to say how you feel.

“It’s just… Everyone in school hates me. When I’m up there, after winning something, there’s no one in the crowd, besides Jamie, looking happy or proud of me.” You’re crying a little, but your moms are crying hard. “I guess I just wanted to see someone looking happy for me.”

There’re a few minutes of loud sobs, desperate noises and your moms repeating ‘we’re so sorry’ over and over again, until any of you can make up a complete sentence again.

“Baby, we’re sorry we never saw things like that. You just kept saying it wasn’t a big deal, and I guess we convinced ourselves of it because it was easier.” Lena is the first one to recover, wiping her tears on Kara’s shirt.

“We don’t want you to feel that you winning something, it's not important, no matter how small you think it is.” Kara squeezes your knee, reassuringly. “Everything you do is important to us. All your inventions make me so proud. I keep wishing that I was smart like you, just to create something out of thin air.”

“And your powers? And you saving me over and over again? You’re just a kid and you saved my life so many times it’s unbelievable.” Lena completes and you give her a little smile.

“We are so proud of you and everything that you accomplish, little one.” Kara cups your face and looks in your eyes. “So proud.”

“It’s nothing compared to what you two do.” You shrug, dismissive.

“Baby, you’re sixteen! You can’t compare a sixteen-year-old life to a forty-six.”

“Or seventy.” You say as a joke and Kara laughs tickling your waist.

“Prankster.” She smiles and, for the first time in a while, you smile too. A real one. “Besides, at sixteen I was in school getting passable grades and not saving a single soul. I didn’t even use my powers at your age! So, you’re better already.”

“I was in college, but I have to tell you, I was inventing way less important things than you’re right now.” Lena adds. “You don’t have to undersell your achievements. Because no matter what it is, we’re always very proud of you.”

It’s the first time you thought about it that way. You always thought that you saving two or three people, defeating one or two bad guys was literally nothing. And compared to your momma’s numbers it is nothing. But she has so many years in this superhero life, and you literally just started. People are just now knowing your name. It was not long ago when you got your first super suit. So, it’s not fair to yourself comparing your achievements to Kara’s.

And the same goes to Lena’s inventions. She obviously made the world a better place with all the things she created, and all the projects she supported with L Corp’s money. You haven’t even had the courage to put any of your inventions to mass production yet, so you can’t compare to them or you will never be satisfied with yourself.

Besides, they might be living pretty impressive lives, but you know they’re not perfect. There were some people Kara weren’t able to save, and there were breakthroughs Lena never had. They are amazing parents, but they’re not perfect, and it doesn’t matter, because you love them either way. And they will love you if you’re not perfect too.

“What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” Kara asks when you don’t talk for a while.

“That I have the best moms in the world.” You smile and they hug you at the same time. “No one can’t be perfect all the time. Not even the big Kara Zor-El or the great Lena Kieran Luthor.” You say, making her chuckle. “But you two come pretty damn close to it.”

“Yeah. No one is perfect, and we shouldn’t try to be.” Kara squeezes your face between her hands. “Being yourself is more than enough.”

“Oh, yes. You are more than we could ever have dreamed of, babygirl.” Lena adds and your heart almost jumps in your chest out of happiness.

“I’m glad you two are feeling like this, because I need a ride to the bathroom.” You look at Kara raising both of your eyebrows at the same time, and she picks you up immediately. “And mom? I think I can eat now.”

“I’ll order everything!” Lena gets up from the bed right away and you smile at them.

Yeah, they’re not perfect, but who needs perfection when they’re this awesome?

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #kara x lena #supercorp fanfic #supercorpfamily #kara x reader #lena x reader #supercorp daughter #reader insert

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buckys-black-dress · 3 years

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stargazing (bucky barnes x fem!reader)

a/n: so this idea totally just came to me because this trope is honestly so cute and i love these and i need to get this out of my system. i listened to stargazing by the neighborhood while writing this and i LOVE this song, so i’d recommend listening while reading! (just listen to the whole album).

also-- happy new year! 2020 quite literally fucked us up but im so grateful this year was the one where i decided to come on here and share my work with yall. i love every single one of my readers, so THANK YOU! anyways, without further ado...

enjoy my dearies!!! -ali

wc: 2.8k

When you first became best friends with Rebecca Barnes in preschool, the last place you’d expected to end up was with a massive crush on her older brother.

James, or Bucky, as he likes to be called my his close friends, was basically the perfect guy for you. He was kind, witty, and didn’t treat you like a child. (Anymore).

Now that you had graduated high school and were in you first year of college, Bucky was in his second year. And things were getting rough.

You were a Cognitive Psychology major, and your main interest was in becoming an occupational therapist. You were attending Columbia University.

And of course, so was Bucky, studying English Literature. Rebecca was studying at FIT, her main interest being in fashion design. All three of you couldn’t bear to leave New York City, so you all decided to stay nearby.

Since all three of you were in the same area, more or less, you three remained close and tight-knit. Since you were still a freshman, you decided to dorm on campus, while Rebecca and Bucky did the same. Bucky was in a fraternity, so he had a place in the house, and you often found yourself hanging out in his room, having been introduced to most of his brothers.

Like today, it was Thursday night, and your classes were cancelled for tomorrow. You were in no rush to get back to your room, and your roommate was also out at her boyfriend’s. Rebecca thought you were finishing up an essay, though.

“Y/N, you’re crashing here tonight?” Bucky’s voice caused his chest to rumble under your place on it.

“Yeah, is that alright?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course, Y/N/N.” He smiled back down at you, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest at your doe eyes.

She’s your sister’s best friend. Becca would hate you.

“I’m gonna wash up before I fall asleep, Buck.” You said with a yawn, lifting yourself off of Bucky’s warm, comfortable bed.

Bucky watched your form disappear out of his room to the bathroom next door, his chest deflating with a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

I’m so fucked.

Making your short walk to the bathroom, your mind was filled with thoughts, and you really didn’t know what to do in this current situation.

You and Becca had been best friends since you were both in preschool.

And now you were pretty certain that you had the biggest crush known to humankind on her older brother.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror as you pat your face dry, you wondered what would happen if this went further.

What would happen if you told Bucky that you liked him?

What would Becca do if she knew you liked her brother?

Shaking your head at yourself, you knew you couldn’t do that to Becca. She’s been there for you through everything that’s happened to you. To just turn around and tell her that you’ve fallen for her brother- you don’t know if that would be the right thing to do.

But how could you just outwardly deny your feelings for Bucky?

A knock on the bathroom door drew you out of your thoughts, letting whoever was knocking know that they could come in.

“Hey, Y/N, how ya been?” It was one of Bucky’s closest friends whom you also knew growing up, Steve Rogers.

“Hey Steve, I’m good. How ‘bout you?” You asked, getting ready to head back to Bucky’s room.

“Good, good, y’know, Peg’s keepin’ me on my toes.” He flashed you a smile, a blush creeping up on his face at the mention of his girlfriend.

“Aw, Stevie’s in loooove,” You sing-songed, pinching his cheek.

“Well, I think I could say the same for you, Y/N/N.” Steve scoffed back in retort, but your breath hitched at the words.

“Shut up, Steve...” You mumbled, twiddling your fingers.

“Y/N, I’m serious... You and Buck ‘ve been spending a lot of time together and I can tell. He’s my best friend, and I know when my best friend is taken for someone. Trust me, Y/N, your feelings aren’t one-sided.” And with that, he steps into the bathroom, leaving you reeling at his words.

Lost in your thought again, you walked back to Bucky’s room. You tucked yourself under his warm duvet, as you fell into a deep slumber with his arm wrapped around your waist, thinking about the weight of it around you as you fell asleep.

The next morning was... quiet... to say the least. After your encounter with Steve in the bathroom, you really didn’t know how to feel about your feelings towards Bucky. He felt the tenseness that was rolling off of you in waves, making him wonder if he did something to make you upset.

Bucky wondered if he was doing too much, wondering if he had caused you to be uncomfortable with him for some reason.

So naturally, he pulled back.

As the days went on and got colder, you found yourself spending more time in your dorm, or places that weren’t associated with Bucky in your mind.

And it was safe to say the both of you were losing it.

Bucky was slowly losing his composure, where he would participate the most in his seminar classes, he was quiet and folded in on himself, losing his confidence.

Where you were the most outspoken on certain topics in your classes, you became a bit of a hermit.

And almost everyone noticed.

Most notably, Becca and Steve.

When you returned from class at the end of a long week without Bucky, you invited Becca over to have take out in your room.

“So, how’s your week been?” She asks, reaching into your takeout box and grabbing a piece of garlic honey chicken.

Rolling your eyes, you say “Fine, same old. You? How’d that design project go?”

“It was awesome! My professor really loved my piece, she said it was one of the ‘most original takes’ on this project she’s seen!” Becca was ecstatic and you were so proud of her.

“That’s so awesome, Bec! One day you’re gonna have to make me something that I can wear, and when someone asks me where I got it, I’ll just say, ‘oh, sorry my best friend made it, you’ll have to wait ‘til it hits the runways to buy it.’” You laugh, pointing your chopsticks at her.

“Y/N, stop, you flatterer.” She smirked, looking back down at her food. “Hey, I’ve also been meaning to ask... have you noticed Bucky acting weird as of late, or anything? Is it just me or is he like... way more quiet than usual?” Becca asked inquisitively.

“Oh- uh, I actually have no idea. I haven’t really seen him that much this week. Just around campus here and there.” You shrug your shoulders, the pit in your stomach nagging at you.

“Really? You guys usually hang out more often...” She responds, and your face burns in embarrassment.

“Wh- How do you know how often your brother and I hang out?” Your voice didn’t even feel like your own as you spoke, quickly occupying it with food.

“Well, he does live with Steve... Apparently you’re around there pretty often.” Rebecca eyes you, seeing your body language and how uncomfortable you seem. “Y/N... If you like my brother, that’s okay. I think you guys would be cute together. And I can tell you like him, so don’t try to deny it.” Becca smiles, reaching to rest a hand on yours in comfort.

“Wh- You don’t care?” You ask in confusion, expecting a bit of a more dramatic reaction.

“Of course I care, I care about my two favorite people being happy. And if they’re happy together, then that’s even better!” She explains, and your head spins.

“I- I’m telling you this in confidence, Becca. You can’t tell anyone, not Steve, not Peggy, and absolutely not Bucky...” She nods, moving closer to you. “I...I do like Bucky. A lot. But I don’t think he likes me that way. I mean, just look at his exes. I’m not like Natasha, or those gorgeous girls. And what if he just sees me as his friend. Like a little sister?” You finish, your hands flailing around and out of breath.

“Y/N... I know my brother, but I can’t read his mind. If I had to take a wild guess... I’d say he likes you too. Based on what Steve tells me, based on how Bucky acts when you come up in conversation... his eyes light up, dude. I think you need to talk to him, face to face.” Rebecca explains, giving her best advice. “You both deserve to be happy, and I think you could both give that to each other.” She softly smiles.

“Thanks, Becca. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You laugh, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’ll talk to him.”

In the frat house across the campus, Steve and Bucky were sitting in the living room amongst some of their other brothers.

“Buck, what’s been up with you this week?” Tony, a senior and president of the frat asks from the kitchen.

“Hm?” Bucky looks up, confused at the question.

“You’ve been... off all week long.” Sam chimes in from next to him on the couch, eyes leaving the football match on the TV.

“I’m fine, why?” Bucky deflects, taking a sip of his drink in hand.

“Whatever you say, but I have a feeling this has to do with Y/N... haven’t seen her around here at all this week.” Tony points out, plopping down on a futon.

Steve’s eyes widened, looking down at his phone that he’s been on all night.

Little did Bucky know, Rebecca was feeding him information about you to him directly, trying to make sense of his friend’s odd behavior this week.

His eyes shot to Bucky’s, trying to gauge his reaction to Tony’s mention of you.

“Yeah, she’s been.... busy, I guess. Haven’t really talked to her.” Bucky says nonchalantly.

“Why not? You two are basically attached at the hip... like, Friday nights are usually your thing together. I thought you’d man up and ask her out already.” Sam’s response caused a stillness in the room, everyone looking at Bucky for his next move.

But it was quiet.

“She’s... she’s my sister’s best friend... I don’t think Becca would appreciate me taking her best friend out to dinner.” Bucky said in a low voice, clearing his throat.

“Have you asked her how she feels about it?” Thor asks from his spot on the other couch. “Maybe she’s fine with it, she doesn’t seem to be too stuck up...” He suggests.

“My sister isn’t stuck up, man. Watch it.” He responds defensively.

“I wasn’t saying that! But you should talk to her about it, that’s all I’m saying!” Thor fights back.

“I just- I don’t know, last week when Y/N was here, she went to the bathroom to wash up at night, and when she came back she was acting totally different. She’s usually comfortable around me, but she was acting like... like she was uncomfortable around me. I thought I did something to make her feel that way, so I kinda backed off this week.” Bucky explains, trying to understand what went wrong.

“Well, did she say anything? Did she try to reach out this week?” Tony asks.

“I mean, she texted me a few times, but it was casual conversation. I can’t tell how she’s feeling. I like her, but I don’t want to make things weird for her and Becca, or Becca and I.”

And this is where Steve chimes in.

“I mean, come on Buck, it’s obvious she likes you too. I think you need to talk to her, because Becca wants you two to be happy. I don’t think she’d care that much, y’know?”

“But what if I make things awkward? Like, what if I read the signals wrong this whole time, and she doesn’t even really like me?” Bucky was now going into a deep spiral, and Steve needed to pull him out, fast.

“Buck, I don’t think so. You should talk to her, face to face.” Steve encouraged.

“You think so?” Bucky wasn’t so convinced.

“Yes!” A chorus of voices echoed in the house, causing Bucky to jump to his feet, ready to confront this head-on.

“Okay, yeah, yes, I’m gonna tell her how I feel. I got this, I’ll be fine-” But his pumping-up session was cut short from the doorbell ringing through the house.

Steve got up, “I got it.” He simply said, smirking mischievously as he turned to face the door and twisted the knob.

And of course, it was none other than you.

“Hey Buck? I think it’s for you!” Steve yells from the doorway, stepping out of the way and directing everyone in the living room to hide out of sight. Of course, they were all still eavesdropping and lurking about.

“Doll, what’re ya doin’ here?” Bucky was beyond confused, you timing was impeccable.

“I-I have some things I wanna talk about. I just, I think we need to talk.” You say, looking up at him.

“Y-Yeah, come inside, it’s freezing out. What’s up, doll?” He asks, pulling you into the house and into the living room, sitting down next to you on a couch, making sure to face you.

“Everything’s alright... but I need to get this off my chest before I go crazy-” You stop yourself from rambling further. “I was having dinner with Becca earlier, and we... talked... about some things. And apparently, someone was telling her about all the time we spend together.” Bucky was listening, but cursing Steve in his head, knowing he was behind it.

“And I know last week I was acting weird, but I promise, it wasn’t because of something you did. Well, it kinda was, b-but not something bad, y’know?” You explain, trying to get Bucky to understand how you feel.

“Whaddaya mean, doll? If I did something, tell me, because I would never want to hurt you-” He started, trying to pinpoint his actions.

“You made me like you! There, you happy?” You exclaim, hands covering your cherry red face. “I said it! I like you. And I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way, I’m just your little sister’s annoying friend, I get it-”

But instead of the feeling of rejection, you were met with Bucky’s lips on yours, his hands cupping your cheeks.

Bucky was kissing you.

Bucky was kissing you!

Holy fuck!

What. The. Fuck.

But before you could overthink anything, you heard loud whoops and cheers coming from all around you.

“What the hell? Steve?” You asked, looking around, trying to process the last minute.

“Finally! Took ya two idiots long enough! God, Becca and I didn’t know how much longer we’d have to be your freakin’ puppet masters.” He laughed from his spot in the kitchen.

“Come on doll, let’s go upstairs to talk, where we could have some privacy...” Bucky said pointedly, looking at his brothers as they kept cheering as you two made your way up the stairs.

Once the door closed behind you two, you were quite literally speechless.

“You kissed me.” You pointed out the obvious, since your mind was still reeling.

“I did.” Bucky simply answers.

“...Why?” You ask, like an idiot.

“Because, for the past three years I’ve had the biggest crush known to man on you... and I knew if I didn’t kiss you then, I never would. Kind of a life or death situation here, doll.” He jokes trying to gauge your mood.

“Bucky...” You sighed, walking closer to him, holding his face, “you can kiss me whenever you want.” And punctuated your sentence with a kiss.

“Well... then... can I call you my girlfriend?” He asks, looking into your twinkling eyes. Bucky’s large hands cover your waist, pulling you closer against him.

“Yeah... I think you can.” You answer, the sparkle never leaving your eyes.

“Hmmm... finally.” Bucky hums, closing the gap between your lips over and over again.

Your loud giggle fills the room as Bucky peppers kisses all over your face, trying to make up for lost time.

“Hey, make sure to use protection, kids!” someone’s voice comes from down the hall from’s Bucky’s room.

“Shut up, Sam!” You both yell in unison, resuming your previous activities.

And in this moment, there’s nowhere else either of you would rather be.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #frat!Bucky #frat!au #college!bucky x reader #college au #college!Bucky #frat!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #brother's best friend!bucky #brother's best friend #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader one shot #bucky barnes imagine

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extasiswings · 3 years

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How we feeling clowns? Wrecked? Anyway, here, have an episode tag for both the crossover and Buck Begins. Also on ao3.

Eddie’s driving nearly on autopilot, the roads familiar as they get closer and closer to El Paso. Part of him almost wishes he hadn’t taken the driving shift to get them to his childhood home, even if it made the most sense—he can feel the tension in his jaw and shoulders creeping in, curling tighter with every mile they come closer, and his fingers itch for his phone, for the commiserating sympathies of his sisters who understand what he’s likely to walk into much more than Buck or Hen.

Technically they could have skipped the detour. Eddie hadn’t even planned on telling his parents he was coming to Texas at all—it was Christopher who let it slip, and then Eddie had been immediately put on the spot and he hadn’t been able to come up with a good way out of stopping by after his weak deflection that it wasn’t a social trip was met with well, you have to stop and eat somewhere, don’t you.

Sophia told him to lie and say the department said no. But she’s always been much better at lying to their parents outright than he is. Adriana shrugged and said if he didn’t want to go he didn’t need to give them a reason and should just say he wouldn’t be coming. But then, that’s her tactic as well and always has been—putting her foot down to establish hard boundaries, forging her own path and bucking all expectations. Eddie’s always fallen somewhere in the middle, which he supposes is fitting—struggling to set boundaries, often getting there only when pushed, wanting approval but lacking Sophia’s talent for gentle manipulation that usually leads people to think that whatever she wants was their idea.

So. Here he sits. Driving to El Paso.

“Eddie?”

He blinks and clears his throat as he registers Buck’s voice, the edge of concern that says it’s not the first time Buck has called his name.

“Yeah?”

“I was going to ask if you could pass back the aux cord,” Buck says. “But now I think I should ask if you’re okay.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder—Hen is in the back of the truck, head pillowed against the window, dozing with her eyes closed. He swallows.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen my parents is all,” he replies. “And usually when they call it’s to talk to Christopher so...it might be uncomfortable.”

Buck’s voice drops. “Have you talked to them since the thing? Other than about this I guess.”

The Thing, also known as the huge fight they got into when Eddie decided that if he was going to keep working he couldn’t live at home for awhile and they tried to once again insist that he take Chris back to live with them. Like some terrible combination of the arguments they had before he moved to LA and after Shannon’s funeral, only even worse because Eddie had been raw enough over the decision to move in with Buck and let his abuela take care of Chris for awhile and really didn’t need to hear anyone tell him that choice made him a bad parent—

Sophia had been spitting mad when he told her and while he doesn’t know what she said in her own subsequent call to their parents, he knows that the next time they called him, the subject didn’t come up again. Which, he supposes is as close to an apology as he’s ever likely to get.

He probably could have used that as an excuse to not visit. But then, that’s not really how they are. Don’t apologize, pretend you don’t hold grudges, act like everything is fine, and repress until it feels like it is—the Diaz family way.

Eddie sighs as he focuses on the road.

“Not really,” he replies. “They’ve called Christopher every few weeks, but we’ve only talked directly...three times maybe since then? Things seem to go south more quickly when we’re in person though so I guess I’m…”

“Bracing for impact,” Buck fills in quietly. “I get that.”

“Yeah?”

Buck shrugs. “I don’t talk about my parents,” he points out. “Don’t talk to them either if I can avoid it because they always have a way of managing to just—anyway. The last time I even called was after everything with Maddie and Doug. Haven’t seen them since...since before I started with the 118 at least. So. Yeah. I get it.”

He hesitates, then adds, “You know I have your back, right? You’re my best friend and you’re an amazing father. I’m not going to let anybody get away with talking badly about you in front of me, even if they are your parents.”

Eddie glances back and manages a faint smile, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admits. “Even if you did try to steal a fire truck in the middle of the night without me.”

Buck laughs and shoves at his shoulder. “At least it wasn’t this truck. Besides—you caught up before I did it anyway.”

“Yeah, my Buck’s about to do something dangerous senses were tingling, couldn’t let that slide,” Eddie teases.

“Just give me the damn aux cord,” Buck shoots back, but he’s grinning.

And as they pass the next exit, Eddie feels like maybe things won’t be quite so bad.

***

Buck hates Eddie’s parents.

It’s not the most charitable thing to think about someone you’ve only just officially met—he saw them at the ceremony when Eddie passed his probationary period, but he’d been on pretty strong painkillers at the time and Maddie had shuffled him back home as soon as possible—but he really does.

He hates the tense, anxious set of Eddie’s shoulders, hates the way his smile looks forced—it triggers the same fierce, protective instinct that rears its head whenever he gets between his parents and Maddie, and, well, he did promise, so—

He really doesn’t feel bad for interrupting the very first digs about how seeing Christopher over video isn’t the same as in person, but it’s nice to have the option and technology really is wonderful, Zoom calls must have been a great improvement from your army days, right son with—

“You know, it is wonderful isn’t it? Did Eddie tell you how amazing Christopher is handling hybrid learning? It’s really so great how his teachers have adapted, I can’t imagine he would have kept up so well anywhere else.”

Buck smiles brightly as Eddie’s mother’s lips thin. Hen coughs and takes a long sip of lemonade. Eddie blinks in surprise from across the table and clears his throat, grasping at the lifeline.

“Yeah, top of his class,” Eddie says.

“He even has a reading group once a week with some of the other kids in his class that Eddie started to help them stay social. I know a lot of the other parents appreciate it,” Buck adds, and Eddie rubs at the back of his neck.

“We definitely do,” Hen says, glancing at Eddie’s father as she clarifies, “I have a son Christopher’s age. They used to play together all the time before all of this.”

“His therapist said kids are resilient, but I wanted to at least try and give him something normal,” Eddie replies, and his mother’s brows raise.

“Christopher is in therapy?” There’s a note in her tone that makes Eddie tense and Buck’s hackles raise.

“I took him to see someone for a few sessions after Shannon died, mom,” Eddie says evenly. After the tsunami, Buck fills in for himself. “It didn’t seem like a bad idea to go back again to make sure he’s okay during a time that’s pretty unprecedented for just about everyone.”

“Really, I think more parents should send their kids to therapy,” Buck interjects. “If it’s a feasible option, I can’t see that it’s anything other than great parenting to make sure your kid has the best tools they can to take care of their mental health.”

God knows if he’d gone to therapy a hell of a lot sooner, he might not be struggling through sessions with Dr. Copeland now that he’s nearly thirty, but that’s not really the point.

“Well, some people feel those sorts of things are best taken care of within the family,” Eddie’s mother replies.

“With all due respect, sometimes the family’s way of handling problems just makes things worse,” Buck replies, his smile dropping briefly before he forces it back again.

“This lemonade really is delicious, Mrs. Diaz,” Hen jumps in as Eddie pushes his chair back and starts collecting empty plates. “I would love to get the recipe before we leave. If you don’t mind.”

Startled, the older woman blinks. “Oh. Yes, of course. I’ll write it down for you.”

Buck pushes back his own chair as Hen continues redirecting the conversation and follows Eddie into the kitchen where he finds his best friend gripping the edge of the sink.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

Eddie looks over his shoulder and exhales heavily. “Hey.”

“Sorry if I overstepped.”

“You didn’t,” Eddie assures. “I’m just...exhausted. And ready to get back on the road and home to my kid.”

He hesitates, then adds, “you know, my sisters would be impressed. I haven’t seen someone manage our parents like that since they left. I—thank you.”

“I meant what I said in the truck, Eddie,” Buck replies. “You’re an amazing father and a great man and—it’s not right that anyone should pretend any different. So. I won’t let them.”

Eddie glances at the hallway. “Guess we have to go back eventually. I didn’t quite think this escape plan through.”

“Once more unto the breach?” Buck offers. The smile he gives Eddie is far different from the fake one he’s had up since they arrived, and when Eddie returns it, a spark returning to his eyes, it makes Buck’s stomach flip and his pulse race.

He tries not to think too hard about that. They still have a long drive ahead of them—plenty of time to save it for later.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

***

When they get home, Eddie barely manages to shower and plug in his phone to charge before falling into bed and immediately going to sleep. When he wakes up, he finally checks his messages and sees several missed calls and texts from his sisters.

So? Sophia asks. How was it?

<em>You were right</em>, Eddie taps out, and then waits. His phone rings a few seconds later.

“I’ll save the I told you so in favor of asking if I should get Adriana on the line for an emergency Diaz sibling parental grievance vent session or if I’ll suffice,” Sophia greets.

“It’s not that serious,” Eddie replies. “I’m okay—a little annoyed still, but...I’m okay.”

He’s not quite sure what compels him to add, “Buck was there. He, uh, he told them off about it a little actually. Politely, but that kind of polite...you know the one.”

“The one that’s basically go fuck yourself with a smile and/or plausible deniability?” Sophia fills in, and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah, that.” He rubs at the back of his neck and leans back in his chair. “It was—he kept pointing out things about what a great dad I am.”

There’s something about the feeling in his gut that he can’t name. Something he wants to poke at, to explore, but that also makes him wary. Like a yellow caution light—it’s not a do not enter but it’s not risk free either—and he’s not sure whether it’s a risk he can take yet.

Sophia is quiet for a moment. Then she says, “You are a great dad, Eddie. In spite of them. I’m glad you have other people in your life who recognize that too. You deserve that. You deserve to trust that you’re good at things, even if mom and dad say you aren’t. You deserve to be happy, so...”

The silence that follows feels weighty.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Is Buck—?” Sophia cuts herself off. “—nevermind. Hey, the twins are calling, so I’ll call back again later, okay? Love you.”

Is Buck what? Eddie wants to ask. But he swallows it back.

“Love you, too,” he says instead. “Talk to you later.”

As he hangs up and tosses his phone aside, his mind wanders back to that feeling. Right up to the edge of warning lights and caution tape. And Eddie wonders for a moment if he should—

There’s a knock at his door.

“Dad? You awake?”

“Yeah, buddy,” he calls back. “Be right there.”

Later. He can think about it later.

***

Eddie figures it out at the worst possible time—in the middle of a five-alarm fire when Buck’s trapped inside and he doesn’t know if—

What do you do when you realize you might be in love with your best friend and they could die?

“We have to go back in there,” he says, before he can think of any reason why he shouldn’t. “We can’t just leave him, we have to—”

“You’re right,” Bobby interrupts, and the other captain makes a noise of frustration.

“Captain Nash—”

“You’re right,” Bobby repeats, holding Eddie’s gaze. “We’re going to get him back.”

Maybe it’s stupid, four trained firefighters diving back into an active blaze in an unstable building with unclear direction, but Eddie can’t regret it when he sees the desperation on Buck’s face. The relief. The impending breakdown.

After, he’s assigned to take care of the victim and Buck’s carted off to the hospital to get checked, and Eddie thinks maybe that’s better. It gives him time, at least. Time to figure out what to say, what to do, whether he should say or do anything at all. Part of him doesn’t know. The rest is screaming I love him, I love him, I love him, wants to get his hands on Buck to verify for himself that he’s fine. That he’s alive. That he’s going to stay that way.

But when he gets back to the station, Buck’s parents are there, sitting at the table, and Eddie just—

He thinks about the look on Buck’s face earlier in the shift when he spilled everything, when he explained how he was apparently born just for parts and how he used to throw himself into bad situations because it was the only way to get their attention.

He could ignore them. But he doesn’t.

“He saved my son, you know,” Eddie says, gripping the top of the staircase as the Buckleys look up. And it’s probably somewhat insane to keep talking because he knows they don’t even know who he is, but he can’t help it because he just needs them to understand— “Buck. He wasn’t even working at the time, he was on medical leave and didn’t know if he would ever be able to be a firefighter again. But he saved my son in the middle of a tsunami—my then eight-year-old son, and god knows I can’t imagine losing him, I think that would be the worst thing I could possibly go through, and I’m not sure I would survive it, but I didn’t have to because Buck saved him. And probably twenty other people as well. That’s just the kind of person he is. The kind who saves people.”

They don’t say a word, so he keeps going. “He could have died today. Because he didn’t want to leave anyone behind. Because he is a good man, even if he doesn’t ever feel like he’s good enough. And he hasn’t said a lot about you, but he’s said enough for me to know that while he’s gotten the latter impression from you, he learned the former himself. He built his life here himself. So...I don’t know why you’re here, if you want to explain yourselves or just want him to forgive you because you feel guilty, but I just wanted you to know that. That he’s a good man. The best man that I know. And if you’re proud of him for that, he deserves to hear it. That’s all.”

Eddie walks away then, heart beating too fast, blood rushing in his ears.

The best man that I know. And I’m in love with him.

That wasn’t for their ears though.

It thrums in his veins, the words caught in his throat as he showers, changes, waits for Buck to return to the station. And when he does, Eddie almost—

But something stops him.

“You have visitors,” he says instead. And leaves Buck to it.

Buck finds him in the locker room after.

“So, my parents said they heard stories about me while they were waiting,” he says. “When I asked them who from, they said they didn’t know, but that I saved their son in a tsunami—and trust me, that got a hell of a lot of questions.”

Eddie is grateful for the open locker, the excuse to hide his face as he pulls out his street clothes.

“Yeah, well—just because they’re not going to appreciate you doesn’t mean that nobody else does.”

“Eddie.”

Eddie pulls back and takes a breath before looking over at Buck. There’s a look in Buck’s eyes like he’s trying to piece Eddie together like a puzzle, to work out all the things he hasn’t said. And Eddie suddenly feels exposed, far more than he had when Buck was sitting in his childhood dining room staring down his own parents.

“You’re a good man,” Eddie says quietly. “They should hear that. And...someone should be willing to defend it.”

Buck’s quiet for a moment.

“I have to go see Maddie,” he says finally. “But maybe I could come by later? And we could...talk?”

“You don’t have to ask, Buck,” Eddie replies. “You know I—” I always want you. “—you’re always welcome.”

Buck watches him in silence for another long moment, then nods. “Okay. Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

It’s hours before there’s a knock on the door. Hours in which Eddie burns dinner and then orders takeout because he’s too busy thinking, hours that he spends trapped in his own head, thinking through all the worst case scenarios, through every what if of how things could go wrong.

But also how they could go right.

And by the time he opens the door, he’s almost ready to just let the words trip off his tongue, but before he can, Buck says—

“Please don’t tell me I’m wrong about this.”

—and kisses him.

Eddie freezes, but before Buck can pull back, he slides a hand around the back of Buck’s neck and kisses him back with everything in him—every bit of thank god you’re alive and I was so afraid and I can’t lose you that he can muster. By the time Buck pulls away, they’re both breathless.

“I’m in love with you,” Buck admits. “I’ve been—”

“Me too,” Eddie replies. “I thought—I thought you were—”

Buck kisses him again.

“I can’t believe you told off my parents.”

“Well, you told off mine, so—”

Eddie pulls Buck through the door.

“Chris is in his room,” he says quietly. “But...you should stay for dinner. And…”

You should stay. Just stay.

Buck does.

#chapel writes #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #911 spoilers #(just in case)

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kaypeace21 · 3 years

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Stranger things is about mental health & trauma- deal with it!

I’ve seen a lot of people claim anyone who mentioned this topic immediately be gaslit and told they’re “just crazy” and “rudely projecting their own issues on to the characters.’ Like- no you don’t have to believe my Will DID/Lonnie theory ( I could be wrong). But to claim one of the show’s central themes isn’t about mental health/trauma (screams either complete lack of lit comprehension or denial cause you have your own negative biases towards such people). So let’s just go into what’s literal text-not subtext/symbolism. Just the super blatant stuff. RIGHT IN THE SHOW!

-We have El when she first appears on screen asked by Benny if her parents starved and hurt her and if that’s why she ran away. Benny then calls CPS to say El “may have been ab*sed or something.” After this Lucas says there is “seriously something wrong with her-wrong in the head. She’s probably from the NUT-HOUSE in curly county.penthurst” We also see El cannonically has PTSD-all of s1 she’ll see something benign (a cat, a coke commercial, a closet) and is triggered to see a traumatic flashback. That’s literally ptsd. There’s also hints throughout the seasons she’s developmentally behind in both language, telling time etc (neglect like El’s irl can cause an intellectual disability-analysis on El/that subject here).The real pethurst in pensylvannia (not the one in stranger things/ Curly county) closed in 1986- it was a facility for people and mostly kids with intellectual disabilities (it wasn’t technically a psych facility like the one in st)-but it was infamous for it’s abuse of these intellectually disabled patients kept there. We also have Brenner be a ab*sive psychiatrist.

- Hopper after suffering from the loss of his daughter. Is popping pills like candy, drinking and smoking constantly. He later says he used to hallucinate and forgot what was real -seeing and hearing sarah and says if he didn’t confront the pain he’d “fall down a black hole he couldn’t get out of.” NO... subtext here about what the void represents nope.

- Both mothers (Terry & Joyce) are dismissed as being mentally ill and simply grieving the loss of their kids . But both end up being right about the supernatural.

- “Terry pretends Jane is real. i mean it’s all make believe. you know the doctors all say it’s a coping mechanism.”

- While with Joyce the whole town pre s1 already questioned her mental health. Jonathan says “She used to have anxiety problems (pre s1).” And Jonathan, Hopper, and Lonnie all assume she’s hallucinating: talking to Will via lights, seeing a man without a face, saying Will’s body is fake -due to grief. Plus Lonnie mentions the fact Joyce’s aunt Darlene also used to hallucinate as a possible reason (terry’s aunt also had mental health issues mentioned in s2 by Becky). Lonnie even says everything Joyce is seeing is “all in her head.” Hopper and Jon both say she needs to sleep and accept reality and Lonnie says she needs to see a “shrink”. Hopper “i’m not saying that you’re crazy”. Joyce : “no, you are.” Joyce also says to Lonnie “Stop looking at me like that... like everyone else like i’m out of my damn mind.” Hopper also says about Joyce she’s “on the edge”. Callahan says in response , “she’s been on the edge for a while now” (referring to her mental health- even before Will’s dissappearance)”. While Lonnie says Jonathan is “feeding into her hallucinations ... you’re going to push her right over the edge.” In s2 Hopper says “ I think everyone is on edge- you, me, Will most of all. (when talking about Will’s ptsd/trauma)”

- in s1 They claim Will just “fell” over the edge of the quarry’s cliff. Later the only other queer coded character (Mike) jumps off the quarry cliff (where Will’s body was found) cause the homophobic troy forced him too jump. Troy even says earlier dead-Will is “flying with all the other fairies all happy and gay” (to Mike). And Troy says to Hopper El made Mike “fly” after jumping off the cliff. Friendship saved him from jumping off the edge metaphorically ( and he’ll prob eventually be happy and gay too).

s2/3

-Will is seeing a therapist . And we are told he has ptsd and will experience the anniversary effect, personality changes,nightmares, having episodes, etc. And things “will get worse before they get better”. Mike also asks if what Will is seeing is “real or like the doctors say all in your head?” And Will continues to see hallucinations of the mf/upsidedown that only he can see initially.

-Hopper also agrees with owens mentioning how he knew guys with ptsd . joyce : “it’s not like he’s describing a nightmare. He talks about them like they’re real.” Hopper: “Yeah, because they’re not nightmares they’re flashbacks.I think he’s right about trauma.I think everyone is on edge (bringing that s1 ref back), Me you, Will, most of all.Nothing’s gonna go back to the way that it was. But it’ll get better.In time.”

-Nancy suffers from survivor’s guilt and drunkingly says she killed Barb. Jonathan says like Nancy he has “a weight that you that carry all the time . i feel it too.” (cough depression). He also says he tries to be there for Will but says about Will “he’s not the same. maybe things can’t go back to the way they were. (mirroring Hopper’s words earlier that season)”

-Jonathan said in s1 Joyce had “anxiety issues” than Nancy says in s3 “you really are your mother’s son... you worry too much.” Then we see him look worried after the comment.

- in s2, Axel & a scientist both call El and Will “schizos” because of their powers. In s3 mrs driscoll isn’t believed about the supernatural cause she’s schizophrenic-but like Joyce/Terry was right.

- Kali saves a woman named Dottie (a british slang term for crazy) from a mental hospital and then compares herself and El to dottie. saying her non-powered gang is “Like us ...outsiders... society discarded them.” In graphitti we even see the title “obedlam” a british poem about discarding the mentally ill and leaving them homeless. El before this sees a mentally ill man screaming “we’re all dead!” Kali’s friend says to El, after this encounter they were “dead all of us” until kali “saved them here” (points to head) “and here” (points to heart). Pointing to the theme of love and friendship helping those with such issues. Similar to the cliff analogy.

-The cycle of ab*se. Max in s2 says she’s afraid of becoming like Billy (her ab*ser). We see Billy mimic his ab*ser neil and inflict pain on max. In s3 we see the roots of his behavior are linked to mimicking Neil- Neil in a flashback says about baseball “what are you scared?” “ did i raise a p*ssy for a son”. So young Billy later in a fight says to a boy “ what are you scared to fight me? fight me p*ssy. (as he beats the boy)” Deflecting his anger of his father on to someone else. In s3, We see as a kid he used to say to Neil “don’t hurt her” (his mom)-specifically after Neil backhand slaps her -but we later see possessed Billy backhand slap Max (just like neil). The resentment to his mother leaving - festered into how he views women and max negatively . And his attraction to mrs wheeler prob is linked to him subconsciously missing his mother. Max in s2 even says he can’t take it out on her mother so he does so to her instead (we even have Billy hallucinate hurting mrs wheeler).We see in s2 the cycle of abuse is there- Billy mimics Neil, and then Max mimics Billy. Billy harrasses Max and yells “SAY IT!” (mimicking Neil). Max like Billy later yells “SAY IT” and uses a bat /violence to stand up for herself against Billy- which earlier she said she was trying to combat … explaining she can be angry like Billy sometimes but she never wants to be like him (her nickname symbolizing this: aka ‘mad max’). Billy’s last dying words were an apology to Max- for becoming her neil. And we hopefully will see Max break this cycle.

- Will says his now memories (that he describes like dreams) are “growing “, “spreading “,and “killing”. While Kali says they need to face their father and (as Brenner) says El has to confront her “wound” or else it’ll “grow”, “spread” and “eventually it’ll kill her.” Kali says she used to be like El . She used to bottle her pain away and it “spread.” But she then says “I confronted my pain and I finally began to heal (from those wounds).” We also see with jonathan and nancy when describing “shared trauma” zoom in onto the scars on their hands. The wound heeled into a scar so to speak.

S2 & 3 ENDINGS

both have Hopper do a speech that delves into dealing with trauma/depression but still finding good along the way.

-s2 Hopper outside the snowball: “how are you holding up? Yeah, that feeling never goes away. It is true what they say, you know. Everyday it does get easier.”

-s3 Hopper monolouge : “ Feelings jesus. For so long, i’d forgotten what those even were. I’ve been stuck in one place,in a cave you might say , a deep dark cave (cough s2 supernatural cave). For the first time in a long time, i started to feel things again. I started to feel happy. Life... yeah sometimes it’s painful .sometimes it’s sad, and sometimes it’s suprising... happy.. And when life hurts you, because it will .remember the hurt . The hurt is good. It means you’re out of that cave.”

BUT YES- St has nothing to do with mental health/trauma, we’re just “crazy” and “projecting”. It’s not like some of ya’ll act pompous when you just have a bias and get pissy at the idea of relating to characters you “other” as “crazy” or “damaged” irl or anything (so attack people for pointing it out). Or (benefit of the doubt) you are just like.... oblivious... or just a kid who doesn’t know better XD

#stranger things #el hopper #will byers #jim hopper #joyce byers #max mayfield #billy hargrove #kali prasad #mike wheeler #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler

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daisybeewrites · 3 years

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Academy Blues

sometimes you punch the bag, sometimes to bag punches you

word count: 4.5k

warnings: none. heavy handed use of italics

ship: Dousy (Daniel Sousa/Daisy Johnson), background Fitzsimmons and Philinda

ahaha.. and the fun begins (the cryptic-ness is for a reason i promise)

“Ow!!” Daisy exclaimed. This was the second time today she had gotten distracted and let the punching bag swing into her. Sans Bobbi or Mack, her usual workout partners, there was no one to hold the bag still while she was pummeling it. Her side of the gym was entirely void of people, most opting to use the treadmills or other cardio machines lining the wall of large windows that faced the forest to the south, or stick to circuits on the resistance machines throughout the middle of the gym. The universe seemed to be telling her to get in some boxing, so she walked over to the bag with the intention of punching until her arms hurt.

Now her nose hurts, too.

“You need a spot?” May asked, silently crossing the padded floor to Daisy.

She nodded. Waiting for May to get into position, Daisy stretched out her arms over her head and across her body, twisting her torso to feel her abs stretch. When May gave her a thumbs up, Daisy started to punch the heavy bag again, this time with a little more force now that she knew it wouldn’t fly back and hit her in the face.

“Something on your mind?”

“No,” Daisy grunted. “Just slacked off the last few weeks. With everyone gone on break there wasn’t as much of... everything, I guess, to keep me in a routine.”

May nodded. “Breaks can be tough. No classes, schedule disrupted, more free time than you know what to do with. I get it. If you ever want a time-filler, text and I’ll be there.”

Daisy nodded, going back to silently punching. The breaks weren’t all bad. They only happened eight times a year, five two-week breaks and three three-week breaks. Enough time that those with families and lives outside of SHIELD could visit and vacation, but not fall behind. Plus, it gave Daisy the campus pretty much to herself. Only about forty students stayed at The Academy over breaks, and it seemed to decrease every time.

Another good thing about breaks was that Daisy got to know more people personally. Whether it was how the tall, fifth-year red head took her morning coffee or that the new group of first-years liked to run the same trails through the forest as she did. So, when an entirely new face had cropped up out of nowhere, Daisy was intrigued. He walked with a limp, had nice hair and kind eyes. She didn’t recognize him, and despite the fact that he had arrived the same day as the rest of the first-years, he was definitely the oldest of the pack. That was unusual, Daisy had thought, SHIELD almost always recruits directly out of high school or college. The last time anyone over the age of twenty-five had been accepted to the Academy was when Daisy herself had started. However, that was a bit of a… special situation.

Every morning, New Guy crossed through the computer lab and waved, smiling confidently at Daisy. His sudden appearance and amicable interactions confused her. Classes weren’t in session, but he always had a backpack with him. Maybe he had tutoring with one of the professors? A new student trying to catch up before the term even began — an enigma.

Once classes had started, he still came by everyday. Daisy liked to think it was because he wanted to see her. They had never spoken more than tired greetings to each other, and yet Daisy felt herself pulled towards him. She shook off the thought. It made her skin crawl, thinking about the last time she felt such a magnetic attraction to someone.

She realized May was studying her through the mirrors lining the wall next to the row of punching bags. She cleared her throat and asked, “Is my form okay?”

May gave her a long look that clearly said, ‘You know that your form is fine.’

Daisy pulled her eyes away from May’s stare, announcing, “I’m going to fill up my water, do you need any?”

May shook her head, pulling out her phone.

Daisy bent down to grab her water and headed to the back of the gym, towards the locker rooms. A couple of reusable bottle-filler stations were stuck into the wall, right next to the PT rooms. Daisy couldn’t help but peer into the closest one as she listened to the sound of water streaming into her bottle. It was filled with floor ladders, yoga balls, sports med supplies... New Guy. Huh.

Wondering why he would be sitting in a dark PT room by himself, Daisy took a swig of her water before continuing to fill it up. He hopped off the table as the lights came on, a young doctor-type walking in a smiling. She was reminded of his limp when he walked towards her, shaking her hand and flashing a large smile. Cute, Daisy noticed. Wait, no, what?

Daisy promptly turned and headed back to the wall of mirrors, choosing to ignore the smirk on May’s face.

“Ready?” Daisy asked.

“Actually,” May began, “Why don’t we get in some sparring? You’ve been at this for over an hour.”

Daisy caught the glance May threw at the half-assed wraps on her hands and nodded. With only a few jitters, Daisy quickly helped May unroll the sparring mats onto the floor. Daisy had only sparred with Yo-Yo since she got back from Columbia visiting her cousin. Sparring with May was an entirely different level.

After some warm-up drills, May silently took charge and got into a fighting stance. Daisy rose up on her tip-toes, then rocked backwards. The grey padding beneath her looked a lot softer than it felt while being slammed onto it. A quick lunge from Daisy and a swift deflection by May, and the two women were off.

Across the gym, Daniel Sousa and the doctor were chatting, watching Daisy and May.

“They look like they’re barely breaking a sweat,” Daniel commented after May leaped off Daisy’s leg, flipping forwards and attempting to grab Daisy around the shoulders. Daisy rolled backward, throwing May over her and getting to her feet as the shorter woman jumped up into a wide stance.

“You’ll get back to that level,” The physical therapist assured him.

Daniel shook his head. “Maybe. I hope so. If not, I’m a damn good shot, anyway.”

The doctor chuckled before motioning back to the PT room. “C’mon, you still have thirty minutes stuck with me before I release you from daily therapy.”

“It’s only been three weeks?” Daniel questioned, confused. They walked through a black door to a small room. Grey cabinets on one side, a black table on the other, physical therapy tools lined up in organized sections.

“Most of which was just assessing you. You already know the exercises and stretches, and you completed the physical therapy recommended by your primary care physician before you came to us. You have the strength mostly back in your residual limb, at least to the point where sparring shouldn’t do any damage. I still expect you to show up at least twice a week. Especially since you’re starting field training with May.”

He smiled. “How do you know about that?”

“I have access to your file, Sousa,” She reminded him, “I also know you were late to her class on the first day. Not a smart move, in my opinion.”

Daniel cringed at the memory of heads turning his way, watching him limp to the only open seat in the very front. May’s comment— “Thoughtful of you to join us, Agent Sousa,” —still turned his face a slightly embarrassing shade of red when he thought about it.

Noticing his uncomfortable silence, the physical therapist put on a sympathetic face. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. I was late to my first class, too. Professor Martin, advanced physiology. Granted, I was seventeen...”

Daniel playfully glared at her.

“...but I suppose that’s no excuse. Let’s get started.”

The rest of the day went by without Daisy or Daniel seeing much of each other besides a fleeting glimpse while changing classes. Not that they were looking for the other, or anything.

A few hours later, before dinner, Daisy was sitting on the counter in the girls’ dorm bathroom, watching Jemma curl her hair.

Jemma Simmons was one of the only people she immediately loved at SHIELD, and the first person she had trusted on Coulson’s team. Over the course of a couple months, they became closer than Daisy had ever been with anyone, spending almost every waking moment together. Over time, Daisy had grown to love the rest of the team, too, learning that they had also been hand picked by Coulson. Though, technically, Daisy hadn’t been chosen for the team. She was picked up as a consultant. But it didn’t matter, as the ragtag team had quickly been disbanded.

Knives shoved into your back can have that effect.

After the end of the team, Code-named Bus Kids, Daisy, Fitzsimmons, Tripp, and May and Coulson had come to the Academy to continue working with SHIELD. Daisy and Tripp were assigned as partners in their ops training, Fitzsimmons were partners in the lab, and May and Coulson still checked on them as if nothing had changed.

But people get busy, and it had been awhile since Jemma and Daisy had properly talked to each other.

“Does the bruise on my nose look like it’ll go away any time soon?”

Jemma glanced up through the mirror, shrugging. “It should. What did you do to it?”

Daisy fiddled with her hands, only answering when Jemma turned to face her fully.

“I kinda, uhm, got punched...”

The stern look Jemma gave Daisy quickly melted into laughter as the brunette added, “...by a punching bag.”

Reaching up to turn Daisy’s face towards the fluorescent bathroom lighting, Jemma gently ran a finger along the angry red splotch on the top of Daisy’s nose. She jerked her head a bit, wincing at the contact.

“You should be fine, I’ll grab some of the good anti-inflammatory meds from the medical storage.”

Daisy thanked her, hopping off the counter to grab an eyeliner pen. “So, how is Fitz? Is this a real date night or are you guys ‘just hanging out’?”

Jemma smiled at his name and rubbed her neck. Daisy smiled back at the subconscious reaction.

“You two are so meant for each other,” She teased.

Jemma tilted her face up towards Daisy, allowing her to start applying eyeliner.

“He hasn’t really defined it. We’re ‘going out’, but we aren’t dating.”

Daisy finished the subtle cat eye, shaking her head. When would he learn that Jemma would only believe they were together if he said, ‘Hey, Jems, I’m completely and totally in love with you and I want you and I to live happily ever after!’

Daisy watched Jemma inspect herself in the mirror, touching up her mascara.

“You look amazing. He’s a fool if he doesn’t see it,” Daisy assured.

Jemma smiled. Her Sheffield accent had gotten thicker over break, Daisy noticed, as Jemma responded, “He does, I know he does. We both just have trouble, you know? Voicing our thoughts and feelings.”

Daisy definitely knew…

“Well, he could do with a good reminder sometimes. If y’all are going to keep going on these not-dates, you might as well show him what he’s missing by staying just friends!”

Jemma laughed, smiling gratefully. She took one final look in the mirror, swishing her knee-length royal blue dress and fluffing her hair. “Okay, well, off I go. Have a good night, Daisy.”

Daisy gave her a thumbs up and went to watch out her window as Fitz handed Jemma a hand-picked bouquet of (slightly squished) wildflowers and took her arm to lead her to the parking lot.

Daisy sighed and turned away from the gold and pink sunset. She opened her personal laptop, immediately bombarded by three windows running programs. One was running an innocent algorithm to clean all the useless, unused files from her computer, one was a simulation that could (hypothetically, no harm no foul) hack the Pentagon, and another was trying to find video and audio feed from Los Angeles, four months ago.

Daisy’s gaze lingered on the last one, not expecting anything new. She sighed and picked up her laptop, deciding to go visit Mack in the garage. It was only seven on a Friday, he’d probably be there working on the run-down, close to falling apart Harley he had bought off an old friend for $200. Mack had been working on it for months. Daisy wasn’t even sure it had half its original parts.

A short trip across the grounds and a trek over a winding path cut through a field of thick tallgrass later, Daisy arrived at the garage.

The monstrous steel and concrete building was like a plane hangar and mechanics lab forged into one. Workstations around the edge were strewn with tools, motors, and half-finished pieces of tech. Shining black SHIELD vehicles and even two quinjets sat in the middle, outlined by rectangular blocks of tape and paint. Catwalks crossed the upper level so that mechanics could reach the tops of planes when necessary, though SHIELD planes hardly ever came to The Academy unless they were being used for a lesson.

Daisy followed the sounds of tinkering and the quietly moving shadows to Mack’s workstation. She carefully leaned against a nearby SHIELD van, not wanting to interrupt his work.

Now, to say that Mack wasn’t easily frightened was an understatement. Daisy had hardly ever seen the muscled giant of a man so much as jump. Ever since discovering this, Daisy had taken every opportunity to try to scare Mack. It was not going great.

Daisy pulled out her phone, silently thumbing through emails and checking Instagram. She was about to walk over and tap him on the shoulder when Mack turned around and screamed.

Clutching his chest, Mack exclaimed, “Tremors, what the hell?!”

“I just wanted to come check in,” Daisy giggled, happy that she had finally snuck up on Mack.

Mack stood with his hands on his hips, smiling wide, before cocking one thick eyebrow and gesturing at her face.

“What happened to your nose?”

“Punching bag won this morning,” She shrugged.

Mack shook his head, laughing in a deep rumble. “You wanna help me with this?” He asked, pointing to the small device on his desk.

She didn’t answer, just reached out to take a small screwdriver from Mack’s very large hand. He showed her how to twist it to create leverage without it slipping while he messed with some wires, and eventually he seemed satisfied.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Mack asked casually.

Daisy nodded, her grumbling stomach betraying her.

Mack eyed her up and down. “Sure. Well, I’m hungry, so let's get something to eat and then we can take the bikes out.”

Daisy liked the feeling of being on a bike, the wind in her hair and steady vibrations from the engine soothing her ever-present headache. Ever since this revelation, if Mack went out on his motorcycle, he invited Daisy to ride with him.

At first, Daisy had been skeptical. What was so great about a two-wheel speeding death trap? One of her best friends had driven a gleaming 1969 Dodge Charger, and she had enjoyed riding with the windows down, but it still wasn’t the absolute best experience of her life, like most motorcyclists claimed a ride could be. However, once Daisy had finally taken Mack up on his offer, she was never hesitant to accept another invitation.

In the canteen, Mack piled a plate high with salad ingredients and baked spaghetti, scooping some off into a bowl for Daisy once he got back to the table. She took a fork and picked at it, chewing the crisp lettuce slowly.

Once they were both finished, Mack put his plate and utensils on the circling dish belt. He let Daisy lead the way back to the garage. She immediately grabbed two helmets and Mack’s gloves.

“That leather jacket gonna be enough to keep you warm? I have a couple old flannels in my bag if you want one.” Mack offered.

Daisy picked at a loose thread on the worn black jacket, nodding and throwing a ‘Thanks’ over her shoulder. She quickly rifled through his duffel bag, pulling out a faded black and blue flannel and shrugging it on under her jacket.

Mack mounted his black and silver bike, Daisy choosing a smaller SHIELD one. She kicked the kickstand back with her foot, finding her balance. She followed Mack as he revved the engine and took off out of the garage. Daisy heard him speak into the helmet’s mic.

“I upgraded the bikes, bigger tires and a better visor. It’s more efficient. Plus, when I’m out on the highway, cars don’t push me around.”

Daisy gave him a thumbs up, focusing on the feeling of air flowing around her. She sped up as she reached the road. She felt as if she was flying high into the air, fighting the laws of physics. On the back roads surrounding the Academy, as familiar as the back of her hand, Daisy relaxed and let herself fall into autopilot.

She heard Mack in her ear, still talking about the bike. She had heard it all before, but there was something centering about listening to Mack retell the evolution of his bike for the hundredth time, like a kid who begged to hear the same bedtime story every night.

It was freeing, speeding down a deserted road on the bike, stars above and pavement below. Pine trees reached for the sky on each side of her. Shrubbery and grass waved to Mack and Daisy as they raced forward.

A slight burn pricked her eyes that she knew wasn’t from the wind. Daisy needed this after a stressful first couple weeks back in class. To be honest, it was what she needed all the time. Daisy was exhausted. Her powers may not be visible, but they were always on, always bouncing around her body. Times like these, though, Daisy felt free. Releasing the constant grip she had on her self-control, she let the vibrations of the engine flow through her. Slowly, surely, Daisy let her guard down. A whispering warble crept into her ears over the wind. She could feel the way the pavement below and the humid late-August air around her absorbed the miniscule quakes, bouncing lightly off the tall trees like a quiet laugh reflecting off the walls of an echo-chamber.

About an hour later, Daisy and Mack were rolling back into the garage. Daisy couldn’t hide the slight redness in her eyes, but the smile on her face told Mack he didn’t need to worry. The pair silently did maintenance on the motorcycles, re-fueling them for later use and checking for any loose parts on Daisy’s.

Daisy headed back to campus, refusing Mack’s offer to walk her back to the dorms. She would be fine on her own. Besides, Jems might be back by now, she could ask about Fitzsimmons’ date. Or she could wait until breakfast tomorrow and tease them both.

Daisy stopped in her tracks. Out of the corner of her eye, a shadow slipped behind a building. Daisy felt her back tense, her hands curling into fists.

Any remainder of twilight light had faded while Mack and Daisy maintenanced the bikes. Daisy couldn’t imagine that any of the trainees that went to parties at the nearby universities were back yet, but no student in their right mind would want to simply walk around the dark campus of the Academy.

She kept walking, more alert. No sounds apart from her steady breathing and the rustle of grass beneath her feet reached her ears. She walked slowly toward where the shadow had disappeared. It looked as if it was headed to the biochem building. Daisy raised her hands, quietly running towards the white building, slightly crouched. She circled it once, twice, before deciding she had been imagining things, the shadow was only a trick of the light. It seemed so real though, so solid…

Daisy shook her head and crossed the courtyard, heading towards the dorms. It was late, and she had important things to do tomorrow. She was probably just tired from her ride with Mack.

Behind her, unnoticed by Daisy, the shadow quickly crossed the field behind the biochem building, slinking into the tallgrass.

The next day, Daisy woke to the sound of her alarm blaring 90’s RnB at six thirty AM, sharp. She quickly shut it off and stared at the ceiling for a moment before groaning and dragging herself out of bed. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night after her encounter with the shadow.

The sun was slowly ascending in the sky, golden light filtering into her windows. It was early, but she didn’t have the energy to go workout. Instead, Daisy stretched on her bed and sent a quick text to Jemma asking to meet up later to gossip about her date.

She grabbed shorts and a cropped sweatshirt, quickly dressing and making her way to the bathroom. She clipped her hair back, brushed her teeth, washed her face and headed back to her room. Trying her best to cover the bruise that had turned from red-violet to a blue-ish tinted black, she did minimal makeup. It’s not like it could get any worse, she thought bitterly. The concealer wasn’t much use.

Deciding to ignore the bruise, Daisy stood up, grabbed her backpack with her personal laptop and journal and headed to the canteen.

There weren’t many students around campus this early in the morning. Most were either asleep or nursing a hangover in their dorms. A few dedicated trainees were scattered amongst the different buildings, either in the gym or studying on their favourite bench. Daisy made a beeline for the canteen, hoping that no one had drank all the fresh coffee yet.

She slipped through the doors, sending small smiles to the students she made eye-contact with, faltering when her roving gaze reached a set of twinkling eyes the color of coffee. Maybe, she thought, I should go over and talk to him. What’s the worst that can happen?

She quickly poured herself a cup of coffee and grabbed a cinnamon raisin bagel from the pastry cart. Checking to be sure he wasn’t sitting with anyone (she wouldn’t want to intrude), Daisy walked around to the back of the large room, sitting in a spot diagonal from him.

After a few minutes of silence where Daisy ate her bagel and pretended not to feel his eyes on her, she turned and faced him.

“Good morning,” she said.

He dipped his head and raised his paper cup of coffee at the same time in response.

Does he not want to talk to me? Daisy questioned herself. She tried again. “So, is the coffee good?” He glanced at her cup that she had been sipping. Daisy recovered, “You know, in your opinion. I love the coffee here, the slightly burned aftertaste goes well with cream and sugar.΅

To her relief, he smiled. “Yeah, it’s good. I don’t usually use cream or sugar.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Ah, more of a bare necessities, no-nonsense guy?”

His nose scrunched a little in thought, as if he was assessing his entire personality to see if it aligned with Daisy’s coffee psychology. He nodded finally, elaborating, “I was in the army. Most of us drank it black while deployed. I never got out of the habit. But, to answer your question, I like to think of myself as low maintenance.”

He sent her a small smile that had her insides melting just a bit. Daisy hid behind the rim of her coffee cup, trying to think of a response. Luckily, New Guy saved her.

“How do you drink your coffee?”

Daisy lowered her own paper cup, clearing her throat. “One half and half, just a bit of sugar. If I’m super tired I’ll add more.”

“So you probably adapt easily and have a deep hunger for answers to all your questions?”

Daisy’s eyes quickly flicked down to her coffee, wondering if her coffee order really exposed that much about her. Daniel laughed, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “I’m kidding. I noticed how you’re always in the computer lab before class, and Yo-Yo told me that you use that time to research.”

Daisy felt a blush creep up her neck. Yo-Yo knew New Guy? And gave him information about her schedule?

Daniel quickly explained, “We see each other in the halls a lot. And we have a class together. She noticed me in the lab and thought I knew you.”

Daisy relaxed. Yo-Yo had become increasingly more friendly to strangers the longer she spent at the Academy.

“I remember the first time I met her. She was so angry that SHIELD had stopped her from exposing the police in her city as corrupt. Our team was sent in to help her finish what she had started, destroy weapons and take down the corrupt members of the department. It was fun,” She chuckled.

Daniel watched her through his thin clear-frame glasses. She winced a little as her nose scrunched with laughter, recalling another story about a mission gone awry that Yo-Yo saved.

“How did you get that bruise?”

“What?”

He pointed to the spot on his face that mirrored the position of the bruise on hers. “The bruise. It looks like it hurts.”

Daisy shrugged, “Not as badly as getting shot. But you know, sometimes you punch the bag, sometimes the bag punches you.”

Despite the playful nature of the statement, Daniel couldn’t help but hear alarm bells in the back of his mind. She had been shot?!

Daisy noticed the change in Daniel’s demeanor and switched tactics, “It’s just a bruise. I wasn’t paying attention and the punching bag flew back and hit me in the face.”

Daniel laughed, becoming more and more intrigued with the enigma sitting across from him. Well, at least this enigma was beautiful, even if she had lost a fight to a punching bag.

A look of pure confusion overtook Daisy’s features. “Excuse me?”

Daniel’s face flushed bright red. He said that out loud. Daisy was still smiling though, Daniel let out a nervous chuckle. The two lapsed into an awkward silence. Daisy was finishing her bagel when he spoke up again.

“It was good talking to you,” he said softly.

Daisy’s eyes wandered his face with an unreadable expression. “Yeah, it was.”

He resisted the urge to offer to walk Daisy to wherever she was going as she headed out of the doors of the canteen, coffee with one half and half and pinch of sugar in hand.

————————————————————————————

hi hellooo! whatd you think? comments and notes are appreciated! (will go back and edit this later, for now i sleep)

tag list: @jaanulore

#agents of sheild #aos #dousy #timequake #fic #angst #fluff #fitzsimmons #mackelena #philindaisy #jemma simmons #leo fitz #daniel sousa #daisy johnson #/#melinda may

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keyofjetwolf · 3 years

Text

What was your first?

So a horse walks into a rehab and says “ouch”. And not a lot. Then a great deal. While also saying nothing. It’s BoJack, in rehab, and going about as well as you might think!

“The Stopped Show” may not have been much about BoJack, but “A Horse Walks Into A Rehab” makes up for it by being 99.9% BoJack, setting aside the brief appearance of the other characters to set their stages for when we get back to them. Diane’s in a shitty motel, Todd’s in a seedy alleyway, Princess Caroline has her porcupine baby, and Mr. Peanutbutter continues to deliver cheer while everything around him burns AND drowns. I’ve now touched base with them about as much as the season premier, and we’ll get busy ignoring them.

As I said, BoJack is the star today, and we continue his quest for ... what, exactly?

Trying to pin it down, that “what is BoJack looking for” question, it’s a lot harder to answer than I expected, which marks another instance of me fucking myself, GOOD JOB ME.

I initially said “punishment”, but that isn’t true, or a least, is too easy. BoJack wants accountability for his actions -- which is a very different thing than punishment -- but he wants it in a way that also absolves him from having to do any work to rise above it. So you’d think he’d love this, the constant claim in rehab that he’s powerless. It seems like the answer to everything, a blanket pass to excuse his behaviour because he’s powerless. Why doesn’t he? I’m not sure I’m entirely clicking with the heart of that, so come with me as I have a poke at it.

For one, I doubt very much rehab would begin and end with “you’re powerless, oh well”. Addiction is some nasty business, but in and of itself, it’s a symptom, not the problem. That in mind, we swing back then to BoJack having to put in the work, only now it’s with the removal of his favourite coping mechanisms.

I think what he was hoping to get out of rehab was more along the lines of “Vodka is a naughty irresistible siren who topples even the most noble of men, but if you cross your eyes and click your heels, you’ll be free from her spell forevermore.” And yeah, no.

I think we get some of that in how, for a while, rehab seems to suit BoJack.

To the point I very specifically said to Doc as I was watching this, “Oh shit, did BoJack just become even MORE insufferable?” He’s okay so long as he has the comfort of the scripts and the regimented plant therapy and the same hike every day. When he starts to get fucked is when he has push further, when he has to work harder, when the treatment demands MORE.

“I notice you tend to deflect when I ask you about the source of your addiction,” his therapist says, causing BoJack to immediately deflect, first with a joke and then, when that doesn’t work, attacking the entire system. Getting to the root of his problem is the last thing BoJack wants, to the point where the entire episode ITSELF is one giant deflection. I made a joke in passing up there about our passing moments with each of the other main characters, but that’s actually it, that’s the heart of this episode.

Each of these are efforts by the episode to deflect what’s going on NOW, tempting us with something shiny and interesting, if only we’d take the bait. I ONLY JUST MADE THIS CONNECTION WELL FUCKING DONE SHOW

And of course, there’s Jameson’s story, which is part deflection, part contrast. She’s intended to appear at first like someone BoJack can relate to, a Sara Lynn Pt. 2 that he wants to save and in whom he sees so much of himself. In equal parts, he’s the adult trying to guide her and the force enabling her, and I’d have to do a bit more thinking on whether I thought his success with her was about him walking both sides of that line, or Jameson just, at the end of the day, being lucky. Either way, it’s also not really about her, so much as BoJack talking a really good game at her, while giving her all the tools to make the worst choices.

Which is, I think, where the episode finally settles. BoJack’s choices have been his own, but they aren’t made in isolation. Throughout this episode, we get moments, presented in reverse chronological order, that could on their own answer that key question: When was the first time you drank?

To settle your nerves to get through a scene everyone was counting on you to nail?

To fit in with the cool kids at high school?

To win your father’s approval?

What’s brilliant to me about each of these flashbacks is that the further into the past we go, the more willing we are to absolve BoJack. In the first, he’s a professional actor required to kiss an attractive and consenting fellow professional in the course of a performance. Nervous? Makes total sense. Getting plastered to do it? LESS SENSE.

The high school one is the most damning, which I adore. BoJack’s the butt of some light bullying by the jock, and I don’t mean to completely dismiss that it sucks, but the remainder of events before he starts in on the beers shows he’s hardly an absolute social pariah. And even if he were, once he begins to drink, BoJack doesn’t just become the life of the party, he becomes cruel (demonstrating quite well that jokes aren’t his only tool of deflection). Worse, that he KNOWS he’s doing it, but cares more about his positive attention than their negative. Still, BoJack’s a kid and peer pressure is a hell of a thing. This isn’t a good look, but it’s also not damning, if he’d come to learn from it.

Now we jump the line to, I’d guess, ten or eleven year old BoJack, who walks in on his father having an affair with his secretary, but too young to recognize what he’s seen. Butterscotch can’t take the risk though, so he effortlessly manipulates little BoJack into getting drunk and passing out, then uses BoJack’s shame about it to keep him quiet on the whole evening. UNDER THE GUISE OF BEING HIS FRIEND AND DOING HIM A FAVOUR BY THE WAY. No question, Butterscotch is a son of a bitch, and the only thing BoJack did wrong here was crave his parent’s love.

Even with the high school one being a little more grey, they’re all pretty cut and dry. Remember that we’re following the thread of “When was the first time you drank?” and to land on the answer “When my unrepentantly dickish father lied to me to save his own ass” puts a pretty solid punctuation mark on the whole affair. Addiction may not be at fault, but Butterscotch Horseman is. Case closed, we can go home.

BUT WAIT WHAT’S THIS

Right at the end, when you think we’re done, there’s one more flashback. A party of some sort, possibly New Year’s. The house sounds empty, there’s only the looping of the record player, stuck repeating the same five seconds again and again and again. Butterscotch and Beatrice are passed out drunk, judging from the empty bottles around them. Was it a good party? A bad one? She has her back to him and they’re about as far apart as they could get while still remaining in the room, but also, nothing’s broken? It’s impossible to know.

What we do know is that BoJack, aged about where we saw him in the “Free Churro” flashback so maybe seven or so? Very young, at any rate, and he’s alone. There doesn’t appear to be anything in the room for a child, so it’s probably fair to say he wasn’t included in the festivities. Did he have something to do instead? His own party maybe? Friends to play with, someone to watch him? Did he even get dinner? From what we’ve seen, “no” is a much more likely answer to any or all of these.

AND NOW THE FIRST TO PUNCH YOU IN THE HEART

Tiny BoJack knocks back several gulps of vodka (like a fucking pro, may I add), then crawls onto the couch next to his unconscious mother, pretending for just a few minutes that she’s cuddling him until he, too, will fall into a drunken slumber.

RIGHT SO WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO WITH THIS JESUS WEPT

Had you told me “Just wait, seven year old flashback BoJack is going to muddy the hell out of this” I wouldn’t have ... okay, well, I know the show, so I probably would’ve believed you, but I would’ve been preemptively grumpy.

This isn’t his fault! But it is! This isn’t his parent’s fault, but it super super is! Nobody MADE BoJack drink the vodka, as the scene goes to great lengths to show. There is nobody to tell him to do anything at all. Beatrice is three fucking sheets to the wind, she has no idea he’s there and he could have pretend cuddled all night AND stayed sober. Did baby BoJack, like adult BoJack, take the drink to calm his nerves for an expression of physical intimacy? Would baby BoJack have even known that was an option? Remember, this is framed as the answer to the question “When was the first time you drank?” Not “took a drink”, but “you DRANK”, the phrasing of which I think is important. It’s all about the root of the problem. What I get out of that question is then is “the first time you drank to numb yourself”.

Baby BoJack is looking at this disaster, this mess that is his every day no matter how many party hats and streamers you stick on it, and he wants anything else at all. So he turns to the easiest thing he knows will take it away the fastest. The situation isn’t his fault. The opportunity isn’t his fault. But the response IS, in a way that EVEN AS I SAY IT, makes me feel shitty.

CONGRATS BOJACK HORSEMAN FOR MAKING ME SEE A LITERAL CHILD SLAMMING BACK VODKA STRAIGHT FROM THE BOTTLE AND MAKING ME GO “okay, but”.

SEASON SIX SHOULD BE A WALK IN THE PARK

#jet wolf watches bojack #it’s no wonder the answers for bojack are so hard to find #when even the goddamn QUESTION requires a dissertation and three hundred caveats #oh i didn't have a place for it really in this essay #but i love the use of the space/planetarium overlay when bojack is really wrestling with his urges

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fafulous · 4 years

Text

Take Me Home (4/5)

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Chapter Warnings: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS (BOOK Ending), Reminiscing the Loss of a loved one.

Andy soon came to realise that walking out on you was never ever really a solution. In reality he knew with his current state, without you he was doomed.

He needed you because he has no one. He needed you because it was his chance at something new; something no one would understand.

He needs you because in between all those shenanigans in these few months, he was falling hard for you.

But he did what he had to that day because he just wanted some space. In his head it seemed to be fine, but alas it hurt like a bitch.

On the other hand, Nikolai had no idea what was going on. It only took him minutes to fall in love with his new room. The lights, the colour of the room made him so jubilant, later on only to see you a bit unhappy. You were able to deflect from your son’s questions, but how on earth were you going to tell him that Andy won’t be meeting him anymore.

It hurt. So hard. All you needed was one conversation with him to settle things away but he wanted his space and so you half heartedly respected it.

Nikolai on the other hand was hitting a real low seeing you unhappy the whole day sporting stuffy red eyes. Like any other kid, Nikolai jumped to the conclusion that their mother is crying because she got a boo-boo or lost her favourite toy.

But that little brain of his pieced it slowly once he realised Andy never visited them for any of the dinner nights.

“Mommy pwese don’t cwy” his nimble fingers wiping your fat tears rolling down your cheek.

“I know peaches. I’m trying so hard to get Andy back okay. I’m sorry for crying around you like this baby.”

“B-but Wandi pwomised he neva gonna hurt you mommi…”

“Oh Niko,” you wiped the cookie crumbs around his tiny lips, “Your little brain won’t get it. It’s okay.”

“No. Not owkay. Wandi hurt you. Wandi bad. I don’t wike Wandi cahr now.”

You couldn’t help but surpass a giggle. “Niko. Andy is never bad. Never. He is just feeling sad and lonely. We just need to tell him we have him and love him okay?”

Love? Too soon. Maybe it’s more than like but it was too late to change it for your son and for yourself. You always saw how Niko’s eyes sparkled whenever Andy was around; he was soon accepting him to be a member of the household.

“Owkay,” he dug his head to your neck, “I wike Wandi and his cahr.”

–

The following week were hard for you and him. From sharing couches to kisses, now the only thing you both shared were small talks.

Yes. Small Talk. Or texts rather.

Andy told you he finally found a therapist to speak to and slowly expressed his wish to still visit Nikolai till you both figured out what was happening between you two.

Why did this have to get so complicated?

You on the other hand replied he was free to do so because to be real, the little kid missed him too. So, the next day he asked you for permission if he could take Nikolai on a car drive.

You had no idea what would go on in his head at times. From seeing Andy’s perspective, he was denied of the choice of telling you his story. It was his fucked-up childhood, his story that he wanted to tell you. Not a pity tatter-tale gossip story that was to be heard from your characterless, ex-husband.

Andy later in the evening sent a message that he was ready, and you saw the man your heart so longed for.

His eyes were back to being sunken, those blue irises not having the guts to meet yours. His hair was ruffled like he just woke up from a nap. Looking at him made you realise how much your hands were twitching to just hug him. You were reminded of the first night you spent at his house; that blue sweater he gave you while you two made out on his couch for the first time was now worn by him.

You walked towards him as you held Nikolai’s convertible baby seat to be fixed in his car and he was kind enough to open the door for you.

Andy on the other hand knew he had to- no, wanted to strike a conversation with you; but didn’t know what to say.

Hey long time huh?

Y/N. Hey, how are you?

Hey listen…

Nope nothing came out of his mouth while you fixed the seat.

He took in your appearance too; that ray of sunshine that beamed from your smile was non-existent; replaced with a forlorn look that he hated to see on you. The past few days were definitely much harsher on you than it was for him. Andy knew he couldn’t get any more foolish. He had to get back to what you two had before.

He needed it.

“Have we gone back to square one? Because of what? My ex-husband?”

Andy came out of his tiny reverie and focussed back on you. He didn’t pay attention, but he did realise you said something bitter that meant to sting him.

“Honey listen-”

“Oh, don’t you honey me Andy. How could you? How could you be so- so-“ you tried so hard to not break into a stream of tears.

How could you be so hateful to yourself Andy? Did you not trust me?

“How could you just desert me like that? D-did you think I was going to throw away my second chance at life for something you father did? Did you want to throw away your second chance at life because of your father who has no role in our lives right now?”

He sighed dejectedly, disappointed with himself. Hearing your voice break wrecked him, “I know Y/N. I was an asshole that day, leaving you without an explanation.” He found himself taking steps towards you and cupping your cheek, tilting his forehead onto yours, “I am so sorry hon- Y/N. I am sorry.”

You bit your lip and looked up at him, his eyes still closed; now content that he and you could just touch each other after a very long time.

Any other situation, you wouldn’t let a man walkover you so easily after fucking up. But this was Andy. The man who made you believe in second chances. You gave him a first chance already, and now it was again your turn to give him one more.

“You weren’t an asshole Andy,” you held on to his hands, “Its just, I don’t know…”

“I know you know exactly what you want to say Y/N. Just say it.”

You could hear Nikolai running around his circles with his unicorn plush doll behind you, “I was angry when you left, but at the same time I tried to understand your point of view, your emotions and your feelings about this whole situation. But I think or- or I know that I didn’t deserve to be ghosted like that Andy, because I liked you for you, not what your father did, especially when we had something so good going on.”

He removed his hand from your cheeks and looked down like a disappointed child. He knew he was at fault and so he didn’t say anything; head hung in shame looking at the little, carefree boy that he loved so dearly.

“It’s only had if you want it to be,”

“What do you mean?”

You saw a glint of that eagerness that Andy always had with you before, “I told that we had something good going on? It’s only had if you want it to be…“

Andy took some time to find his words. Again. It was the second time he fucked up so bad and here you were, taking him back even after he exploded like a mine. Was this woman for real?

“Of course, I want this honey. I always want us. You’re always so good to me.”

He reached out to graze your cheeks, but he was blocked by your squealing son.

“Cahr Wandi! Can we gooo?”

You were surprised that you weren’t interrupted by your son sooner, but nevertheless your son’s new founded patience was found to be a blessing in disguise.

The cutest sight unfurled before you as Andy made grabby hands at your son, only for the latter to be scooped into Andy’s arms like a cocoon.

“Come on Y/N, join us wont you? For a drive?”

You shook your head, “I think I’ll pass.”

“Y/N. I want to really make it up to you. Like real time. Please come with us?”

“I know Andy, but who will make dinner if I come along with you boys?”

Andy slowly grinned at your implications. He never ceased to be impressed by your gracious generosity and the small acts of kindness.

“I’m not mad, not as much as I was before I promise,” you dared to but tiptoed to place a kiss on his cheek, “We can talk over dinner today.” You saw how his cheek sported a cherry red tint, slowly creeping up till his ear. A teenager in a old man’s body.

“Peaches,” you turned to your son right now jumped into Andy’s arms, nuzzling his face in that soft sweater, “Be good and behave okay peaches? Don’t trouble Wandi- I mean Andy for anything on the way okay?”

Everything drowned inside a chorus of laughter when Andy realised how you had called his name. Niko had no idea what the humour was for but joined the chorus when he found his two most favourite people in the world giggling.

Were you forgoing all that pent-up sadness that this man gave you this week? Yes. Yes you were.

And you would soon realise that it was the best decision you made.

Hours passed by and the boys came back home. Nikolai was gleefully pulling onto Andy’s beard and curiously asking him when he was going to get a ‘bweard’ like him and heard both the boys animatedly inhaling; the smell of aromatic food that stirring their tummies.

“MOMMY IS MAKING PAWSTAHH!”

Andy was so confused. You always made the best Italian food for your child.

“Let’s just say after that episode we had with Chad, I was cooking boring greens and ordering takeout for the little one and me. I lost the will to cook. Thought I’ll revive the poor kid’s taste buds.”

It was always these small gestures that pulled you towards Andy; like this one. He tugged you by your shoulders and placed a soft kiss on your forehead and then cupped your cheeks so lovingly.

“Sorry Momma bear.”

“Shhh. It’s okay grumpy cat,” you winked.

Dinner on the other hand did go relatively smooth than you expected it to. Andy explained himself, his feelings and what he felt that day when he left you and tried his level best to process your emotional state that day.

The baked pasta was licked clean by your two boys and you while Andy also spoke about his past few days with his therapist, who seemed to help him more than he possibly could ever think of. Over a glass of wine, Andy held your hand promising you that he wouldn’t do any more foolish stunts that ended up hurting all of us in the process.

But as you and Andy were doing and drying the dishes, you felt that he was holding back something.

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing.”

“That thing you used to do when I used to pick movies that you don’t like.”

His grin could make your whole body mushy and soft like a teenager having their first crush “So? Is that my fault honey?” he feigned hurt, glad that he could now call you back with his favourite sweet name.

“Nah,” you playfully tapped his shoulder. “You give me that look so prominently so that I understand that you want something from me, or you want me to do something for you.”

Andy looked so lost and you knew something was biting his thoughts because he enjoyed doing domestic chores with you; his favourite being you washing the dishes and him drying them out and keeping them inside the cupboards. He didn’t reply until the last wine glass was kept inside the cabinet

“It’s just-” hesitated Andy. You waited patiently for him to find his words.

“It’s about Jacob.”

“Oh.”

For a startling few seconds, you held your breath; thinking about Andy’s son was something wrecked your thoughts and heart every single time.

“My therapist says that I haven’t, you know, fully processed Jacob’s death. Like I’m holding on to something. But parents don’t, right? They can’t move on from their child’s death right? It’s practically impossible.”

You weren’t sure what to say but you nodded, gripping on to his arm and gesturing to sit with you to the couch where little Niko dozed off with two of his stuffed dolls clenched in his hand.

“But she did say one statement that made sense to me, I don’t know. It made sense about how we can’t forget our children who are no longer with us but we can learn to accept the fact that they are no longer with us.”

Oh bub, how much have you been through? “Do you agree with this Andy?” You asked him to keep yourself strong during this conversation for him, and you did.

“Of course, yeah. Maybe. But the thing is I think I haven’t accepted it honey.”

You took both of his hands and squeezed reassuringly, “I have no idea what you are going through bub but I’m glad you are talking to me about this. Take your time; its going to be hard, but I’m right here okay? Whatever you need, I’ll do within my best ability.”

He hummed, but still hesitant.

“Andy its okay, tell me. Talk to me bub.”

He squeezed your palms even more tightly, turning towards you completely. “C-can I ask you a favour? I mean you can say no, I will understand.”

I’m ready to give you all the happiness in the world to you bubba. “Anything for you Andy? Tell me now.”

He didn’t meet your gaze, but instead shifting his focus to trace your knuckles, “My therapist told me to visit Jacob’s grave whenever I was ready, to mourn him, to accept he is no longer with me and you know…talk to him I guess. To process my emotions. And um…Oh god I am a bubbling mess Y/N.”

“Hey its okay baby take your time. There is no pressure.”

“I can’t do this alone honey…I need you there with me. Can you come with me to the graveyard?”

How could you ever say no to this solemn situation?

“Of course, honey. Absolutely anything you need.”

And what seemed like after ages, Andy Barber enveloped you into his signature bear hug. Both of you left a huge sigh of breath, relief washing over that both of you were slowly getting back on track.

Until you heard a rugged whimpers from the little boy beside Andy.

You didn’t want to tell Andy about this, but Nikolai’s nightmares were back and the little boy was finding it difficult to sleep at night. The new nursery still did not work for him, so he ended up sleeping on top of your chest; your heartbeat probably soothing him to sleep.

But Andy the experienced father he was, quickly scooped him into his arms and started cradling him, rocking him side by side with his arms protecting him, humming a familiar soft tune that seemed to calm you in the process too. You saw how Niko’s head was cushioned between Andy’s pecs and muscles, slowly relaxing and nuzzling into his touch.

Niko’s scrunched up face was now back to a peaceful baby lost in slumber.

Andy met your gaze and blinked at you with a smile and it conveyed so much than you think.

We got this baby. We all gonna get through this.

–

The decision to take Nikolai along with you and Andy was refuted by the latter saying that a young boy like him shouldn’t be visiting such desolate place.

“Children are the embodiment of new birth, new life. And graveyards, quite opposite.”

But you knew secretly he also didn’t was your son to see him in such a vulnerable position. You were grateful for the fact that the rough patch between you and Andy was solved; for the little boy saw Andy as his new father figure with Chad gone away with a new girlfriend.

Talking about Chad, he did not make efforts to meet his son; and you didn’t bother contacting him. Better off without him you wondered.

The drive to Jacob’s grave was a couple of hours away and ride in itself was a quiet one. Andy and you were informally dressed in dull colours, hearts dull too. You knew it was a big step for Andy and you were going to support him till he thinks he is over it. Car windows were rolled down, the fresh air making efforts to refresh you both.

You could also see Andy’s urge to interlink his hands with you while your drove and you did; Gripping onto his palm or occasionally rubbing his shoulders or thighs throughout the ride would help him calm down and relax his creased forehead.

When you both got down from the car it was so hard to read Andy’s thoughts. He came over to you and interlinked your palms and made way to the place where his son was buried.

Jacob’s grave was flowerless when arrived. Andy soon fixed that after leaving a wreath of Jacob’s most favourite flowers, daisies.

A graveyard, a place of death, sprouting trees filled with life here and there. The irony of life.

You didn’t know the boy but the aura of the graveyard, the impersonal feeling towards the dead even though you have no idea who they were beneath the stones made you heart sink. It then came to your senses.

The boy was just fourteen.

Both of you sat down near his grave, not caring about the grass and mud staining your clothes. He finally took away his palms from yours.

Andy spoke some kind words, rekindling memories of his son’s favourite pastime, his favourite stories and one of his embarrassing yet kind-hearted moments. He sought an apology on behalf of his mother, trying to make Jacob understand that his mother loved him so much, that it unfortunately ended tragically.

Another thought popped into your head, how couples these days separate over trivial matters, over materialistic matters, and infidelity. But Andy? He separated because his wife- No no. You didn’t want to complete that thought.

But after a while passed and you decided give Andy some needed space. He was probably going to be anxious, but it was for the best.

“Andy, you feel a bit better?” you whispered.

“You can say probably.”

Here we go. “I’m going to leave you two alone okay?”

“What? Honey. If I can’t-”

“You can Andy. He is your son, remember that. So, don’t hold back. I know you wanted me to be here with you and I did and I’m so proud of you, bubba,” you stroked his hair. “But unintentionally you may be holding back on expressing because I’m here and that’s normal.”

Why are you so good to me?

“I’m just going to be near the parking lot okay? I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him with a peck on his cheek and made your way back.

You shed your tears while you sat inside his car, thinking about the little boy. It was difficult thinking of losing a loved one that you gave birth to. He was too young. Too fucking young.

Oh, this cruel world, how you hated it so immensely right now.

Half hour passed by and you saw Andy making his way towards the car. It was so strange to think of this, but he didn’t look red eye rimmed like you; he looked the same with much more solemnity. He didn’t cry and that slightly bothered you. Maybe you had to accept the fact that different people process emotions differently.

He got into the car and took in your red eyes. He knew you had cried. Seeing you like that made his pull your lips onto his for just a chaste kiss, the first time you two felt each other’s lips after an eon. All he breathed into your lips was that we are going to be okay and drove back home with no word exchanged. For the upcoming hours, the fresh air offered you comfort, drying out those spilt tears along with the lingering touch of his palms; interlinked like their souls.

After coming back, you took advantage of Andy’s silence and maneuvered him to your home. He seated himself on the couch pulling out his phone and wallet from his pants and placed it on the coffee table.; trying to steal a quick nap while you picked up Nikolai from your neighbour Mr. Arthur.

Andy sleeping gave you an immense sense of peace, but for the little boy in your hands; not so much.

“WANDI!!!!”

He groggily woke up thanks to Nikolai running towards him, lying on his chest like he does with you. “Hey buddy.”

“You home yaay!” Probably meant that he was excited to see the man in house like the usual dinner nights. Nikolai calling him and telling he was home pricked him and at the same time felt so right. As cliché as it sounds, he always has heard this quote where Home is never a place with four walls to cover your head; home is where the heart is.

His heart was with you and Nikolai.

After eating Andy, and you began to do your dish washing routine, this time he washing the dishes. He was slow, but that was alright, you had all the time in the world.

Niko on the other hand was singing all the rhymes he learnt from daycare in different pitches, earning a chuckle from the both of you here and there. He was also carelessly playing with Andy’s phone and wallet, both of you seeing that the little boy had dropped all the contents of the wallet on to the floor. Once they were done Andy picked up the falling things patiently without chiding the little one like any other adult would.

He picked up his Dollar bills, receipts and then a forgotten thin strip of a photo roll.

It was him and Jacob.

The roll had four pictures of him and his son posing for the silliest pictures, the first three with their tongues sticking out in the goofiest angle possible. The last one however was so pure; Andy giving a forehead kiss to Jacob because he was so proud of his son, remembering he had bagged the highest grade in English that term in school.

Minutes pass and he didn’t notice his waterworks brimming. A blink and they would fall down.

And they did, when he heard Nikolai nudging him by the thigh. “Why you cwyin Wandi?”

That startled you enough to stop whatever it was you were doing and went to see what was happening.

Oh bubba.

You sat near Andy, touching his thigh for comfort while your son got closer to the photo that was in Andy’s slightly quaking hands.

“Who that Wandi?”

“Th-thats my son buddy. His name was Jacob.”

“Can he play with me Wandi?”

Everything just pricked. The boy’s innocent questions and Andy’s realisation of his emotions. This was too much to bear.

“No buddy he can’t-“

A hand around his shoulder, it was you. When he looked up his eyes were blurry from the tears that were falling. He was so upset he didn’t even realise you were next to him. It was you. Only you.

It was then you realised it finally that it hit Andrew that his son was dead.

“You don’t have to answer that Andy. He’s just a kid. It’s okay.”

The little one feeling that he had said something wrong hugged his arms with his little arms. “I’m sowwy Wandi. Don’t cwy.”

“I’m not buddy, I-I’m not.” He reassured the kid, and falsely assuring himself too.

“Wandi, I’m feelin sleepy…” “Yeah, let’s get you to bed buddy,” he cooed with his quivering voice.

“Andy I’ll take him-” But he refused to and took the child. You took a few minutes to pull yourself together after witnessing Andy so vulnerable. Even in these moments, he took care of your son. When you reached the nursery, Andy was whispering a lullaby to a dozed off Niko for a good ten minutes. He even spoke to the little boy, telling him that the measly Audi car painting he did in the room was going to protect him and his nightmares; and the boy believed because Andy said so.

Few minutes later and Andy didn’t refuse to hold back.

“I held Jacob like Nikolai, put him to sleep like Nikolai. My sweet precious baby, my innocent child Jacob. He didn’t do anything and he is away from me Y/N. Far far away-”

Andy let out a loud whimpering cry, the sound swallowed when he buried his head into your neck and your tears began streaming, him sobbing uncontrollably the next minute.

Andy and your tears began streaming; you pulled yourself together soon but Andy? He was weeping uncontrollably. You only could take him in your arms and offer him comfort. No words could heal his wounds instantly. He buried his face into your neck, his safe place, which made you remember the initial days with Andy when he lent a shoulder when you cried. Now it was your turn.

You whispered in ears how it was best not to do this near Niko and maneuvered Andy to your room. He held onto your arms as you took him to your room. You urged Andy to talk to you if the visit to the grave was still bothering him. He sought recluse in your safe place again, lying down on the bed, head tucked in your neck.

“Andy you can tell me anything. I promise it won’t affect whatever is between us.”

It was too twisted, he was distraught. He ranted about Laurie and how she unravelled into killing her own son. He slipped some details of how Laurie always kept bringing up past incidents of his son to prove that Jacob was the possible killer. He kept blaming himself that he was too weary with Laurie and that he should’ve seen her actions. Your whole body pricked; he was crying as he said all this.

You couldn’t imagine Nikolai and yourself in that situation. It brought tears to you eyes but wiped them off before he could see it. You let him talk as much as he wanted to, calming and soothing Andy in the process, running your fingers through his hair gently. You comforted him as much as you could and kept reminding yourself that this was the first time he came to his senses and realised he was crying out for his dead son; and so you were patient.

“My own wife murdered him Y/N. My Jacob. If I had been more attentive”

“Shhhhh Andy,” you cooed into his ear “Your circumstances were horrible. Don’t blame yourself bubba, none of this was your fault okay? Jacob’s death was out of your hands, it was an unfortunate accident Andy.“

Andy could stay all day in your embrace, his head on your gentle shoulders while your soft hair caresses made him doze off to sleep.

But his head felt like it was going to explode and he couldn’t let you see that.

“I’m going back home honey. I think I need to be alone tonight. I- I am not abandoning you okay, I promise, I’ll be okay tomorrow.”

“Andy are you sure? Stay with me, I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I- I think I need to be alone for sometime you know? Please don’t be upset.”

“I’m never ever upset okay? As long as you are sure bubba; whatever you think is best for you okay? This house is always open to you.”

Kisses on the cheek were exchanged before he left your home. But you stayed awake, in the hopes he’ll be back because deep down you knew, he needed you.

You would give him space, and why not?

He was your home.

–

Andy soon realised he couldn’t. Staying alone was the worst decision he made.

Yes he did get the desired space he absolutely needed for like an hour and he did try to cease his crying, but his heart, oh his heart was pounding like nobody’s business. Anxious. Alone. Not cared for.

The walls of his room closed around him, his breathing becoming rugged, the laughter of his dead son echoing in his head. But he remembered he was cared for. By you. He had only you now.

He wanted, needed your soothing embraces, your kind words, your optimism, your affection. Everything.

He just wanted you now.

He had to forget.�� It was a bit past midnight, but it was you. His reliable rock; soon to become the love of his life. He had to forget what he was going though and in a moment of desperation, he texted you. His thought was confirmed, you would always be there for him.

—

Last and Final Part 5 on its way :)

#Defending Jacob #Andy Barber #Andy Barber Imagine #Chris Evans Imagine #Chris Evans #Andy Barber x reader #Chris Evans x reader #Andy Barber Smut #Chris Evans Imagines

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a-square-minus-one · 3 years

Text

Honey 8

The outline for this chapter was much longer but I didn’t have time to actualize it :( More to come soon! <3

Raven can sense that things are going to go wrong the minute the tip of her toe lands gently against the pavement. She rushed over to the park, making it there much quicker than any of her teammates in order to scope out the situation. And immediately she feels anxiety wrap its fingers around her spine through her skin. She stands in front of four of her brothers, who stand in a semi-circle formation. Malchior is leaning against a tree off to the side, grinning. She looks around. They emptied the park?

“Sister, nice to meet you,” Wrath acknowledges, looking characteristically serene against the bright blue sky. He stood as if his ginormous, bulging body was weightless. Raven eyes Gluttony who’s a part of the circle but standing a little further back. His cheeks hollow as he sucks roughly on a lollipop. He’s skinny enough for the wind to blow him over even though Raven suspects he probably eats enough for eight or nine athletes in one day. He stands a foot and a half shorter than Lust and the difference is even more extreme between him and Wrath who must be at least a few inches taller than Cyborg and impossibly wider. She runs her eyes to Envy who's eyeing her from head to feet, lip twitching. His chin is tilted up and his arms are crossed over his chest.

They aren’t fighting anyone.

Or killing anyone.

Or making anyone fight or kill each other.

The wind rustles the leaves in the trees around them.

“You called my team over for a conversation?” Raven asks, peaking at Malchior who winks at her. Judging by the way Lust and Gluttony are looking at the sky behind her, her team has just reached the park. Raven doesn’t look back to know they are currently getting into formation behind her.

“You came. We never beckoned you,” Wrath says, hands behind his back. Raven rolls her eyes.

“But you knew the presence of all five of you, in the open, would alert us,” Raven clarifies. Wrath nods once, smoothly.

“Indeed.”

And then no one moves. Or says anything.

Wrath assesses her whole team much like she assessed them. A small smile plays on his lips.

“We do not have to fight one another sister.”

Raven arcs an eyebrow.

“Join our side. We can spare your friends. Perhaps you can negotiate positions of power for them in our new world.”

“Yes because deals with the devil are almost always honored.”

Raven notes how Wrath’s smirk never reaches his eyes. It’s more of a slight tick in the corner of his lips. It’s the most unnatural part of his appearance. He’s completely comfortable in his weight and height. “Very human of you to make things so dichotomous. Devil bad. Human good. You know very well we can only play with people’s natural tendencies. We could never make something out of nothing.”

“Very demonic of you to think manipulation is so much holier.”

“There can be honor even amongst the worst of beings.”

Wrath purses his lips, looking off into the distance. He rubs his hands together.

“Dragon,” Wrath says once, continuing to look off into the distance. Suddenly Malchior’s giant chest is expanding towards them, his claws pushing pounds of dirt into their face as he digs them into the ground. Terra is quick to stop the mounds of dirt from hitting her teammates. Raven has only a few seconds to put up a quick barrier as she watches Malchior inhale a giant breath. Even with the barrier the whole team is still smacked with an incredible wall of heat, like they had just opened an oven. Flames flicker up the edges of the wall of her black energy.

“Dragon!” Raven yells through her gritted teeth, looking back at Garfield. Garfield rolls his shoulders a couple times. “Anytime now,” Raven says, pushing against the force of Malchior’s fiery exhale. She focuses her attention forward, ensuring her friends are protected

“I do this everyday,” Garfield drones. Raven rolls her eyes and looks back. She’s met with the muscular underside of Garfield’s belly: The sun reflects off of his shiny scales. Her barrier falters completely but Malchior has stopped blowing.

“That’s-“ Raven starts, her eyes trailing up Garfield’s long neck. The sunlight behind his head is blocking her view of his face.

“Sexy,” Terra finishes for her and she has to swallow because the word fits a little too perfectly in her sentence starter. Raven shakes her head and flies up the length of Garfield’s neck. He meets her halfway and bends his head to her. She quickly straddles one of the ridges on his forehead. She places her hands on his head.

Garfield, you’ll be able to hear my voice in your head but I’m not going to be going through anything. I’ve just put up a field-

Raven’s distracted as Garfield blows fire at Malchior’s underbelly. Suspiciously close to his-

Garfield!

What? The prick loves talking about his dick so much, might as well put a spotlight on it.

I should explain the link a little-

What’s there to explain? I can hear you, you can hear me...

Gar-

Rae, you can poke and prod-

Garfield pauses to deflect Malchior’s fiery breath.

-whatever you want. Poke and prod whatever you need to so we can stick this asshole back in his fucking book. I trust you…but it’s kinda hard to chit chat. I’m new to this whole dragon thing.

...I won’t invade your thoughts.

Didn’t think you would. Garfield thinks flippantly before charging at Malchior. Hold on tight.

Garfield takes a quick, open clawed swing at Malchior, immediately forming three, long, oozing stripes in the dragon’s neck.

Okay this guy clearly knows nothing about hand to hand.

Raven is rocked forward, her head smacks against Garfield’s.

What the-

Raven notes how the ground shifts like waves beneath them before she’s rocked backwards.

Fly off the ground, He’s trying to dislodge me.

But Garfield was already hovering above the shaking ground before Raven finished her sentence.

Clearly that man has never seen me with a few Jacks in me. If I can keep my balance then-

You’re a messy drunk; now pay attention!

Hey! Cyborg says I’m a great drinking buddy!

Cyborg? Also a messy drunk!

Hey, you’d be a messy drunk too if you-

Suddenly Garfield’s head swings around like a bobble head. He’s gurgling. Raven clenches her thighs over the ridge on his forehead and narrows her eyes towards Malchior who is a football field away. Malchior’s claws are clenched around an invisible object.

“Azarath Metrion Zinthos!” Raven calls out, wrapping Malchior’s arms in dark energy and locking them over his head. Garfield coughs, little sparks passing his lips.

Did he just? Choke me?

Will you pay attention now?!

How was I supposed to know he was going to choke me?! He was nowhere near me!

He can astrally project!

He should see a therapist about that.

He should see a therapist about a lot of things. Astral projection is not one of them. Watch-

Garfield dodges Malchior’s frontal attack.

-out…

Raven puts up a shield as Malchior shoots fire at her. Garfield shoots fire at Malchior’s open wound. The black dragon hisses and falls back.

The man is terrible at hand to hand combat.

He’s...not.

Garfield grabs Malchior by the tail and tosses him, cutting a bunch of trees in half.

Are you really defending your psycho ex?

Raven purses her lips. Garfield. This is too easy.

Raven looks around. Starfire is locked in a grip with Wrath. Nightwing and Cyborg are tag teaming Lust and Wrath. Terra is mostly just trying to block Gluttony’s attack; no one has taken the offensive against him. Aqualad is jumping between each group and filling in whatever gaps are left open.

She believed fully in her team’s potential to stop her brothers. But something wasn’t right. Garfield was able to toss Malchior like a rag doll and they’re the same weight.

He’s barely casting any spells.

You’re always saying that a good spell requires a lot of energy.

For me. Malchior has done this for centuries.

Malchior charges at Garfield. Garfield takes two quick steps backwards, kicking up chunks of Earth that Terra uses to block the two benches Gluttony hurls at the team. Garfield bites at the wounds in Malchior’s neck. The black dragon howls in pain, aimlessly spewing a stream of fire past his lips. Directly past the bulk of Garfield’s body.

Raven watches intently as the flames meet their mark several hundred feet away from Garfield. She almost brushes off Malchior’s poor marksmanship as a result of his incredible hubris. It’s a weak, last ditch effort to inflict pain from a losing opponent whose head is heavy with unwarranted pride. She’s about to move her eyes back to where Garfield’s teeth are sunk into their opponents neck when she notices something almost imperceptible in the flames. A shape. Two little deformed circles, almost parallel to each other. She squints her eyes. That’s odd.

And then it hits her.

Those are eye sockets.

Malchior had casted a spell.

They hadn’t emptied the park.

Everyone was camouflaged.

Garfield!

Garfield sinks his teeth deeper into Malchior’s neck. Malchior spews out another thick stream of fire.

Garfield! The park isn’t empty.

Garfield spits Malchior’s neck out of his mouth, blood immediately begins oozing out of the black dragon’s wounds.

What?

Raven looks around. Trees were knocked over. Car windows were broken. Street lights were bent in half. Sidewalk had been ripped from the ground. Her eyes land on a playground three hundred feet away. Entire chunks of bright yellow and red steel were turned on their sides. She feels hot liquid rises in her esophagus, burning away at her body. Her skin suddenly feels too tight.

The park’s not empty. Malchior just made everyone invisible to us.

Garfield grabs Malchior by the neck and shoves his head into the ground.

“Uncast the spell,” Raven threatens, using her powers to hover the sharp end of a street light over Malchior’s eye. Malchior looks towards the rod, chuckles and crumples it. Garfield shoves his head deeper into the ground. Malchior spits some blood into the ground.

“You tethered me to that book. The walls were my only companions! We could have ruled the world!” Malchior screams, spitting blood in her face. She grabs him by the neck herself.

“Uncast. The. Spell,” Raven says, trying to reign in her desire to tear the dragon apart limb by limb between each word.

“No.”

Raven, you have to tell the rest of the team before they accidentally hurt anyone else.

He’ll transform you.

Not if I detach his head from his body first.

Raven notes how Garfield tightens his palm around the semi-conscious dragon’s neck.

Garfiel-

Get Aqualad. He’ll cover my ass.

Raven makes quick work of teleporting Aqualad over to the group.

“The park’s not empty. Malchior cloaked everyone in an invisibility spell.” Raven tells him before he can even steady his feet. “You need to stay with Garfield while I inform the rest of the team and figure out how to reverse the spell.”

Be careful Garfield.

She places a gentle hand on her friend’s forehead.

I’ll do my best.

#bbrae

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supernaturalfreewill · 4 years

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Words: 6,462 Sam x Reader Warnings: none really! A/N: Part 3 WOO! Hope you all enjoy. Much less intense than the last chapter. This is part of a series. Read Part 1 here and Part 2 first!

Your name: submit What is this?

You awoke gently to some sound nearby and blinked, your eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room. “Hey.” Sam’s voice nearby, gentle and soft. He was at the hearth, adding logs to the coals in the fireplace, sparking new flames licking upward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. You looked cold, so…” You noticed then that he had covered you over with a quilt at some point.

You sat up, rubbing sleep from your eyes. “S’okay.” You sat up, adjusting the blanket over you. “Thanks,” you said. “Oof…” You held a hand to your head.

“You alright?” There was sweet concern on Sam’s face. That familiar wrinkle between his brows.

“Head. Hungover,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut tight.

“Ah… Yeah, I thought maybe that would be the case today.” He pointed to the end table. He had set out a big glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen for you, as well as a plate with some saltine crackers on it.

Sam hesitated for only a split second in surprise before his arms curled around you. He was almost breathless with you against him and he shut his eyes and focused on that feeling—of holding you, of peace, of exhilaration but ease at the same time, of belonging, or comfort. It somehow felt more intimate than anything he had ever done with your sister… He could smell your shampoo and the fabric softener on your clothes. He wondered if you had noticed how hard and fast his heart was pounding.

“Thank you,” you said again, not letting go, shutting your eyes and sinking everything you wished you could say and do into that hug.

“For what?”

At length you pulled back and met his eyes again, your gaze a little more bashful this time. “For last night at the bar. And for the thoughtful hangover cure and the quilt and the fire and just—” you were rapidly losing your nerve, “—for being you.”

Sam was speechless for a moment, his eyes trying to memorize the flecks of endless shades in your irises and the slightly tousled appearance of your hair. “You don’t have to thank me for any of that,” he said.

You gave him a crooked half-smile. “Yes, I do.” You climbed to your feet again, leaving him staring after you, still kneeling beside the fireplace, feeling a loss as the air settled back into the place you had been, heavy like a wave cresting over itself.

You sank back down onto the couch and grabbed the blanket again with a yawn. “What time is it?”

“Uhh,” Sam rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s about 5,” he said. He’d managed to get maybe an hour and a half of sleep split up with bouts of staring at the ceiling and self-loathing.

“Why are you up? Couldn’t sleep again?” you asked.

He shrugged vaguely. “Yeah, but it’s alright,” he said.

You frowned at him. “It’s really not. What’s going on? Do you want to talk about it?” you offered, grabbing a couple painkillers and swallowing them with a big gulp of water.

Sam didn’t even know how to respond to that. He crossed the room in two long strides and sank into the chair next to the couch. Part of him wanted to scream ‘Yes!’ and just spill everything he was feeling. Maybe if he just said it, all of it, it wouldn’t feel so toxic, like it was eating him from the inside out. But the other part of him was terrified—the thought that there was even a sliver of a possibility that saying it all would ruin what he had now with you, whatever it was—even nothing more than friendship, struck him cold. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. You gave him a sympathetic look. “Well, whatever it is… you should do something about it,” you said. God, take your own advice, you wimp, you thought. But you went on for Sam’s benefit. “Without knowing exactly what’s going on I can’t give you better advice but… maybe talk to a doctor, or Dean, or my sister, or a therapist, or… an exorcist or shaman maybe?” you added with a laugh.

Sam smiled at you but it only lasted a few seconds before his face fell again. “I should let you sleep some more,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Don’t bother,” you responded. “I always forget how messed up my sleep is after drinking. If only we could all be like Dean and just be dead to the world for 13 hours straight after overindulgence...”

“I don’t know how he does it,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“It’s completely unfair,” you agreed, standing and stretching. “Let me see your hand. How is it today?”

Sam tried to deflect. “Oh, uhh… It’s fine,” he said.

You gave him a discerning look. “It’s fine so that’s why you’re hiding it behind your back?”

He gritted his teeth and gave you a slightly guilty smile. “It—it looks way worse than it is,” he said.

“Sam—let me see it.”

He started to back toward the doorway giving you a tight smile. “It’s really fine,” he argued, trying to disarm you, putting the couch between you and him.

“Sam!” you said in surprise. “Let me see!”

“Honestly, it’s nothing!”

“Samuel Winchester, if you don’t let me see it right now, you’re going to regret it…”

Now he let out a laugh, his face lighting up. “Okay, first of all… Don’t ever call me that again. Second, you think I’m scared of you? Especially right now? You’re hungover,” he said, still backing toward the doorway, a grin on his face, knowing that would fire you up.

You started around the couch toward him. “You should be scared.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” He gave you one last look and turned and ran.

“Son of a—” You raced after him. Any headache you had suddenly vanished and you were trying not to be too loud chasing after him, not wanting to wake up Dean and your sister. “Damn you and your long legs, Sam!” You thought you heard him go into the kitchen so you raced around the corner and darted inside but looked around in confusion when you saw it was empty. “…Sam? AHH!”

Suddenly, strong arms around your waist from behind you, picking you up playfully and swinging you around before dropping you back down on your feet. He was laughing and you could feel it resonating in his chest. You spun around to face him and hit him good-humoredly in the arm. “You ass! God!”

This only made him laugh more. One of his arms was still around you, settled on your lower back, leaving you pulled in rather close together. The smile lighting up his face seemed to have banished the dark circles from beneath his eyes and he looked carefree. You wished it would stay that way. God, you loved his smile… and the way it sent light dancing in his eyes, scattering blue-greys and olive green and amber and honey-colored refractions. “You’re lucky I didn’t have a weapon on me,” you scolded him, but unable to prevent a matching grin from spreading on your face. “You should know better than to startle a hunter.” You felt his hand flatten out gently on your back and his fingers trailed across it as he parted from you, sending chills and electricity running up to the top of your head.

The smile stayed on his face. “Sorry,” he said.

“No, you’re not,” you countered. “Now, seriously, give me your hand.”

This time he begrudgingly obliged and held out his injured hand for you to examine, bracing for your reaction. But he was grateful for the unimpeded time to examine your face as you looked it over, and for the gentle touch of your skin on his. “I really think it just looks worse than it is,” he said.

There was significant swelling across his knuckles and angry dark purple and black bruises. You looked up and caught his eyes again. “Sam…”

He shrugged vaguely. “Still worth it,” he said. Now his voice was serious and quiet again, and he watched a flash of something in your eyes but it dissipated too quickly for him to decipher.

You sighed. “This looks broken. You’re going to the doctor today,” you said.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t say anything. He was worried if he did you would let go of him. It had been hard enough to slip his arm from around you when he felt the moment pass when he should have. I am so screwed, he thought.

“And you should NOT drive all the way to town one-handed,” you said. You paused thoughtfully and then released his hand gently and stepped back. “Ask my sister to take you. You need an x-ray for sure.”

That felt like a punch to the gut. Just the mention of her shattered the bubble of illusion Sam had felt himself hiding in, just soaking in whatever little bit of you he could at any given moment. But he nodded dutifully. “Yeah, I will. You’re probably right.”

You gave him a small smile and raised your eyebrows at him. “I usually am,” you said.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Hey, sis,” you sister said, grabbing you into a one-armed hug as you sat with your coffee at the kitchen island.

“Morning.”

“How are you? Hungover?” she smiled a little at you, but it was tempered by another expression.

“Had a bit of a headache but it’s gone now.” Your heart fluttered as you again thought about how sweetly Sam had set out the hangover cures for you in the library.

“Good,” she said, pouring herself a big mug of coffee too and leaning on the other side of the island across for you. “How are you with… everything else?” she asked.

You considered her thoughtfully for a moment and nodded. “I’m fine. Really.” You set down your mug and met her eyes. “Look, I want you to know that none of that happening last night was your fault. And Sam was just upset and he shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I told him as much, too…”

She nodded straightened up. “I know. I know it wasn’t. But, honestly, all that matters is that you’re okay.”

You gave her a half-smile. “I am. I’m fine.”

“Good,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Did you talk to Sam yet this morning?” you asked her. He had disappeared after your discussion in the kitchen and you hadn’t seen him since.

“Mmm,” she shook her head as she sipped her coffee. “No. It’s weird, I think he’s been having trouble sleeping or something. He’s been gone when I wake up for like the last week.”

How could you not know that he isn’t sleeping? How could it take you a week to realize that? you wondered. “Oh—yeah. Maybe you should ask him about it?” you suggested.

“Yeah… maybe… I probably should. He just—sometimes I don’t think he wants to talk about that stuff, you know?”

Your brow furrowed. “Hmm.” You’d always found Sam to be pretty open with you, but you had to admit that lately you did get the feeling that there was something going on with him he was concealing.

“I should try though. You’re right. In any case, it has really been cutting in on our recreational time together, if you know what I mean,” she said with a conspiratorial wink.

You felt sick. “Ha… yeah…” You cleared your throat and tried to veer the conversation away from where it was going. “Anyway, I think he might have broken his hand last night—umm, when he punched that creep in the face… So, you should probably drive him to urgent care today to have it looked at. He shouldn’t drive that far one-handed.”

“Shit! Seriously? Oh, poor babe. God, I hope he broke that guy’s face too,” she said with venom.

“He might have. The second hit was a pretty stellar punch.”

“Good! Fuck him. …Oh, shit—I can’t take him today.” She pressed a hand to her temple. “I have plans. I’m going to meet a friend for lunch and then we’re gonna go see that new suspense thriller that just came out.” She chewed her fingernail. “I really don’t want to cancel. We have such a hard time matching our schedules…” She looked up at you hopefully, giving you a pleading, toothy smile.

“…What?” you said, your tone a little strained.

“Could you drive him? Pleeeeease,” she begged you.

You sighed. “Don’t you think you should be there? He might have broken his hand,” you emphasized.

She bit her bottom lip. “Am I the worst girlfriend?” she asked you. “I’ve just really been looking forward to this! It’s been a while since Sarah and I hung out and… it is seriously hard to get our schedules matched up.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “Well, honestly I think you should be making this a priority.” You tried to keep your tone from sounding too harsh, but you also wanted her to realize how you felt about her trying to bail.

“… Look, it’s not like I would get to, like, go into the x-ray room with him. I’d just be sitting in the waiting room. He won’t care!” she said.

You felt yourself clenching your jaw and gave her one last disapproving look but she seemed to be impervious to it. “Fine. Me or Dean can take him,” you said.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, reaching across the counter and grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze. “Where is he anyway? I want to say good morning.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him for a while. Maybe he went for a run or something.” You got up, leaving your empty mug on the counter. “I’ll see you later. I’m gonna go talk to Dean about taking Sam.”

Dean’s bedroom door was open and the blankets were all ruffled but it was empty. The next logical place to look for Dean Winchester was, of course, the garage. You heard the familiar sound of metal on metal and classic rock blaring from a radio echoing in the cavernous space as you entered.

Weaving your way through the rows of cars, you found him underneath the Impala. You lifted a foot and kicked the bottom of one of his boots, eliciting an expletive, shortly followed by him sliding out on the mechanic’s creeper. “Hey,” he said, sitting up, his legs stretched out in front of him. You leaned back on the Impala beside him. “What’s up, drunky?” he asked you, that typical mischievous glint in his eye. “How are you feelin’?” he asked, getting up and grabbing a rag nearby to wipe his hands off.

“Ha ha ha,” you said sarcastically, pulling a face at him. “I’m perfectly not-hungover,” you said. You strategically left out Sam’s sweet gesture to you.

“That’s a miracle,” he said. “You’re usually such a giant baby—ow!” he laughed as you pinched his arm. “Hey, but seriously. You okay? Ya know, that asshole last night—”

You swallowed the tight lump in your throat and tried to push the feeling of rising panic at the thought of what had happened away. “Really, I’m good, and I just don’t want to talk about it… or think about it.”

Dean nodded, his expression now serious. “So, what’s up?”

You turned around and leaned your hands on the edge of the engine compartment. “Well. I think Sam’s hand is broken.”

Dean groaned. “I was afraid of that… that second hit. He was so mad he didn’t hold his form quite right.” You nodded.

“I told my sister she should take him to get it looked at but she is—busy today.” Dean could hear the annoyance in your voice. “She’s too busy to take her boyfriend to urgent care because she’s going to lunch and a movie…”

“Hmm. Mhm,” he said, leaning back against the car.

“What?” you asked, looking over. He shrugged.

“Nothin’.”

You scoffed. “Well, obviously not nothing.”

He laughed. “I know better than to say every thought that pops in my head… So, what’s the deal?”

“Well, he needs someone to drive him,” you said, giving Dean a pointed look.

“I’m not taking him. I’ve got Baby half taken apart and was looking forward to an entire day of tinkering out here.” He gave you a smug smile.

You stared at him. “We both know you could have her back together in no time if you wanted to.”

“Correct,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “If I wanted to. Why would I want to rush to throw her back together just so I can go sit on my ass in a waiting room? There is a perfectly capable person standing right next to me with a completely put-together, functional vehicle ready to go.”

Your heart beat a little faster. “Why?” you asked.

“Why what?” The smug smile was still on his face and he carelessly slung the rag in his hands over his shoulder.

“Dean,” you said, your tone a little warning. This only elicited a gruff laugh from him.

“I don’t see what the problem is. I think it’d be good for the two of you to spend some more together. Alone,” he grinned.

“To what end? He’s dating my sister.”

“Yeah. I know. That means you can’t hang out? Hey, I didn’t say go get a hotel and fuck him, did I?”

“DEAN!” You felt your entire face burning red, which was obviously the desired reaction because he laughed heartily.

“Look,” he said through another friendly laugh. “I just think you have to stop dancing around this. Maybe if you hang out more like you used to it’ll—I don’t know—shake something loose. Either you’ll be brave enough to spill your guts or you’ll realize what an idiot he is and get over him. Something! You’re just sitting around pining and—quite frankly it’s starting to irritate me.” He flashed you another boyish grin, obviously pretty pleased with himself.

“We do hang out,” you argued. Flashes of the mounting tension and little touches and smiles surged forward in your mind.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you hang out,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “You’re both all—” he stopped himself quickly before he said too much. “Just—just drive him. It’s like a twenty-minute drive. Try and relax and just enjoy being with someone you like. Don’t overthink it, Y/N. Seriously.”

You crossed your arms and stared at him. “I hate you.”

“Love you too,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have Baby’s undercarriage to attend to.”

“That’s what she said…” you murmured as you watched him disappear beneath the Impala again. His gruff laughter drifted out.

“Nice. Now go find Sam and take him to get that crippled hand looked at! We need him back to punching shape ASAP.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

_ _ _ _ _ _

You went about your morning routine and eventually heard your sister and Sam’s voices drifting down the hallway toward you. You stepped out into the hall and Sam came into view, obviously just back from a long run.

“Hey,” you said. “Did I just hear my sister? Where’d she go?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s headed into town for lunch and a movie with her friend Sarah,” Sam said.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, she said something about that. Um… Since she’s busy and Dean is working on the Impala, I’ll take you to get your hand looked at whenever you’re ready.”

Sam gave you a half-smile, but his heart was leaping just at the thought of spending some time alone with you without the possibility of interruptions, even if it was just the 20-minute card ride back and forth from town. “Sure. Just let me shower and get cleaned up,” he said, jutting his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his room.

“Good run? You were gone kind of a long time,” you inquired. ‘Seemed longer than usual.” Oh, God… is that weird that I noticed that? Is that too obvious?

Wow. She noticed that, Sam thought, his heart skipping a beat again. You always seemed to notice the littlest things about him. You instantly picked up on his moods, his anxiety. You noticed when he was wearing a new piece of clothing and when he got a haircut. Was that just being an attentive friend of…? He anxiously averted his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, good run. Just—needed some time to think and to blow off some stress, you know?”

“I do.” You knew exactly what he meant. You pretty much felt that every damn day for one reason or another.

Sam ran a hand over the back of his neck, feeling inexplicably nervous. “Alright, well, I’ll let you know when I’m ready,” he said, and he headed to his room.

About a half hour later, Sam was in your doorway, freshly showered and feeling a little more like himself—maybe it really just was the thought that he could relax and just be himself around you. He didn’t have to worry about playing some role that was expected of him and he didn’t feel like he was lying to anyone (except for maybe himself). You didn’t notice him standing in the doorway at first and it gave him leave to watch you for a moment with a warm feeling blooming in his chest. You were at your computer, your chin propped on one hand, obviously deep in though. “Ready when you are,” he said, causing you to look up suddenly.

“Sure. Let’s do it. Sooner is probably better, right?” you said. Sam followed you through the garage to your car.

“Heading to get your hand checked?” Dean asked Sam as he passed him and the Impala. Dean set down his tools. “Lemme see it.”

Sam sighed heavily but begrudgingly held out his hand for Dean to see. “Goddamn, Sammy. You really did fuck that thing up. Come on, did you forget everything dad taught us about good punching form?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I had something else on my mind in the moment, funny enough.”

Dean nodded, feeling a wave of anger swelling in his chest at the thought. “Yeah, I get it. It was still a good hit. Guy went down like a bag of bricks.”

Sam nodded, seeing that you were waiting for him at your car and he rushed to catch up. “Yeah... I’ll keep you posted,” he yelled back to Dean, who was watching him now with a somewhat smug smile on his face.

It was a beautiful day out and the weather was sunny but mild. The wind whipping in through your open window and the radio playing your favorite songs was refreshing, but having Sam next to you in the passenger seat was even better. You imagined that his hand was incredibly painful, but somehow he still was in an upbeat, positive mood. You talked and laughed the whole drive to the doctor’s office—about everything and nothing at the same time. And Sam was relieved that your sister’s name didn’t come up once. And he didn’t know it, but so were you…

“Alright,” you said, throwing your car into park. “Here we are. I hope we don’t have to wait too long for them to see you. And I also hope it is good news.” Sam watched your brow wrinkle as you glanced over at his hand again. It seemed even more swollen now.

“It’s alright. I’m sure they have some blocks or something in there to keep me occupied if we have to wait,” he joked, climbing out. You fell into stride next to him and checked in at the front desk of the urgent care area. You were lucky—they were going to be able to see Sam right away.

“Good luck,” you said, starting to take a seat.

“Thanks. I’ll keep you posted.”

In about 20 minutes or so, a nurse came to find you in the waiting area. “Are you Sam’s girlfriend?”

You heart skipped a beat and you stood suddenly, feeling your cheeks burn a little red. “Oh—we’re not—”

“He wanted me to bring you back to sit with him while we wait for the radiologist to read the radiographs.”

“Oh. Alright. Is everything okay?” you asked, following her through the labyrinth of stark white halls with seemingly endless doors.

“I think he just wanted some company,” she said, giving you a kind smile.

“Sure. Of course.” You anxiously wrung your hands. Finally, she stopped and knocked on an exam room door and you heard Sam’s voice inside. She held the door open for you to go in and gave you another reassuring smile.

“We’ll be back with those results as soon as we can,” the nurse said, and she bustled off. The door snapped closed behind you and you stepped farther in to see Sam sitting on the end of the exam table in a gown, his clothes folded neatly on a nearby chair. He looked so entirely out of place in that hospital gown and his socks. This tall, strong man somehow looked like a little kid. It was adorable, and you tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. Being with someone at a doctor’s office or a hospital when they were hurt, vulnerable, mortal, was strangely intimate and you felt a tinge of annoyance that your sister didn’t seem to recognize that. But in the next breath you were a little thankful she hadn’t… You sank down onto another chair nearby and gave him a questioning look.

“You okay?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. I just really wanted you to see me in this tasteful ensemble,” he said, gesturing to the gown and down to his stocking feet.

You laughed lightly. “It looks great on you,” you said.

“I’m considering asking if I can wear it out. What do you think?”

You tilted your head and considered him with a mock thoughtful expression. “Mmm… I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess I should ask you how comfortable you are with the idea of my bare ass on your car seat. That could be the deal breaker,” he joked. “Oh my God,” you said, your cheeks coloring but your eyes lighting up as you laughed. “Are you serious??”

He shook his head, also laughing now. “No. They let me keep my boxers on,” he said. “But it made you laugh.”

“Why did they make you change anyway? It’s just your hand,” you said.

“Ahh. Yeah… well, they’re going to have to set it and the nurse said something about me likely needing an IV with some good painkillers.”

“Oh, god… is it bad?”

Sam shrugged vaguely, trying to downplay it. “It wasn’t a walk in the park when the doctor was examining it, but I’m fine,” he said, wanting to reassure you. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel guilty, but he could tell by your expression that was exactly how you were feeling.

You anxiously chewed your bottom-lip. God, Sam loved that… “I’m really sorry, Sam. This is my fault. If I hadn’t been so drunk I could have punched the guy out myself…” you muttered.

“Hey—knock it off,” he scolded you, causing your eyes to shoot up to meet his. “In no way is this your fault. It is only that creep’s fault. And if you had punched him out, you might be the one sitting here in a weird gown that somehow feels like it is both made of cheap fabric and paper at the same time,” he laughed. “And honestly, I wouldn’t want you going through this pain for anything… Or any pain really…” Sam trailed off. You held his eyes as long as you dared but eventually succumbed to nervousness. You were a little overwhelmed by Sam’s assertion. That meant something, right?

There was a thick feeling between your lungs that you couldn’t identify as you stared down at your hands, but you could sense that Sam’s multifaceted eyes were still on your face until there was a knock at the door a few moments later.

You and Sam both looked up as the doctor came in. “Well, Sam, I’m afraid you have a broken and somewhat displaced bone in that hand.” The doctor sat down on a nearby rolling stool. “It’s what we call a brawler’s or boxer’s break in the business,” he said.

You gulped, again feeling guilty and sorry that he had to deal with all this. “Does he need surgery?” you asked, your brow deeply furrowed now and low over your eyes.

“It’s a possibility, but I’m hopeful that we can get it back into place without it. We’ll have to set it and then you’ll need to wear a plaster splint for a while. And follow up again with an orthopedist or hand specialist in about a week to make sure it’s healing alright. We’ll set it and take new radiographs to make sure everything is back where it needs to be and then go from there. Okay?” The doctor gave Sam a tight smile. “Any questions?”

“What does the recovery time look like for this? How long would he have to be in a cast?” you asked.

“Probably have six weeks in the cast, and you’ll need to do some physical therapy afterward of course because the muscles will be weak from disuse. That can take 4-6 weeks to get you back to normal strength again, but I’ve seen motivated people do it safely in less time. Any other questions, Sam?”

Sam shook his head. You tried to read his expression but he was either concealing that he was upset or was completely fine with the news that he would be out of commission for a while. “Alright, well we are going to get started here. Have you taken any painkillers today?” the doctor asked him.

“Just some ibuprofen early this morning, around five,” Sam said.

The doctor made a note on his pad of paper. “Alright. Well, we are going to get you on some of the good stuff for this. I’m sure you’re in a lot of pain. So a nurse will come in and get you set up with an IV and some painkillers. We’ll give you some local anesthetic to numb your hand so we can set it, and then we’ll do some more radiographs.”

Sam nodded and thanked the doctor, who left again, leaving the two of you alone.

Sam could see anxiety written on your face. “Sam, I am so sorry—”

“Hey. Stop that. Really. It doesn’t matter,” he said. “If I could go back and do it over again, I’d hit that guy again. And maybe another time after that,” he said, giving you a small, kind smile. It didn’t soothe the unease and regret on your face though. “I need a vacation from hunting anyway,” he added. “Come here.” He gently inclined his chin in a beckoning nod.

You stood, wringing your hands and came to stand next to him where he sat on the exam table, still towering above you even from his seated position.

“Y/N, listen to me. I would accept a lot more than a broken hand to keep you safe. I mean it. All that matters here is that you’re okay.” You met his eyes and they were flickering back and forth between yours and you wanted more than anything to grab him and kiss him and let everything you felt and thought about him spill out, but with difficulty you swallowed that feeling and it contributed to the ever-growing knot in your chest. But you settled for standing on your tiptoes and throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him as tightly as you dared. His arm wrapped around you immediately, and you didn’t know it but Sam was shutting his eyes tight just like you were and trying to commit that moment to memory, the feeling of having your arms around his neck and the weight of you against him.

You finally broke apart and stuttered a little awkwardly. “I—I should give Dean a call and let him know what’s going on. And maybe my—my sister, too…” You gave Sam one last warm look. “I’ll be right back.” You stepped just outside the exam room with your cell and dialed Dean. He picked up on the second ring, obviously still in the garage as he had to turn the volume way down on some classic rock music blaring in the background.

“Y/N—hey. How’s Sammy?”

You sighed heavily into the phone. “His hand is broken. The doctor thinks they can avoid him needing surgery but he’s going to have to be in a cast for six weeks…”

“Six weeks?!” Dean repeated, running a hand through his hair. “Damn. That’s a long time to not be hunting. How’s he doing with it?”

“Well, you know Sam. It’s hard to tell. But he says he’s okay with it and he’s just glad that I’m okay…” you trailed off and Dean could tell your mind was wandering elsewhere.

“He’s not lying about that,” Dean said. “And I know saying this is probably worthless but try not to feel guilty about this. For the last time, it is not your fault.”

“Yeah… anyway, this could take a while. They’re going to get him on an IV and give him some painkillers before they set the bone in his hand, and then he will need to have more radiographs. So, we could be gone a while.”

“Alright. Well, hey, shoot me a text with an update after they set his hand and let me know how he is.”

“Okay, I will. I’m gonna try and get a hold of my sister to let her know what’s up. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Good idea. Talk to you later,” Dean said, and he hung up.

You dialed your sister, crossing your fingers that she was still at lunch and would actually answer her phone but it went straight to voicemail and you swore under your breath. You left a message explaining what was going on and just as you were finishing a nurse was headed your way with an IV bag. You followed her back into the exam room.

“Alright, Sam,” she said, hanging the bag up on a nearby stand. “We’re going to have you feeling better in no time here.” She got some supplies ready and gently took his uninjured arm and started cleaning it.

“I talked to Dean,” you said. “And I left my sister a message. She didn’t answer. Maybe she’s already in the movie. I can go wait out front again and if—” “Would you stay?” Sam asked you, so eagerly he interrupted you. “It’d be nice if you stayed.”

You smiled at him, just a small one, but it was genuine and it sent sparks lighting in your eyes. “Of course,” you said.

“Thanks.” The nurse got Sam’s IV set and told him to lay back on the table as she pulled out the extension to accommodate his long frame.

“Those painkillers are going to hit you soon, hun, and we don’t want you falling off the table,” she teased.

“So I really am getting the good stuff,” Sam commented. She laughed.

“Well, honestly, we were all wondering how you seemed to be handling that break so well on just ibuprofen. But nothing to worry about now, we’ll get you fixed up,” she said. “The doctor will be back in soon.” She left you and Sam alone again.

“Oh, boy…” he said suddenly, his voice sounding soft and a little dreamy.

“Hmm?” you asked him, looking up from your phone. Still nothing from your sister.

“I think those painkillers are starting to kick in,” he said with a small, self-conscious laugh. “Listen, Y/N,” he said, turning his eyes to you. “I’m just going to go ahead and apologize now in case I say or do anything embarrassing or otherwise ridiculous,” he said, smiling at you.

You gave him a fond look. “I won’t hold it against you. You’re on drugs,” you laughed.

Sam looked back up at the ceiling. “Thank God,” he said.

Part 4

#sam winchester series #sammy #sam winchester #sam x reader #sammy angst #sammy fluff #sam fanfiction #writers of tumblr #supernatural series #spn fics

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dalamjisung · 4 years

Text

let’s get physical ❃ jackson wang

word count: 8064

genre: hospital!au, fluff

pairing: physical therapist!jackson x fighter!reader

description: things are not all that great; how do you tell that to the person that’s only seen you smiling? or the one in which you are a professional MMA fighter and Jackson happens to be your escape from everything.

“One more, let’s go!” Coach shouts and holds the punching bag more firmly. “Don’t stop now, Y/N, just one more minute!”

You gather all the energy left in your body, punching and kicking to your heart’s content. You’ve been training for the past three hours, as you usually do; you’ve been at this routine for years now, since your debut as an MMA fighter. Wake up, train, go home, train some more, sleep, and do it all over again. You had nothing to complain, really– still undefeated, you were the most feared opponent in the octagon.

“And… time!” You finish with a roundhouse kick and allow your body to fall on the mat, breathing harsh and fast. “Come on, go take a shower and ice your muscles. You know better than to wait too long.”

“Yes, Coach!” You shout animatedly, excited to go home and get some sleep.

“And don’t forget that instead of training, you have physical therapy tomorrow!” He says while packing things up. “We need to get that knee back to perfection before the match in the end of the month.”

You nod and run to the dressing room, gathering your things before Coach changes his mind and makes you stay for extra stretching. It was rare for him to be so forgiving of your free time, but ever since you took a kick to the knee that sent you to the hospital, Coach has been taking it easier on you– the fact that you were going home at all was proof enough.

As always, you sleep like a rock, your body and your mind too tired to even dare and keep you awake. After a warm shower, your eyes basically close on their own and, as per usual, you don’t even climb into your bed, content with just laying on a comfy mattress on top of your blankets. It usually ends up with you cold and sneezing the next morning, but it’s nothing some warm coffee couldn’t fix. You make sure your mug is heated with hot water so that it will not interfere with your precious and much needed body heat. You have just enough time to eat some toast and throw a hoodie over your leggings, grabbing your wallet and prescription glasses on the way. Listening to music while walking, you make your way to the clinic, ready for the pain you know is about to come. The hit had been quite hard and they couldn’t do much at the time besides prescribe you a lot of physical therapy and some pain medicine; the attending physician had been a resident and not really sure of what he was doing, yet you still smiled and thanked him for his hard work, going home dejected.

“Y/N!” You hear someone shout excitingly. You look to the side to see Jackson coming out of the bathroom, smiling widely. “Back for more?”

You laugh. You met Jackson when you started getting medical attention for your knee, a few months ago; coincidently, he was also receiving physical therapy. According to him, he hurt his shoulder while fencing and that made his job a little hard– but that is the extend of what you know about this man. He is a chatterbox, that is undeniable, but it never gets personal– on either sides. He knows your name and that you hurt yourself training, but he doesn’t know what you were training or when it happened… you refer to him as your physical therapy friend.

“I just couldn’t stay away for too long,” You wink at him, ignoring the fact that you looked as if you had just woken up. “I missed you too much.”

“Careful or I might just fall in love with you,” He chuckles and you two walk to the resting area.

The physical therapy room is basically a huge room with multiple beds and equipments, and somehow, you and Jackson always end up side by side. The instructors chat with you two and although you follow instructions to the letter, Jackson seems to have a mind of his own, moving freely in the room and using the equipments he seems to like. You look at your own instructor and he just shrugs, continuing to guide you through the exercise for your knee. An hour later you are done and ready to go home, knowing that today Coach wouldn’t bother your for the rest of the day.

“Y/N!” Your instructor calls. “Your knee is really improving! I’m happy with the results today.”

“Ah, that’s so good to hear,” You sigh, relived. “I have a match in the end of the month and I hope to be all healed up by then.”

“I’m sure we can make it happen!” He high fives you. “Don’t forget to get us tickets for your big comeback!”

“I won’t!” You smile and make your way outside. It is still cold but now there is a light drizzle that makes you shiver a bit, the noise almost lulling you to sleep.

“What match?” Jackson asks, and you notice he’s been outside, waiting by the door.

“Nothing too important,” You lie, chuckling a bit. “Have you been waiting for me, Jacks?”

“Oh, yeah,” He smiles wide, but it still doesn’t hide the blush that covers his cheeks. “I was thinking you might want to join me for some coffee? I don’t have work for another couple of hours, so…”

“Careful,” You joke, throwing his previous words back at him. “ Or I might just think you’ve fallen for me, already.”

He just rolls his eyes and starts walking.

————————

“What you want?” Jackson asks looking at the pastries a little bit too seriously. He frowns and examines each one.

“Just a latte,” You say, not really hungry for anything yet.

“You have to eat something,” He chastises and you just stare at him as he confidently walks up to the counter, skipping the long line forming and screams the order. “One latte, one Americano, and two chocolate scones, please!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to get in line, Jackson?” The barista yells back, but getting his things ready nonetheless.

“What is the point of you dating one of my best friends if not for me to have the privilege to skip the line?” He dramatically says, laughing at her face. “And you know I don’t have much time, so let’s go!”

“I’m going to tell on you!” She laughs. “Jaebeom won’t be happy about you treating his girlfriend like this!”

“He loved me first,” Jackson winks and grabs his stuff. “But it on Jaebeom’s tab, please and thank you!

You manage to get a table and you just observe the show that Jackson puts on for the other people; he seems to enjoy the attention more than you’ll ever be comfortable with, no matter how many people watch you fight, it always made you uncomfortable. Once he makes his way back, eyes follow him– men laughing at his antics, girl commenting on his good looks… and you had to admit, Jackson is really handsome, although you think he is particularly attractive when he’s being silly and making you laugh. You aren’t blind– nor stupid. You know Jackson’s flirty jokes aren’t just jokes. You feel the tension as much as he does, but you know better than to cross that line– the line in which you know what he does and he knows what you do and he’s always on edge about you getting hurt and you’re always on edge about him breaking up with you once you chose your career over him– even though you really, really want to. You might be mirroring your past relationships on him, but it’s what you’ve always known. People don’t take MMA seriously enough; it’s either not a real job, or too dangerous of a job. There is no in between.

“Here you go,” He smiles, sitting in front of you.

“Thank you,” You say, taking a sip of what you just decided to be the best coffee of your life. “This is amazing!”

“I know,” He chuckles. “I’m always here when I’m not at work– my best friend’s grandmother owns the place and his girlfriend manages it. Those two will give Jaebeom gray hair sooner than we expected, but he deserves it.”

“They’re a handful?” You try to guess, giggling at the face he makes.

“Ms. Im completely ignores our medical advice and believes herself to be invincible… she is 82,” He deadpans and you completely miss the our medical advice part. “And his girlfriend, although always being there for him and honestly being one of the kindest people I know, always puts him in his place. It’s quite hilarious to watch; one day he gave her some attitude because of a bad thing that happened at work and she didn’t talk to him for five days. He was on his knees by the end of the week.”

“Oh damn,” You say, eyes wide. The girl behind the counter looks so sweet… it’s incredible what you find out about people once you actually get to know them. “I would’ve never guessed it, just by looking at her.”

“Oh, she’s crazy,” Jackson says with the utmost calm in his voice and you almost choke on your drink. “But we love her, so it’s okay.”

“What have I gotten myself into?” You mutter to yourself, looking at the man in front of you.

Jackson always looks so composed, everything he wears fitting him just right, everything he does looking just right, everything he touches being just right– and then he starts talking. And that’s the Jackson you know and adore; the one that says stupid things without a care in the world, the one that doesn’t look so damn perfect all the time. You think that you only see him that way because you barely know him, but got to know a version of him in which he’s comfortable and easy going.

“So,” He says, leaning a bit on the table. “Tell me more about how you messed up that pretty knee of yours.”

“Pretty knee?” You laugh, head thrown back and all. “Let me guess, you’re into knees?”

“That’s a talk for another time,” His eyes are intense and heavy on you, and you gulp, suddenly feeling hotter and hotter by the second.

“I– uh, I m-messed up at work,” You stutter out, blushing under his knowing smirk. “And here I am.”

“What do you work with?” He asks, sounding genuinely interested. “You never talk about it.”

“Neither do you,” You say defensively, managing to deflect the question towards him. “What do you work with, you mysterious man?”

“I’m actually a–“

“Jackson!” The barista shouts, extending her arm over the counter while holding her phone. “It’s Jaebeom; he’s saying it’s urgent!”

Without a word, Jackson sprints to the phone, attentively listening to the person on the other side, and after a few nods and ‘of course,’ he is walking back to you with a look you’ve never seen before on his face.

“I am really sorry, Y/N,” He smiles sadly, shoulders tense and forehead frowning. “I have to go, it’s urgent, but… can I see you again? Outside of the clinic?”

You are at a loss of words. To say you did not expect him to do this now would be an understatement– you didn’t expect him to do this ever. And you want to tell him that; you want to tell him no and explain that you don’t have the time nor the emotional stability to do that now, but you find yourself nodding, and then you find yourself typing your number on his phone, and then you find yourself alone, because in the end you always seem to find yourself alone.

————————

Coach is screaming behind you, hyping you up for another three minutes. A round lasts for five minutes, with one-minute breaks in between, but Coach always said you should be conditioned to fight for six minutes with thirty-second breaks in between. Better to be over prepared than to be under attack, he always said, and you always laughed with fond memories of the first time you heard him say that, when you still thought you could argue that his logic was flawed and that since you are a professional fighter, your job is basically being under attack.

“Let’s go, Y/N!” He shouts and you huff, a headache creeping in on you, and you know it will make you suffer later in the night. “Come on, Y/N, stronger! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“Argh!” You shout, falling down at the sound of the buzzer. “Goddammit!”

You hear Coach sigh. “What’s happening, kid?”

“Nothing…” You mutter, not wanting to admit it. You refused to.

“You seem to forget you can’t lie to me,” Coach laughs humorlessly. “I raised you since middle school; now let’s try again: what’s happening?”

And he’s right. Coach, also known as Hwang Jisung, had been your Physical Education teacher back in middle school, where he saw potential where everyone saw trouble. Because home had always been hectic, school was the place your aggression was misplaced, since it was a place in which aggression wasn’t a part of. Your mother left before you were old enough to even remember her face, and you father took alcohol as crutch, relying on it to get by, and even though you think he’s raised you well and the best way he could, Coach took the paternal role in your life after he saw you punching a kid in the face for speaking ill about your dad. Nowadays, your dad is doing better, having been sober for a couple of years, but Coach never left. And you are extremely thankful for it and him.

In the end, you tell all. You tell him about Jackson and about the growing tension in between you two, and about how you’re scared– scared that you’ll end up like you did after your last breakup, crying and angry for weeks. You are scared to be fooled again; and scared to fool him. But most of all, you are scared to put effort into something that will never have a future.

“I can’t do it again, Coach,” You mumble, stretching your hands above your head. “I can’t waste my time and energy like that ever again– not when I’m this close to the belt.”

“Sure,” Coach shrugs. “I hear you, kid, and I am happy to hear that dedication of yours… but also remember that you have a life outside the ring. You seem to forget that a lot, and it scares me, because if something happens and you have to stop fighting, I want you to have something to go back to.”

You nod, letting his words sink. Did you have something to go back to, besides an empty apartment with a bed neatly made?

No. You don’t think you did.

————————

Pick you up at 7.

That’s the last you hear from Jackson, a week after he left you at the coffee shop. In between practicing and shamelessly flirting at the physical therapy clinic, you two haven’t actually found a good time to go out, always missing each other by minutes. But tonight is the night, and there you are, in your living room, nervously pacing from one side to the other. The dress feels weird in your body; it’s been a while since you got dressed to look good, instead of just getting dress to practice. It felt good and odd at the same time– almost like a break from routine.

I’m here.

You take a deep breath and go to the elevator, impatiently waiting for it to get to your floor, and then back to the lobby, where you can see him and oh god he looks perfect– he looks literally flawless, what the actual fuck. Jackson is leaning on his car, white tshirt contrasting with his blue jeans, and he looks so good that you might just go back home and give up on all of this. But you can’t, because he sees you and then he’s not perfect anymore, because his eyes look like they are about to jump out of his face, like in a cartoon, and his incredulous laugh is a little too loud, and suddenly he is doubling over the car.

“You look too beautiful,” He breathes out, eyes sparkling a bit. “I can’t handle it.”

“Ya, you scared the shit out of me!” You shout, laughing. “I thought something was wrong!”

“If anything,” He says opening the car door for you. “Everything is just right.”

You blush and the date starts. It’s almost like following a script; you laugh at something he says, you flirt, you flirt some more, joke around, and everything is good. Jackson spills some wine on his shirt and instead of being embarrassed, he laughs it off and asks if you’re less nervous now.

“I fucked up already,” He explains, looking at you seriously, although you catch the mischievous glint in his eyes. “That means you have a Fuck Up Pass that can be used at any time.”

“That’s barely a fuck up,” You snort, pointing at the tiny stain. “But I’m not stupid– I’m taking that pass.”

“Planning on fucking up?” He laughs, finishing his cup. “You took the pass a bit too eagerly…”

“I just know myself,” Eyes down on your hands, the same hands that are too close to his, you admit. “I always end up fucking something up.”

“Oh,” He says dramatically, eyes moving to where yours look. He moves his hands on tops of yours and you cannot help but notice that no one ever held your hands like that before… this gently. “I can’t wait for it.”

Dinner goes by smoothly after that; Jackson keeps making jokes, and even decides to take a romantic stroll in the night market, under the excuse that he was still hungry. He buys both of you spicy tteokbokki and some chocolate filled bungeoppang, humming happily as you two walk hand in hand. You learn a lot about him, then; he has an older brother and a nice, whom he loves dearly, and before committing to medical school, because now you know he’s a doctor, he was on the path to be an olympic fencer. Jackson loves singing and dancing and he even demonstrates it, belting out to some random lyrics.

“What about you?” He asks, pulling you closer by the shoulder. The night market’s noise stay behind you as you walk in the direction of your apartment. “You know about my family, my job, my friends. I still know pretty much nothing about you.”

And this is the moment you hate the most in any date you’ve been. The moment you have to chose– do you want to tell him about your job, the one that includes punching people out of conscience? Or do you want to tell him about your chaotic childhood and the man you consider to be your father? Or, better yet, you could tell him about your failed past relationships that traumatized you for what you believe will be the rest of your life, making you insecure and afraid of yourself…

“There’s not much to say,” You shrug instead. “I’m not nearly as interesting as you.”

He laughs, but you know he’s not convinced. You two stop in front of your building and you ask him if he wants to come up for tea, and when he says yes, and walks in your apartment, and kisses you passionately, you know that sooner or later the things you hide will come out. But then he pushes you to your room and you think later might be a better time, anyways.

————————

The rain is not what wakes you up; but Jackson is. His arms, hidden under the covers you never use, are heavy around you and the weight, unfamiliar and too warm, make you wiggle in discomfort. Slightly throwing his arm to the other side, you hold a giggle as he groans, rolling to his side and allowing you to hug him instead; your leg finding a place to slot itself in-between his and your arm hugging his naked waist. You rest your forehead on his back and exhale in relief, finally comfortable… and then a phone ring. You are not sure if it’s yours or his, but he is the one that picks up, so you assume it’s not for you.

“What?” He groggily asks, hoarse voice doing things to your awakening body. “What?!”

Jackson shots up, and you almost roll out of the bed with the suddenness of it all.

“No, no no no, I’ll be there in fifteen!” He shouts, jumping around as he pulled his underwear up, looking for his pants next. “For fuck’s sake Jinyoung, cover for me just this time! I’ll be there soon, bye!”

“Is everything okay?” You ask, letting your head hit the pillow. Without his bodily warmth, the covers that miraculously cover your naked body offer you just the right amount of heat to lull you back to sleep.

“Yeah,” He hurriedly says. “I’m really sorry this is happening, oh my god, I completely overslept and it’s already 11 in the morning and work–“

“It’s what?!”

It takes only a few seconds for you to join him in the search for clothes, naked bodies brushing each other as you pass by him to reach your underwear. He gives you your t-shirt and you give him his jacket, and like that, you both get ready in record time, running out the door and to opposite directions, a wave as the only parting goodbye. You can only imagine what you looked like, running for your life to the gym, hoping that Coach won’t kill you for being three hours late. You know you are fucked as soon as you walk in and see him throwing punches in the bag.

“Coach–“

“One week until your comeback match,” He growls. “And you are slacking off?”

You expected this.

“I told you to get a life outside the ring, Y/N,” Coach says walking to you. “Not to replace it.”

“Sorry, Coach,” You mumble, frowning. “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He grumbles. “Go stretch. You’re training an extra three hours for the time you made me wait.”

Well, this you didn’t expect.

“Did you eat?” He asks, already putting his jacket on. “You look like you just rolled out of bed…”

“I didn’t, Coach, sorry…” You look at him sheepishly, embarrassed with yourself. You were trained better than that.

“I’ll go grab something,” He says. “I want you fully stretched by the time I come back.”

To say that training was ruthless is an understatement. By the end of the six hours of stretching, and cardio, and weights, you could barely move. You were physically and mentally exhausted, and you just wanted to sit down and cry a little bit. You felt embarrassed and disappointed in yourself– losing track of the time because Jackson spent the night, what a ridiculous excuse; you were better then to let a crush take over you like that. You were also extremely confused and upset, knowing that he opened up to you, he managed to do it even though it probably wasn’t easy, and you can barely talk abut your family. You can’t talk about your friends because you don’t have many to begin with, and you refused to talk about your job, knowing what follows after. Aggressive. Heartless. Impulsive. Although you know better, it is almost impossible to ignore those words that hit you harder than any opponent you’ve faced in the octagon.

You think that after last night, you’d die if Jackson looked at your hands the way most people do; they are not weapons, you want to scream at people. They won’t hurt you! You still remember the way your ex-boyfriend flinched when you reached out to touch him during a fight. It’s not my fault, he told you; you hurt everyone you touch. You didn’t want to hurt Jackson; ever. Last night had been incredible– he reminded you of everything you seemed to have forgotten, everything that had been taken away from you. He treated you like a woman– he cared for you not because he thought you needed it, but because he wanted to… you could see it in his eyes as he held your hand when you were walking down the stairs, or the way he would hold the door for you. He didn’t regard you as incapable, but as independent. He didn’t see you as weak, but as precious. You could still feel the warm touch of his hands on yours, and you can’t help but want more. You want to feel like that forever.

But you can’t. Reality grounds you again when Coach starts going over your schedule for the next day; physical therapy, rest, train. You nod, promising to never be late again, and you begrudgingly move to get your things, body aching and tired. You finally have the chance to look at your phone, after six hours, and you see the five missed calls and numerous texts from Jackson; you call him immediately.

“Hello?” You say. “Jackson? Is everything okay?”

“Y/N! Hey,” He sounds relived, almost. “I’m so sorry if I freaked you out, but I forgot my wallet in your apartment and I just got out of an appointment… I was wondering if I could go pick it up?”

“Ah,” You hope you don’t sounds as disappointed as you feel, expecting him to say something more meaningful than that. Dream on, Y/N, you mock yourself internally. “I can take it to you, no problem. Text me your work address?”

“Oh, thank you so much,” He sighs, and you hear someone calling his name in the background. “See you soon!”

Dejected, you walk back to your place and you know exactly where his wallet in– sitting on the bedside table, where he left after he grabbed the condom.

“Come on, Y/N,” You say to yourself. “Stop acting like a fool. It was one night… just one night.”

You take a taxi to the address he sent you because you are too tired to walk. It takes only a few minutes and you are surprised to see the hospital, big and mighty in front of you. You knew he works as a doctor, but you were expecting something more like a private clinic. You walk in, knowing the place already, and you go to the reception desk.

“Excuse me,” You say with a tight smile. “I’m looking for Dr. Jackson Wang?”

“Do you have an appointment?” She smiles wide, and you shake your head. “I think he is booked for the night, ma’am, but I’m sure we can find a–“

“Oh, no need,” You shake your head. “I’m just here to give his wallet back…”

“Ah, I see,” She smiles. “You can leave it with me and I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“If it’s no problem I’d like to give it to him myself,” You ask, blushing a little.

“I can call him for you, if you’d like, but this is not the first time someone drops his things with us,” She smiles understandingly, chuckling a little. “Dr. Wang is a very forgetful person.”

“I see,” Your shoulder tense up. So this is not unusual for him, I guess. “I’ll wait over there.”

You sit down in the main entrance, and you look around; families waiting for their sons, or daughter, or fathers, or mothers; boyfriends, girlfriends, spouses. You wonder what it’s like having a family member waiting for you, ready to embrace you after a consultation or a surgery… only Coach waited for you; but then again, Coach is family.

“Ah, thank god you’re here,” You hear someone saying next to you, and you turn to see the girl that works in the bakery Jackson took you. She is smiling, arms open to a man with blue scrubs. He drowns in her, closing his eyes and relaxing his shoulders, seeming to find comfort in her. “It’s been a hard day.”

“I’m sure it has, love,” She says back, and you can’t help but feel guilty to eavesdrop such an intimate moment… you also couldn’t help but feel jealous; who would embrace you like that after a match? “But it’s alright, cause tomorrow is your day off and I made you some chocolate scones. Taehyung-ie is really excited for you to sleep over to–“

“Y/N!”

Interrupting the moment, you see Jackson running to you with a huge smile on his face, and you have to reprimand yourself, remembering the nurse’s words; it’s not the first time someone drops his things here, you think, smiling back. Don’t be a fool.

“Thank you so much for bringing it to me,” And Jackson, as always, does the unexpected, pulling you into a tight hug. You freeze for a few seconds, before allowing yourself to mold your body to his, feeling, for the first time, comfortably small. “Do you want to come up? I have some time before my next appointment and I just picked up some food… you didn’t eat yet, did you?”

“No, not yet but–“

“Good!” And he pulls you by the hand, surprising everyone around. You see the nurse that talked to you before and even she looks shocked; you can’t help but smile to yourself.

I’m going to allow myself to be a fool, you think, following him to his office. Just for tonight, I’m going to let myself enjoy this.

You are lying to yourself and you know it, but you don’t care. Not when Jackson sits you down on the couch in his office room, and pushes the food towards you, nagging you in the most caring of ways to eat and relax a bit.

“You look extremely tense,” He scoffs. “Do I make you that nervous?”

“N-not at all,” You smile, tightly. “I just wasn’t expecting this…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have plans?” He frowns softly, and a wave of guilt washes over you. He looks like a puppy!

“No!” You basically shout. “No plans. This is great, thanks Jacks.”

“So,” He starts, looking at you intently. “You still haven’t told me about yourself…”

“What about me?” And you are tense again, but this time it’s different. You recognize this kind of tension easily– it’s the same as you feel whenever you step into the ring. This is not a fight, you have to remind yourself, trying to escape the defensive mindset. Get it together, Y/N! “I told you I’m not that interesting–“

“Anything about you,” He sighs, and you know he’s frustrated with you. “Literally anything; your dreams, hopes, fears. Work, family, friends. Whatever you want to tell me, but tell me something.”

“Jackson…”

“I don’t want to push you,” He mumbles, letting his head fall on his hands, and he looks so tired. His eyes look oddly dead and sunken, and you just want to embrace him, care for him, but you don’t. You don’t dare to touch him when he’s already that fragile, afraid to break him, too. “But I’ve been trying to crack you for months, and I thought that when you agreed to go out with me it meant something– that you liked me too, hopefully. But you don’t open up. We had sex and I don’t even know where you ran to the next morning, Y/N…”

“It’s not easy, Jackson,” You say a little harsher than you intended.

“It’s not easy for me, either,” He defends himself, leaning back in the couch. “It’s so fucking hard but I did it for you!”

“Why?” You asks, frowning. “If it’s so hard, why would you do it?”

“Because I like you,” He says, softly looking at you. “I’ve liked you for so long now, and I’m so confused… sometimes I think you like me too, and sometimes I think you’re just seeing where this goes.”

“What?”

“You don’t talk to me,” Jackson sounds so defeated, and it’s all your fault. “What am I supposed to think?”

“That I like you too!” You shout, getting up and putting your jacket. “I’d never string you along, Jackson. I’m not that kind of person!”

“I don’t know what kind of person you are!” He cries out and out of everything you’ve heard, this is the one that hurts the most. “You never showed me! You never allowed me to see you!”

And you know he is right. You know he tried his best to be patient with you, to find out more about you, to respect your privacy, but in the end, he is right. You never showed yourself to him. He saw you naked, but you never laid yourself bare, and you are not sure you ever could.

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, taking a few steps back. “I’m really sorry Jackson, I- I got to go.”

“Y/N, no,” He reaches out for you, but you are out of there before he can even register it.

The ride back home feels much shorter than before and you are thankful; you couldn’t burst out crying in the back of a taxi… you wouldn’t. Once you are home, however, you cry from the front door to your room, allowing yourself to feel like you behaved before– a pice of shit. Screaming at him and then running away were the stupidest decisions you’ve ever made; you don’t think you’ll be able to forget the look in his eyes as you opened the door. Sad, defeated, exhausted.

Maybe this is for the better, you try to console yourself. Maybe I’m saving him the energy… dealing with me can’t be easy. He’s already busy with his patients, so yeah, maybe I’m helping him, after all.

You repeat that like a mantra, and for what feels like the first time ever since you moved into your apartment, you pull the messy covers back, and climb onto your bed, hoping that the weight the blankets offer would replace the comfort of having his body next to you.

It doesn’t and you barely sleep.

————————

The week flies by and you don’t see Jackson at the clinic. Your chest contracts when thinking of him skipping on his health because of how uncomfortable you made him, and you even text him– saying he can’t miss physical therapy because of you and that you’ll change your appointment date if he prefers, but he never answers and you give up. With the increase in training, you also barely have time to think about it, but when you do, it hits you like a freight train; knocking the air out of your lungs and the sleep out of your body.

“Focus!” Coach shouts, and you try; you really try to focus your eyes on the bag but it moves to fast and you miss it. “Goddammit Y/N… what happened? You were on top of your game yesterday!”

“I couldn’t sleep,” You mumble, frowning and giving yourself a few taps on the head, hoping that it would wake you up. “I’m so tired…”

“Okay, we’re ending it here,” He sighs. “The match is tomorrow… are you sure you’re ready for it?”

“Yes,” You answer mechanically. “Yes, Coach.”

“Okay,” He nods, frowning. “Come on, I’ll give you a rise home after dinner.”

He orders your favorite and you two eat in silence, enjoying each other’s company as much as you could, feeling the tension slowly leave your body and make way for nervousness. You haven’t faced an opponent in a while– you are sure how this will go.

“What happened to the boy?” Coach ask as he drinks his water. “You don’t talk about him anymore… I was excited to meet my future son-in-law!”

“Ha ha,” You say emotionless. “It didn’t work out.”

“How so?”

“Since when are you so invested in my love life, Coach?” You ask, squinting at him.

“Since you got one,” He shrugs. “You looked really happy, that’s all.”

“I was,” You whisper. “But it would never work out. He started asking too many questions that I didn’t have answers for.”

“Like what?” Coach nags. “You’re one of the smartest people I know; you have an answer for everything!”

“He asked about dad,” You say, too quick to even process what is about to come out of your mouth. “He asked about my life– my family, my job, myself. I can’t answer those, Coach, you know I can’t.”

Coach just nods, looking at his hands. “Do you trust him?”

“With my life,” You joke, thinking of him in his scrubs. “He’s a doctor…”

“Huh, so his schedule would fit well with yours,” Coach smiles slightly.

“Coach, don’t say that,” You beg. “It hurts. Having hope hurts.”

“You trust him with your life, but not with yourself,” Coach sighs. “What am I going to do with you, kid? You can’t shut everyone out like that. One day, I’ll be gone, and who will take care of you, huh? Who will watch after my little girl?”

You have tears in your eyes.

“Y/N, he makes you happy,” Coach grabs your hands, warming the up in between his. “Listen to this old man, will you? You don’t meet a lot of those– people that make you happy. He wants to know more about you because he cares… or else he wouldn’t even have asked. You’ve took punch after punch, in this life, I know that better than anyone, but maybe he can help you heal.”

“I don’t think I’m capable of healing, Coach,” You say in between sobs. “But I really want to. Oh god, I want to.”

“You’ll get there,” He brings you closer and hugs you. “I know you will. Now let’s go home; you need to sleep for tomorrow.”

The night is quick and so is the day, and soon it’s time; you are backstage getting ready and warming up. It’s time for your comeback. Coach is next to you, counting as you jump rope, voice calm and smooth and you smile at him. This man has given you everything; you aren’t failing him now.

“Let’s go!” Someone calls from outside the door and almost as if something inside of you switches, you are moving, and moving, and moving until you are at the octagon.

Your opponent is on the other side, jumping up and down and she tries to look threatening, teeth showing through the mouthguard and fists tight, but you can’t help but smile and wink at her. You’ve always been like that, light and carefree inside the ring. Not reckless, though; never reckless. Maybe I should be a little reckless sometime, you think, chuckling to yourself as the judge calls both of you to the center to touch gloves.

“Let’s have a good and clean fight,” He says.

“You’re going down,” She says, and you try to find her name somewhere in your mind.

“You’re welcome to try, Hyejin-ah,” You smile widely, going back to your place.

You hear the bell and it starts. The first five minutes are quick and you rejoice as your feet are quick and precise– kicking, jumping, moving. Your fists protect your face, keeping your guard up, and your eyes, attentive and trained, gather enough information on her so that you can finally start playing. The second round is when things get tough, for both of you. Hyejin is stronger, but you are quicker; moving as fast as possible, you punch when possible, and it’s only when she lands a jab to your face that you lose yourself for a little bit… and she pounces. Punch after punch, you can feel the glove sliding over your sweaty skin, and you feel it tear, you feel it bleed, and you feel alive. You know what to do; the punch comes and it takes only a few seconds for you to duck and hit her in the temple with your heel. In the business, you are known for your roundhouses and when the judge raises your arm above your head, you can’t help but think how good it is to be home. And how much you’d like to share this with someone. Hell, scratch that; how much you’d like to share this with Jackson.

You get back to the dressing room while still on an adrenaline high. But then it fades. And you trip. And things go a little black for a while; and you can hear Coach shouting your name, and you can feel his hand shaking you, but you can’t really get up. You’re tired and spent and you just want some sleep. You tell him that– or at least you think you did. You sleep for a while and when you wake up again you are in a car, and you know because there are bumps and Coach is there, holding your hand, and he looks like he’s praying. You smile and you think that going back to sleep for a little while more won’t hurt. You wake up once more, just for a few seconds, because of the voices next to you.

“… her condition is stable for now… waiting on tests…”

“… will she be okay?!”

“Yes.”

Then it’s fine to sleep some more, you think.

“I swear to god, kid,” You wake up with Coach’s whispers. “When you wake up, I will kill you.”

“Seriously?!” You let out an airy laugh, putting some effort into opening your eyes. “Are you really threatening me in a hospital?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Coach gets up, trying to look stern, but you see the softness in his eyes too easily to actually be afraid. “Are you insane? The doctors all said you were malnourished and lacking sleep! You had a fever when we got here… how the fuck did you get in the ring like that?!”

“I felt fine in the ring,” You say, confused. “But Coach…”

“What?” He grumbles, looking at you with tired eyes.

“Did I win?”

“You don’t remember?” He is genuinely surprised. “You knocked her out, kid. I’m so proud of you!”

You smile in relief. You won. You’re back.

“The neurosurgeon said nothing is wrong with your head,” Coach informs. “You took quite a fall, I’m surprised nothing happened. The Physical Therapist is coming soon to look at your knee… I’m still a bit worried about that.”

“Ah,” You smile at him tightly. “All my money from tonight will go to this hospital, I see…”

“Shut u–“

“Excuse me,” You hear a voice from the door. “My name is Dr. Wang and I’ll be your doctor today. What seems to be the problem?”

When he looks up, you feel like vomiting. His smile disappears and his eyes bulge, wide enough for them to look like they will pop out at any second. You know what you look like– swollen lip, cut eyebrow, and bruised cheeks. You felt it all.

“Y/N?” He shouts and you are surprised, flinching a little. His steps are quick and he’s soon inspecting you, hands all over your face and pressing down on your ribs. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”

“I–“ You stop yourself before you can come up with an excuse, eyes finding Coach’s; he smiles and points to the door, walking outside. “I think we need to talk.”

Jackson just nods, hands shaking as he slowly traces your injuries.

“Jacks, I’m fine,” You sigh, closing your eyes to the feeling. “I’m used to it…”

“Used to it?!” He shouts again and you can’t help but laugh as his behavior.

“I’m a professional MMA fighter, Jackson,” You say, looking deep into his eyes, waiting for any sign of fear or disgust to show. But it never does. “This is literally my job.”

“You had a fight tonight?” He asks, moving to the other side where the chart is. “What happened? Did you get knocked out? Did they check for concussions? My friend woks for Neurosurgery, I can call him!”

“Yah, calm down,” You ask, pulling him to you by his hand. “I’m just malnourished. And exhausted. Haven’t really been eating and sleeping lately…”

At that he stops.

“Me neither,” At that, Jackson finally looks straight into your eyes, and you see it; the pain, the anxiety, the hesitation. “I don’t know what happened, Y/N, and–“

“I’m sorry,” You say before he can. “I’m sorry about everything. I like you. I like you very much, but I have some issues and I didn’t know what to do. I want to use my Fuck Up Pass... can I?”

He chuckles, nodding. “What do you mean?”

It seems that once you finally open up, you don’t stop. Until three in the morning you talked; about your past, starting from the young age of when your mother left, to now, and he listens– attentively, holding your hand and smiling as sign of support. He falls asleep before you do, resting his forehead on the bed next to you, and you are still awake once his phone rings nonstop, demanding his presence somewhere else.

“Jackson,” He grunts once you shake him. “You have to go.”

“Why?” His head shots up, eyes barely open.

“I think someone is calling you back to work,” You chuckle. “You can come back later.”

“It’s seven in the goddamned morning,” He groans, getting up and stretching his arms above his head. You have to admit, he looks really good in the morning. “I hate this.”

“That’s a lie,” You call him out, smiling. “You love your job.”

“I do,” And goofy Jackson is back. “I’ll come back once my shift is over and I’ll take you home, yeah?”

You nod and he kisses you goodbye, laughing once the heart machine beeps faster.

————————

“All night I'll riot with you, I know you got my back and you know I got you,” You close your eyes in embarrassment as you hear his voice getting closer. “So come on, come on, come on, let’s get physical!”

“Please,” You beg, grunting when the instructor pushes your knee a bit too hard. “Stop singing that stupid song.”

“Dua Lipa is a queen and you shall never disrespect her again!” He cries out, making you chuckle fondly. Jackson is next to your bed now, sitting on a stool. “How’s the knee, Doc?”

“Pretty good,” Your instructor smiles, nodding appreciatively. “She’d be all healed by now if she hadn’t walked in that ring without stretching.”

“Excuse me,” You nag. “That was months ago!”

“And look where you are now,” Jackson sighs. “Babe, seriously, you need to be more careful. I’m not always there to take care of you.”

“What the fu– You’re not even my doctor!” You protest, frowning at him. “We’ve been dating for three months now and you never–“

“I’m not your doctor because you won’t let me,” He deadpans. “Something about private and work life… tsk.”

The instructor watches you two with a small smile, slowly waking away to the front desk where his colleagues are.

“I won the bet,” He says, raising his hand. “Pay up.”

“Not fair,” One of them grumbles while giving him the money.

“I said those two would get together, and look at them now.”

You stop bickering to look at the workers in the front desk, staring and laughing at you.

“You’ll destroy my reputation like this,” You complain, but Jackson laughs.

“What reputation?”

“Shut up,” You chuckle and pulls him in for a kiss.

“Admit it,” He pecks your lips. “You’ve gotten softer ever since we started da– ouch! Oh my god, guys, have you seen this? My girlfriend, my girlfriend who is a fighter, just punched me! I’m going to die!”

“Oh my god, Jackson,” You grumble, getting up and dragging him out of the clinic. “You’re so dramatic…”

“Said the girl who made a whole fuss about dating me,” He jokes, winking at you when you look at him with your mouth hanging open. He always made jokes about it, although he’s been extremely patient and loving.

“I’ll kill you one day,” You sigh, grabbing his hand. “But for now, let’s go home.”

He wiggles his brows and you just know what he’s going to do.

“Let’s get physical!”

You smile.

“We’ll see.”

-----------------------------------

okay so this is way longer than I though it would be LOL but at least I figured out the ‘read more’ function!!! Other thank that, I kind of love how this turned out! The General Hospital series has been giving me a lot of joy to write and I hope you all like it too! As always, leave a comment and let me know what you think <3 Love you all!❤️

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

You and Me...

Chapter 12

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** Therapy session, talk of trauma and trauma-related repercussions, mild talk of nightmares/night terrors, talk of flashbacks, language probably, Hint of body insecurities due to rape. Suggested discussion of rape. I think that’s pretty much it.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 3151 (sorry this one is a little long)

A/N: Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. This is something I actually did and witness, and I realize this one might be hard to read because it is a little heavy.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

A short three hours later you found yourself sitting in a small clean room on a small deep grey couch. Two end tables on each end dark oak wood and a coffee table in front of you to match. The carpets are also dark grey. Certificates lined the walls, showing off different degrees, and other accomplishments of the therapist you were here to see. A large window overlooking downtown Austin across from you, and in front of it a large chair and an end table to match other furniture in the room.

A younger woman, Dr. Melissa Johnson, who insisted on everyone being on a first-name basis with each other in order to make Jensen feel more comfortable, sitting in the large chair in front of the window, her clipboard in hand, listening closely to everything Jensen had to say.

You knew this wouldn’t be an easy visit for him, and honestly, he was doing better than you thought he would. He was much calmer than you think you would be in that situation.

Melissa hadn’t rushed him or pushed him, she simply said. “Okay, Jensen, let’s start from the beginning.”

That’s where you found yourself now.

Jensen was sitting on the other end of the small couch to your left, as you listened to things that they had done to him, things you only thought happened to people in horror movies. A tape recorder was going on the coffee table. It was more horrific than you thought. The things they did to him made it was hard to keep your breakfast down.

You were trying not to let it show on your face. He was doing so well with opening up and finally telling what had happened to him. Not without some convincing that he was in a safe, judgment-free space, but still, you didn’t want him to see you get upset, and then in turn get upset or feel like you were judging him in any way. He was so vulnerable right now. He didn’t need you to be weak.

"Then the next time I came to myself I was in the hospital, and Jared was sleeping on the small couch in the room," he said, shaking so hard you could almost hear his teeth chattering, a light sheen of sweat dripping down his face that he quickly wiped away.

You knew it was incredibly hard for him to tell that story. Hell, you don't know if you would have been able to go into detail that way.

Once he started talking though it just seemed to flow out of him and keep coming, gruesome detail after gruesome detail.

Melissa put the clipboard down on the table and looked at the two of you.

“How are you doing now that you're out of the hospital? How are you feeling? Something obviously convinced you to come and see me today. Help me to understand where you're at right now.”

Jensen cleared his throat and set up straighter in the corner of the couch, hands nervously running up and down his knees. His eyes shifting uncomfortably around the room. He finally just shook his head, not answering anyone for a long time. She gave him time, and you did as well. Though you could literally feel your heart racing in your ears.

“I…. I don’t… I don’t really know how to explain it,” he said, shaking his head. You knew that wasn’t the whole truth, but you weren’t about to say a damn thing.

"Jensen, you went through quite a trauma. Some things are going to come to the surface, the nightmares, night terrors, flashbacks. That's all part of experiencing any sort of trauma. It's your brain's way of dealing with unnatural things. Things that are traumatic. Hallucinations have even been reported in some cases. If you're having any of those things, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Something obviously made you decide to come to see me today... I can’t help you unless you open up to me. This is a safe space, remember."

Jensen took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “All of it, I’m having all of it... Everything you described, and it’s all so fucking real.”

Your heart broke at that moment. You wanted more than anything to reach out and at least grab his hand, and even started to, but stopped yourself.

Melissa noticed your movement. She paused and looked at the two of you for a moment. Taking a note at the distance between you on the couch.

“Is it worse when you are alone or does it not really make a difference either way?” she asked. Jensen took a deep breath, trying to ground himself.

“It’s worse when I’m alone. That’s why I’m staying with Y/N. She was at the hospital with me. We’ve been together ever since.”

Melissa nodded her head knowingly. Jensen was still shaking lightly but was calming down now considerably.

"I'm an expert in this sort of trauma. I see a lot of people that have gone through similar traumas as yourself. Then I see some that didn't have such violent traumas. I want you to remember this, everyone deals with things differently. Everyone’s process of healing and the time it takes them to do so is different, and there is no wrong way to do this. Your experience was very violent.”

Jensen sat chewing on his lower lips, staring at the floor. He looked exhausted, and you were ready to get him out of there, get him back to your apartment where you knew he was safe, you knew he needed to do this, but watching him work through it wasn’t easy.

“I need to ask you a few questions, some of these may make you a little uncomfortable, but it’s important that if you answer them you do it honestly. They're going to be kind of personal," she said.

Jensen just nodded his head. You had learned him well enough by now to know that was something he did when he was trying to deflect. Just going through the motions, but not really present in the conversation.

He did it a lot lately.

“Jensen, are you and Y/N in a relationship,” she asks, and you tried to hide your widened eyed expression from Jensen.

Since that day in the hospital, you had never spoken about your feelings for each other again, and you didn’t really know where you stood together, but a relationship wasn’t even in the cards rights now for either of you.

“I’d like to be, but I don’t know if I can be. I know I can’t live without her, and I have feelings for her, and I know she does for me, but we’ve never labeled anything. Everything has just been so…”

Jensen let his words fall away, looking at you, his eyes distance and numb, his gaze unfocused and tired.

“Y/N, do you want to be in a relationship with Jensen?” she asked, and you were still slightly stunned that he even wanted to be in a relationship with you.

“Yeah... I mean, of course, I would, but I don’t want to push him into something that he’s not ready for you to know?” you tell her.

Jensen licked his lips nervously and fidgeted a little in his seat.

“Figure it out guys, don’t be afraid to talk about your feelings for each other. I don’t think it would be a bad idea personally. I can see something between you. Even though you hadn’t said anything before this point in our session. You like each other, and I think it can help him heal, as well as you, because it’s hard to watch someone you care about go through something so hard.”

Jensen nodded his head, looking back down at his lap again.

Melissa picked up her clipboard again, eyeing Jensen carefully.

"Jensen, this might be hard to answer, but since you were attacked have you been intimate with anyone?" she asked.

Your eyes got wider, you hadn't expected that question, and apparently neither had Jensen. He was looking at her with a similar expression on his face.

"I'm sorry... What?" he stuttered, looking at her like she was speaking a foreign language.

She smiled gently at him, not surprised seemingly at all by his reaction.

"What I mean is since your attack have you had sex with anyone?" she said calmly.

Poor Jensen looked like he'd been nailed in the face with a frying pan. You sat there bug-eyed and not saying a word. The answer was not no, but hell no, you didn't expect her to ask that. Obviously, he was in no shape to have any sort of contact in that manner with another human.

"Uh... She... She's.. Not exactly my “partner”...I," Jensen stammered, trying to regain his composure, his mind obviously going straight to you. That took you again by surprise. "We weren't sleeping with each other before this happened, and we haven't started now."

He still looked taken aback, and would not look at you if you paid him to do it, keeping contact with the woman sitting across from him.

"Okay," she said, nodding her head and smiling at him softly. “That’s perfectly okay, I just wanted to know if you had ventured out into that yet. I know things are still fresh, but like I said, everyone deals with things differently. Not being intimate with someone is okay, and if you had that would have been okay too. When I saw the two of you come in I thought that might have been the case between you. I wanted to see where you were in the process of intimate contact before I suggest the exercise that I had in mind for you.”

"Why did you think she and I were having sex?" he asked, not angry, but genuinely curious.

"Well, the way you look at each other mainly. The way she seemed to respond to your pain in retelling your experience that brought you to me. The way she's reached for your hand at least three times since you started telling your story, but stopped short of actually touching you," she said, smiling at the two of you warmly.

All you could think was apparently you weren't covering up your reaction to his attack as you thought you were.

Jensen was staring at you, blinking, like he'd expected her to say anything, but that.

"You obviously trust her. People that have gone through trauma like yourself don't tend to allow people outside of their trusted circle to come to these appointments," she said, weighing Jensen's response to her every word.

"She's been there with me since I was at the hospital basically. We were working together, before... well.. She's been with me ever since, doing things for me that my wife wouldn't even do when we were married," he said, looking down at his lap playing with his watch.

"Let's do a little exercise," she said, crossing her legs with a smirk on her face. "Y/N, I want you to scoot over on the couch, and sit right next to him, as close as physically possible.”

You look at Jensen, then back at her.

"It's okay, trust me. He can handle it. I want to prove to you something," she said.

You look over at Jensen again. He half-heartedly smiled, but it was his body language that stuck out to yourself and the therapist.

Before you could even move he had thrown his arm over the back of the couch, and grabbed your hand, making room for you to sit comfortably next to him, and pulling you to him by the hand.

Slowly you slid into place, and you felt Jensen lean into you slightly.

"Jensen, it's not abnormal to feel detached from your body after experiencing a violation to the degree that you did. It's a way your body copes. Your mind may be screaming one thing, but your body is doing another. Is that how you feel?" she asked.

You felt Jensen's grip tighten on you. You looked up at him and you saw silent tears slipping down his face.

The therapist smiled knowingly, sliding the tissue box closer to you so that you could hand him a few tissues.

He didn’t have to answer, she already knew...

"It's okay to feel the way you're feeling. Your feelings aren't wrong. They're human nature. It's human nature to feel the need to be close to someone. It's not dirty, or wrong like your mind had tried to make it out to be. Even though you were hurt your body is still gonna have urges. That's because they hurt your mind more than they hurt your body. That's where your battle is going to be. You feel like your control has been taken away from you. That what once might have been enjoyable, or natural, or even intimate has turned filthy and painful. We’re going to help you get that control back, in time, give yourself time, be patient with yourself. Don’t be afraid to push yourself either. "

She then turned to you.

"He's not gonna break, He's not glass. He's going to have bad days, he's gonna have nightmares and flashbacks, but he NEEDS the contact. He needs intimacy, and I’m not talking about sex. He needs to feel you close to him, to know you're there. Don't walk around him like you're afraid if you touch him he'll shatter. He wants you to touch him, he wants you to snuggle up on the couch with him. When he's having a bad day he wants you to wrap your arms around him. He's just not able to ask for it right now. You saw how eager he was to have you under his arm just now. I never told him to grab your hand with his free hand. He did that. I never told him to lift his arm and let you closer to him. He did that. Do you understand? Right now he's craving you to be close to him," You look up at Jensen, who is looking anywhere but you and the therapist.

"Okay,” was all you could say. You felt his grip tighten on your hand.

“It’s good that you're staying with him. He doesn’t need to be alone right now, he needs you to be there for him,” she said.

"I've been staying at her apartment. Sometimes I go home during the day, but at night I can't make myself stay by myself," his voice sounded ashamed and broken. It made you lean your head onto his shoulder. As soon as you did he tightened his arm around you and took a very deep breath.

"It's okay that you don't want to be alone. That's normal," she said. “You two do need to come to terms on where you stand. That way what I'm about to tell you doesn't seem so awkward."

Jensen looked down at you honestly a little afraid.

"I want you to think about moving in with him at his house. I think it might help him being familiar with his surroundings, in his space with you. Someone he trusts... Do you think you would be willing to do that?" she asked you.

You thought for a moment, honestly a little nervous about what Jensen may think about it, but you decided to play along. You weren’t going to leave him, especially not now, and if he needed to be home, then home with him you’d go...

You nod slowly. "I can do that if he wants me to," you say, not really believing your own words came out of your mouth, yet never more sure of anything in your life.

"I want that," he said before the therapist could say anything, eyes locked on you; an emotion that you didn't understand burning deep in the background of his eyes.

"Okay, that's settled then," she said. "Now the hard part. The part that's gonna be a little awkward and tough. It very well may throw you into a flashback the first time, Jensen," she said, giving him a sympathetic look.

"Trust me though, this will work. Every free chance you get, Every time you have some time alone. Every time you go to bed at night I need both of you to lay there and cuddle with each other. Let him explore you, let him gain control, and make sure he knows he has control of the situation, eventually get to where you can do it naked."

Seeing the look on your faces she threw her hand up before either of you could say anything. "Just hear me out," she said.

Jensen is shaking next to you again. Not that you hadn’t seen him naked before. Just that type of contact while naked seemed to throw him a little bit.

"Sex isn’t what they took away. Your power over your own body, that’s what they took away from you. It's what caused the mental detachment that you're feeling. The only way to get that back is to get your control back. Sex is how your going to do that. I want you to get comfortable in your own body again. It's human nature that eventually this type of cuddling will turn into intimacy. That's gonna be hard the first time. The more you allow yourself to go there though. The more control you will regain, and you will be able to start to heal," she said, handing him a piece of paper. "Come back in a month, before then if you need to. Let me know your progress."

Jensen nodded and stood. “Okay, we’ll give it a try… I want to get past this.. So bad.”

“You will trust yourself, and trust Y/N,” she said.

Both of you shook hands with her and walked silently to the car. Jensen was still holding your hand tightly.

------------------------------

When the door was finally shut and the two of you were back in your apartment he finally spoke.

"So, looks like we got some things we're gonna have to figure out between us, apparently we can't just keep ignoring it anymore if I'm ever gonna get better," he said, closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

"Were you serious? Will you move in with me?" he asked, almost a little afraid of your answer.

"Yes, I told you I would," you say.

His grip tightens and he pulls you into his chest as close as he can.

"Then what will you say if I told you I have feelings for you, and I really want you to be my girlfriend? Do you want to be with someone as fucked up as me?" he asked.

Which floored you. You weren’t expecting that, but it did make your heart flutter a little in your chest.

"Jensen, of course, I want to be with you.”

Before you could even finish his lips were on you, softly, sweetly. It didn't last near as long as you wanted it to, but it was a start.

"Well baby, I guess we need to get you packed."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles dark fic #hurt!jensen #dark fic #spn dark fic #jensen x reader #jensen x you #spn #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #hurt!comfort #dean wichester #you and me #jawritter #dean winchester

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jencsi · 4 years

Text

Lucky

“That was a nasty fall son,” his father scolds him from the hallway as his mother tends to several cuts and scrapes on his legs and arms, having seated him up on the bathroom counter.

“We told you to be careful with the horses” his mother adds “now do you understand why?”

Nick is only seven but he nods, never wanting to fall from that height again, perched up top the massive horse he had just slid off during a chaotic ride. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, horses got spooked all the time.

“You won’t punish Ruby will you?” Nick asks with a worried pout, more concerned for the horse than himself.

“We don’t punish animals for human mistakes, son,” his father explains.

He stops his pacing to look around the doorway of the bathroom as he points to his son and with a firm voice says “You were lucky” *********************************************************

“You are such an idiot,” his sister snaps at him from the porch where Nick sits on the ground with a busted lip, bruised face and bent up arm.

“It’s not broken,” Nick insists of the sling his arm is in “docs said just to wear this and keep it straight for a week or so, no big deal.”

“Just because mom and dad had a trip to Lubbock doesn’t mean you can steal the truck and drive it into the fence like a maniac” his sister scolds.

“That’s not what I was trying to do,” Nick insists, kicking at a loose rock on the porch steps “just wanted to practice before my test next month.”

“You’ll be lucky to see senior year when mom and dad see that truck,” his sister reminds him.

“My buddy Scott will have it fixed by Friday, mom and dad come back Sunday,” Nick plans out his lie and deceit.

His sister sighs, there is no stopping her reckless yet headstrong brother. She takes a step forward to survey his injuries via the glow of the porch light. She puts her hand on his uninjured shoulder and says “This could have been worse, you were really lucky” **************************************************************************

“What is the meaning of this?” his father asks of a poorly executed test for one of his college classes.

“I messed up ok?” Nick defends and deflects “it won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t,” his father tosses the exam paper on the table in disgust.

“Just because you have friends all over that school doesn’t give you the right to spy on me,” Nick lashes out.

“Watch it,” his father snaps “your mother and I worked hard to send you there, and if you’re acting a fool, we will pack up your stuff and keep you home, waste your money at a community college until you get your head on straight, do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Nick mumbles in defeat.

“Now Professor Clark has agreed to give you another test,” his father explains “don’t screw this one up, you’re lucky to be getting this second shot, got it?”

Nick nods, the bitter taste of hatred and resent lingering in his mouth, scorches of embarrassment stinging his cheeks. ********************************************************************************

Somewhere in his aching brain, he can bear voices above him. His arm is once again wrapped in a sling and the cut to his forehead goes deeper than the one he sported after the truck accident when he was fifteen. The fall from the balcony equated the fall from Ruby when he was seven. A combination of these memories infiltrated his brain as he lay in this hospital bed as a doctors voice mumbles over him “You were lucky son” ***************************************************************************

He doesn’t want to go to therapy. In fact, it’s his doctor who makes him go, not Grissom. Grissom would never. But the therapy is needed before he can return to work, the job that almost got him killed yet again.

He slouches on the couch in the therapist's office, hoping she doesn’t see the healing wounds on his arms and neck and face from the ant bites and wonder what the hell they are. She focuses on his eyes as she asks her questions about his cognitive abilities and thoughts now that he’s back on solid ground and not beneath it. He gives her the answers she wants to hear, except when she poses one to him he cannot answer right away “Do you feel lucky to have been saved?” Knowing what you know as an investigator?”

He stares at her, trying to find the words, searching his brain for an answer.

“No,” he finally admits to her shocked face “not at all.” ************************************************************************************

“Do you feel lucky Stokes?” McKeen jeers at him from the grassy hill where he lies, injured but not severely “you don’t have the guts to do it.”

The gun shakes in Nick's hands as he locks eyes with this killer, the one who murdered his best friend. All the what if’s go spiraling through his head. Do it for Warrick. No you’ll go to jail. You’re a cop, they won’t convict you. Act of self defense.

McKeens strangled cry of “Shoot me” echoes in his ears and he fires at the ground in a panic, meeting Brass who discovers them at last. With a stunned look on his face, Brass dares to ask what happened, knowing most of McKeens injuries are from the car crash.

“Nick?” he raises an eyebrow in suspicion at the CSI who is still shaking.

“Missed,” he mumbles in shame. ***********************************************************************************

She meanders over to him from the kitchen where she has just finished putting away leftovers from dinner. Shoving a box of pizza in the fridge is their idea of gourmet but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Well fed and relaxed, she crawls on top of him, nestling her body between his and the couch cushions. She wiggles and settles so adorably. He watches her, smirking at how she fits perfectly beside him. He waits for her to be completely settled before lowering his arms around her, squeezing tighter than he intends to. She takes notice of his extra affection in the moment, how he pats her side, rubs her back, finds her forehead to kiss and smile against.

“What?” she inquires of his mood.

He looks at her, all wrapped up in his arms, in his house where she has mostly moved in to, where they share soft moments and kisses and love. She stole his heart and took up all the space in it, leaving him reeling with genuine love for her.

“Just lucky, that’s all,” he closes his sentiment, nuzzling his cheek against the top of her head, loving how soft her hair is.

#julie finlay #nick stokes #Finn and nick #I don't know what this is #it just is #writing #fanfiction #he doesnt feel lucky at all #up until he meets finn #thats the vibe I get from him as a character #ignore the fate #focus on science and facts in his instance #apologies if this has been done before

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boogiewrites · 4 years

Text

No.9: The Body

Chapter Five

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary: Diego breaks down Eve unexpectedly, and Luther attempts to break down Diego.

Warnings/Tags: Light descriptions of fighting. Little bit of Luther. Talk of past trauma/abuse/death.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT! If you’d like added to the tags, just let me know. This is a multi-chapter fic.

Eve walked into the gym after work as she did most nights now. It greeted her half-lit but still bright enough to see the training area. She’d continually thanked Luther for being so accommodating, and he didn’t seem to mind in the least. She felt almost bad keeping him in the dark about her powers. She was dying to tell them all, to have people understand, to be around people like her as she tried to newly navigate this alternate reality she’d found herself having to accept. But Diego said to trust him, it was best to keep it as low key as possible until she felt a bit more certain. She did trust him, so she did as he suggested even if she felt like a kid being denied a gift.

She had acetaminophen in her system, her usual jug of water, and another large container of Gatorade in tow. She was as ready as she’d ever been. She was actually glad she decided to go late instead of early for her sessions. She was at least awake and warmed up and accustomed to the hungover feeling at this point.

“You showed up.” Diego smirks as he wraps his hands to ready for training.

“Of course I did.” she sasses back and throws her bag against the wall. She also liked not having anyone looking at her or bothering her while she worked out. No one around to steal her things, she could toss them instead of throwing them into a locker and be able to totally focus.

“You were getting a little faded when I left last night, didn't know if you’d be up to this.”

“I’ve already put in a shift today, dude. Don’t come at me with that shit.” she laughs and begins taking off her outer layers. Still staying in an oversized t-shirt and leggings as was her usual, she shook and jumped to warm up everything after it’s exposed to the still cold late winter air of the city that drafted through the old brick walls of the industrial-looking building.

“How was work?” he asked, always down to hear the gross-out stories she had to tell.

“Not great.”

“You good?” he asks, brows high and making an effort to meet her eyes.

“I’ll be fine. Just y’know, dealing with kids is hard.”

“They call you a butt head and it hurt your feelings?”

“No, they died from a drunk driver.” she stares into his eyes and she sees his instant regret.

“Oh shit. I-I'm sorry.” his posture slinks.

“It's what I signed up for, Diego. I’ll be fine.” she motions her hand to halt his sympathetic approach to her. “Just wear me out so I have to go home and collapse into a dreamless sleep.”

“Oh I’ve never let a girl down that’s asked me that.” he falls back into his playful self, trying to deflect the embarrassment he felt.

“Let’s not start now. C’mon.” she begins stretching and heads over to the heavy bags.

------

“Eve. You aren’t hitting like you MEAN it!” he says for the fifth time, trying her patience.

“I’m TRYING! I don’t know what you mean? I’m putting my whole body into it.”

“No, this isn’t about your body, you’ve got to FEEL it.” he shakes the bag as he holds it so she can hit it. She’d been shown how to wrap her hands, and get used to the feeling of hitting something and it jarring her back. But she kept hitting the bag, focused and form correct and he kept asking for more. She was starting to get frustrated.

“Is my form wrong?” she asks with dropped shoulders, panting.

“No, it’s perfect. That’s the problem. I want to see you get messy. In a real fight, you won’t have your head on perfectly straight. I want to see you give everything you’ve got and HIT. Like you HATE this bag.”

“I’ll hit it like it’s you if you don’t stop with this hippy sounding nonsense.”

“THAT is what you need!” he says exasperated too, trying to get her to give in and break, put her heart, not just her mind into it. He knew a fighter was inside her but her years of polish to appear as perfect as possible was a hard varnish to breakthrough. “Imagine it’s someone you hate.”

“I don’t HATE anyone…” she lies.

He cocks a brow at her. “Bullshit. Think of something that made you cry, made you lash out, made you want to beat someone's head in. HEY imagine it’s whoever stabbed you? What would you have done now that you KNOW how to fight huh? Imagine it’s them and that you’re going to give them what's coming to them.”

She takes a deep breath and presses her lips together. He didn’t really know what he was asking of her. Her therapist would be slapping him for requesting her to do such a thing. But she trusted his philosophy. And she imagined the bag was her mother. “I’ll… try okay. Just...stop talking and let me... focus.” she rasps out and stretches her neck.

He motions zipping his mouth and throwing away the key, and braces himself for her hit.

A one-two. A flash of her mother screaming at her. A few more hits. The feeling of true fear as she saw the wild in her mother's eyes. She begins a pattern, a few hits, and a deep breath. Eventually, it becomes a continuous downpour of hits, making sounds as she hits each time. It sounded like pain and Diego knew she’d found what she needed to fuel herself.

“There it is. You got it. Keep goin’.” he says softly, watching her eyes.

Her naturally dark hair is falling out of its tight ponytail, now flopping with every hit. She could hear her mother's voice, feel that fear for her life, and the deluge of insults that would be her inner monologue for so many years after. The hits came harder, with more grunts and whimpers after each one, each a time she’d been afraid. Her breathing buckles, the hits harder and harder, her knuckles aching until she throws in knees and kicks. It doesn’t stop, the feelings were broken open and he’d gotten what he wanted, but at what cost to her.

Diego was proud for a few shining moments until he saw the tears start to fall. Her lips went from tight to gasping, sobs breaking through her angry sounds of impact until her hits lost strength and her head hit against the bag. Her shoulders shook and his eyes went wide, quickly reaching around to her support her as the sobs hit and her knees gave out.

With an unsure hand on her back, her on all fours and trying to gasp through the sobs, the day and her past became too heavy at that moment and it all hit her, breaking her down into a tired, sweaty mess on the gym floor.

He sits next to her, silently, a now supportive rub to her back. “I”m sorry Eve I didn’t-”

She reaches her arms back and hits him lightly. “It’s-you didn’t-” stuttering inhale that she couldn't control.

“Sh… just breathe. Sit up here.” he pulls her up, sitting on her knees, pressing between her shoulder blades to give her lungs room to breathe. “Count in five, out seven.” He counts out loud for her, as her hands begin to still against her thighs and the sounds of pain cease. “I didn’t know you had panic attacks.”

“I dont,” she says wiping her eyes. “I just... it’s been a hard day.” she begins more weakly crying and lets a small laugh out to hide her pain.

“Uh…’ he takes his hands off of her as she begins to let herself stretch and retie her hair. “I think this is where I ask if you wanna talk about it?” he offers and his delivery makes her laugh.

“Better question.” she moves to wipe her face with the hem of her shirt. “Do you wanna hear it?”

With a pause he answers, “Of course I do.” and she turns to face him with still watery eyes.

“Really?” the disbelief almost hurt his feelings.

“Yeah. If we’re gonna be in this together, I wanna know what’s gonna set you off like this. I don’t wanna...make things worse than I already do.” he shrugs.

She nods, turning and plopping down to sit on her butt and cross her legs. “That’s... that’s really nice…” she wells up again and then laughs and rubs her face. “Must be time for me to start my period or somethin’,” she mumbles and it makes him chuckle.

“Or you’ve had a shitty upbringing that still follows you around no matter where you run. Not that I would know anything about that though, right?”

She considered hugging him. For the goofiness he showed, he also had a depth that you had to access through empathy. They both had finally let that facade of having their shit together break down and now they sat like two children in a play circle, sharing secrets.

“Did your dad ever stab you?” she asks with a weak smile as she let herself slump over with a deep sigh.

“He did actually. Tried to kill me.” he nods with an annoyed look on his face.

“Well fuck.” she snorts and rubs her face. “Maybe you do get it.”

“I do.” he leans in and puts his hand on her shoulder. “So tell me.” he asks softly.

“It was the night I ran away for good.” she begins, eyes wandering and looking at nothing as she recalled it. “There was this kid, this guy at school that used to bully me. He’d had me cornered and was... “ she sighs, “he was trying to hurt me. And he ended up having a seizure and dying.” her eyes stare out blankly. “Whispers started fast. Saying I killed him. Although how would I?” she says defensively still. “My mom...knowing about my...abilities she did blame me. She became convinced I’d kill her too. So she tried to beat me to it.” her face wrinkles, pulling her knees to her chest.

“Shit.” he quietly exhales. “That's fucked up, Eve.”

She lets out a genuine louder laugh that confuses him. “Yeah, it is.” She shakes her head and rests her chin on her knees. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we’re both pretty fucked up, Diego.” she offers with a smile and tears still wet on her lashes. It makes him give the smile back, a soft laugh shared between them. Sometimes you had to laugh not to cry.

After pulling her to her feet, he tells her there’s no way he’s making her train more tonight and sends her home. A comforting hug between them before she parts, it felt right to do so. She’d entered the gym with a secret that no one else knew, and left with the weight of it shared. It was no small step, and even though it hurt like hell, in the aftermath it felt worth it.

Diego has a contemplative look on his face as he begins to tidy and shut everything down. Luther appears from the men’s locker room, an apologetic look on his face.

“Didn’t know you were still here big guy.” Diego looks him up and down, trying to read him.

“Yeah…” he drags on, eyes not meeting his brothers.

“What?” Diego demands with a jutted out chin.

“I...uh...kind of heard….all of that…” he pushes back his chin and presses his lips. “Were you gonna tell us you found another person like us or… just keep that to yourself?”

“I didn’t want her to get freaked out by you all and leave.”

“Well she’s already met me and I’m the freakiest there is.” he chuckles softly.

He shrugs in non-insulting agreement. “I just… she’s the first person since..”

“Yeah.” Luther interrupts.

“Y’know who's GOT me. Like, she gets how messed up everything is, man. I don’t want her to…” he sighs and drops the tension in his shoulders. “I don’t want her to leave.”

Luther put a large hand to Deigo’s shoulder. “Ever think she might want to be a part of this?”

“No, Jesus why would she?”

“She’s been alone since she was what? Sixteen she said? She didn’t have support like we did growing up.”

“You’re gonna call what dad did to us support?”

“Look, the point is.. She doesn’t have a family. And even if you hate your family, like you claim to, you still keep coming back right?”

“I can stop.” he sarcastically suggests.

“Well, maybe that’s what she needs. A family. Or at least y’know...friends that understand her. She didn’t know what was going on when she was younger. Can you imagine that? I can’t.” he muses with raised brows, feeling bad for the kind doctor lady.

“I hate to admit this...but you’ve got a point.”

“I know. I do that sometimes. If anyone would listen.” he mumbles defensively. “And I mean.. she’s very nice. She seems...cool. I wouldn’t mind being able to help her out too.” He offers, and Diego knows he only means it in the nicest way possible.

“She is cool.” he nods and looks down, voice soft. “Just let me… I’ll do...somethin’. Just give me some time okay?”

“Secrets safe with me.” Luther says proudly.

“Oh shit, Luther you can’t keep a secret.” Diego groans.

“Yes I can!”

“This is going to end so badly…” Diego complains childishly and loudly. “She’s gonna get introduced to Five and he’s gonna be a DICK and she’s gonna leave and hate me and-!”

“Ah. I get it.” Luther grins.

“What? What’s there to get? We’re a bunch of crazy people, and she’s a nice girl and you’re all gonna freak her out!”

“You like her.” Luther keeps the same cheesy grin on his face.

“PSH!” Diego says dramatically. “I don’t- pfft. I don’t like her. She’s cool and all but-”

“Diego…” Luther comes in and gives his brother a forced hug. “Can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner.”

“I don't.” he murmurs into his brother chest, being held against his will.

“It’s been like what? A year? Over a year now? Since… Voldemort happened

“Voldemort?” he pushes away.

“She who must not be named.”

“You can say her name.” he grumbles.

“Since Lila. You were a wreck. It’s about time you started to move on.”

Diego pouts and holds a low brow, looking up with disdain for his brother. Who was right. “Doesn’t mean you have to say it.” he mumbles back but Luther hears and laughs.

“I can’t wait to meet your girlfriend, Diego!” he cheers out as his brother sulks away.

“SHE’S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!” he protests but the flush on his cheeks from embarrassment says otherwise.

@s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s @jaegeeeeer @diegos-butt @anglovesthis

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves fic #diego hargreeves fan fiction #The Umbrella Academy

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himbo-buckley · 4 years

Text

Intimacy, Sex and Buddie (better known as I have a lot of feelings about this show, some of which are related to the before mentioned topics)

I should preface this by saying this meta was supposed to be a lot shorter and only talk about how both Buck and Eddie use sex to distract their respective partners from whatever topic they actually wanted to talk about but since I decided to rewatch the show to make sure I don’t miss any such scenes, it has exploded a bit and taken on more topics

I should also preface this by saying that the whole of the 118 has some obvious intimacy / commitment issues except Bobby (which is sort of surprising) but *John Mulaney voice* we don’t have time to unpack all of that!

On another note I cuss a little in this Meta because my parents let me listen to TicTacToe as a small child and after that it never stuck that cussing is wrong so, uhm, parental supervision is advised or something?

This Meta will so far have three parts, one for each season and is organised by episode so you could technically follow along

Without further ado I present: Intimacy, Sex and the Buddie of it all, Season 1: (Better known as “Not a Sex Addict”)

Episode 1.01:

Buck, we meet first in the pilot and one of the first things we learn about him? That boy fucks! Like literally his second scene is him having sex in the firetruck, which in the episode is presented to us as his way of dealing with the stress of firefighting (it cuts from Bobby’s confession scene saying some firefighters are sex addicts to Buck racing the Brunette). Then later in this episode, between saving a baby, getting in a fight with Athena and not knowing who Rambo is, he fucks the snake horder and get’s himself fired for his trouble. He also tells Bobby he is a sex addict here.

Now you could easily read both those scenes as proving Buck’s statement or you can read it as him justifying his actions, which I think is what Bobby did, or you can fall in love with the cocky bastard and think there is more to it, which is obviously what I did. And also what I think this show wants you to do? Because in the same scene Buck gives the first of his many heartbreaking speeches about having nothing else besides being a firefighter and how that is the best part of him (or whatever, I’m combining the speeches, I didn’t rewatch that scene because it gives me too much second hand embaressment)

And let’s look at this statement and what we know about Buck by fast forwarding a bit, okay? Because we know virtually nothing about who Buck was prior to the Pilot. We know he spent a summer in South America as a bartender, we know he tried out for the Seals about a year ago and we know he’s been a firefighter for 3 months (meaning the first season is his probationary time the same way Season 2 is Eddie’s), so depending on how long firefighter training takes he probably has lived in LA for less than a year, meaning he probably hasn’t made too many meaningful connections yet and the 118 are really the closest thing to family he has there (a fact that if you fast forward again is sort of proven in canon if - if we take every word as being word of god - by Maddie saying „If our parents call“ in 2.01, implying Buck is probably not close to them) (he also tells Maddie „It was getting pretty lonely here“ in 2.01, so you know, point proven?)

Now I don’t think Buck is a sex addict after all. Yes, he is using sex to unwind (and good for him, at least he isn’t drinking or taking drugs, Bobby), but he is also using it to substitute actual intimacy, because that boy is fucking lonely.

Just look at the scene with the brunette, alright? After the act he asks her: „So can I have your actual number?“ and she says no, and he does this whole macho spiel about „the golden times“ or whatever, but come on, we know this is bull, right? Look at how earnest he looks when he asks! (and here I have to applaud 911 again, because the show only has one young conventionally attractive character at this point and instead of his character just being badass ladies man, but he is held accountable for his actions and the show went out of its way to point out how problematic his behaviour was, so kudos! I love you!)

Episode 1.02:

In this episode Buck loses two people and is understandably distraught. And Bobby comes to him in the locker room, to, as Buck thinks, express his disappointment, which is what Buck thinks he deserves, except Bobby is in full Dad-mode and just wants Buck to talk about it. Which Buck does almost imediately leading to us learning about the Seals and that our Buck has so many emotions and knows it and likes it (again, shoutout to the writers for having their young attractive Macho-dude cry in episode two! Ya’ll the real ones).

Now Bobby clearly didn’t see this coming and is like „Uhm, how about we talk to a professional about all that, I have my own shit, kiddo“ and then we get our first therapist scenes and look, while I do see where people are coming from, I do not consider this rape. I do however think it was a badly thought through scene and also an abuse of power and Autumn Reeser should not be allowed to work as a therapist again. The way this scene is shot and cut however makes it seem like Buck came onto her and did not regret what happened, so you know as the german saying goes: where there is no complaint there is no judge. (which does not mean I condone what happened, but, tbh, this is one of those scene where I feel the writers just did not think the implications through. Someone with a twitter go ask Tim Minear about it)

Anyways, let’s talk about everything before the sex because I think this is what’s relevant:

The scene begins with the therapist asking Buck if he is uncomfortable, he seems that way (and kudos to Oliver Stark for the way he acts this scene because we can truly feel everything Buck feels) and Buck saying his „I’m not really into feelings. I mean yeah feeling them, just not talking about them.“ after which the therapist throws some things at Buck to see what sticks (which is something therapists sometimes do in early sessions, just try to gauge a reaction, see where the no no - zones are, especially with people like Buck who are quote „not scared“. Like, he is so walled up already.)

And now comes the part that I’ll give you word for word, because this is what matters in this scene, okay?

T: „You lost somebody, that’s hard“

B: „Yeah but we lose people. At least that’s what everybody keeps telling me.“

T: „Was this your first time?“

B: „Well, I’ve had calls where it’s been to late but I’ve only been doing this not even 6 months. Now I just can’t shake the feeling that this one didn’t need to go down the way it did.“ (up until the second part Buck sits tall, then he leans forward, his voice becomes urgent, THIS is the important message)

T: “So do you think there is something you could have done differently?“

(close up to Bucks face looking distraught, ding ding, we have a winner!)

After this they cut away to Athena and when we come back Buck is crying and the therapist tries to explain why the guy might have died and then walks toward Buck and tells him how they’re actually here to talk about him and then Buck deflects, he tells her to call him Buck, they talk about facebook, scene change, they come back after Sex, Buck is all better.

(Slightly unrelated sidenote at this point we have seen Buck have sex 3 times and every single time it’s sitting on some chair with the girl on top, uhm, what’s up with that? (He’s a bottom))

But I truly think the important part is what I’ve highlighted, this is where she hit a nerve and sure, he let her finish and listened and cried, but Buck’s a multitasker, he was just waiting for his opening - which the therapist gave to him by sitting down across from him and touching him, so now Buck turns the tables on her and makes her uncomfortable - or: she struck a nerve and he deflects, so instead of the emotional vulnerability she wants from him, he gives her physical intimacy, probably aware that this way he will not have to come see her again (because isn’t that what all women do? Hi, Brunette from Episode 1).

And then the episode ends on the very relevant conversation were Abby asks him out and Buck says no because HE REALISED HE HAS SOME ISSUES WITH WOMEN AND INTIMACY!!! I love this show so much, you guys! Buck tells Abby he can’t go out with her because they’ll definitly have sex and he tells her about the therapist and Abby is all you wish and he tells her how much he likes her and how he has no one else in his life that make him feel good and it’s all cute and dorky and yes, sometimes I do find myself shipping them. A little.

Episode 1.03 has nothing of relevance as far as I recall so we ignore it.

Episode 1.04:

... also not that relevant except that little scene at the end that I thought was in Episode 5 titled: The moment I fell in love with this show! When Bobby says „help“ it gets me every time! I keep expecting him to not answer but he asks for help and I gasp. Every. Damn. Time.

Episode 1.05

... is when it get’s really interesting because this is when the Sex addict meets the women he has been emotionally intimate, which is, you know, the thing he’s sensitive about!

I really like how Buck is all in Protector-Mode and seems so competent up until when they’re in the car together and Abby starts to talk about them (him) not having wanted to meet and it hit’s him that uuups, this is the actual woman he has been talking to! A human being (and not just some voice on the phone he talks to) and an attractive one as it is (and boy do I love how dressed down Connie Brighton is most of the time? Look, she’s pretty and she’s not 25 and she looks it and that’s okay!) so again Buck deflects by making the whole exchange about Sex - you know, physical intimacy because he is scared of emotional intimacy. Which is what I have been trying to prove here.

Then they save that little girl and have the very sweet moment in the car were Buck is very vulnerable, though I think it’s mostly for Abby’s benefit? Because Buck is in protector mode and there is nothing Buck wouldn’t do to help someone else, even flay himself open. He’s just selfless like that.

And then they find Patricia and bring her home and he is very uncomfortable and then he says goodbye all sweet and Patricia tells him to be kind to Abby and Buck is already in so deep, so really someone should have taken the time to tell Abby to be kind and nice to this boy (if Buck gets another love interest I want someone to give them the shovel talk, mainly Hen or Eddie, possibly together, because this boy gives away too much of himself and it hurts me), but alas no one did, so Buck tries to protect himself by, you guessed it, talking about sex!

It really is a defense mechanism for him, which might prove that he came from a conservative background or might just not mean anything, besides that he is very comfortable with Sex and other people are not which is why he uses it to deflect. People generally don’t try to look to deep if you make them uncomfortable, which is generally Buck’s way of dealing with problems: he either pushes back and steamrolls over it or is it too loud and open about something, which keeps people from looking to deep (Season 3 is proof of that, the only person who sees through his act, I think, is Hen because she also uses false bravedo to deal with things. Eddie sees it too, but only after Buck explains it to him, because Eddie operates completely different - but that’s something I’ll talk more about later)

And then all of Bucks fears of people not liking him after seeing what’s underneath are proven right when, after spending a whole day with him, Abby tells him they shouldn’t see each other again because she too likes him and if they continue mistakes will be made (which is just her respecting Bucks wishes from 1.02 but also proves to Buck that no one can like him on a deeper level). She gives this very sweet speech about how good he makes her feel but if you look at Buck’s face it’s just sooo closed off. And then she does this very mean thing with the „do not fuck some tinder-girl“, which i find very hypocrit of her, because she basically told Buck she won’t give him more than what they currently have but also he’s not allowed to look somewhere else for it (although she is very right, Buck needs to learn to find validation in himself and not through other people, which is something he sorta did in Season 3? More on this later)

Which is why we get the phone sex scene at the end. Because at this point Buck has been emotionally intimate with this women and then he met her and he kept being emotionally intimate with him and she basically rejected him so Buck made it about physical intimacy. He rejected her back. Found a loophole. Pushed back.

And I know I’m ignoring the scene in between when he is all proud about not having sex with Abby, but yeah, he would have had if Abby let him so it doesn’t really count.

Side note: this whole Episode proves that Buck is not a sex addict - if he were we would have seen him maybe try and convince Abby or seen a scene of him struggeling with whether he should pick up another girl or something, but they didn’t. Nope, they gave up „Buck with Hen and Bobby - bonding time“.

Episode 1.06:

I dislike this one a lot because it calls the episode before a liar by having Abby go on a date with Buck, after saying they shouldn’t meet each other again. I actually checked IMDB to see if there was a christmas break between those episodes, but nope, they aired a week apart! (Also how everyone pushes Buck into doing Valentine’s day even though he doesn’t like it? Yeah, not on board.)

But you know what’s relevant af about this Episode? The scene between Bobby and Buck where Dad helps his son get ready. I truly think this scene, combined with his firing in 1.01 is what caused the shift into Buck 2.0.

Also canon yet again tells us that Buck is not in fact a sex addict but rather using sex to avoid real intimacy and then they have this bantery conversation about not being a dick by having sex on the first date and being a gentleman and I love how Peter and Oliver play off of each other here. This scene is so much fun to watch because they clearly had so much fun acting it.

We can basically jump over the rest of the episode, but I do want you to look at the scene between Bobby and Abby in the hospital for a moment because I 100% thought they were setting up a love triangle here? (Again, someone with Twitter ask Tim Minear)

Episode 1.07:

The actual time jump according to IMDB happens between those episodes (someone who watched Season 1 live please confirm) although in the story there isn’t - they just decided to air the Valentine’s episode in November and then come back in February to talk about the full moon - apparently.

Aside from that Buck is such an adorable dork in this episode which i truly think is why half this fandom is in love with him and some more scenes with Peter and Oliver that are just plain fun happen (and I love season 3 but I miss how much fun they got to have in Season 1). Also our first real bi!Buck sighting and the implication that Buck went from delivering Babys to delivering a tapeworm, only to go: I’m gonna have sex with my girlfriend now! And I honestly love him for that.

Other than that, not much to prove or disprove this meta except Buck being hesitant to go on another date and trying to explain away why he came to see Abby but her just cutting right through his bullshit.

Episode 1.08: not relevant

Episode 1.09:

Our second instance of Buck nearly dying. Buck’s „I don’t suppose you do a lot of pull ups“ kills me every time and Hen freaks out about it a little and he just loves it off. He is a true badass.

Also there is the Ballon scene which makes me mad, because Buck has every right to be upset about everything, even if none of it is Abby’s fault. I’m really up in the air about how I feel about the Bobby and Buck talk in the locker room because on the one hand side I do agree with everything Captain Dad says and I think this scene also is part of creating Buck 2.0 but on the other hand side he is kind of invalidating Buck’s feelings?

Anyways, Bobby tells him, that if Buck really likes Abby he needs to stop trying to feel like she needs saving and let her set the pace. I’m not saying it’s why Buck waited around so long for her in Season 2 but I do think Bobby basically telling him this is what a real man would do - the thing Buck wants so badly to be - plays a role. It’s too bad that while Buck is all in, Abby is not.

I’m also gonna put my clown shoes on real quick and say we get a nearly identical scene in 2.10, when Buck talks to Chimney about Eddie and Shannon. Make of that what you want.

Episode 1.10:

Buck identifies with the guy using him to cat fish girls because he understands his need for connection and intimacy. After all he did the same thing, just a different method.

Also Abby leaves.

There’s not more to say

So this is where Season 1 ends, with Buck aware that he was trying to substitute physical for emotional intimacy and trying to correct it and build a life with Abby - which did not work because Abby left.

But I just wanna mention real quick how much character development Buck has in such a short amount of time! It floors me every time. And while we all know he attributes this to Abby, it’s really just about Buck being Buck and he was already on his way to becoming this guy, simply because through his job and the firefam suddenly he got validation? I feel so proud. I really only wish Buck would finally come to this realisation himself or maybe someone would tell him this. He deserves it.

#evan buckley #buck meta #buddie meta #buck #911 meta #911 #911 fox #textpost #mine #season 1 #meta #my meta

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Aloha, Part 1: Sand Angels (Bitney) - Veronica

A/N: An Undone sequel that probably makes more sense if you’ve read the main story, set during the holidays, while Bianca is still pregnant with Ruby. Here’s a link to the story on AQ and here’s a link to it on AO3.

Summary: Courtney and Bianca spend Christmas in Maui, discovering their new favorite spot.

(Thank you to @artificialpuddle for being an amazingly patient beta!!)

TW: Discussion of past emotional abuse, trauma, and physical violence. (Side note: I know I said that these sequels would be fluffy, and they mostly are, but this is set before the end of the main story, so uh...we still got some major issues to work out.)

***

Bianca is exhausted by the time they wrap on season two of Silver Screens. She’s already embroiled in litigation with Jared’s family over exactly what’s happening with, not only his money, but their joint property. She’s considered giving up, just letting them win so that she can walk away, but ultimately, none of it is for her. Every time she looks down at her growing belly, she remembers who she’s fighting for, and it fuels her anger and her determination.

However, it’s draining. And she’s now almost six months pregnant, and the idea of flying to New Orleans for the holidays just sounds horrible. She knows that her family means well, but the constant checking up, the absolutely nonstop advice and questions, make it all worse.

After confiding all of these concerns to Bob, her therapist makes another suggestion: why not go somewhere else? A real vacation, just her and Courtney, somewhere they can truly get away from everything stressful and take some time for themselves?

She’s still not sure, but then she mentions the idea to Courtney, who is 200% on board, and by the end of the week, they’ve got flights to Maui, a hotel booked, and two weeks of pure, blissful lazing around time. Which all sounds wonderful in theory, but Bianca can’t help feeling a bit guilty about ditching her family.

However, the second her feet hit that white, powdery sand, she sighs in relief, turning to Courtney with a dimpled grin.

“Okay, you and Bob were right. Coming here was the right decision.”

Courtney leans forward to brush a gentle kiss against her lips.

“I suppose you don’t wanna race to the water,” she murmurs.

“I’ll race you when I’m not the size of a goddamn whale,” Bianca says, and Courtney giggles softly against her neck.

“Don’t even start, you know you’re perfect…”

A gentle tug pulls Bianca towards the ocean, which is warm and calm and as the waves lap against Bianca’s thighs, she starts to feel perfectly at ease.

“God, it’s beautiful…” Bianca sighs, staring out at the sparkling water.

“Sure is,” Courtney says, only she’s not looking at the scenery. Her eyes are fixated on Bianca’s face, watching her with a dreamy expression as a cool breeze blows her hair around.

Bianca tightens her grip on Courtney’s hand, trying to tell her without words how grateful she is, how lucky she feels. And Courtney seems to understand, pulling her close and wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Aloha…” she sings softly, and Bianca shakes her head, the smile on her face feeling permanent by now.

“Aloha yourself, cheeseball.”

***

Later, laying on a towel in the warm sand, Bianca sighs happily. She hasn’t been this relaxed in ages. Years, maybe. And the best part is that she has Courtney by her side, face tilted to the sun. She reaches languidly for her.

Courtney turns, gazing down at Bianca, and wraps a lock of still-damp dark brown hair around her finger.

“How are you feeling?” she asks softly, and Bianca smiles.

“Relieved...that we’re finally here.”

The past few months have been rough. Sometimes excruciatingly so. Courtney knows that no matter how hard Bianca tried to take things one day at a time, to not get so caught up in worrying about outcomes, that most of the time her mind was racing a mile a minute.

But now, there’s only the gentle breeze, the sound of rolling waves and the occasional bird, the fragrant air. It’s truly paradise, especially when Courtney’s lips find Bianca’s for a slow kiss, one hand resting on her belly.

“She’s kicking up a storm today,” Bianca says. “I guess we forgot to tell her that this is the chill zone.”

Courtney giggles, rubbing her belly in slow circles.

“Maybe she just heard how nice it is and wants to come join us.”

“You think she gets yelp reviews in there?” Bianca asks.

“Listen, this new generation is very technologically advanced. You have no idea.”

“That’s terrifying.” Bianca pulls Courtney in for another kiss, the baby kicking again.

“Wow, Dame Edna Del Rio really likes it here,” Courtney giggles.

“We both do. Thank you for suggesting this,” Bianca says, thumb stroking Courtney’s cheek lightly.

“All I want is for you to be happy…” Courtney tells her, seeking out her pulse point for another kiss that leaves her tingling.

And in that moment, Bianca is happy. Truly, deliriously happy.

It can’t last forever though--that feeling of perfect calm. The lovely bubble has to pop sometime. It does, of course, only a little while later, as they’re strolling on the beach hand in hand.

“I really worry about you sometimes,” Courtney admits, fingers laced with hers.

“You don’t have to worry.”

“But you’ve been through so much. You must have so much you need to deal with, and I just want you to know that you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I don’t want to spend all our time together talking about my stupid trauma,” Bianca says.

“I get that. But B, it doesn’t have to be all the time. Just sometimes. When you need to-”

“Can’t we just enjoy the fucking sunset?” Bianca groans. She stops, turning to face the water, watching the golden rays reflecting off the waves.

“Sure.” Courtney wraps her arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck, letting Bianca lean back into her touch.

It goes on like that for a few days. Any time Courtney tries to get deep with her, Bianca deftly changes the subject, cajoles her to live in the moment, or simply distracts her with physical affection. After awhile, Courtney catches onto her game.

They’re snuggled in bed after a long and wonderful day--exploring the island in the morning, followed by a lively Christmas luau. Courtney’s fingers card gently through her hair. Bianca’s face is tucked into her neck, inhaling her, almost sinfully relaxed, when she brings it up again.

“B…”

“Mmm?”

“I’ve been thinking about Jared.”

Bianca’s eyes pop open, spine going rigid. That’s not the name she wants to hear right now.

“Do you ever like...miss him?”

“No.”

Bianca’s hands slide around Courtney’s waist, pulling her closer.

“It would be okay if you did, you know-”

“I know, but I don’t.”

“Sometimes I feel really guilty. Like maybe if I wasn’t around, you’d have...I don’t know.” Courtney sighed.

“Stayed with him? Lived happily ever after? Are you fucking nuts?”

“No, of course not, but maybe it wouldn’t have ended in such a terrible way.”

“You know what would be more fun than this conversation?” Bianca asked, fingers digging into her waist. “You and me, fucking and then getting into that spa shower.”

“Bianca.”

“What?” Bianca’s lips have found her pulse point now, nibbling teasingly on her most sensitive spot.

“Just stop for a second,” Courtney says, wriggling away slightly. “I’m trying to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I know, but you never want to talk about it, so-”

“Why can’t we just have sex instead?” Bianca whines, tugging on Courtney’s shorts. She purses her lips, giving her sexiest bedroom eyes. “I’ll make it worth your while…”

“Bianca! Stop.”

“Is this because I’m fat?”

Courtney rolls her eyes to the ceiling, seems to say a little prayer to herself before replying, “Do not even try that bullshit, you know damn well-”

“It is! I’m fat and hideous!” Bianca exclaims, hoisting herself off the bed, pacing around the room like a madwoman.

“B, come on, I’m serious…”

“So am I! I’m trying to fuck you, but all you want to do is talk, and-” Bianca stops. It’s the cheapest sort of deflection, the kind of game she used to play with Jared. Worse, it was the kind of game Jared used to play with her. Gaslighting.

The only upside, the only thing that prevents her from completely losing it, is that Courtney, for all her softness, is not buying one bit. Bianca suddenly feels as gross and hideous as she’s pretending to, all at once. Tears spilling down her cheeks.

Courtney waits, letting her have her little tantrum. When she finally returns to the bed, sinking down next to Courtney with her head in her hands, she feels fingers trailing gently up her spine.

A soft voice whispers, “I would love to know what you’re thinking right now, B. Really.”

Bianca looks up, her tear-stained cheeks blotchy, eyes red and swollen. She opens her mouth, but it still won’t come. Courtney takes her hands, kisses her fingers, keeps waiting.

“I’m a terrible person,” Bianca finally says.

Courtney has a pained expression on her face, like she’s doing everything she can to listen without arguing. She finally settles on, “Why do you think that?”

“Because I’m happy. I really am. And the more time goes by, the happier I am. He’s dead, and all I can think is...I’m fucking free. We’re free. This baby, she never has to know...”

Tears are falling faster now, blurring her vision. Courtney doesn’t say anything, just holds her for the longest time. When Bianca finally lifts her head, Courtney silently helps her to her feet, tugs her toward the door.

“Where are we going?” Bianca asks, but follows easily, wiping her eyes.

They’re both barefoot, walking down the stone path to the beach, powdery soft sand cool in the moonlight. The edge of the sky is still slightly glowing from the recently set sun, streaks of violet and dusty orange, the whole beach calm and beautiful, in that ethereal way where you can’t quite believe it’s real.

Courtney reaches the edge of the water and sits, helping Bianca down beside her. She stretches out her legs, letting the waves lick gently at her feet, tilting her face towards the sky, the glittering stars just beginning to appear.

“You’re not a terrible person, Bianca,” she finally says. “You’re just...a person.”

“And we’re all sinners? Is that it?”

“No. No, that’s not it at all. You’re a person, with flaws, but those flaws do not include a desire to hurt other people.”

“But I did.”

“You were just fighting for your life. Fighting for my life. The fact that we were even in that position--none of it was your fault. You’d worked so, so hard to avoid anything like it. I saw you.”

“Sometimes I worry that I’m...some kind of sociopath. Because I’m so glad he’s gone, and I...I can’t make myself feel anything different.” The tears are flowing freely down her cheeks again. Sometimes Bianca tries to fathom how she has any tears left about this, after the rivers and oceans she’s already cried. And this from someone who always described herself as ‘not really a big crier.’ Maybe a better description would be ‘generally out of touch with her emotions.’

“Do you think I’d be with you if you were violent? Dangerous?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look, I’m not saying you’re perfect. Nobody is. But every flaw, every little weird idiosyncrasy...all of that makes you who you are, and who you are…”

Courtney edges closer, taking Bianca’s chin and tilting it towards her.

“I love you so fucking much, B. And it’s not because I’m some kind of sadist. It’s because you make me…” Courtney bites her lip, a crease furrowing her brow.

“Frustrated?” Bianca tries to break the tension, as much as she can with tears still glistening on her cheeks, falling faster than she can wipe them away.

“No,” Courtney counters. “I mean, yes, sometimes, but also...hopeful. And appreciated. And challenged. And...so fucking happy.”

“Even tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though I brought a whole world of chaos into your life?”

“Look at where we are.” Courtney gestures to their surroundings. “If you think I would trade away one second of this, of our lives right now, just to avoid some of that chaos, then...you don’t know me very well.”

Bianca swallows, looking at Courtney’s eyes burning bright in the moonlight, and she knows. She knows it’s true because she feels the same way. But she’s too mentally exhausted to explain how much she needed that reassurance. So instead, she finally just nods.

“Yeah.”

Courtney smiles and orders, “Lie back.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re gonna make sand angels.”

“Sand angels are not a thing, Courtney.”

“Yes they are! They’re a time-honored Australian Christmas tradition, just go with it.”

Bianca laughs softly, spreading her arms and legs, feeling ridiculous and childish and almost giddy. Not that she stops complaining.

“We’re too close to the water. They’re just gonna wash away, like, immediately.”

“Yeah, well…” Courtney gets up, drawing halos over first her own angel, and then Bianca’s, kneeling above her head, giving her an upside-down grin in the process. “That doesn’t mean they weren’t beautiful while they were here.”

“You’re so deep,” Bianca teases.

“I know, right? Sooooore deep. You’re very lucky.”

Bianca laughs, feels something akin to a knot unwinding in her chest, making her feel lighter. Younger. She sits up and spins around, grabbing Courtney’s face and pulling her in for a messy, slightly sandy and very salty kiss.

“I am.”

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #courtney act #bitney #angst #lesbian au #fluff #undone #aloha #veronica #tw discussion of past emotional abuse #tw discussion of trauma and physical violence

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