#before you ask no season nine and ten are NOT canon to me

[sunflowerphotodoesentpost]

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter 17 I It's Been A Long Time Coming

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football prodigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Chapter Summary: The final chapter. Read the end note for more.

Word Count: 5.3K

Warning: The most canon divergent I get (roykeeley endgame forever), a little more self-indulgent than usual, some more heated content but nothing smutty, I'm just sad y'all

Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve 13 14 15 16

Change was in the air. A lot of things were changing. There was a lot of good change. Nate was back! He was just working with Will right now, but I could already tell he was different from how he left. He apologized to me for all the nasty things he had said and done. I was a little wary at first, but Jamie reminded me that I’d given him a second chance and Nate deserved one too.

Another good change was that Roy and Keeley had officially gotten back together. Much to the relief of everyone else in the club who couldn’t bear to see them apart. It was nice to have another couple around our age to go out with. We already had a double date set up for the week after the last game.

Then, of course, there was some not so good change. When Ted told Roy and I that he and Beard would be leaving at the end of the season, I almost passed out. My personal plans aside, I’d never done this without him, and I didn’t know if I wanted to.  But Ted assured both of us that the club was in good hands with the two of us.  Many tears were shed and that was before we told the team.

Roy and I went out alone that night. I told Jamie that we had some stuff to plan but really, the two of us just needed to be with each other.

            “What was Ted going on about?” Roy asked, taking a long sip of his beer. “About not letting his decision get in the way of any plans we might have?”

I shrugged, playing with my cocktail, trying to be inconspicuous. But, as usual, Roy could see right through me.

            “I haven’t figured out all the details,” I said, finally. “But… yeah… something’s planned, a bit.”

I expected him to be cross with me for leaving him to deal with the changes alone, but he wasn’t. He just lifted his glass towards me.

            “To big fucking changes,” he offered.

I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest. “To big fucking changes.”

            “And you know,” he stopped me before I could take a sip. “We’re always here for you. Not just me, the whole fucking team would die for you.” It was very sweet. Roy being vulnerable with me for a second. “Don’t go getting all… fucking… emotional on me, (Y/N).”

            “You know what this means, Roy.”

            “We are not fucking, hugging.”

            “Oh, yes we are.”

I when I got home that night, Jamie was there waiting for me. We always ended up at each other’s houses somehow or another though we promised we wouldn’t move in together until after the end of the season. But there he was waiting for me anyways, washing dishes in the kitchen.

            “Hey, babe, how was grandad?” he asked, finishing up the plate he was washing.

I smiled at it, at the domestic nature of the act, at the thought of walking home to Jamie every day for the rest of my life. I walked up and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his back.

            “Was good,” I answered, rubbing my head on his skin.

            “Now who’s acting like a cat?” He rumbled, smirking as he looked back at you.

I hummed a giggle, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade before letting go again. I leaned against the island and waited for him to finished up. He threw the dish towel over his shoulder as he turned to look at me.

            “What?” Jamie questioned, smirking.

            “What?” I returned.

            “You got a funny look on your face,” he told me, reaching out to pinch my cheek. “Look all spacey.”

I batted his hand away, shaking my head. “No… it’s just,” I rubbed at my chin. “There’s a lot of change happening right now… isn’t there.” Jamie cocked his head at me, motioning for me to continue. “Well… Ted and Beard are leaving, Nate’s back, Roy and Keeley are back together – which is great – but… it’s just a lot.”

Jamie nodded. “Yeah… it is. Was there anything else… that was changing… that you might want to tell me?”

Jamie had come to know me very well. Too well for my comfort sometimes. He could tell there was something going on in my head, something I wasn’t telling him. But that was something I still didn’t want to share quite yet, wasn’t ready to share.

            “No, I’m just same old me,” I grinned, stepping forward to slot myself between his legs. His mouth dropped into that lazy smile that drove me mad. I took a shaky breath and nodded at him.  “And we… we’re not changing? Yeah?”

            “I don’t plan on changing a thing,” He quipped, wrapping his arms low around my hips. “That is… unless we’re changing the amount of clothes you’re wearing.” He tugged at my pants slightly, drawing a laugh from me. Safe to say, no matter what else changed, we would be okay.

The final day of training came and went. The boys put on their show for Ted and Beard, who loved it, of course. There was so much movement happening all around the locker room. I sat in the crook of Jamie’s leg that he kept propped up on the bench as we chatted with Cockburn and Dixon when Keeley walked in with her usual cheerful greeting.

I took a moment to look around the room. At the team, and the coaches, and the people, walking in and out. It felt so different. So different from the locker room I’d seen three years ago. It felt much more alive and warmer, inviting people to come join the family. I felt a pang of nostalgia for it already, and there I was, sitting in the moment.

It felt like the end of something. It was the end of the season sure, but it was more than that. With Ted leaving and the future so unsure, it was really the end of an era at Richmond. The Lasso era was ending. And I missed it already.

Jamie and Roy went out that night for a drink. Jamie was practically bouncing, excited that Roy had invited him out and was going to allow him to drink a single beer. So, I took the opportunity to go to Keeley’s to discuss my plans with her.

I arrived at Keeley’s doorstep that night. If anyone would be able to help me figure out the logistics of this, it’d be her. I hadn’t told anyone else about this idea, just Ted and the very vague conversation I’d had with Jamie.

            “(Y/N)!” Keeley squeal when she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

            “Hi Keeley,” I greeted, smiling. “I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

It didn’t take long, only about an hour of chatting for us to figure out how to go about the plan. Keeley had been so excited, jumping on board immediately, grabbing her notebook to jot down some notes and start sketching some logo ideas.

            “Do you think Rebecca will go for it?” I asked, nervously.

            “Go for it? She’ll love it!” Keeley enthused. She sipped on her wine. “Is this why you’ve been so weird at training and such. Cause it’s not just Ted and Beard leaving?”

            “Acting weird?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Is that way Roy said?”

Keeley smirked. “Said you were plotting something.”

            “Yeah, his death for starters,” I laughed, grinning. Keeley let out a cackle that only she could make. Our laughter was interrupted by a knock on the door. I looked at the clock, it was late, later than a random passerby. “Did you order food?”

            “No, I thought you did,” Keeley shrugged, scooting her chair back.

At the door was Roy and Jamie, and from the looks of it, they’d been in some sort of scuffle.

            “My word, what’s happen to you two?” I cried as Keeley opened the door.

Jamie’s nose was bleeding, his head tilted back slightly as he pinched the bridge and Roy’s shirt had been nearly torn off. They had other bumps and bruises across their bodies, and I honestly couldn’t believe it.  We finally sat them down at Keeley’s table, Keeley and I sat next to each other facing Roy and Jamie.

            “All right, are you gonna tell us what happened?” Keeley asked, handing Roy an ice pack. I handed Jamie a fresh tissue, wiping his face with my thumb, even as he tried to duck away from me.

            “Better be a cool story, or else this is just sad,” I echoed, pulling back from Jamie finally.

Jamie looked over at Roy who shrugged, gesturing for Jamie to start.

            “We got in a fight,” Jamie started.

            “About the two of you,” Roy finished.

Keeley and I looked at each other a bit incredulous before replying in unison. “Why!?”

            “Well, we was just talking about the trip to Brazil coming up that the four of us are going on, and I was saying how great Keeley was at her job,” Roy explained, smiling at Keeley.

            “And I was saying how you’re fantastic at your job, too, (Y/N),” Jamie followed up quickly. “How you had improved the team so much this season, the lads really respect you.”

Roy shook his head and turned to look at Jamie. “And I was saying how, of course, I thought you were good at your job, but Keeley runs her own PR firm, she’s fucking next level.”

Jamie growled and turned to face Roy. “But (Y/N) is the first female coach in the whole premier league, and she’s the only Captain from the Imperial girls’ team to win three straight championships.”

Roy leaned forward to get in Jamie’s face. “But Keeley is who makes (Y/N) look good. Keeley makes all of us look good.:

Jamie matches him immediately. “But (Y/N) makes sure there is good stuff to make look good.”

            “Oh my GOD!” I shout out, slamming my hands on the table. Roy and Jamie flinch away from each other. “Did you really get in a fist fight to try and prove which one of us was better?” I pointed between Keeley and myself.

The boys shrugged, answering me without saying a word.

            “Are you joking?” Keeley reared. “Like are you seriously joking?”

She and I looked at each other. Without another word, we kicked the boys out and returned to our wine night.

I returned home later that night to find Jamie on the couch, munching on a chicken kebab, his nose stuffed with tissues. I shook my head as I came down to sit next to him.

            “You are ridiculous, you know that?” I chuckled, taking the kebab from him. He let out a grunt of protest but didn’t stop me from taking a bite.

            “Oi, I had to wrestle Roy for that one,” he settled me into his side, his arm wrapping around me.

            “Oh, I didn’t know it was WrestleMania tonight,” I gaped shaking my head. I brought a hand up and mussed his hair. “What were you thinking? Getting in a fight with Roy.”

            “I was defending your honor,” He defended, grabbing my hand to pull it away from his head. “Don’t see the harm in it, just guys being dudes.”

I almost choked on my kebab. “Guys being dudes? You really have lots it.”

He smiled and pulled me into him, turning the TV on. I leaned back against his shoulder, staring at the screen, chewing on the latter half of his kebab. Now was the time.

            “Jamie, I’m quitting coaching.”

            “What?” He flew up from his seat, knocking me to the side. “What’re you doing that for? Is it Nate? Did he say something? Or Roy? I’ll kill them both!”

“No! No, Jamie listen.” I grabbed his hands, coaxing him to sit back down. “It’s not anyone else… it’s me. It’s what I’ve been… planning.”

Jamie frowned, his eyes looking into mine for answers. “You’re not gonna coach me anymore?”

I felt my heart break just a little at his pitiful tone. I brought my hand up to his face, holding his neck in my grasp. 

            “No, Jamie… I’m not. I’m not going to coach anyone,” I started to explain. “See, what I realized, the part of coaching I’m good at is the playing bit. Understanding the players and how they think. It helped Ted a lot but… I’m not a coach. I’m a player.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “You want to play? You’re gonna join a women’s team?”

            “Yeah?” I worried my bottom lip as he processed. Why was I afraid? Was he going to disapprove, god was this like with Matt all over again? “Is that okay?”

            “Okay?” His eyes lit up so bright. “That’s amazing.”

He lifted me up, spinning me around in his arms. I held on tightly, afraid to fall, even though Jamie would never let me fall. He placed me down in front of him, gripping my waist.

            “How fucking amazing is it that we’ll be the two best players in our leagues,” He mused, grinning widely. “Who you going to play for? I ‘spose Arsenal’s the closest for the women’s or Reading but you can do better than Reading.”

            “You’re assuming I’ll get to pick!” I laughed.

He made a pursed his lips and shrugged. “Obviously, they’ll all be after you, won’t they.”

            “Well, uh, the thing is, actually,” I looked down, playing with the hem of his shirt to distract myself. “That’s what I was talking to Keely about. I’m gonna convince Rebecca to start a women’s team at Richmond.”

Again, Jamie processed. Then he lifted me up again, twirling me around, cackling like mad.

            “You’re brilliant, you are, you know that?” He kisses me then, passionately in a way I’d never felt before. My breath gets pushed out of me as my hands flail to hold on to him. He kisses me again, slowly, before pulling back. “I love you.”

I look at him, wide-eyed, panting. “I love you, too.”

He smiled at me smugly, knowing exactly the effect he was having on me. He reached down and lifted me up over his shoulder, carrying me off towards the bedroom.

            “Jamie!” I cried happily, banging on his back. “Put me down!”

            “Oh, I’ll put you down,” he sneered, plopping me down onto the mattress. He crawled over my body, anticipation growing with in me as I propped myself up onto my elbows. He took his time reaching me, his lips ghosting over my skin. Up my chest, my neck, until they hovered over my lips, just out of reach of mine. “My girl…”

He kissed my cheek, nose nudging mine like he liked to do. I tried to press up and kiss him, but he pulled back, what a tease.

            “Jamie,” I frowned, whining. I pulled on his shirt, trying to pull him closer to me.

            “Hold on, sweetheart,” he murmured, pushing me down so I was flat on the bed. “I just wanna look at ya.” His hand travelled down my body before coming back up to rest on my cheek, stroking my skin with his thumb. “You’re amazing.”

I felt so soft under his praise, under his touch as he admired me. But it wasn’t just my body he was admiring it, it was me. All of me. And when he finally kissed me, it felt like the sun was filling my body with its warmth.

The day of the final game came, West Ham, again.  This time under George Cartwick, the bastard. But I didn’t feel more normal anxiety about such an important game. Yeah, this game could solidify our ranking within the league, but I didn’t feel too worried. Win or lose, we’d shown the whole country exactly what we could do.

I carried the box from Zava in my grasp, using my legs to readjust my grip as I waved to Laughing Liam.

            “Hello, lads,” I greeted as I walked into the locker room. The room erupted in a choral of hellos and greetings.

            “What’ve you got there?” Colin asked, coming over to help me set the box down.

I dusted my hands off, starting to open it up. “It’s a care package from, Zava.”

The locker room groaned, and I smirked, sneaking a glance at Jamie who seemed quite pleased with the response.

            No,” Dani spoke up from behind me, quite firm. “Thank you, but no. I will not let him hurt me again.”

            “Ooh, it’s t-shirts!” Will smiled, reaching across me to get one.

            “Can I have two, please?” Dani decided.

I shook my head, moving away from the box to reach out for Jamie. He pulled me towards him, chuckling at the antics, wrapping his arms around me to pull my back against his chest, my hands crossing in front of my body as I held onto him.

            “Oh, oh!” Colin exclaimed. “There’s a card.” He reached in and grabbed a card out of it. “’My brothers.’” The boys laughed. “’Good luck against West Ham. Please enjoy the T-shirts and this avocado from my farm. Never forget, I am always inside you, Zava.’”

            “What, he sent us one avocado?” Jamie questioned, his lips right by my ear.

Bumbercatch lifted the avocado from box and held it up so we could all see it. It was giant. I felt Jamie freeze in surprise.

            “Holeh guacamoleh,” he shuttered out. “Show me that, bro.”

He let go of me to grab the avocado, staring at it in awe. I laughed, shaking my head.

The beginning of the game was a little rocky, probably due to the video that Beard had made, sending the whole team into a sobbing frenzy. The first half quarter was a stalemate, but Jamie was keeping them on their toes, controlling the field with his excellent strategic passes. Nevertheless, Westham managed to score, twice before the half.

The boys were buzzing during the half, talking and strategizing with one another. It was a stark difference from the team I started with. That team would be silent, brooding, angry about what was going wrong. But this team still had hope, they still had believe.

Ted emerged from his den to address the team.

            “Well, fellas, we got our work cut out for us in the second half. But you know, I’ll get to all that in a minute.” I went over to my spot next to Roy, crossing my arms as I looked over the group.

“No, uh, right now, all I wanna do is let you gentlemen know what an absolute honor it's been to be your coach. Getting to work with y'all these last three years has truly been one of the greatest experiences of my life. I've loved getting to know each and every single one of you. Learning all about the men you were and getting a front-row seat to see the men… and women you all have become “

He looked over at me and I nodded, swallowing a thick ball of sadness in my throat.

“A-And I wanna thank you for your patience with me. You know, when I showed up here, I didn't know one thing about soccer. But now... Well, now I know at least one thing about football.”

We let out a chuckle, though it was well watery I could tell. He continued.

“I'm just so gosh damn proud to be a part of this team. You know? And I love you guys. I'm gonna miss y'all." My heart swelled. I didn't want to say goodbye. I swiped at a tear that had escaped my eyes.

"Now, regarding this second half... Yeah, I don't know what's gonna happen. You know what I mean? No one does. Sports would be a lot less fun if we did. You know? And you all would probably make a lot less money, so... You know?  We don't wanna know the future. No, no, we wanna be here right now. And look, I-I know we're down a couple goals. But I'm telling you, man, if y'all play hard, play smart, play together and just, you know... Just do what y'all do, and we'll go out with the peace of mind knowing we did our best. That we tried. Yeah?”

            “Yes, coach.”

            “Hm. All right. Anybody else have something to say?”

            “Coach.” Sam spoke up.

            “Yeah, Sam, what you got?”

Sam stood up and grabbed something from his locker, pulling out a small piece of yellow paper. Then Jamie stood up, pulling out a book from his locker that had a similar yellow piece of paper sticking out of it. Soon the whole team was grabbing things from their lockers and pulling out their own yellow pieces.

I sighed and reached into my pocket and found my wallet. I had a polaroid of Jamie and I, sitting at Sam’s restaurant, and taped on the back was my own piece of yellow paper. I held it up and walked over to where the boys were placing their pieces.

Soon there was a clutter of pieces all mixed up. The boys stared at it a second, wondering what was wrong with it. Then they moved into action, putting it back together like a puzzle. I smiled at Roy who shook his head and chuckled.

Finally, the sign was back together. The torn up believe sign put back together by the team that made it a reality. I’d missed the sign. Missed it more than I knew.

            “And there it is,” Ted mused, smiling at it. “Number four. Yeah?”

The fourth rule of total football. Believe. Believing in this team and the people in it. Believing in change and love and friendship. Believing in the fact that victory was within our grasp. Believe was filling this room. Starting from when Ted first stepped foot in the locker, infecting the place with his positivity. Now the room, and the whole stadium was filled with it, so even when he was gone, we’d keep it going. Believe.

            “Alright, let’s bring it in.”

We walked in together, Jamie standing right behind me so he could keep one hand on my hip while the other went in for the huddle.

            “I know they folks like to say, ‘there’s no place like home,’” Ted looked around the circle, at our team. “That’s true. You know. But man, there ain’t a whole lot of places like AFC Richmond either.” I let out a shaky laugh, the team following in suit. He addressed Isaac. “Richmond on three. One, two, three…”

            “RICHMOND.”

The second half feels more electric than before. More shots on the goal, with only one getting in from Jamie. The stadium erupted in cheers as Jamie scored, giving the crowd a shred of hope for Richmond’s chances.

Jamie gets in again losing his mark and heading for a second goal when he’s tackled. It’s a weak tackle and Jamie certainly played it up but it got us our penalty.

            “That’s it,” I muttered, nodding at Ted.

It took a second, Jamie passing the ball over to Dani who then passed it to… Isaac.

            “Oh, what the fuck,” I grunted, rolling my eyes. I loved Isaac, I really did, but I was certain he’d never even made a penalty before.

Isaac went for the shot, and it flew into the stands, causing a groan to go across the field. It wasn’t the end of the world but equalizing certainly would have been helpful. But then the referee went back to look at the net before turning around and signaling a goal.

I laughed and let out a cheer, patting Roy’s shoulder.

            “Who fucking knew,” I gaped.

            “Apparently, Dani,” Roy answered.

This wasn’t the end; we still had another goal to get but victory was just in reach. The game came to a halt as the grounds crew came out to fix the goal. Jamie jogged over to me, an excited look on his face.

            “How mint was that, eh, babe?” He asked, excitedly.

I shook my head handing him a water bottle.  “You could have made that easily.”

            “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” He grinned, downing the water.

As he did, I noticed Rupert on the field. Yes, Rupert Manion, as in the owner of West Ham, walking on the field like a villain from a Bond movie.

            “What the hell is he doing here?” Jamie snorted, watching the man.

            “Don’t know…” I murmured back. “But I’m going to find out, cover for me?”

Jamie nodded at me, turning back to the coaches, as I tried to wander over inconspicuously I made it seem like I was going to fill up my water bottle, trying to get within ear shot of whatever conversation they were having.

            “Tartt is out there doing whatever he fucking wants.” Rupert growled.

Oh. I see.

            “Yeah, but I’ve got two players on him already,” Cartwick responded. He looked terrified, and Rupert pressed further.

            “Take him out.” I stiffened, looking that way, as subtly as possible. No way he was implying what I thought he was.

            “Are you joking?” Cartwick retorted.

I looked back towards Jamie. If anyone got near him, I would kill them. I’d kill them with my bare hands.

            “Get rid of him.”

I was gripping the water bottle in my hand so tight I thought it would break. Water started overflowing, getting my arm wet but I couldn’t move. I thought that if I did I would go over and punch Rupert right across his stupid face.

            “I’m not playing the game like that,” George finally being a good person for once in his useless life.

            “You do what I say, or you are done,” Rupert threatened.

George started to reply when there was a thump that sounded, and I looked over finally. Rupert had pushed George to the ground, sending him flying and, unfortunately, revealing both of his testicles.

I flinched away, finally walking back over to our side. Jamie collected me, pulling me away from Rupert, even though we were already far enough.

            “What a fucking wanker,” he grumbled.

The crowd seemed to agree as Rupert started to walk off the field, shouting it at him over and over. Part of me felt bad for him- oh wait no it didn’t. He’d threatened Jamie Tartt. The love of my life, and I thought he deserved a lot worse than a bad name.

            “Everything alright?” Jamie seemed to notice my tense mood.

I looked back over at him, shaking my head. “Yeah, fine, just go out and smash it, yeah? Watch your left kick, you’re holding back.”

            “Heard,” he nodded, agreeing. “Anything else?”

            “Oh, yeah,” I imitated thinking. “I love you, and when you win, we’re gonna have banger sex tonight.”

He grinned wickedly at me. “Now that sounds like a plan?”

I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but we weren’t exactly public yet. Keeley said it would probably be a bad idea, might look bad for a coach to be dating their player. We weren’t a secret exactly either, but just private.

            “Go,” I pressed, pushing him away from me. He nodded, sending me a look that I could read. I love you, you’re amazing, thank you. I chewed my lip and nodded at him as well. I love you, too, go smash it.

The Hammers got control of the ball quickly and it seemed like they’d scored a pull-ahead goal but, as Ted pointed out, they had been offsides. That had been close, too close. We needed something. Jamie was trying to keep up his role as engineer, but he had been completely boxed in.

            “Okay. Come on. Talk to me, geese,” Ted brought is in.

We needed something they wouldn’t expect right now. Beard and Roy rattled off some plays, but I closed my eyes trying to picture the field, what I would be looking for. Jamie was who everyone was expecting to make a play, so we had to use him somehow, maybe as… as a fucking decoy.

 I opened my eyes and saw Ted looking at me. I could tell he’d just made the same connection I had.

            “Do you think it’ll work?” He asked me, cocking his head.

            “Definitely,” I stated, nodding firmly.

            “Alright, hold on,” he called over to Nate, getting him to come over to us before calling out to the boys. “Here hold this.” He mimed handing something to Nate, who took the invisible object. “IT’S AN OSCAR!” He shouted to the boys, giving Nate some instruction on how to hold it. “OR THE ESPY”

That seemed to resonate with the boys as they nodded finally, discussing amongst themselves.  They started off, Sam passing the ball to Dixon. Jamie sprinted into the box shouting wildly.

            “YEAH, YEAH! PASS ME THE BALL! ME, ME, ME! I WANT THE PALL! PASS ME THE BALL, PLEASE!”

I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. He really was selling it and it seemed to be working. There must have been four guys marking him. But Sam was left open and Dixon took his chance, passing him the ball. Then it happened, Sam took the shot.

            “Barbecue sauce.”

The ball soared into the goal, and we’d done it. The game ended shortly after. We’d won. Everything moved in slow motion, the cheer of the crowd, the jumping and celebrations, the ground shaking with excitement.

But I was just looking of one person. Jamie. I needed Jamie. And we locked eyes. His grey eyes stormy with excitement. I felt myself moving towards him, rushing onto the field to get to get to him as quick as I could. I jumped and he caught my in his arms, spinning me around, my legs flying behind me.

I took his face and kissed him. Right there. In front of everyone. I didn’t care anymore, I wasn’t his coach, I wasn’t anyone’s coach. And right now, Jamie Tartt needed a kissing. He stood there on the pitch, practically eating each other’s faces off until I remembered where we were and pulled away. He followed me, letting out a whine.

            “Not now,” I muttered to him, giggling. “Now we celebrate with them. But later…” I walked my fingers down his chest.

He grabbed my hand, tsking his tongue. “Don’t do that, love. Or I might just have to take you away right now.”

I shivered, tempted to let him do so. But then I looked over and saw Colin kissing his boyfriend, I saw Isaac and Sam hugging, I saw Ted starting to gain a crowd, probably ramping up to do something cheesy.

            “Let’s go celebrate, babe,” I said, taking his hand in mine.

We ran over to the group to watch Ted do his victory dance. We celebrated. We were on top of the world. That’s how I like to remember that time. The whole team together. All of us. I could see into the future. I could see Ted leaving, and that would be sad.

But I could also see Keeley and I giving Rebecca the plans for the AFC Richmond Women’s team. I could see Jamie and I going to Brazil together and Keeley and Roy joining us after the shoot was done. I could see Jamie reconnecting with his father, showing him exactly the man he’d become without him. I could see Roy and Nate running the team together brilliantly. I could see us, months from now, having dinner at Higgin’s house. The whole team, kids running in the yard, chatting with Roy and Keeley, laughing with Colin and Michael.

I could see happiness. A happiness that I didn’t have three years ago that I had now. A happiness that had been…

A Long Time Coming.

Taglist: @heletsmelovehim @higherthanheroes @ajax-petropolus-wife @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @kno-way-home @sleepy-time @wigglegiggle @skewedcherries @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @snubug @rana030 @ems-alexandra @jaymum @imfalling-inlove @littleesilvia @eugene-emt-roe

END NOTE: If you've made it this far, thank you. When Ted Lasso ended, I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I still had the characters and stories rattling around in my head. So I decided to write this, just to get it out of my head, as an OFC Fic on AO3 (That's being updated as well if you're interested in meeting my OC).

Coming to Tumblr was inspired by a number of writers. Specifically three people who I now am mutuals with and even would call my friends. @illiterateaffairs @its-time-to-write, @alwritey-aphrodite, and @sokkigarden. Each of them inspired my in their beautiful understanding of Jamie's character, their individual styles and personalities, all of them inspired me and encouraged me to continue my writing. They are truly such talents, and I respect them each individually very greatly.

Finally, I have to thank every single person who has liked, commented, reblogged, or even just scrolled through a chapter. every comment, I read, every reblog, I read. They all mean the world to me, and I know I say that a lot but I really mean it. I didn't expect this series to get any traction much less get me nearly 400 followers. You guys kept me going.

Thank you for reading. From me and Jamie <3

[dumbslxtclub]

you're on your own, kid | e.m - part eleven

eddie munson x singlemom!reader

summary: set after the events of season four, Steve has disappeared and is presumed dead in the upside down. broken and now left to deal with your pregnancy alone, Eddie takes it upon himself to support you to the best of his abilities in Steve’s absence.

chapter summary: a changing of seasons brings everyone out of their comfort zones, and a moment of honesty brings you and eddie closer together

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, unplanned pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, mentions of death, reader is 19, anxiety, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, slow burn, brief mention of past abuse

word count: 8.3K+

a/n: the calm before the storm is here. i've had a lot on my plate recently so apologies for the wait, i hope you enjoy and once again thank you for all of the love xx

taglist: @lezzy-bennet @harrypotteranna23-blog  @reidstea @sashaphantomhive  @bexreadstoomuch @audhd-dragonaut @littlepotatobeansworld @ches-86  @tlclick73 @fckyeahlames @gnocchey @astrolockley @sidthedollface2 @micheledawn1975  @3rd-conchord @eddiesbabe95 @taintedcigs​

↳  one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight  / nine / ten / eleven

Part Eleven: I'd Love It (If We Made It)

How strange, to peer into a crib and see your best friend in a rabbit-print onesie. 

With her thick crown of once dark strands now softening to a caramel-brown. Wide chocolate eyes, lashes that people would pay good money for. Anyone with half a clue could deduce that’s Steve’s kid. And god, it causes Robin’s heart to lurch every time she sees Squid. A spitting image, her annoying co-worker turned closest friend now confined to the tiniest body she’s ever seen. It’s been hard not to wonder how Steve would be with her. Any air of confidence crumbling at the sight of his gurgling lump of a daughter. Nervously shushing her over his shoulder as she fusses, trying his hardest not to get water in her eyes while he gives her a bath. He’s had lots of training with kids, but not ones this small. Robin knew he always longed for a brood of his own, a family to take on holidays out of town and send out cheesy Christmas cards to loved ones. He’d make countless mistakes, putting her diaper on backwards or forgetting the stroller at home. But god knows he’d wake up everyday and try his best. Delicately, she reaches down and brushes the back of her finger across Audrey’s flushed cheek. She doesn’t stir, eyelids remain heavy and lips parted while her chest steadily rises and falls. So peaceful. The front door clicks open behind her, and she glances over her shoulder to see your shadow enter the living room.

“How’s Eddie?” She asks, propping herself on the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, he’s alright.” Your reply is hushed, so as not to wake Audrey. “Andy’s fists must be as thick as his head, he took a few solid hits.”

“Lucky he knows how to take ‘em.” Robin shoots you a wry smile, trying to lighten the room somewhat. “You want me to stay the night?”

“Sure, I might just grab a shower and then join you in bed.” Kicking off your shoes, you give her shoulder a squeeze as you pass her on the way to the bathroom. Curiosity gets the best of Robin as she watches you, the faintest traces of a smile playing on the corner of your lips.

“You were over there for a while.” Raising her eyebrows, her playful insinuation isn’t lost on you. “Anything happen?”

Your cheeks flush, and you let out an incredulous, yet unconvincing scoff.

“No! God, I just helped clean him up and left.”

“Like, ‘scrubbed him off in the shower�� cleaned up?”

“You’re sick, Robin.” 

Robin breaks into a smug grin, shaking her head. “Just… remember what we talked about. Taking it slow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime, darling!” She calls out behind you as you disappear into the bedroom. Stealing a final glance at Squid, she flicks off the living room light. “Lucky kid, getting two badass dads.”

“Nope. Absolutely not.” For all his virtues, Eddie can be so stubborn when he wants to be. And today is no exception. 

“C’mon, just give him a chance! I’ll be back at work next week, it’s only for the days when you are Robin are working-”

“Zero chance I’m letting Henderson look after Squid. The kid misses his own mouth when he’s eating, how do you expect him to feed her?”

Huffing, you pace around the living room anxiously. Eddie is laying down in the middle of the carpet, Audrey perched atop his stomach, holding her hands to keep her upright. Toys are discarded around them, a mess of Fisher-Price to clean up later. 

“Well, I don’t really have any other options, Eddie. I mean, I don’t have the money for daycare-”

“I’m happy to spot you some cash for that.”

“That’s not the point!” You groan, plopping yourself down beside him. “I don’t want your money, and if I’m gonna pay someone, I’d rather it be someone she knows.”

“Sweetheart, she doesn’t know who anyone is.”

“Well, she knows you.”

Eddie’s lip’s spread into a shit-eating grin, lolling his head to the side so you can bear witness to his smugness.

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m her favorite.” Rolling your eyes, you heave your weary body down parallel to the metalhead. “Tell you what- I’ve got Tuesday off, so I'm on the first babysitting shift. Henderson can come around and help me, and I’ll be the judge on whether he’s ready to look after her on his own. Make sure he doesn’t let her chew on the electrical cords and whatnot. Deal?”

Intellectually, you know this is as good as it’s going to get, so you concede this battle.

“Fine. More electrical cords for you, then.”

Dimples settling deep into his smile lines at your quip, he turns his attention back to the attention-starved baby situated on his abdomen. He lazily maneuvers Audrey’s arms around like a tiny puppet, and you can’t help but smile at the show they’re putting on for you.

It’s hard not to study the way Eddie’s face subtly transforms when he looks at Audrey. Crow’s feet permanently plastered around his temple, lips pressed together so minutely that anyone could miss it. Like he’s bursting at the seams with adoration. Pulling your gaze away from his lips proves to be a mammoth task you have no interest in partaking in. There’s an air of tension between the two of you, existing as a fine mist like a cloud around you. Neither of you have addressed the kiss since it happened, so it’s been easy to chalk it up to an adrenaline-fueled urge. You need to tread carefully, just as Robin suggested. Prioritize yourself and Audrey before adding anything complicated into the mix. But you hope, underneath it all, it was something real. Right now, you’re happy to just exist in this moment, watching Eddie fussing with Audrey’s jumpsuit and squeezing her sides. It’s simpler like this.

-

Tuesday afternoon rolls around, and you’re a mess. Every intention was there of cleaning the trailer before the boys came over, but you’ve spent a good majority of the afternoon scooping out piles of clothes searching for your work vest. As you throw another handful aside, you momentarily wonder if Audrey has been buried under the ever-growing mountain on the bed. But, from the next room, you hear her happily cooing at nothing from her crib, likely vying for your attention post-nap. The hideous green vest makes itself known beneath an old floral dress, and you snatch it up greedily as if it could grow legs and run away from you. Sliding your arms into the vest, a knock rings out at the front door.

“It’s open!”

It’s unlikely that two elephants just entered the room, but with the excitement and shuffling between the two, one could be mistaken. Following the procession into the living room, Eddie and Dustin are unloading the contents of a plastic bag onto the cluttered kitchen bench.

“Hey, momma bear!” Dustin beams at you, quickly abandoning the joint activity to pull you into a tight hug. 

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Love what you’ve done with the place.” Eddie’s tone is dripping in sarcasm, brushing aside a pile of unopened mail.

“Ha ha. Would’ve cleaned up but it took me ages to find this fucking thing.” Eddie glances over his shoulder at you, drinking in the image of you dressed in the ugliest green known to man.

“Got all dressed up for us? You shouldn’t have.” His hands dive into the bag, withdrawing assorted-sized Tupperware containers.

“What are you doing in there anyway?”

“Wayne had a pot-luck at work, dunno what he was thinking bringing home all these leftovers. Would rather them clogging up your fridge.” It’s kind of amazing how he can twist his kind gesture into an inconvenience for you. 

“You’ve still got the caterpillar I got for her!” Dustin’s voice draws your attention back to the living room, where he is standing over the crib. Dangling the colorful insect above Audrey, the sound of the beads jingle throughout the room, somewhat covering the noise of Eddie haphazardly shoving the containers into your small fridge.

“Of course, she loves it.” 

It strikes you now that Dustin hasn’t seen your daughter since the kids came to visit in the hospital. Against the nurses wishes, they broke the two-person limit to cram into the room, excitable faces peering down at your newborn daughter. Surrounded by so much love in her first days on Earth.

“She’s looking more like Steve now, don’t you think?” Dustin asks, dropping the toy onto the couch. A sad smile dances on the corners of your lips, crossing the room to stand next to the younger boy.

“Yeah, she is. She’s growing into her head, though. Or maybe it’s just covered in so much hair that it’s balancing out.” Habitually, you gently comb your fingers through her bed head, never tiring of the feeling of her soft skin against yours. Dustin, all the while, just watches completely awestruck. “You want to hold her?”

“Hell yeah!” He doesn’t miss a beat. His reaction is a stark contrast from when you first asked Eddie the same question, his enthusiasm causing you to grin.

“Here-” Cupping your hands beneath your squirming baby, you gingerly bring her up to Dustin’s awaiting arms. He quickly adjusts to distribute her weight comfortably, making sure to support her head. Robin must have been spitting facts out at him in preparation for this moment, and you beam with pride. “Look at you, you’re a natural!”

As if she’s got any sense of comedic timing, Audrey lets out a small squeal, as babies do. Dustin practically breaks into a cold sweat at this sudden noise, quickly pacing around and giving her a gentle rock.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Squid. Your Uncle Dustin’s here now.”

“Uncle Dustin?” Eddie re-enters, shrugging off his jacket, and you hate the way his ¾-sleeve shirt clings to his frame, highlighting the sinewy muscles of his forearms. Entirely too distracting.

“Yeah!” Dustin quips back. “Y’know, like we’re all her uncles and aunts now.”

“Sure, whatever you say, kiddo.” Eddie places his hand atop Dustin’s baseball cap, rolling it around like an arcade controller. “You got everything?”

Grabbing up your handbag, you shuffle through the contents in search of your wallet. 

“Yep, I think so. Shit, this is gonna be so weird. I haven’t gone this long without being with her since- like, before she was born.”

“And she’ll still be here when you get home. Just go and concentrate on making the big bucks.” Eddie gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze, settling the sea of emotions brewing in your stomach. Sure, it’ll only be a few hours but you’re going to miss her so much. Strolling over to Dustin, you give Audrey’s chubby cheek at least half a dozen kisses, eliciting a wide grin from her.

“And me?” Dustin’s playful smile spreads across his cheeks, which he presents for kisses. Obliging, you grab his face and press an obscenely loud squelching kiss to his skin, the wet kind grandparents give. He grimaces, realizing he can’t wipe it away with his hands full. You save him the pain and do the honors yourself, but not before giving his cheek a firm pinch. Eddie stands somewhat awkwardly, waiting for his farewell gesture.

“You play nice, okay? Let Dustin do the dirty work, and help if he needs it.” 

“Cross my heart, sweetheart.” 

Heart skipping a beat as you take a step closer to him, you catch a whiff of his woody aftershave before landing your lips on his cheek. As much as you’d love to linger, there is a teenager and baby present, and you’re running late for the closing shift.

“Stay out of trouble, kids!”

Two men and a baby. Alone in the trailer. Under any usual circumstances, they would be shitting themselves. But not these men. They’ve fought monsters. They’re changing diapers with confidence by the bucketful. Getting a bit of spit up on their shirt is nothing compared to the sludge and grime coating the Upside Down. Zero reservations or shame around doing what it takes to get Squid to crack a gummy smile. They’re loving every second of it. But it’s hungry work. And it’s everyone’s dinnertime, the last of the sunlight turning golden through the windows. 

The boys settle on a delectable takeout menu, consisting of shrimp fried rice and lemon chicken, courtesy of Dustin’s fresh babysitting payment. The succulent aroma fills the small living room, with the two boys scattered across the sofa. Squid, as it turns out, has zero interest in being put back in her crib as long as the boys are around. If she’s excluded from the fun, it’s hell to pay, every time. And so, Eddie resorted to bottle feeding her with one hand with her propped up to his chest, while shoveling rice into his own mouth with his other. A comfortable silence, bar the clattering of plastic utensils and low hum of the TV in the background.

“Gotta say, Henderson. I’m impressed.” Eddie awed, taking extra care not to let the piece of chicken balanced precariously between chopsticks land on Squid’s head. Marinade in her hair is the last thing he wants to deal with, and he wouldn’t know how to explain that one to you.

“You doubted my babysitting skills for a minute there? Ouch.”

“I’m just saying! Wasn’t sure you even knew how to change your own diaper.”

Dustin scrunches his nose up at the older boy, who relishes in his perfectly-landing insult. 

“Ha ha. Very funny. ‘M sure you’ve been getting in lots of practice, playing mommy and daddy.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, a playful glint dancing in his dark-brown irises. 

“Is that what you think goes on over here?”

“I mean, it’s clear that you two have some serious chemistry-”

“We’re friends, dingus.” Eddie retorts.

 “- Add on top of that the fact you ransacked your own fridge to bring her dinners-”

“I told you, Wayne had a potluck.” 

“- not to mention you beating up the only other guy she’s gone on a date with since Steve.” 

The older boy scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah well, you would have too…”

There’s a strange silence between the pair, each picking around at their plastic containers of lukewarm takeaway. Dustin’s gaze lands on Squid, whose eyes are growing heavy as she gradually grows happily milk-drunk.

“I think it’s good.” He mumbles, sheepishly returning to his meal.

“You think what’s good?”

“You know, her-” Dustin points his fork in the infant’s direction. “-having someone like you around. I mean, my dad was never around so, I don’t know, just makes me happy to see kids with someone like that in their life. I think it makes a difference.”

Eddie snorts, traces of cynicism palpable.

“Yeah, not always.” As far as Eddie’s concerned, Wayne is practically his father. Not the deadbeat criminal he’s spent his life distancing himself from. Like a reptile shedding its skin, navigating the world raw and free from the binaries forced upon it. When you’ve been stuck in the middle of a situation like that, it’s not hard to gravitate towards people with similar upbringings. Which, of course, led him to Dustin, who has become something akin to an incredibly annoying younger brother that he happens to love to death. His adopted sheep, and Eddie proudly playing the role of the group’s shepard.

Squid, polishing off the remainder of her bottle, burbles contently in the crook of Eddie’s elbow. Abandoning his meal, he heaves her onto his shoulder as he has many times before, and begins patting her on the back. He can’t help but think how much she takes after you, you’re always most content after a big meal. Squid looks incredibly dopey, not too dissimilar to the crowds Eddie would see shuffling out of The Hideout late at night. All the while, Dustin watches him with a smug smile, looking entirely too-pleased with himself for the older boy to let it slide.

“What?” 

“Nothing!” Dustin quickly returns to his meal, the grin still playing on the corner of his mouth.

“Spit it out, or I’m making her spit up on you. I’ve got a weapon and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Dustin lets out an on-brand giggle, turning his attention back to the older boy.

“I was wrong. We’re all uncles and aunts, but you- you are daddy Eddie.”

“I will punch you, Henderson. And I’ll enjoy it.”

You return home long after the sun has gone down, face shiny with congealed sweat but a smile plastered on your face. A smile that only grows at the sight in the house. Dustin, heavy-lidded with an equally tired Audrey clinging to his chest like a baby sloth to its mother, all arms and limbs. Eddie recalls the way you pried her off his torso, a day of longing for your child finally drawing to a close. And the immense joy seeping from your pores at the connection with her, infecting the entire house and its inhabitants. A working mother. You felt useful. Confident. And completely fulfilled.

It stung Eddie’s skin like a rash, welting flesh until it was blistered and tender. He wished it didn’t. But the creature now occupying the recesses of his mind had no interest in pure moments, making itself known at the most inopportune times.

He said his goodbyes. Dropped Dustin home, smiling and nodding along as the younger boy recounted his successes with the baby, like changing diapers was his biggest triumph since fighting literal monsters. 

He meant to return straight home. But he didn’t. Couldn’t.

The moonlight bounces off the thin veil of the lake, calm from the clear night existing above him in the form of an uninterrupted sky. The only other sound being the occasional clattering of his empty beer bottles at his feet, glass meeting stone. Carbonated liquid trickling down his throat, doing little to inhibit the ferocious war waging internally.

He longed to grant himself the happiness you dish out so freely. Not only to yourself, but to everyone around you. He wanted to accept it. Hold it tight in firmly clenched hands and never let go. But it sits like an ice block, stinging his hands and dripping through his fingers every time. 

One word continuously pierced his ears over and over again through the quiet shore like white noise.

Daddy.

What the fuck.

An off-handed comment by Dustin, now stalking him like his own shadow. It disgusts him, how two syllables took his heart in a vice grip and hasn’t let go. As if it’s unlocked something deep within his soul, a purpose he never knew was accessible to someone like him.

Eddie doesn’t know the first thing about being a dad. The closest he’s ever gotten is petty crime, abandonment and cigarette burns on his prepubescent forearm. That’s the hand he was dealt, the masterclass he was given on what a father should look like. It shouldn’t matter regardless, if he knows how to burp a baby or not, because it’s not his place.

Not his role.

It never was.

Eddie scoffs to himself, how selfish it is that he’s indulged in the coulds for so long. But beyond that self-criticism sits temptation, seductive with its alternate narrative. In another universe, another lifetime, he could be Squid’s dad. He could hold her small hands in his own, as chubby, unstable legs find the unconditional support of the ground beneath her feet to take her first steps into the world. He could bring you and her to this very same lake, when the weather is warmer and the shore is filled with sun-kissed skin and beach balls. He could tighten the strap on her bucket hat, dipping her tentatively into the lukewarm reservoir, her first visit to a natural body of water. He could parrot words back to her babbling mouth for hours, clinging to the hope that her jumbled consonants miraculously form that word he loves. 

Or loathes. 

He’s not sure yet.

Ignorance is bliss, and Eddie has existed in a state of euphoria for so long that he’s not sure if he can go back to the pain of knowing. He’s tasted a life so far removed from anything he’s ever known, relished in its sweetness and left him wanting more. He’s never known how good it feels to be needed.

Not that you ever needed him, Eddie is perfectly aware of that. He’s never met anyone as strong as you, full to the brim with resilience. 

But he sees it. 

In glimpses. 

A low sigh as you attempt to fold laundry with one hand. A hopeful glint shot his way while the room fills with a putrid smell. Fleeting snores as you doze off on the couch, your baby happily staring up at her barnyard mobile. 

Moments of unspoken safety, because he’s there.

To lend a hand, skirting around the edges of your life in contented devotion. 

Needed.

Wanted.

He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about leaving. Heartache follows him like a specter, waiting for the perfect time to announce itself. The rational side of his brain screams out to go, get away before he gets hurt or worse, hurts you. Solitude is lonely, but at least it’s consistent. 

But he knows he never could, not willingly. To leave you, to leave Squid, would be a fate worse than death itself. That kind of heartache would consume him, destined to end up as his father did abandoning him all those years ago. 

He won’t.

He can’t.

The clock is ticking, and time is running out. With every trip Dustin makes to Hawkins Lab, returning not with answers, but with hope. Filthy, addictive hope. Every tick of the minute hand taunts him, echoing his inner sabateur’s monologue louder and louder. 

You’re gonna lose them.

Once Steve’s back, they’ll be gone.

And you’ll be nothing again.

Here’s the thing about babies. They grow. Fast. It seems every time you blink, Audrey is practically hulking out of another shirt. At this point, the only top she’s comfortably fitting into is the formerly-oversized gray one that appeared one morning in Eddie’s presence. She’s wearing the very same shirt as you push the stroller across the tiled floor of the thrift store, ready to pour your entire paycheck into a new wardrobe. They don’t have a huge selection in the way of baby clothes, but enough to get her by for a month or so. 

Trinkets line the walls of the intimate store, haunted-looking dolls peering down at Eddie and Robin. They’re looking at some of the smallest dresses you’ve ever seen, clearly thinking ahead to the impending warmer months. 

You’ve always loved thrift stores. The welcoming, musky smell that is so distinctive, a collective odor of multitudes of families. Well-loved utensils that have lived a thousand lives sitting patiently on steel shelves, ready to be passed onto the next person. Shoes of all different sizes and conditions, either outgrown or abandoned. It’s strangely comforting, you think. Even as you donated the tiniest of Audrey’s newborn onesies, the somber feeling morphing into peace as you think of the next baby to wear them, not yet known to the world. Always cyclical, give and take.

Finding your way down the knick-knack aisle, something at the end catches your eye. A wicker picnic basket, with delicate linen lining the interior. Leather straps secure two plates to the cover, along with some old utensils. The wicker on the outside is fraying, clearly from years of love. There’s something so innocent about it. From the cream fabric to the metal latch, it evokes memories of a childhood you never had. The kind of life you only see in films, perfectly manicured families sitting in green pastures on spring afternoons. 

A life that has always felt so far removed.

Until now.

A small smile creeps across your face as technicolor versions of the future cascade through your mind's eye.

“Oh good, you’ve found the pots and pans.” A sarcastic voice quips behind you. Eddie saunters up to your side, a finger dusting the shelves. “They’re not quite as good as drums, but Squid’s gotta start somewhere if she wants to make it.”

“Are you ever going to call her by her real name?”

“Sure, when she’s old enough to hate it.”

“You’re an idiot.” The metalhead chooses to ignore your remark, following your eye-line to the shelf.

“This is cute.” Eddie delicately picks up the basket from its home on the shelf to examine it closely. “Could double as a baby carrier. Put a few pillows in there, maybe take out the sharp objects and boom. State of the art baby-mobile”

You sigh. “I miss buying things just because they were fun.”

“I mean, it’s your money, so why don’t you?”

“Let’s call it a change in priorities.” Taking the basket out of Eddie’s grip, you place it back where it belongs. “How’d you and Robin go with the baby clothes?”

“Terrible. She hates everything I pick out, it’s all ‘put that down Eddie, she doesn’t need a tiny leather jacket’, or, ‘I don’t care that you’ve got matching sneakers to those ones, she’s got enough shoes’. Talk about a buzzkill.”

“My ears are burning.” Robin emerges with what appears to be the contents of the entire baby clothes rack stacked up in her arms. “Wanna come and help me sort through this?”

Eddie shoots you a look that can only be interpreted as ‘good luck’ before you trail off behind Robin, a mountain of second-hand clothes demanding your attention.

-

Whether it's the warming weather or your new routine, but you’ve found yourself with an extra spring in your step. One shift a week grows to two, then three. Your rotation of babysitters make themselves available at your beckoning call, each accepting a different form of payment. Dustin is happy with a couple of bucks to blow at the arcade, and maybe an R-rated film rented on your behalf. On the opposite end of the spectrum is Eddie, who refuses any form of payment outside of cuddles with Audrey. And Robin exists somewhere in the middle, not taking any monetary payment but will absolutely help herself whatever lives in your pantry. 

Audrey hits the twelve-week milestone before you know it, and it’s bittersweet in the best possible way. The newborn phase is drawing to a close, your tiny baby is now not-so tiny. She’s just discovered her hands, which is the most exciting thing in the world to her. Putting them to work by sucking her thumb or taking her toys in a vice grip, it’s amazing to watch her discover the world around her in a more tactile sense. And the kicking. Excited, chunky legs flailing wildly while she gazes up at you, reminding you of the sharp blows you’d receive to your bladder while pregnant. She’s growing, no longer a tiny frog curled up on your chest but a cheeky little human demanding to be seen. And demand she does. Trips to the grocery store have become an ordeal, with older ladies crowding around the stroller to peer in at Audrey. And she eats it up every time. All gummy grins and babbles, she knows how to work her charm. Definitely got that from Steve. 

Weekends are reserved for the pair of you, and when Saturday rolls around, you’re ready for some mother-daughter time. A quiet day was planned, a walk around the neighborhood followed by some ice-cream and then ringing around to the usual suspects for a makeshift-family dinner. It’s been a long time since you felt this happy, this fulfilled. A tiny cheerleader now lives in the back of your head, reverberating shouts of ‘you can do this!’. Little things hold much more weight now, like how you’ve dressed Audrey in a summer dress similar to one that’s been living in your bottom drawer for years before adorning the old garment yourself. She was occupied with staring at her fingers for most of the morning, leaving you to do your makeup in peace. With your matching dresses on, hair brushed and a milk-drunk baby in your arms, the pair of you are ready to take on the day.

Until you hear a familiar knock at the door.

Swinging it open, you find Eddie equally dressed for the spring weather. A cut off singlet allows for his tattoos to be on full display, contrasting against the un-sunkissed skin of his forearms. He drinks the two of you in, a grin spreading across his face.

“Aren’t you two a pretty little picture?” He gives you a final once-over before pulling you in for a hug.

“What’re you doing home? I thought you were working the Saturday shift.”

In the time it took you to form those two sentences, Eddie has robbed the baby from your arms. Not that Audrey was complaining, her hands greedily grabbing at his face for whatever she could reach. Her smile only grows wider as he takes a mock bite out of her hand, causing her to erupt with a ballad of giggles.

“On a beautiful day like this?! Not a chance.” Audrey manages to grab a good fistful of Eddie’s hair. “Just thought I’d- ow, come and visit my favorite girls.”

Cheeks flushing at his choice words, you’re grateful for your daughter’s distraction to keep the metalhead from seeing your giddy expression.

“If you say so. We were about to go for a walk. Wanna come with us?” You drag Audrey’s baby bag from its home beside the front door and hoist it onto your shoulder.

Freeing his curls from Audrey’s grasp, he gives her fist a sprinkling of kisses. She thanks him by smacking her palm down on his nose with as much force as she can muster.

“Actually-“ His tone is uncharacteristically bashful. “- I uh, sort of had a surprise planned. You up for an adventure?”

Eddie Munson has a baby seat in his van.

You’re not entirely sure how or when it appeared, but it now lives as a piece of decor along with the metal cassettes and fast-food wrappers. And even more out of place is Audrey, all smiles in her summer dress against the dim and worn interior. Her energy knows no bounds when she’s awake, legs kicking excitedly to the tune of Iron Maiden coming from the car’s stereo while Eddie smiles at her through the rear-view mirror.

Looks like someone is a little metalhead in there.

Eddie may have been right, after all (unfortunately). Casting your mind back to that sunny afternoon post-ultrasound, the two of you with bellies full of greasy burgers. Singing at the top of your lungs, the way Eddie swerved off the road at the false signal of distress. That was the first time Audrey kicked. And now, here she is, jumping around in her seat to heavy metal like it’s a nursery rhyme. Nothing has changed.

Through the window, you watch as the landscape of Hawkins changes from metropolitan streets to grassy pastures, further out than you’ve ever been before. Expanses of green rolling hills take shape while the van clutters along the asphalt, sunlight trickling through the brush of trees lining the road.

“Nearly there, I promise.” Like a mindreader, Eddie answers the question before it’s had the chance to leave your lips.

“This looks like the perfect place to hide a body, you know.” You joke, noting the total lack of human presence surrounding you.

“Still think I’m gonna make you a human sacrifice?”

“Not if I get the chance first, pal.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Eddie smiles, eyes still locked on the road. As the car reaches the peak of the hill, he pulls off the road onto a dirt path, the wheels kicking up a myriad of pebbles along the way. Bringing it to a halt, he turns off the engine and swings his door open.

“Stay here.” A giddy smile is plastered on his face as he closes the door behind him, a scuffle of shoes on the dusty ground outside can be heard. The sound of metal doors swings open as Eddie yanks something out of the back and then disappears. A few minutes pass, and Audrey begins growing cranky due to the lack of heavy metal in the vehicle. Gingerly, you reach over and unclip her from the car seat to pull her into your lap.

“What’s he doing out there, huh?” Pulling her up to eye level, you watch as a steady stream of drool trickles down her chin. “He’s been telling you secrets, I know it. C’mon, spill the beans, Miss.”

Audrey replies by shoving her fist into her mouth, an indication of her oath of silence. The passenger door flings open, and an out-of-breath Eddie grins at you.

“All ready.”

Propping Audrey onto your shoulder, you swing your legs out of the vehicle and follow Eddie. He leads you to the back of the van, and your breath catches at the image before you.

From here, you can see the entirety of Hawkins, a model town existing in the distance. The grass spread out before you is soft, untouched by human activity, a hidden nook only known to a few people. The scattering of trees part for a perfect view of the landscape, so picture perfect as if a cinematographer had framed it up just for this moment. And sitting in the middle of the plush grass, is the blanket from the back of Eddie’s van. The edges are smoothed down, with half a dozen pillows skirting around the border and Audrey’s baby bag placed to the side. As you approach, you can make out the object placed in the center.

The picnic basket from the thrift store.

“Oh my god…” Your voice trails off, heart swelling to double its normal size at the gesture.

“Pretty sweet, hey?” Eddie grins proudly, hands on his hips as he admires his handiwork. “I went back the next day and got it for you, thought you deserved to have something fun.”

Eddie takes Audrey from your arms in your awed-state, holding her like a teddy bear, front facing to the world. “C’mon, grab a seat.” 

As if in a trance, you follow him to the blanket and take a seat beside him on one of the pillows. Eddie places Audrey in his lap, who is already trying to beat you to open the basket with greedy hands. He reaches over and swings the lid open, beginning to unload the goodies inside. Two cans of soda are placed on the makeshift picnic rug, followed by a punnet of ruby-red strawberries and some biscuits. 

“And…” Tucked into the corner, Eddie retrieves a small disposable film camera. “Cool, huh? Jonathan had it lying around and gave it to me, maybe you might want some new pictures taken. Now she's chunking up a bit and growing into her skull.”

He hands you the camera, and takes to rummaging through the baby bag for something to keep Audrey occupied. The plastic on the camera is flimsy, likely something bought from a corner store, a cheap means to an end. But you love it. You love all of it. Peering down the viewfinder, the world contorts beautifully through the glass, streaks of light fracturing across the landscape. Turning in the direction of Eddie, you watch as he hands Audrey a brightly-colored baby rattle with a grin. Clicking down, you capture your first image on the fresh roll of film with a whirr.

“Woah, don’t waste the pictures on me, sweetheart. This is for you.” 

Thoughtful doesn’t begin to cut it. You understand what he’s saying, he wants you to have pictures of the pair of you together to look back on. Images to fill photo albums, documenting Audrey’s life from day one. But, to you, it’s more important to immortalize the people you love, loving her. 

Pointing the camera at them one again, you give Audrey’s leg a tickle to draw her attention in your direction.

“Say cheese!” 

Rolling his eyes, Eddie lifts Audrey up off his lap, holding her like a trophy. She squeals with delight as Eddie grins to the camera, another click goes off. As you roll the film over, Eddie repositions Audrey on his thigh while he opens a soda can with his spare hand.

“Dig in. Got the best the supermarket has to offer, I wasn’t sure what kind of snacks you bring on a picnic…”

“No, it’s- it’s perfect, Eddie.” Your gaze returns to the landscape, breeze brushing through overgrown weeds springing up through the soil. “I don’t remember the last time I went on a picnic.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever been on one, so just let me know if I’ve totally screwed everything up.”

You chuckle, in no position to criticize this kind gesture. “How did you find this place?”

Eddie takes a sip of his soda before placing it down beside him, retrieving the rattle that Audrey had impulsively thrown an arm’s length away onto the rug.

“I used to come up here a bit when I was younger. Y’know, when things sucked at home. I’d bring a few beers, blast some music and just unwind. It’s nice, no one ever comes up here.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know there was somewhere as peaceful as this in Hawkins. Thought chaos came with the territory.” 

“You can say that again. I mean, even before the whole Upside Down shit, this place was hardly paradise.” Eddie tries to pry the toy from Audrey’s grasp unsuccessfully, stubborn fingers remaining firmly wrapped around the rattle.

Popping open the lid, you grab out a strawberry and pop it into your mouth. Without Robin’s insistence, you wouldn’t ever have fresh fruit in the house. So the sensation of sweet tanginess on your tastebuds is an indulgence you rarely grant yourself. 

“Can I ask…” You pause, choosing your next words carefully. The topic of Eddie’s family history had never come up, but something compels you to dig regardless. “You said ‘when things sucked at home’, what was that usually about?”

Eddie scoffs, averting his gaze to the horizon for a beat.

“Most of the time it’d be when my dad came back. He was in and out of jail a lot, usually petty stuff getting him locked up for a year or so at a time. There’d be a month or two in between - before he went and did something else stupid - where he’d come back. Trying to make amends and all that shit. And it just-” His nose scrunches up at the thought. “- it just kills you after a while. All these empty promises and nothing to show for it. I had Wayne, so as far as I was concerned, I didn’t need him. So I’d book it as soon as I heard his car pull up in the driveway.”

His honesty hangs in the air, dense with suppressed emotion.

“I’m sorry about that, Eddie.” 

Shaking his head, he distracts himself by wiping the drool from Audrey’s chin.

“It’s fine. I think the worst thing is the aftermath. Like, once the grenade went off there was still shrapnel everywhere. People around town knew what kind of guy my dad was, so it was easy for them to make assumptions about me, too. Call me a screw-up, just like him. For a while, I just went with it. Y’know, if no one expected anything from me, I might as well live up to the Munson name.”

Your gaze doesn’t break from him, patiently giving him the time he needs without rush or pressure. Holding the space for him until he feels ready to continue.

“But then, uh- last year happened. The whole thing with Chrissy-” His chest rises with a sharp intake of breath. “- and it felt like I was back to square one. That’s not the kind of thing you can shake easily.”

“You know the truth, Eddie, and that’s what's important.”

“Yeah.” He replies, a hint of sadness to his tone. “I wish it were that simple. I don’t think there’s anything I could do to change what the people in this town think of me. It just follows me everywhere. Sometimes, I think- I dunno…”

“You think what?”

Eddie takes a moment to sip from his soda can, mindlessly drumming his rings against the metal can.

“I think it’d just be easier to go.”

“Like, move away?”

“Yeah. Y’know, a fresh start, all that shit. Somewhere where people don’t know my name, try to, like, make something of myself.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Your stomach feels heavy, awaiting his answer. He deserves that, a clean slate away from all the rumors and assumptions. But selfishly, you’re not sure if you could handle that.

The cogs are turning in Eddie’s head, willing away the truth mindlessly spilling from his lips. Emotional availability doesn’t come easily for him, and you hope you haven’t pushed him too far.

“You want an honest answer?”

“Of course.”

Eddie discards his drink to the side, taking to fidgeting with the cotton dress Audrey is wearing. The silence feels eternal, you’re hanging onto his every word. The breeze feels more pronounced against your skin, pollen dancing through the air creating an all-too nostalgic atmosphere of spring’s past.

“Because of you.” Gaze finally meeting yours, the chocolate brown of his eyes swimming in vulnerability. His lips purse together, likely chewing on the tender flesh of his mouth to quell his feeling of total exposure. “I uh- I remember when I was walking back home, the night it all happened. And I felt- fuck, like my life was over. Done for. There was nothing to go back to, anyway. I had no idea what to do with myself, I couldn’t bring myself to the trailer yet. And then I came to see you and you- you were so broken.”

A mistrusted exhale brings a swelling of unwanted tears to your eyes, wishing them away immediately. But the visceral reminder of that night transports you back instantly, scabbed over wounds suddenly bursting open with fresh pain.

“So, I just thought, ‘right, if you can’t be strong for yourself, be strong for her’. So I did, or I tried to. I sort of went on autopilot for a while, and I knew I should have felt grateful for what Hopper did, but it just felt like so much nothing. It didn’t fix anything, I just… And then I went into Family Video that day, and that’s when I found out about Squid. And, shit- it’s hard to explain, but it just felt like hope, y’know? Like something beautiful to come out of this shitstorm. And I just felt like- like I needed to protect that. I didn’t want to lose that feeling. I couldn’t…”

At this point, you’re making no effort to conceal the steady stream of tears cascading down your cheeks. All you can bring yourself to do is to shuffle in a little bit closer to him. 

“Eddie…” Your voice is barely more than a whisper.

“You know how I hate you thanking me for shit? Yeah, it’s not because I feel like I’m doing you a huge favor or something. It’s because I should be the one thanking you. For a while, I felt like I was gonna spiral out of control. Like all the gravity had disappeared and I was just going to spin into oblivion. But you- you kind of gave me a purpose again, in a weird way. Just a reason to get up every morning and do better than the day before. For you, and for this little hellraiser.”

Eddie’s composure is wavering, but far stronger than your veil which has begun pooling around your ankles.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is- is that I get what it feels like. To just feel totally fucking alone, like it’s you against the world.” Eddie chuckles, remembering how it literally was him against the world in the Upside Down. “And I’m just grateful that you’d want me to be in your life, Squid’s, too. So, yeah. Safe to say, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here as long as you’re willing to have me.”

He shoots you a sheepish smile before brushing a stray hair off Audrey’s forehead. The pads of his fingertips dancing across her skin while she tries to fit the entire toy into her greedy mouth.

It’s as if someone has switched off the world. Like a child digging beneath their doll’s clothing for the on/off button, rendering time in a complete pause. The distant noise of cars and bustling life dulls, muffled by the glass casing delicately placed down around the picnic rug. Three tiny bugs encapsulated under a perfectly sized dome, nothing else existing beyond the parameters of their new world.  A fragile environment, maintained only by its inhabitants. So delicate.

Your limbs gravitate towards Eddie before your brain has the chance to catch up. Driven by sheer desire for closeness, to extend comfort to the man beside you, hard exterior all but dissolved. Quivering fingers find his cheek, prickly with day-old stubble. Your thumb caresses the rough surface, so warm. So comforting. 

“You care about us that much?” It comes out as a sigh, heart pumping blood through your veins in double time. 

Eddie stills, the tendon in his jaw clenching as he chokes back the cascade of emotions threatening to erupt. His palm snaked its way across your hand on his cheek, clasping it before pressing it to his lips.

“I care about you so fucking much.” He mumbles against your skin.

Seven words spoken so softly, yet they silence your whole universe. Perhaps you should say something in return. Utter his two least favorite words, barely grazing the surface of your gratitude, your loyalty. But no sentence could hold enough weight to articulate how you feel about him right now. It’s beyond vocalization, any attempt would be completely unjust in doing service to this man. What exists between the pair of you is intrinsic in nature, a harmonious dance of understanding. Care beyond anything you’ve experienced. Dare you say, even more than you experienced with Steve. It’s scary, completely disarming. Vulnerability at the forefront of your heart, with no threat of a piercing blow. Open. Unguarded. Instead, you press your forehead to Eddie’s and allow the dam to run dry. Filled to the brim with affection, it needs to be purged. It demands to be felt, as terrifying as it may be. Hot tears fall heavily, half a dozen making themselves known before Eddie’s thumb meets your tear troughs with a delicate brush. The two of you remain wordless, Audrey still babbling contendly in Eddie’s lap. He holds you. You hold him. And that’s enough.

“Can I…” Eddie’s voice is meek, lowly held in the base of his throat. Uncertain. Eyes locking with his, your walls completely drop as you coerce the remainder of his sentence out. “... can I kiss you?”

A small nod of your head is all it takes. The minute distance between you is closed with a ghosting of breath dancing across your lips. It’s deliberate, how his lips consume yours with total tenderness, a complete absence of the unadulterated neediness of your last embrace. Slow. Direct. Subconsciously held muscles in your shoulder relax as you sink into the rosy sanctuary, fingers brushing their way to the nape of his neck. The sugary-sweet soda still lingers on his supple lips, the taste making itself known on your tongue as it finds its way through your parted mouth. The tip of your tongue brushes against his nerve endings, his hand finding its way to your waist with earnestness. Yet another exposing layer is shed with this new contact. You know your body is not the same as it used to be. Firm skin and taut muscles softened and stretched to make way for a growing baby, a shell of its former self. An area of insecurity, now being explored in the most intimate of ways. Eddie’s fingers press into the fabric of your dress, kneading the soft skin beneath. Without judgment, as if every inch of your body is sheer perfection. Designed to be discovered and worshiped. The sigh choking up in your throat is indecipherable, a manifestation of your physical refuge. Eddie tugs you closer, thumb caressing the seam of your dress comfortingly. And it’s so much more than enough. 

Would it be too much to ask to remain here forever? To indulge in the luxury of his lips eternally?

Audrey thinks not. Fed up with the lack of attention, she hurls the rattle across the length of the rug with Herculean strength, the clattering enough to pull you back to reality. Breaking apart, your faces remain an inch from one another, a smile playing on each of your lips. Collectively, you erupt in a fit of laughter at your daughter’s antics, glancing down at her. Greedily, Eddie steals one more kiss from the corner of your mouth before hoisting Audrey up to eye level.

“Sorry, little Miss. Didn’t mean to leave you out.” He pulls her in and lands a few firm kisses on her plush cheek, satiating her. “Now, how do you feel about Uncle Dustin keeping you company next week so your mom and I can spend some alone time together? Maybe hit up a bar or something- adults only, I’m afraid. It’s nothing personal, I promise.”

Brows furrowing together, you try to play off the giddy smile announcing itself on the corners of your lips. “You mean… like a date?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s attention turns back to you, repositioning Audrey comfortably in his lap. “But, like- no pressure, of course. Only if- if you wanted to.”

It’s adorable, how he can parkour so quickly between confidence and total shyness, the latter now taking over. 

“Yeah, I do.”

“Cool.” Eddie feigns being sly, but is clearly about to burst at the seams with excitement. “It’s a date.”

[janicho88]

When It All Falls Apart -Chapter 2

Pairing- Jensen x Padalecki Reader

Word count- 2,096

Warnings-Pregnancy talk (Will last a good chunk of the story) But it's not the reader. If I missed something let me know!

A/N-A little off canon, SPN ended after 10 years. We still got all the characters in during that time though. Possilbe language. Jensen isn't the best boyfriend. Thank you to @writercole and @leigh70 for your help with this. You two are amazing!!

Summary-Y/N Padalecki loved acting on Supernatural.  Working alongside your older brother and your boyfriend, but after ten seasons the guys have chosen to hang up the guns.  Now the three of you are moving on to other projects, but that’s all that needs to change right?  While you have moved to Austin to be closer to your family and boyfriend, Jensen is working elsewhere.  Distance is only the start of your troubles.

Series Masterlist

The next morning you splash some cold water on your face to try and hide your puffy eyes from crying last night. Applying light makeup you deem yourself ready to go downstairs.

Tom is in the kitchen playing with his cereal when you enter, Gen and her mom are chatting at the table.

“Morning,” you greet them all.

“Hi Aunt Y/N, want some charms?”

“Thanks Tom, but you can have those charms all to yourself,” you pat his head as you walk past.  

He puts the spoonful of Lucky Charms he offered you into his mouth instead.  You grab a glass from the cupboard and the orange juice from the fridge, after pouring yourself a glass you sit down next to your nephew.  

“There are some cinnamon rolls mom made in the microwave if you’d like one,” Gen tells you.

“Okay, I’ll grab one in a minute.  Thank you.”

You get up a few minutes later to get one, and it just melts in your mouth.  “Camille, these are amazing.”

“Thank you sweety.”

After breakfast, you follow Tom outside to the swingset.  When he’s done with you pushing him, you check your phone, but don’t have any new notifications. Later that morning you realize you need some things you left over at Jensen’s house.

“I’m going to head over to the house, I need to grab some dress clothes for a meeting tomorrow.  I won’t be gone too long,” you explain to Gen before leaving.

On the short drive over you dial Jensen, hoping he’ll answer.  You don’t think he has to film today. On the fourth ring he finally does.

“Hey Y/N,” he greets you.

“Hey honey, how are you?”

“I’m fine.  Karl and I just pulled into the golf course, I gotta go.  Talk to you later.”

“Oh, okay.”  He already hung up before you could even get that out.

Pulling in the drive, you enter the code for the gate before pulling up to the front door.  You check on the outdoor plants, water what needs it.  Entering the house, you take care of the two indoor plants that are there.  On the way to the bedroom, you start looking around the house.  

Jensen bought this house two years before you started dating, back when you were just friends. You have stayed here many times when you came to see him, before you moved in with him about nine months ago, back in October.  Before that, you had an apartment in L.A., he would stay there when he came out to visit.  You both had your own apartments in Vancouver before you moved into his for the tenth and final season of Supernatural. Sharing one home all the time, was still new to both of you.

This place just seems to scream Jensen, there aren’t many of your things around.  You sold your furniture before moving, and the pictures you brought are still sitting in a guest room upstairs.  He has his own decor on the walls, when he was still here it was too early to ask about putting some of your things up.  Now he isn't around to ask.  Maybe that is part of the reason you don’t like staying here alone.  It doesn’t feel like your place, you just feel like a guest still. 

In the master bedroom you walk into the closet to find the clothes you are looking for.  Back in the main bedroom, there are a few things of yours around, mostly on your dresser and nightstand.  You slowly make your way back through the house.  In the living room you look through the pictures displayed on the wall, only finding two with you.  And one of them is a group shot from set.  There are pictures of Jensen and his family, other friends, and you're pretty sure that one might be with an ex. You doubt he hung all these frames someone else probably did it for him, but would it kill him to change up the photos inside.

Making your way to the living room, the blanket the two of you used to curl up on the couch with during those cooler January nights was haphazardly tossed over the back.  The case for the last DVD you watched, This Means War, is laying in front of the television. You don’t even realize you are sitting down on the couch now.  

Back at the start of January, before he left for Chicago things between you and Jensen had been great.  Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for the last five months.  You start going over in your head trying to figure out when things began to unravel. 

Conversations or lack thereof replay, you scroll through the messages between you both.  Before you know it, you are lost in your thoughts. A ringing sound draws you out of them.  It takes a second before you realize it is the doorbell.  Looking through the peephole, you see Gen and Jared standing on the other side. 

“Is something wrong?  What are you two doing here?” you question as you quickly open the door.

“That’s what we were going to ask you,” Jared responds.

“I just came to get some clothes for a meeting,” you tell him.

“Y/N, honey, you left the house over three hours ago,” Gen informs you.

“No, it hasn’t been that long.  It hasn’t even been an hour” you look at your watch to check the time.  Sure enough you’ve been gone much longer than you thought.  Did you really just spend hours sitting on the couch, and not even realize it?

“What’s going on?” Gen carefully asks.

“Nothing.”

“Bull,” your brother calls you out.

“I’m just stressed and overthinking things.  It's nothing.”

“I’ve known you your whole life, and spent a lot of time with you the last five years.  It’s more than that,” Jared pushes.  

“I guess I’m just not sure I’m that important anymore.  Out of sight out of mind, ya know?”

“What are you talking about?” Gen looks a little confused.

“Jensen and I used to see each other all the time.  We worked together for the last five seasons, our apartments were in the same building.  I spent time here on breaks, he spent time in L.A.  We talked everyday and texted multiple times when we weren’t together.”

“Yeah, I know, it was almost sickening watching how goo goo you two are for each other,” Jared says, faking a gag.

You roll your eyes at your brother’s behavior. “We started off that way when he went to film in Chicago.  He was busy, I was busy filming here, our off days never seemed to match up so we could meet up,” you pause.  “Now, it’s like he never has time or doesn’t want to talk to me.  He barely responds to my texts, and they are short answers if he does.  He doesn’t call me, I have to call him.  When I do, there’s maybe a twenty percent chance he answers.  I called on my way over today.  He answered to tell me he can’t talk, said we’ll talk later.  I bet you ten bucks, he won’t call me back.”

You take a deep breath before continuing.  “I see Instagram posts of him out with his castmates,  he’s especially close to Karen and Claudia in many of them.”

“Are you saying he’s cheating?  He can’t be.  I will fly up there and kick his ass.” Your brother practically growls out as he starts to stand up.  Gen reaches up and pulls him back down.

“No, I don’t think he’d do that.  But maybe I’m not meant to be in his life as a girlfriend anymore.  Maybe someone like them would fit in better.”

“Ackles is nuts about you, he wouldn’t want anyone else.  There has to be another reason you’re thinking this.”

Gen turns to her husband, “Jared, give me your phone.”  She holds out her hand and waits until he passes it over.  “Now take the car and go home, we’ll be back soon.”

“I’m not leaving, I want to…”

“Jare, I love you, but you’re too involved here.  One minute you’re going to beat up Jensen because you think he did something, the next you’re telling Y/N she’s wrong for thinking something.  It’s your best friend and little sister, you’re too close to this.  Please go home.”

She stares him down until he finally walks out the door, then she turns to you.  “I will say, I do agree with Jared, that Jensen is absolutely crazy about you.”

“Used to be,” you interrupt her. 

“I think there is a good chance he still is, but it sounds like his head isn’t on right at the moment.  It’s up to you to figure out if you can stay in a relationship like that.  Is it just a bump, is it fixable, or time to move on.”

“Honestly, I don’t know that we have much of a relationship right now.  I feel like I’m just bothering him by calling or texting, and that’s why he doesn’t respond.  I think we might have lasted as long as we did because I was around, he didn’t have to go find someone else to keep him company.  Even when Supernatural wrapped last year, and I hadn’t moved to Texas yet, we talked and saw each other more than we do now.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, and it’s not fair for you.  The Netflix show is wrapping this week isn’t it, you’ll have some free time until Walker starts.  Maybe you could go up to see him for a week or two?  Are you going to the convention next weekend?  Maybe you two could try and talk then?  Long distance really can suck, but I have faith you two will work through it.”

“I could see if he’d be up for me coming to visit for a bit.  Yeah, for the convention, I’m supposed to be there Friday through Sunday.  I know Jared has things Saturday and Sunday, I would think Jensen does too.”

“Before you make any rash decisions on your future, see how the convention goes.”

“Okay.” 

She gives you a hug and the two of you lock up the house before walking out to your car to drive back to their house.   Jared is waiting in the living room when you arrive, but Gen interferes before he can reach you, and drags him to the other room. 

Before going to bed that night, Gen pokes her head in your room.  “Did you get that call?”

“You mean one from Jay?  No, but I didn’t figure he would.”

“I’m sorry.  I hope next weekend helps things turn around.”

“Thanks, me too.”

Before going off to bed you send him a text:

Hope the round of golf went well.  Hope you have a good day on set tmr.  Love you

Waking up Monday, you had actually had a text waiting for you,

“It did, thanks.  Hope you have a great one too. <3

At least it was something.

The week goes by pretty quick, you don’t hear from Jensen unless you reach out first.  Even then it’s not a guarantee you’ll get a reply.  But you notice from the photos circling online he seems to find time to go out with his new friends. 

Gen’s parents head back home on Tuesday, Tom is a little down having his grandparents leave.  You do your best to cheer him up when you get back from set.  Nothing does much good, until Jared promises they can take a trip up to see them in the next few months.

Filming for the Netflix show finishes on Wednesday, there is a wrap party Thursday evening.  You attend by yourself for a few hours. Jared offered to come, but you didn’t want to take him away from his family when he would be gone most of the weekend. The cast from the show was nice, you just didn’t get as close to them as you were your Supernatural family.  Most likely because it was only a little over three months compared to the 10 year run Supernatural had. 

Back at your brother’s, you change out of your dress into sweats, then throw a few more things into your open suitcase on the bed.  You double check your luggage making sure you now have everything for the weekend.  Putting your laptop bag and purse with the suitcase by the front door you head up to bed to get some sleep before you fly out to Chicago in the morning.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 3

SPNForevers- @winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie @deanwanddamons  @emoryhemsworth  @atc74 @sandlee44 @akshi8278  @fantasydevil2002 @writercole​ @440mxs-wife   @nervousfandom @lunarmoon8 @thoughts-and-funnies @downanddirtydean @katelyn--renee​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @lyarr24​ @pineapleavocado​ @siospins2​ ​ @ariesbabe1993​  @graciebear73  @stixnstripesworld​ @spnbaby-67​  @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​ @charmed-asylum​ @winchestergirl2​ @hobby27​  @amyzombie1013​  @sexyvixen7​ @leigh70 @krazykelly @nancymcl @candy-coated-misery0731

WIAFA Masterlist

@woodworthti666 @spnfamily-j2 @stoneyggirl2 @creative-writing92 @kaz11283

[soranihimawari]

Promises on a Playground

Pairing: timeskip!ushiwaka x f!Olympian reader

Word count: 3.1+K

Warnings: none (?) an allusion to morning after

Rating: UWF (ushijima wakatoshi fluff)// sfw

Ushijima Wakatoshi, power server and ace canon of team Japan is seen at a bar in the middle of a club centric zone. It’s later than he thinks especially with the rest of the Adlers behind him. Tonight everyone in their roster is celebrating the redrafting of their teammates to the 2024 Olympic Games in Europe. Coincidentally, since his wrist accident during the off season happened early last year, this might be his second or third Olympics before officially playing a farewell season. He’s not getting any younger and his mother, bless Ushijima-sama, is praying he soon finds a person he loves just as fiercely as the sport he loves.

The club is hosting a private jazz lounge area so everyone can mingle with each other. Various players from the MSBY, Saõ Paulo, and even a few EJP Rajins are there too. All of them came back to celebrate their return to their national teams. All except Oikawa who is taking break considering he has his first child due any day now according to his private lifestyle socials media accounts. Iwazumi mentions he’ll be missing a few practices, but his best friend had named him godfather, so he’ll be in Argentina hoping to be the first to greet the his friend’s child before anyone else does. Upon hearing the news about how his old rival, nowadays isa soon to be parent, makes Japan’s canon a little, well, lonely.

Swirling the rocks glass in front of him, Ushijima thinks back about the random elementary school kid he hung out with at the jungle gym when he was nine just about to be ten. He takes a mighty sip, brandishing off the whiskey neat before ordering another one from the bartender wandering around the room. For whatever reason, he recalls his mother and granny asking the babysitter for his new friend’s phone number back then. His mother mentioned how shy and intimidating her son can be and the baby sitter introduces herself as a relative to the pair of older women.

“I’m yn’s aunt,” ushijima’s ears are sharp enough to hear that as his eyes look at you; you who dressed in overalls like him with light lilac puffy sleeves and even light sapphire hair talks about castles in the sky.

“Yn? How pretty,” Ushijima’s mother hums, eyes aglow when she notices her son curiously make a face at the chatter box you are.

You’re laying down cloud watching and before ushijima knows it, you entourage him to lay back and he watches them too. For a ten year old reserved child like him, the fact that you hold his hand like any best friend would, made his heart beat a bit quicker. So, after you’re called by your aunt to say your good-byes.

“I have to go,” you pout as he helps you sit up. A younger version of him just blinks as he feels this impending sadness in his chest--you were his first friend outside of his school; one where the classmates treated him as 'other' because of which hand was the most dominant, yet he didn't care what they called him behind his back then. You were a brilliant source of comfort for the last forty-minutes or so when you struck up a conversation with him at the top of the jungle gym. Your imagination made him a captain of a space cruier who on a whim, you choose to follow until you make it back to earth after a series of tag games. It's why you were on your back earlier, changing subjects about wondering if he'll be back tomorrow. Ushijima, the little kid he was back then, didn't know if he'd be back, so he just shrugs, unsure how to answer that.

“Wakatoshi! It’s getting dark, we should go too.”

“Mmhm,” he frowns. “Me too.”

You stand up when he orders his hand to help you up off the playground tarp.

“Y'know, it's ok if you're not here tomorrow Waka-kun." You hold his hand and give it a firm shake. Before you do truly part ways, you loop a pinky of yours around his. Looking dead straight in those childlike emerald stones of irses he had inherited, you raise your linked hands to each other's faces. "Meet me here when we’re in high school?” your odd request is met with a small sheepish smile.

“Five years from now?” he seems surprised.

“Yup! I’m sure you’ll be popular toshi-kun,” you had a slight smirk, giving his pinky a fateful squeeze before dropping it. “Don’t forget!”

A young Ushijima nods as you take off to the bench where your aunt was waiting before waving goodbye. His heart beat out of rhythm before he walked to his mom.

“Yn-chan is nice, hmm?”

“I guess,” her stoic son has a pout in his voice.

Mother holds her son's hand as they walk in the opposite direction where you and your aunt fade in the distance behind a neighboring street corner.

"Hey mom?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we come back tomorrow?"

"Sure. After your team practice is over, yeah?"

At this, Ushijima-sama looks at her boy who now has this cheeky grin tugging on his usually stoic straight lips as she just shakes her head in amusement.

It takes a few years of development and many Valentines confessions to realize Ushijima Wakatoshi had an after school playground crush on the elusive YLN,YN. Satori, one night in the dorms, bothers his fellow teammate to share former firsts—believe it or not your name is all ushijima can remember. Oh, and the fact you made him make a foolish promise of meeting at the same park now in the future was in fact an empty one. Although, one day right after graduation, Ushijima is hanging out with his new setter in the locker room for an extra practice. There is a tv with the news channels on with live coverage of the Sochi Winter Olympics that year. Lo and behold, you were a flag bearer for your home country with a summer sport under your name: Silver Medalist, WOMEN’S GYMNASTICS, 2016. You made the Olympic team before he and Kageyama did—you were one of the youngest to participate according to the announcers and god help Eros because Ushijima nearly lost his focus at extra practice that day. He almost didn’t return any of Kageyama’s servers.

Imagine how surprised you are as you’re invited by an old friend in the JVA to attend this gathering. You’re officially a three time medalist in individual rounds and even a two time gold medalist in team routines. Anyone who is an avid follower of your career record talks about you with pride in their smile. Well, it did help that your aunt was also your coach, but it also helped that for a while there, Karasuno also had an underground strong gymnastics team. No one ever heard about it until very recently when you named the high school and university you attended on invitational scholarship. Regardless, you greet Hinata who calls your name after you grab a champagne flute. You mingle your way over saying hi to everyone who stops you, saying your thanks and/or congrats to those who made the team. Again.

Hinata side hugs you, and you have hug a tipsy Kageyama, who leans on his former partner. Though they both blush at you greeting them, they also extend elated words you’re joining them in Europe for your respective sport. This time though, due to your physical therapy for a torn ACL right before World Championships, you are elected to be vice coach and spotter this term. You’re a little down, sure, but you wear it well as Kageyama saunters off to find the restrooms to relieve himself. Hinata says to follow him while he introduces you to the roster of players he’ll be reuniting with. Some you knew from coming to MSBY and Adler games, others you recognize from prior games like Aran-kun and Suna Rintaro. Names you wouldn't have recognized until it was Hinata who name dropped a few of them on your video calls when he was resigned to returning to Sao Paolo.

The last of these 'gentle monsters' as you tease them in saying is someone reminiscent of a child you made watch the clouds with you in your youth. Strength hidden underneath his semi formal wear sans sports coat, the young contemporary icon stifles a breath as you are introduced to each other again. This time, though, Hinata is called away by his former MSBY teammates thus leaving you and Ushijima to your own devices. For him, time slows as the small circle you’re surrounded by grows smaller. Soon enough, it was just you and him, filling each other with stories of growing up miles from each other, not even realizing you were rivals in volleyball come your high school years. Ushijima hums when you bring about that stunning block from a sarcastic kouhai back then, mentioning the city where that first year went on to play for an upcoming division one team. He tells you it’s old news especially when he sees how dedicated the others were to their craft. You and him reach for some hor d’oeuvres as the trays came around again.

“You never came back to the park where we met, Wakatoshi,” you say as you slide a few more mushrooms into your mouth. You swirl what’s left of your third sangria glad that night before downing it.

Ushijima is bewildered at your admission. Honestly, he forgot—he was ten! So were you, but friends don’t break promises no matter how old they are. You stifle a laugh as he blinks surprised by how sharp your memory is.

“I had a game, or was at practice…”

You nod. You too couldn't have made it every day for three years because you had practice to attend too, yet rain, snow, or sunshine didn't stop you. If you tell him that perhaps you might shoot your shot as Tsukishima would say. Hell, even when you texted the rest of your third years from Karasuno when you were invited to attend, Sugawara had the audacity to encourage you in attending. They all knew about the elusive kid you met in the summer right before you had started grade six: even they were surprised he turned out to be the captain of the powerhouse school who had been crazy enough to challenge Hinata Shoyo, 'from the concrete', once. You let that text memory die in the back of your mind while you went with the first option: guilt Ushijima Wakatoshi into liking your company like you were ten again. Fun fact: you didn't need to do that; he was already thinking of ways to get you to talk to himi long before you were standing side by side after you were reintroduced to each other.

“I spent three years, every summer break, curious about the kid I met back then. Kind and warm, like the fall breeze by the beach. Had an air of coolness from what i could tell too.”

You side eye him as he’s processing this information, what you seemed to have implied on yourself, turning on your heel after bidding him good night. Sauntering off, you find a few more familiar faces since you got the closure you didn’t know you wanted, but alas with your back to a different table this time, you’re approached by Ushijima. He’s a bit, intoxicated, you can tell by the way an alcohol blush tints his cheeks. The glass he had earlier was finished and replaced with another which was almost done by the time he walked over.

This was all thanks to Kageyama’s influence, after all the young setter went off on a hyper focused rant about how learning to love and earn love back helped his current relationship. Even if it was currently long distance. Flights from Italy to Brazil aren't really that cheap, yet for love of the sport and the man, Kageyama explains he makes it work. He has to because, according to the stubborn blueberry man, "love takes time to build, so seize the opportunity to love someone."

It was weird hearing this from his former Adler’s teammate, yet it makes sense as his eyes never wavered far from where you were talking-or was it flirting?-with other members of team Japan. Like how Miya Atsumu's eyes you when he hugs you with the widest grin on his face; or when Suna Rintaro chuckles as you see pictures of his baby nephews throw snowballs on a rice field in his hometown, drives Ushijima to give off Sakusa level warnings of backing off when he sees you interact with them.

Does it help that Ushijima felt a little jealous? No, why would it? You're laughing as Hinata sees the replay of Suna's nephews fight over Vabo-chan during the holidays last year as Ushijima walks over.

"Your nephews are so violent, but," you pause, handing the phone back to the middle blocker. "They do take after you and your bother, huh Miya?"

"Yeah, but 'Samu's kids are little terrors, but absolute angels when ya meet 'em," the blond says. Something about the way he sort of looks away from your face makes you wonder why you have this sneaking suspicion someone taller and more menacing than a house cat is lurking behind you. You shrug as Hinata glances over at the other two players across from where you stand and you can tell they are thinking of an easy way out of this conversation at this table as the jazz musicians take a break for a little while because right now, you feel a hand sneak it’s way around your waist.

"We're going to head back to the bar for some refills," Suna says taking your glass away from your hands. Your eyes watch Miya and Hinata scurry off before Suna gives a friendly, yet cold, warning look to the man who's standing like a guard dog behind you. Yellow-green eyes do not cower in front of the statuesque player who may or may not have been the reason you were still not seeing anyone as of late. (Suna means well, you know this as he was the first athlete in the off season to hang out with you regularly when you realize you went to the same all around gym by the EJP stadium. He's close enough to be family at this point, but young enough to know platonic love is the lane he needed to be in at this point in your life).

“Had enough?” you inquire as the others whom you were talking to waited for other beverages to be made. The perfume his designer had let him try gives of a scent of light cinnamon and earthy notes; it is faint on him, but to you when you lean back, it's a scent of comfort. It doesn't take a genius to see the comfortability around each other; it's enough that if the tabloids were here your 'snuggling' would break Twitter and the Adler's official accounts. That's a story for another time.

“Not yet,” his voice is rough, like he’s exhausted, but the way he says it as he pulls your hips back toward him, you almost choke on your own spit. Suggestive under the influence or not, you're not going to oppose if he invites you for a latenight hook-up; you're both grown enough to recognize this flirtatious dancing needs to come to a head.

However, the second Ushijima rests his head atop yours a moment savoring how you feel in front of him like this, is the few seconds it takes for you to relax further by reaching up and caressing his face. A sense of comfortability and spring like warmth spreads from soul outward. Your hand retracts just as he's about to lean into your palm, a pointed, peeved brow greets your peripheral as you rest the same hand on his arm. You're trying not to tease him further, but you do so in the most subtle of ways and it's driving him mad.

Perhaps you feel it too, judging by how his answer amplifies your rouge makeup, and so you lean more against his side like an old friend with the potential to become more. His lips were so close to the corner where yours began and if he caused you to turn just a little more toward him, Ushijima Wakatoshi would have unashamedly kiss you, publicly no less. Instead, you listen to how he breathes differently when you force him to sway with the band having returned to the small private clubroom stage. His voice begrundingly begging you to take the lead in carrying on whatever started here behind closed doors. And for what it’s worth, those that may have seen the exchange might have turned around would not believe how smitten the two of you are. 

"Y'mean to tell me I never had a chance?! Hinata," Atsumu squints at the blatant almost-couple across the other side of the bar. "Warn a guy before he flirts with Ushijima's lady."

"Oi! I didn't know they'd be like that 'Tsum!" Hinata whines. "But they do look happy, right?"

"Mm," Atsumu concurs by raising his refilled glass to where you are almost completely draped by the shoulders by Ushijima. "G'luck to 'em."

Meanwhile, after you had securely ducked under and over Ushijima's front side, you steadied him by holding his left arm on the side. He tilts his head down slightly to hear you clearer.

“We should head out,” you suggest. 

Your breath tickles the part of his upper arm where you lean against. You feel his chest rumble as you splayed a hand there to steady him when he nods apologizing for the drunken affection he’s giving. Not that you minded though. It’s not like you were waiting for almost a decade to see him this way, right?

Flash forward twenty-six minutes later and now you’re lip locked with this giant of a man who is and was still your first memory of a crush. This had started because once you kicked off your heels for the event, you glanced up at Ushijima standing there awkwardly in the foyer of his penthouse level hotel room: you choose to call out his name at first before taking his face in your hands and bringing him down to your level. Arms and hands from earlier grip the fabric of your outfit before you silently nod murmuring, "you can kiss me all you want here."

Now, Ushijima Wakatoshi, for all the years he's been visiting his father in the U.S., and from what his mother's dramas taught him about kissing has nothing compared to what kissing you had felt like. Nothing comes close to how his breathing is shallower the further you let him go without oxygen; the way one of your arms loop across his shoulder and the other with a gentle hand scratching his scalp the more you melt into him. You are like sunshine now and when you grant him reprieve from your kisses and those eyes that bewitched him stare back, sort of lackadaisical in a kiss drunk state.

"Been wanting to do that ever since you walked in," his voice has your back arch while he adjusts his hold. His nose nudges your cheek before acutely nipping the fat of your cheek there. You stutter forward perplexed by his quite frank neediness. Your hips almost touch, and when you feel Ushijima's soft chuckle against your ear he gives you a word of advice. "Patience."

Minutes later, Ushijima has you raised on the dresser in his hotel room, half undressed as your hands have undone several of his buttons. This time, he kisses you with a sense of urgency; his heart is suddenly picking up pace as is yours the further you sigh out his name when he marks your skin with his teeth and suckling lips. The dresser moves as you try to follow his eagerness to have you-all of you. His hands, feeling hotter than ever before, he uses one to support your back, whereas the other slips under your thigh and drags you forward with such a start, you moan his name into his mouth. He looks wide-eyed at you, not caring how you sort of have this embarrassed smile on him.

"Don't stop saying it," he snarls into your mouth. The dresser softly bangs back against the wall.

"Wakatoshi!" you whisper yell and you shake your head at how content he laughs into your neck.

"Hmm?" he kisses your collarbone.

"Gently this time," you instruct him. Ushijima acknowledges your advice, yet he's thoroughly thinking of other noises your voice can do

However, you choose to focus on something else: like how you got here to this point as you're given a chance to catch your breath. Almost half dressed by the man in your arms. It's not that you care about what you thought earlier that day when Hinata and Kageyama sent you texts inviting you out for drinks at the club; you just didn’t think this was the reconnection you needed to have with someone you met almost fifteen years ago when you were in primary school (you both were ten).

Not that any of that preemptive thoughts matter, not now anyways as you allow yourself to be loved by someone who is as strong to stand by you–lords of fate above, the truth you share as Ushijima rolls his shirt off his body. You can't help but stare unabashaedly at him, tanned through the years, sweet eyes boring into yours as you whisper where the zipper is on the side of your attire.

"Are you sure?" Ushijima's mighty hands find the hook-and-eye attachment on the zipper track. Your hand closest to where his is rests atop his wrist.

"If you think I'm going to hit and run on you," you help him drag down the zipper. "You don't know me at all."

Your clothes slide off as easily as the rest of his does. Though now you're both in less clothing as you let him continue showing his appreciation in having you wait for such a long time. It's not either of your first times in bed with another person, yet you know you'd have to be impervius of affection if you think with the way he cares for you afterwards is nothing less than a princely pauper's care is something out of a fairytale.

Ushijima settles in bed beside you as you wear an old traveling shirt of his after cleaning up.

"I take it we're together now, huh?" you are so cheeky as he rolls his eyes at you.

"I suppose it depends, yn," he replies.

"On what?"

"Whether or not you want to join me for breakfast tomorrow."

You nod enthused by his subtlety. A few moments pass by and as you begin to give sleep a chance, Ushijima pulls you closer to his shoulder, an arm of his cradles your head steady against him. Sobriety at this time of night makes him thank his stars you're here, asleep next to him. You shift in your sleep a couple minutes later and he hears you, murmuring a quiet, 'don't forget me' which if he was being honest with himself, he would have woken you up with an incredulous look of 'how did I?'

Come four in the morning, you're jostled awake by the remembrance of this not being your hotel room. You are able to recall meeting Hinata and Kageyama at the club; seeing and possibly reconnecting in more ways than one with Ushijima Wakatoshi, who is asleep behind you now. You're wearing his shirt, you feel an ache between your thighs and you're suddenly dragging a hand over your face before a chortle escapes your lips. No wonder your aunt was so adamant about you not trying to settle down until after your final Olympic Games after this one in Paris--you're going to have to sever the thought because of the man whom is now going to be keeping your bed warm will be the one you hope to settle with. Not because you both wanting to 'settle' no, because you two are learning how to keep a promise of love and friendship afloat. More so now the love had warped into one of a more romantic nature. You ponder this while tracing over his features with the calloued pads of your own hands from years of the gymnast powder used on them.

“You should go back to sleep, my heart,” his voice is even more gruff when you’re in a groggy mindset. He probably doesn't register what he said, but the moment he echoes what you said in your half-dreamlike state you lower yourself back whispering against his lips how you're not leaving him; you couldn't even if you tried. He seems to like that, smirking as he kisses your shoulder.

You chuckle turning over to face him now; slowly tracing his strong arms that wrap around your waist as they pull you closer to him like earlier. You readjust your body to lean against his sturdy self again just to press a kiss to the space between his eyebrows as he hums nudging his forehead against your own. Silently in this room just as your eyes flutter shut, you tell him how you can't wait for what tomorrow holds for either of you. For now, you both head back to sleep in the arms of the first real love you had found.

Perhaps now your younger selves all those years ago are laughing on the playground where a promise is fulfilled.

[dragonsongmakhali]

10 fandoms, 10 characters, 10 tags:

Basic rules: choose 10 fandoms that you are part of/support, and choose a favorite character from each of those. Then, tag ten folks!

Tagged by: @jigschosai @sealrock @reikatsukihana and @sasslett! Thank y'all :'D

This is not ordered by how much I'm into them, they're just in whatever order came to mind :) I will caution that I don't tend to choose favorite characters, I'm more of an OC maker. Feeling chatty, so I'm putting the actual list under a cut. You're welcome.

1. FFXIV : Pretty self-explanatory for the xiv sideblog. Since I'm not as in to the MSQ, I don't think I actually have a favorite character (which I know is illegal, I'm sorry :<). I really love seeing what the community does with the characters, though!

2. Halo : The storyline went to hell long ago, but I do still adore the original trilogy and constantly mine it for gpose captions. It was basically what I lived off of in high school. If I had a tumblr back then, I'd have been insufferable. Favorite character is easily Rtas 'Vadum.

3. WoW : Kind of. Asterisk. I really only know Classic, and even then, I'm way more Horde than I am Alliance. I have approximate knowledge of many things. No favorite there either - I'm all about the world and making OCs. We have two concurrent WoW tabletop games running at the moment, so this is where most of my headspace is. Their shared timeline is different from the canon, so I'm not really in the fandom per se.

4. Mass Effect : Alien dating sim, my beloved. I even enjoyed Andromeda (jump jets implemented perfectly, fun combat, the Jardaan reminded me of Forerunners). If you ask me to choose a favorite, I'll cry. How is a mother supposed to choose between her two sons (Legion and Grunt)? Drack also gets an honorary mention for his 100s of low res pictures of guns email.

5. Elder Scrolls : Mostly Skyrim, some Oblivion. I know, I'm one of those fans. Anyway, I've probably played over 1k hours of Skyrim by this point and yet. And yet! I don't have a favorite. The entirety of the Companions? I just wish that the faction questlines in Skyrim weren't "you killed 3 wolves and have been here a week. You lead us all now", but it does give me good scaffolding which. As an OC fiend. Grabby hands.

6. The World Ends With You : This game made me good at calculus in high school. My favorite character from here is Sho Minamimoto, and I was a completely normal teenager who dealt with that by doing calculus problems for fun. Turns out, the trick to get good at math is repetition.

7. Pokémon : Probably my earliest fandom. Still play the games now and again, just got Legends Arceus (super late, I know), and that's been a lot of fun. My favorite character from the franchise is Sinnoh's Rock type leader, Roark. I had a long-running sideblog dedicated to the Sinnoh region because gen IV is my favorite in general! It's inactive at the moment.

8. Guild Wars : 2, to be more precise. I started playing about a month after release, and since it's f2p, I still drop in from time to time. Like every MMO, I have no favorites. I really love playing Sylvari, though! (The glow!! The nightmare!! The [[Heart of Thorns spoiler!!]] They're just so neat)

9. Star Trek : we're now getting into "shows I watched and didn't hate" because I'm definitely not in the 'fandom' for Trek. We've been going through the old series as a way to wind down before bed, starting with TNG. We're on Enterprise now, and I'm sad that it got canceled. Still will probably have a better ending than Voyager. I don't have a favorite, but I can tell you that the writers' collective favorite must be either Seven of Nine or Data.

10. Uh. Various anime? I can't say I've recently loved any particular series to the point of fandom, but as a whole, I've been a weeb since I was in middle school. "Recent" series that I've enjoyed have included Mob Psycho and Love is War. Coincidentally, they both saved the most banger opening for their third season.

We had to stretch a little bit, but we made it to ten! Proud of this community (this community is my brain desperately trying to remember 10 things I like)

Have no idea who's been tagged in this, so if you've done this, please ignore! Or reblog it again!

@miqojak @airis-ray @wilanserulia @ahollowgrave @blackestnight @starstrider @iron-sparrow @sumifinalfourteen @jump-n-dive @otherworldseekers

[magicalqueennightmare]

Sins & Amends Chapter 37

(Gif by @ banditthewriter)

Billy Russo x Female Reader (60 part story)

This follows pre- the punisher into the storyline of daredevil, punisher season 1 and beyond

This is NOT Canon Billy. This is decent human being Billy left with bad options over worse decisions

This was also posted to A03 under: WaywardGaPeach. That account and this one is the only place you'll see me post this. If you see it on any other platform/account know it's not me.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: The city knows Frank's alive and heartbreaking realizations crash down on you and Frank

In the last day of your life Curtis had been seriously injured by Lewis and Frank framed as his partner. When your alarm clock went off you seriously started to call out. Chief Michelson would understand wouldn't he?

You pushed that thought away and climbed out of bed. You had a job to do. Hell Karen was going to interview Ori at the hotel he was holding his charity banquet at. The only thing giving you even slight piece of mind was knowing Anvil had been publicly hired as Ori's security. If his employees were half as good as Billy at that line of work she'd be safe.

You could manage to go into work. After the incident with Kayla you didn't think there would be a lot of slurs thrown your way but you did have to face Alice and her realizing you'd been hiding something so huge from her.

The only thoughts in your mind were about Frank and Karen. You hadn't spoken to Frank since he called to ask if you were ok. Micro wasn't even answering and well Curtis was very vague about what happened between Frank and Lewis so that left you to worry.

-----------------------

"Y/N Y/L/N" was screamed across the station house before you even managed to get completely inside. You winced at the tone in Alice's voice and felt every eye on you. She made it to your side and asked loudly "Did you know?" you took a deep breath then dropped your bag on the floor before climbing on top of the nearest chair.

Everyone was watching you by this time and you saw Chief Michelson coming out his office. You looked around before saying "No I did not know Frank was alive. That being said if any of you buy the bullshit the papers are selling about him being in cahoots with Wilson, you're full of more shit than any politician" 

"Y/N get down!" Jason said coming in behind you. When you climbed down he shook his head "We know Castle isn't a terrorist. Now go get ready for your shift" you glanced towards Chief Michelson who nodded. You didn't have to look to know Alice was following you to the locker room. 

The moment it was just the two of you she stepped close enough her chest was a breath away from yours. Her voice was barely a whisper it was so low "Y/N I'm not mad. I'm hurt. I would've kept Frank's secret. I know he's not who the media has made him to be. That being said, I'm here if you need me" you glanced around then started to say "Alice it's not like that" but she cut you off with a raised hand "I know you had your reasons. We're good babe" you smiled and pulled her into a hug allowing yourself a moment to breathe.

---------------------

It was around ten thirty when a call came in that made your blood run cold. The hotel had been attacked by Lewis. You threw a look Alice's way as the two of you ran out to the bay.

-------------

When you rolled onto scene squad cars were everywhere. Hell a uniform had to clear traffic for you to get through. 

You grabbed your bag as did Alice before both of you walked to the nearest cop. "Responding to a nine one one call?" He nodded then told both of you what floor and radioed your names up. The walk through the lobby you picked up "The punisher" and "Never would've thought" but not much more. So Frank happened. That must mean Karen was safe.

You knew you were fidgeting on the elevator even before Alice swatted your hand "We're medical professionals Y/N" you nodded then explained "Karen was interviewing Ori and Anvil was working security" "Oh shit" she breathed her eyes wide "Yeah" you replied with a sharp nod.

When you walked off the elevator none other than Madani was talking to Karen in the hallway. You breathed a sigh of relief at seeing her. You glanced back at Alice and nodded for her to go to the Senator while you gave Karen a once over. She nodded and waved at Karen before following the cop away. 

"Y/N" Karen greeted and you could see she was holding a lot back due to the company. You smiled at Madani  and said "Um Dinah if you don't mind she needs to be seen to before she gets questioned any further" 

"I'm through talking to her Y/N but I need to talk to you too. Not just about Frank" she leaned closer and added "Found out more about Rawlins and Cerberus. Your name came up" you had no idea what she meant and knew your face gave you away that once. "Take care of Karen. I'll find you" she said before walking away. You weren't sure if that was a promise or a threat. 

-------------------

After you cleared Karen of any serious injuries she gave you the basics of what she knew. It made your heart twist to see tears in her eyes. "Frank was hurt Y/N. He's going to need you" you knew her well enough to know what she was feeling without her giving voice to it so you simply nodded  "I know. As soon as I leave here I'll tell Alice it's an emergency. I have a few vacation days I'll cash in then go find him. You stay safe though ok?" She nodded and squeezed your hand "you too"

------------------

You managed to slip out the hotel without being cornered by Mahoney (who was apparently intent on questioning you about Frank still being alive from what Karen said) or Madani.

When you made it back to the ambulance and mentioned to Alice you needed to take off she gave you a long look then said "I'm supposed to pretend this doesn't have something to do with Frank right?"

You'd known Alice since you first got certified and knew to a certain point she wouldn't try to rat you out so you shrugged "I've got to do what I feel is right. That means as soon as we get back to the station I'm cashing in the week of vacation time I have and heading out" she nodded before you pulled out onto the road. You were almost back to the station before she said "Stay safe and stock up before you leave.. I'll mark it as having been used"

"Thank you" you told her with a smile and she nodded then squeezed your hand "Frank's your family. I've got your back"

----------------------

A part of you wondered what Madani meant about your name being mentioned in with Rawlins and Cerberus but your concern for Frank outweighed any and all curiosity.

---------------------

You headed home as soon as you left the station house. You knew Frank was hurt but you also knew you needed to transfer your supplies over to a crossbody bag. Just in case you had to move fast.

You had the bag packed and thought about it for a second before putting your gun in the top. You grabbed your jacket and ran out the door, locking it behind you.

It took you twice as long as usual to get to Micro's hideout. You didn't know how serious Madani and Mahoney were about talking to you and didn't put it past either to put a tail on you in hopes it would lead to Frank.

When you finally made it and walked through the door Micro jumped up from the screens then saw it was you "Y/N.. He isn't here" you nodded "I can see that. Mind if I stay until he gets here?" He ran his hand through his hair "Yeah sure"

-----------------

You must have dozed off at some point because you woke up to Micro calling your name so you stumbled from your seat in the corner to stand next to him. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw Billy on the screen and heard him saying he was helping the man hunt for Frank.

"No" you breathed and weren't sure if it was a denial or a prayer to be wrong. When the reporter asked what he would say to Frank you felt an urge to throw something at the tv when he said "What happened to you Frank?" 

You glanced up and realized Frank had walked in. His eyes skimmed over you as he stood stoic and you realized he was checking for any visible injuries because you were doing the same to him clocking what clearly looked like a bullet graze on the side of his head and the fact that he was favoring his right arm. "Frank" you gasped and moved towards him but he turned and walked away towards the bathroom. 

"Do we follow him?" Micro asked and you scoffed "I damn sure follow him" you grabbed your bag and headed behind Frank when you walked in he was struggling to get his shirt off so you walked over in front of him "Let me help" he grunted in response so you took that as permission and moved to help him get the torn shirt off his body.

You took a breath when you saw all the cuts littering his body and the piece of shrapnel sticking out his arm. You could feel the anger and pain rolling off of him but remained silent as you dug what you needed out your bag and laid it out. 

Micro looked from you to Frank before saying "Are you going to talk to me? I mean I can fill in some holes from the last time I saw you. Whole world knows you're alive, city thinks you're a terrorist and you had something to do with blowing up a hotel I think?"  You glared at him trying to get the message across to shut up. You were pushing your own feelings down at finding out about Billy's apparent betrayal, you didn't need to hear him going on and on about it.

"And just a guess but seems your buddy Billy Russo was dirty after all?" "David shut the hell up!" You snapped and Frank cut his eyes at you. You moved to see the piece of shrapnel, trying to concentrate on what you could control. "I can handle it" Frank all but growled with his rough voice.

You knew he was hurt a lot deeper than these surface wounds, hell your mind was currently chaos embodied but you met his harsh gaze head on "Frank I don't know what all happened. I'm guessing Billy shot you, I don't know why but if he betrayed you, betrayed Maria.. He deserves to die" your voice cracked so you swallowed hard before continuing "but I'll be damned if I'm not going to help you now. So shut up and let me do my goddamn job" 

Micro looked shocked at your outburst while Frank simply nodded and leaned his arm against the wall. You pulled gloves on then grasped the shrapnel with a clamp and pulled it out. It clattered to the sink with a metallic ting followed by blood squirting out from the wound. You moved quickly stitching up the hole, your body was moving on autopilot. It knew what to do from so many years even when your mind wasn't involved.

Billy was involved with Rawlins. Did he know? Did he know Maria and the kids were going to be killed? Did he hold you at the service knowing that? You felt a wave of nausea as memories of your last night in his arms flooded your mind. He'd know. God why? What was worth betraying the only family he'd ever known?

When you were done with his arm and side you grabbed your stapler and moved to his head. Him and Micro were arguing but you were doing your best to ignore them. "I'm done" Frank told Micro then glanced at you "You done?" You nodded numbly so he walked out the room. 

You took a deep breath then gathered your supplies and followed him without a look at Micro.

---------------------

"Frank!" You spoke harsher than you meant to but it worked because he stopped and looked at you "Talk to me, please" "What am I supposed to say? You loved him. He was like a brother to me. He's the reason why we lost Maria and the kids" 

You tried twice before finding your voice to ask "Do you still trust me Frankie?" He covered the steps to you then leaned down to look you in the eyes "No matter what. You're my family sweetheart but I'm going to kill him" you slowly nodded "Just survive it please. I can't lose you too Frank"

--------------

You stood between Frank and Micro as they argued. Frank was gearing up for war and while part of you agreed the other part kept flashing images of Frank truly dead through your mind.

You walked into the area where the computer screens were and stared for a second at the image of Sarah's kitchen until you realized something was wrong "BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP AND COME HERE!" 

They both quickly came into the room and Frank looked where you were pointing. "Take it back" he told Micro who rewinded it to the point that all three of you were forced to watch helpless as Sarah and Zach were kidnapped. 

"How long ago was this?" You asked. "Um less than an hour" Mirco was a mess and you couldn't blame him but the same thought occurred to you right before Frank said "They're coming here. Rawlins and Russo. Sarah has my number"

You were trying to slow down your mind enough to form a coherent thought. Billy was dirty. He'd betrayed all of you and was now what? Ok with kidnapping women and children? 

"Wait. They didn't get Leo" you said so Micro switched around to the camera at the back of his house. All of you watched as Leo climbed down the side of the house then took off running. "Attagirl. She got a phone?" Frank asked. "Yeah" Micro replied so Frank told him to call him. You understood his hesitant response to some degree. 

Frank called her instead and told her to meet at the pool playground. When she hung up he looked at Micro "You go meet her. You're her father now go to your babygirl"

"What are you going to do?" Micro asked him but you already knew. If Rawlins and Billy wanted a fight Frank was going to give them one. "I'm gonna meet these assholes head on. Y/N you go to Madani. Meet me at Greenpoint terminal. If I'm not there by midnight David you go in and tell her everything you know. Ok?" 

You nodded slowly then Frank asked "Got your gun on you?" You pointed to your bag so he leaned down and unzipped it, then dug around before he found it and held it out "Wear it at your lower back" you placed it where it usually rode and he nodded "attagirl.  Anyone seem like they're aiming to cause you harm before you get to Madani  shoot first. Ask questions later. You hear me?" "Yea. I will"  you knew you were taking a big chance but fuck it was worth it.

You glanced at Micro as you leaned down to pick up your bag "He'll get them back" "I know" you nodded once then headed back out the way you'd came in. Karen would be worried but she was safer out of this for now.

-----------------------

You watched Dinah walk around the park you'd told her to meet at for about an hour before finally hopping down off the low branch you'd been sitting on. She didn't see you so you called her name and she spun around but relaxed when she saw it was you "Thought you'd stood me up" you smirked "Nah. Just making sure it's only the two of us"

You gave her a quick run down of the fact that Frank and Micro were willing to go on record if Homeland helped to recover Sarah and Zach. "Where are we meeting them?" She asked once you were done so you checked the time "Greenpoint terminal, forty five minutes" she nodded "want a ride?" You shrugged and followed her to her car.

You slid in the passenger seat and sat your bag at your feet. She eyed it for a moment then asked "How long have you known Frank was alive?" You waited until she pulled out onto the road to answer "Who do you think patched him up?" 

-------------------

Dinah had thankfully not tried to talk to you. You climbed out the car to wait for Frank. You finally heard a sharp whistle and glanced up to see him walking towards you. You patted the hood "C'mon" 

Dinah locked her car then followed you across the open space. The three of you met up at Micro's van that was parked nearby. He hadn't know any of you were there yet.

After Frank checked on Leo, Micro asked what was next. "We get you and Frank on record then we get your family back sound good?" He nodded so you glanced across at Frank "Guess that means we all willingly walk into Homeland?" 

You climbed into the van with Micro, Sarah and Frank. All of you were silent. You tried and failed to not think about Billy. Had everything been a lie?

When and why did he decide to give up everyone for money?

You looked across at Frank and wanted nothing more than to hug him. You also wanted to ask what happened with the team that was sent to the hideout, you needed to see if he was hurt.

For now all of you had to get to Homeland, luckily the Special Agent in Charge was following right behind you. How the hell were you supposed to be the same after this? How were any of you supposed to have an after?

@intothesoul

@weallhaveadestiny

[whovianwatchingstartrek]

A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 071 - Trip's Grief

Star Trek: Enterprise - Season 3 Episode 20 - The Forgotten

As we open into this episode, Enterprise has mostly recovered from it's heavy damage. We finally have a number of casualties from the battle. Some work is still a lot of work to be done, but the ship is in functioning order.

I love that uniforms in this one are not in pristine order, their grimy, covered in soot and charring, and just I love that look. It's a quick and effective way of communicating that they haven't had time to rest yet. Trip hasn't even had time to shave, he's growing some stubble (and it suits him). I've been loving that such a heavy attack has had lasting damage on the ship

T'Pol has been finding her emotions harder to suppress, but is getting off the Trellium D well enough.

The main plot of the episode quickly takes hold, Archer boards Degra's ship to make discussions with the Xindi council, and decides that they have to prove what he has to say about the Reptilians. Unfortunetly the Council's representative is not convinced by all the evidence, but Degra is being pulled closer towards Enterprise's viewpoint.

Trip's arc throughout this episode was absolutely great. I'm a sucker for characters who overwork themselves beyond any and all reason. Between repairs after the battle and what happened to his sister, the poor dude refuses to give himself the nap he deserves. His dream conversation with Crewman Taylor, the deceased member of the crew Archer asked him to write a letter to the family of was beautiful. His guilt over not being able to write the letter during that scene and his grief over both Crewman Taylor and his Sister was heart-breaking. This breakdown has been coming since the start of the season, and I loved seeing him finally let it out.

The main plot of this one was weak, but that's been par for the course for this arc, however I really loved the character interactions here. Especially Trip, who was absolutely the highlight for me. His final letter to Crewman Taylor's family was beautiful.

Comparing my Enjoyment of this Episode with a Doctor Who Universe Story of the Same Title

Doctor Who - The Forgotten

It's been while since I've got to do one of these! The Forgotten was 6 issue comic run by IDW in 2009. I haven't really got to touch on Comic-Who yet on this blog. Speaking truthfully, most of Doctor Who comic love is directed towards DWM comics and Titan Comic's lines. IDW's run at Doctor Who comics as whole isn't spectacular to say the least, especially their 10th Doctor run.

The Forgotten Specifically, involves The Tenth Doctor and Martha Jones waking up in a strange museum dedicated to his life, where he's set to become the next exhibit. A good premise, and one Doctor Who has done both before and since. Trouble is, he also can't remember before his current regeneration. The majority of the comic is dedicated to the Doctor going through the museum and regaining his memories from his previous incarnations, and we are treated to a few flashback stories with the first nine Doctors. I won't focus on those, but one small detail I liked is that the first and second Doctor flashbacks are in Black and White.

Throughout the main story, the comic keeps baiting you into thinking The Master is behind all of this, but actually it's "Ten-two" from Stolen Earth/Journey's end, and it's not even actually really Ten-Two because It's actually all just a dream caused by an Alien parasite that latched onto the Doctor, who's actually dying on the TARDIS floor.

The Forgotten is kinda the Epitome of everything I don't like about IDW's run of Doctor Who comics. It tries to throw the entire breadth of Doctor Who canon at you, but with very little of the Depth to it. This comic brings in Autons, the Kaldor Robots, the SS Marie Antoinette Clockwork Robots, but none of them stick around for more than a few pages, and it doesn't do any of the work into even differentiating them beyond their designs. They're just all robots that shoot in this comic. There's nothing about what made these individual villains unique or scary here. The Fake Ten-Two says one line about speculating to be The Valeyard, but nothing is done with that because two panels later he fully admits to being an image created by cranial parasite. It's just a random Valeyard name drop, and it feels really out of place.

I know IDW also had the Star Trek licences at one point, so I am kinda curious if they had similar issues with that. In terms of this episode vs this comic though, this one definitely has to go to enterprise. While I'm not particularly invested in the whole Xindi plotline, the character writing on this episode was enough to keep me engaged for Enterprise's "The Forgotten". Sadly, another instance of "I swear I actually like Doctor Who, Star Trek is just sharing titles with the bad stories"

[lamentingwclf]

                                           meet the mun.  — basics

NAME:  Wolf PRONOUNS:   she/her PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION:  tumblr messenger SINGLE / TAKEN: taken

— three facts

I am a 911 dispatcher - so when i talk about my high stress - high need job. That's it. I work twelve hour shifts, forty-eight hour work weeks (minimum). overtime. nights. weekends. holidays. rain. snow. shine. i'm here more than i'm home.

I can touch my tongue to my nose.

I, as an adult, will still put black olives on the tips of my fingers and pretend i'm a tree frog. no, i will not grow out of it. i'm 31.

— experience

I started on tumblr in 2010-2011? It was right after i graduated high school and ask blogs were all the rage, and the harry potter series ended or was ending - i'm fuzzy on some of the details because i'm old. but i made a blog for neville longbottom and i still, to this day, love him dearly. I stayed in that fandom, helped cofound a roleplay group for harry potter, and inevitably ended up over in the supernatural fandom. There, I played Castiel, for a very, very long time. I started strictly canon, but as the seasons went on - I diverted. There were and still are a lot of breaks in between, I tested Steve as a muse for my first marvel blog, before it was moved to disney plus - it had to have been right around the release of the winter soldier. but inevitably I ended up here, writing Bucky.

— sub-genres

darker themes, angst, i guess is how you'd put it. i guess what's harder for me is fluff - it has a time and place, but nine times out of ten, i'm going to throw a literal wrench at it because it's hard for me to focus heavily on it. i get bored. it's a problem i'm decidedly not working on.

— plots vs memes

memes. i love plots, don't get me wrong, and i'll get ther. but you'll find i'm the absolute worst person to plot something with, or make a decision about multimuses. i like writing a lot of things with a lot of different characters. it's a combination of my brain being hyper focused at work, which drains and exhausts a lot of energy - and my severe distrust of letting people in and close to me. i've had a lot of bad experiences with partners and it causes me to disappear when i'm overwhelmed. it's a frustrating thing people should know about me coming into it.

— long or short replies

long. i'm a glutton. i'm long winded. i have a lot to say. if i post something and promise it'll be short this time. it won't.

— best time to write

i can now say from experience. night. since i'm generally always at work. nights has more down time. it also spares me from getting hyper fixated on something that i have to do prior to sleeping.

tagged by: @defectivexfragmented tagging: you !

[schrijverr]

Heyy.. 'situation' anon here, I'll never pass up an opportunity to send an ao3 author i like asks on their authority so here i am again

🫖,🎵,🕸,📚 - sorry if thats too many lol, i was indecisive

also... while I'm here... ill publicly humiliate myself a little under the cover of anon and ask for your opinion of bobney/chobby/chimbobby ?

hello, situation anon! What a delight that you're back, thank you so much for the ask <333 And that's totally not too many, I love being enabled to talk, ask my partner, I will not stop xp

🫖: If you had a tea party with your blorbos you write the most, how would it go?

The writer in me, wants to go; god how would they react to suddenly appearing somewhere with a random stranger and tea? lmao. Rn im writing a lot of 9-1-1 and I feel like if the situation was plausible, they'd be chill, but I would 100% be too awkward about it omg. But I'd love to pick their brains about the work they do and I think they'd be okay answering questions. However, I don't think I'd want it to happen, bc the most plausible situation is me having an emergency haha

🎵: Do you create playlists for your fics?

I'm probably about to admit to being a total weirdo, bc I like my silence. Yup, I'm not a huge music person and I usually work and write in silence, no background noise, no music. So, usually no. I don't make playlists for my fic. I have for one, but that's an unposted Leverage fic (it's my lesbian nb, bisexual Eliot fic that goes from childhood love with Aimee through Damien Moreau to falling in love with Parker and Hardison, which I posted an abandoned first draft off) But overall, no, no playlists

🕸: Do you outline? How detailed?

My outlining usually consists of me jotting down future vague outline ideas and little snippets I might want to incorporate as I go along, just chilling at the bottom of my docx, along with things to remember like timelines or details I wanna come back to. I'm more a freestyler when it comes to writing. Nine times out of ten, I'll come up with a fun scene I wanna write and then go: 'huh, now how will i get there?' and kind of go from there.

Like, the I do verse that I'm posting right now, exist, because I wanted to write one scene in what is now chapter 30, then came up with a how would I get there and then that got out of hand, lmao. I followed the show, which gave me some hand holds, but I mostly let the characters take the wheel xp

📚: What are some of the favorite things you've learned while doing research?

Oef, I researched a bunch of weird things throughout the years (and subsequently forgot about most of them lmao). Idk if it counts, but I have this pocket of poetry I bought, bc I gave it to one of my characters as a gift and then I got curious, ended up using one of the poems in the fic itself too, so that was a lot of fun. I also felt like a huge nerd while doing so. But not as badly as that time I gave a fic a bibliography of historical accuracy and what I made up.

Honestly, most of the time I end up in niche things and with wikis open for fics I have never posted. I researched boxing techniques for a leverage fic I never wrote, as well as dentures for another unwritten leverage fic. But nothing concrete springs to mind right now

Your opinion of bobney/chobby/chimbobby ?

Oeh, that is a fun one, I never considered the ship before now. Admittedly, I had something against Bobby when I first started watching, but he's grown on me. However, him and Chim aren't my go to's for this fandom. And I love the canon ships they're a part of, so I wouldn't say I ship them myself. But they have an interesting dynamic, so I can see it. Like when Chim admits that he remembers his accident in season 1? That scene got to me.

Like, I can imagine that Chimney is the primary person that pulled Bobby into the fold when he first started there. He makes himself the comic relief and he would totally embrace the upgrade from Gerrard. And Bobby wouldn't want to let himself get pulled in, but he has this soft spot for Chim anyway, he can't help it. And then the accident with the rebar happens and it's the first time since Bobby transferred after the fire that he is confronted with loosing someone close to him again. And he's sitting there, by Chimney's bedside, praying, emotions overwhelming him, regretting that he never let himself be closer etc. Then Chim wakes up again and allows himself to get closer to him, to not make that same mistake twice. Then Chimney breaks down and Bobby lets him. That can be fun.

[practically-an-x-man]

For the series ask:

MacGyver

AHS Asylum and Coven

Mandalorian

ooh thank you!!

long answer, so I'll put this under the cut

Send Me a Series

MacGyver:

Favorite character: easy answer, but it's got to be Mac. I literally started watching the show for Lucas Till, and he quickly remained my favorite

Second favorite character: Hm... Desi. She comes in A.P. (after Patricia) so idk if you've actually seen the seasons she's in, but she's just a total badass and I love her dynamic with Mac

Least favorite character: Nikki. At first I liked the backstabbing arc because it was cool, but then they kept going back and forth with it and I got really tired of it.

The character I’m most like: Mac, but like 60% less cool. I mean, I pride myself on being adaptable and prepared, I keep a Swiss Army Knife and duct tape on me at all times, and while I did well in college I did drop out because it was too stifling for me.

Favorite pairing: Mac and Riley!!! I was spoiled on it becoming canon when I was still on Season 3, but I ended up basically counting down the episodes until I got to see it. I love Mac/Desi too, but it's just not quite the same.

Least favorite pairing: Mac and Nikki I guess, just because they couldn't let go of it when it rightfully should have been left alone. I never saw the chemistry between them, especially when they tried to go back to it a second time

Favorite moment: sorry, I just can't choose! Though I do love the montages they do when he puts something together, it really scratches the itch in my creative-problem-solving brain. I was a Mythbusters kid and I still love seeing someone solve a problem in a really unique way

Rating out of 10: ooh solid nine or ten, it's easily one of my favorite shows

AHS Asylum:

Favorite character: Lana, mainly because I like the Nellie Bly arc to her story and how she dove right in. There's a lot to respect about a character like that.

Second favorite character: Kit. He's just such a sweetheart. Honestly vying for first place but Lana won out just bc I love Nellie Bly's story.

Least favorite character: Jude. Sorry. Never liked her before the electroshock thing, and the Name Game bit honestly just made me cringe. I like that she got a bit of redemption, but she really wasn't my favorite character.

The character I’m most like: uh... not a clue. Asylum wasn't my favorite so I only watched it once, and I didn't find myself intensely connecting with any of the characters.

Favorite pairing: Alma and Kit I suppose. It ended a little weirdly but I like the way it began

Least favorite pairing: honestly idk. There weren't many pairings to begin with and I was neutral about pretty much all of them

Favorite moment: I liked when Shelley drags herself out of the lab all mutilated, simply bc I like SFX makeup and thought it was a well-done look

Rating out of 10: I'm gonna be real, I wasn't a big fan of Asylum. They tried way too much and it ended with a really chaotic season with too many loose ends. Not the worst, but not my favorite. Maybe a 6?

AHS Coven:

Favorite character: My boy Kyle!!! He had so much potential, they just utilized him so poorly. I wish they gave him more of his own arc instead of just using him to spur on Zoe's and Madison's, because they established SUCH a cool character with him and then went nowhere with it.

Second favorite character: I really liked Nan, actually. Her powers are cool, I like her personality, and I enjoyed her little romance arc with the neighbor guy.

Least favorite character: ZOE MFING BENSON. Don't get me started.

The character I’m most like: Uh... I really don't know. Maybe Cordelia, just bc that social pressure and parental expectation was something I really resonated with.

Favorite pairing: Next question, Your Honor. Does it count if I say Kyle x my OC Jasper?

Least favorite pairing: Zoe and Kyle. They met ONCE and he was literally just a plaything for her. And she didn't even do much to help him when she brought him back, she just wanted him in a place where she didn't have to take care of him but could still use him however she wanted.

Favorite moment: Ugh, Kyle with the tattoos just breaks my heart. The realization as soon as the flashback starts, not to mention the dichotomy between him singing along to Toto on the radio with his buddies versus sitting alone, chained up and miserable, is just so heartbreaking.

Rating out of 10: Eight, I liked it a lot but there were a few missed opportunities

Mandalorian:

Favorite character: I really liked Bo-Katan, especially the way they worked with her character arc. There were some really cool moments and some wonderful developments with her, and I really enjoyed the non-romantic parents dynamic she had with Din and Grogu

Second favorite character: Paz!! He didn't have much screentime, but I loved his character. His relationship with his son, his devotion to holding back Gideon's guards so the others could escape... ugh, wonderful and heartbreaking.

Least favorite character: I mean this in a "he did such a wonderful job I can't help but hate him" way, but Moff Gideon. Seriously, so much praise to Giancarlo Esposito, fantastic performance for an utterly despicable character

The character I’m most like: Bo-Katan, maybe.

Favorite pairing: Pass. There's not much romance in this one and that's okay. Honestly a breath of fresh air after so many other shows push romance.

Least favorite pairing: See above.

Favorite moment: when Din has to take off his helmet while undercover, but more specifically when Migs chooses not to acknowledge it and hands his helmet back when it's over. It shows such wonderful character development for both of them

Rating out of 10: Ten, without a doubt

[autisticandroids]

Hi. Since you seem to be a Cas-understander with a good grasp of canon, do you mind helping me figure something out? I have a SPN theory that hinges on just how much Castiel's actions are motivated by guilt. I mean, I know they are MASSIVELY motivated by a desire to fix the stuff he thinks he broke (and often did break), but my question is: How many instances can you think of where Castiel helped spontaneously, without being asked or there being some perceived kind of debt or exchange? I can only think of the example of him healing that baby's mystery illness, and tbh I've forgotten the context of that. Oh and there was that case he took while Sam and Dean were imprisoned by the feds... bc of angel business... nevermind. Everything else is either requested (including his rebellion, though that was a Big Ask and is what my theory is about), a bribe (Soulless Sam), self-inflicted punishment, or a debt that's owed (Claire). Just... in a show about two brothers who do the shittiest volunteer work possible but which they actively seek out bc they want to help people - and sometimes kill things, but mostly it's about helping - Cas seems kind of passive until something forces his hand.

well there are a couple situations where he works cases - golden time and gimme shelter, for example. and arguably heaven can't wait - he calls dean for help in that episode but he does take initiative there. and he frequently helps people who ask him to, often other angels (see: season nine and early season ten angel plots; rachel's approach to him in the man who would be king). and of course dean, as you said. and i'll throw in kelly as well.

but you've hit on something interesting about cas because he is in fact extremely passive. he tends to just sort of stand there and wait for someone to give him an order, which, you know, kind of makes sense. he spent billions of years doing just that, it's what he's used to. so in the first few seasons, he mostly does that. then a bunch of bad things happen at least nominally because of choices he made, and that natural passivity turns into trauma-induced learned helplessness. he essentially learns that he can't do anything right, and reacts by trying to yoke himself to the nearest authority figure. i've written or reblogged a lot of posts about cas and choice and post-godstiel trauma generally, here's a selection that i might suggest:

on honey cas specifically: one / two / three

on his reactions to godstiel arc: one / two / three

on cas and free will generally: one / two / three / four

also, interestingly, the vast majority of his conflict is based in this tendency to do what other people tell him: most of his conflict is about divided loyalties, where he's trying to obey two different sets of people who hate each other, and eventually has to choose between them (usually but not always heaven vs. the winchesters).

also, interestingly, when he does help people proactively, it's him acting as a hunter (as noted before, in golden time, gimme shelter, and heaven can't wait, as well as a bunch of times offscreen in the dabb era when he goes hunting with jack bc they didn't feel like paying misha and alcal that episode). so that's something he learns from salmondean and from being around them, it's not something he would have thought of before, being an angel, essentially expected for most of his existence to be a machine that follows orders. but it also doesn't make a ton of sense - in stairway to heaven, we see cas ordering a contingent of his army to go help people with their angel powers at the local hospital, which, if later, after that falls apart, he wanted to help people, is something he could do instead of hunting, so it's interesting to see him functioning essentially according to expectations rather than thinking logically about what would help, but cas have never been the most logical guy in the universe.

and the thing is that this has a doylist explanation: cas is a side character. salmondean, as protagonists, have to Do The Plot, and cas has to just sort of sit there waiting for them to tell him what to do. this is why, for example, cas is the only one who is allowed to show his trauma and issues by collapsing and being unable to do stuff (as opposed to hitting things and yelling and drinking and flinching but still accomplishing tasks at the same rate as normal). and it's also why he only does things when other people ask: because his motivations don't really matter to the narrative, so they don't really exist.

but also re: your ask: i also think it's... kind of strange? to conceptualize such an intense moral distinction between types of motivation, and between active and passive. but let me play in the space for a few paragraphs and see where it takes me.

so like... the winchesters seem to also be significantly motivated by other things? like, revenge (notably sam in the pilot, because he wanted out of the hunting life and didn't change his mind until jessica, but also a lot of moments in the later seasons like dean killing the stynes or moriah), or family obligation (i feel like this is obvious), or, yes, guilt (at the end of season seven, once dean isn't keeping him in the life, sam dips immediately, and then when dean comes back he guilt trips him aggressively with the potential people he could have saved until sam is broken down, and this is when sam seems to give up his dream of leaving hunting; in what is and what should never be, it seems like dean's main motivation for leaving the dream instead of just dying in there, happy, is the guilt of all the people he's not saving.

plus, as the show goes on, they seem less and less interested in saving people. for example, in season eleven, sam has a few episodes of like "hey maybe we should try prioritizing saving people instead of just killing things" and dean is like you pussy idiot. and then sam is taught a lesson in 11x06 (someone literally says "pacifism doesn't pay" in it) and reverts back to the old ways of not...... really caring about victims all that much. but even in the beginning saving people was kind of a tenuous goal at best. in season four, sam and dean have this big argument over sam's powers, and sam's argument is that the powers save people instead of just killing them, and dean's argument is that... using inhuman abilities makes sam a monster and monsters are bad. and in the end, dean's side is endorsed by the narrative. so like the "saving people" in "saving people, hunting things" is frequently just sort of a bonus.

i mean, look at stairway to heaven, the episode where cas has angels (including one called flagstaff) helping people at the local hospital:

FLAGSTAFF: No. Can I go? I have lives to save. DEAN: Welcome to the club. [FLAGSTAFF smirks] Something funny? FLAGSTAFF: Not funny "ha ha." But you thinking you help people -- it's amusing. I help people. A clogged artery here, a tumor there. I do good in this world. You -- you believe every problem can be solved with a gun. You play the hero, but underneath the hype, you're a killer with oceans of blood on his hands. I hate men like you.

dean has no answer for this, and ends up just physically assaulting her. and in the end, dean ends up semi-purposefully wrecking cas' whole organization, a group whose purpose was to help angels and organize them into a nonabusive form of government, because cas can't be allowed to make choices outside of following dean's orders (echoes of godstiel arc here). like cas is actually punished for any attempts at agency he takes, including attempts to help people. so it kinda makes sense that he's like... not big on initiative.

and re: the distinction you make between active and passive altruism, how is going out and actively trying to help people so different from giving help when asked? especially if you compare him to the winchesters, who frequently refuse requests for help (especially from cas, actually). which smacks of their desire to help people maybe having more to do with control than help.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I’ve been working on this theory lately about my own media consumption that I’ll call representational contrarianism because I’m tickled at giving it a fancy sounding name. And it’s like this: given the choice between media with canonical queer characters and media that has characters you could argue are queer, I’ll default to the latter nine times out of ten.

And it’s like. Why?

(And yeah, this is a post about Supernatural, but it’s not ABOUT Supernatural, you know? Also everything is about Supernatural except Supernatural which is about umm truly who fucking knows.) 

So, for me (and consider that the big disclaimer for this post) queer characters created by queer people either cut too close to the truth, or they’re disappointing. If they’re truthful, then the truth, through the warped lens of my own insecurities and uncertainties, becomes “yes Sarah this is who you are” or “no Sarah you ain’t this.” If they’re disappointing, if I don’t like them or I don’t like the romance or I like some other character better, I feel like I’m letting someone down--not always sure who, just someone, maybe it’s myself, maybe it’s the Community, maybe it’s this fictional person--and further, this becomes another tick in a column labeled “you’re straight and you’ve always been straight, you hurt gay people by thinking otherwise, and also everyone’s laughing at you.” Which is a lot of pressure to put on kindle lesbian romance novels I picked up for $1.99, but that’s what I feel. 

The important thing is, these characters and stories are tests I’m very capable of failing.  

And queer people created by straight people--look, it’s not universally true, but look at the shitty way explicit homosexuality is treated on Supernatural (a joke! flat! background! nothing!) versus the absolutely inadvertent queer-coding they did with Dean, Sam, and Cas. They wrote three distinct queer masculine allegories by complete fucking accident. They couldn’t have done that on purpose. They don’t think gay people are people in the same way that straight people are people. They think that they’re Gay and then a little later that they are people. (And does my hyperfixation on this issue mean that I approach gay characters the same way as shitty straight writers? Hahahahaha shut the fuck up I’m almost in therapy again, this is all on the docket.) 

Queer characters created by queer people are a litmus test, and queer characters created by straight people are pandering. And you don’t really know about the creators that often, and they shouldn’t have to list their identities on the back of the book (although catch me scanning acknowledgements for the words wife, partner, people thanked with love but identified only as an initial, like deciphering how this book might make me feel is a test I can cheat on, but what do you do with a writers room? Memorize the gay ones if you can, cross-reference who wrote what eps?). So I’m comparing myself against these characters (bad choice) in the hopes of learning about myself while also hyperanalyzing these characters in a way that would be insanely unfair to do to a real person (are they Truly Gay? are they Truly Good Representation? if I don’t like them, is it their fault or my fault or their story’s fault or God’s fault or or or or or or or). So I end up evaluating this central question about myself--literally the question Who Am I--against characters (again, a bad choice) that I swivel wildly between believing they are better at being gay than me (because they might have been written by queer people) or are worse at being gay than me (because they might have been written by straight people). 

(I know this is horribly reductive in regards to representation and own voices and good writing. You don’t want to see how long this post was with nuance.) 

And let’s do the ultimate thought experiment: let’s say they did Supernatural good. And now Dean is bisexual! Yay! Canonically! They decide this in season four and he comes out and maybe he always knew or maybe this is all new to him, whatever, it’s all handled fantastically. GLAAD awards for everyone. 

If Dean was gay, canonically gay, if he had what I do not--a cast of writers, a voice of God saying definitely, yes, yes, he is sexually and romantically attracted to multiple genders, he is Canon now, there was an interview in Entertainment Weekly about it and everything--then he is gayer by default than me--no writers, no God, no all hands meeting when everyone nods solemnly and concludes, let’s give the people what they want: this one’s a dyke. And he slips somewhere I can’t follow, into that tantalizing paradise called Certainty, and he learns the gay lingo, and he learns the hidden stereotypes only gay people get to know about other gay people, and he unlocks the Shared History and the Inside Jokes, and he speaks to the other people in the club with the knowledge that all of them deserve to be there because they know that they deserve to be there.  

(Meanwhile, I am not in the club, I am instead down at the courthouse where I get called forward before the Gender Judges who reviewed the emergency application I made in the middle of the night, and they ask, “It says here you want to change your name?” and I say, “Actually no, I thought about it but the idea of being called anything other than Sarah genuinely horrifies me,” and they ask, “But you did say you were considering experimenting with your pronouns?” and I say, “Again, no, I’ve toyed with the thought but the idea of me being referred to as anything other than she/her viscerally disgusts me,” and they ask, “Okay but what is it that horrifies and disgusts you: the thought of being identified as someone you aren’t, or making a fuss about your identity in a way that draws attention to it?” and being unable to come up with an answer, I throw myself out the nearest window and start running, also causing me to miss my scheduled meeting with the Sexuality forum where we were going to litigate whether I was allowed to use dyke like that a paragraph back.)

(We don’t have time to get into gender. Just assume this all applies to gender stuff as well, and we’ll move on.)

But. If he’s not canonically anything, then he is as gay as I make him. In this daydream or that fanfic, we make the subtext text and here is a queer story, a gay story, a story about me as I would like to be seen and would like to be, and when I am done, I spray him off with some windex and wipe him down to factory settings. And then tomorrow there’s a different fantasy where he’s gay in a different way, a nuance, a tweak, a thousand variations on the same basic premise (what if this guy liked guys), and if I don’t like one, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t stick. It’s a novel written in sand. The appeal is that it’ll wash away. Why should he be any more sure than me? 

Anyway, that’s why queerbaiting is good actually (joke). 

[thegodcomplcx]

Okay, so my headcanon for their first real talk that leads to a friendship takes place between Gridlock and Daleks in Manhattan.

So:

-The Doctor properly talks to Martha about why he's been so evasive and aloof to her during the events of the Shakespeare Code and Gridlock. (Without hanging over her head how much better Rose was)

Not hate against Billie, but tbh, Rose is really overrated for me.

-After apologizing, like he should, he asks Martha if she wishes to keep traveling with him, instead of the One Trip only excuse. Then, after he gets her answer, they leave for a new trip.

-Once in Manhattan, once they witness the fight between two men fighting for bread, he turns to her and tells her to stay close to him. (Courtesy of the memory of her being kidnapped in Gridlock).

-When he volunteers, he offers her the key to the Tardis,so in case anything happens, she can be safe. She refuses and volunteers with him. Surprised, he tells her he'll keep her safe.

The plot of the episode goes as usual until she runs off to chase one of the pig men and gets kidnapped again. (Making the Doctor almost go batshit crazy at the Daleks).

I had to rewatch the Dalek two parter to refresh my memory.

So,Martha gets taken to the tunnels by the pig-men and the Doctor goes after her.

-The Doctor and Talulah meet with Laszlo, and when he sees what the Daleks did to him, he demands to know if the same has been done to Martha. He makes Laszlo lead him to the Daleks, saying that he promised Martha he would protect her.

-When Martha and the others are being scanned, he has to be held back by both Talulah and Laszlo.

-When they meet again in the tunnels, instead of that "You can kiss me later", he grabs her hand and asks her if she's alright. They hold hands all the way. All the way to when they're standing infront of Dalek Sec.

Evolution of the Daleks:

-When the Doctor tricks the Daleks with the radio and tells everyone to run, he goes and grabs Martha's hand again. They run together all the way back to camp.

-When the Doctor gives his speech to the Daleks after they attack the camp and kill Solomon. Martha runs to stand infront of him, which makes the Doctor snap and try to push her behind him.

-When the Doctor is told to go with the Daleks, Martha stops him, begging him not to go. The Doctor hands her the keys to the Tardis again, in case he doesn't come back, and kisses her forehead before he goes.

--

kldfjsdkfj the doctor being protective over martha is truly one of my favorite things on the planet. i love those moments where we can see thru the cracks a little bit and see how he actually feels about her.

FULLY AGREE ABOUT ROSE BEING OVERRATED TBH. i really enjoyed her with nine but i thought her interactions with ten were just too cloying sweet for my tastes. she's kinda mid :/

i really like all the little changes you made! like its not plot altering but it just makes it a little softer and a little more kind to martha :) i think she got SHAFTED fr in canon. i also truly despise the way that the doctor "just one trip"'s her for like half the season so i think it's a good move for the doctor to make his own decision that he would like her to stay instead of being forced to say it. (one of these days i'll write an au where martha refuses to travel with him again after lazarus experiment and he spends a lot of time pining and repenting).

another thing i truly hate is when the doctor says "never waste time on a hug" to martha like. my brother in christ, you were the one who hugged her. he's so emotionally constipated.

i thoroughly enjoyed your thoughts on these episodes tho this was so fun

[dorminchu]

ALL THESE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE

The war against Paradis is over. Eren and Annie are forced to confront their mortality in a world that seems to have no need of them, and their significance to each other. [Post-Canon]

I didn't know there was an ereani week this year until a couple days ago, but I figured: cool, I should probably post something. Title comes from the track of the same name by The Killers.

The prompt is: Day 3 (4/12): "I love you" / "I loved you"

[Ao3 | FFNet]

i.

When the war was over, it was Armin who took the glory. That was a new look for him, Eren thought. Smart but eternally overlooked until he inherited the role of the Colossus Titan. Willing to carry the burden of humanity's savior without much complaint, unlike his teenage self who had always been plagued by doubts and fears. Eren wouldn't have thought Armin would be ready to chew the bullet while he quietly slipped into the background—but he was the leader, and Eren had always been accustomed to his status of figurehead.

Their roles had inverted with age.

As part of an overarching deal with Queen Historia, Eren was granted quarters—a cabin ten miles from the border of what had once been Wall Rose—and a modest pension, as long as he held his tongue and did not make any attempt to intercept the negotiations between Paradis and the surrounding countries. Eren put in an application for professor at the local military academy and spent the days trying to record what he could remember of his experiences in Marley.

The cabin had been around since the start of the war. About ten or so miles from the nearest village. Perhaps even before Eren was born, when Paradis was just a penal colony in name and the boundaries on inhabitable territory were less strict. The pipes still worked and there was evidence of an outhouse as well as quarters for a small animal—he wondered if it had been a hunter’s lodge.

After growing up in the back end of Shiganshina for the first nine years of his life and living in barracks and halfway houses for the next ten, it was a lot quieter. He felt oftentimes as if he were on a permanent state of leave, awaiting orders that would never come. There was so much time to fritter away now, without a war on the backburner.

ii.

In a bid to lessen the severity of his scarring, Eren tried growing a beard. He couldn't sprout a full one like Zeke could, just the chin-hairs, an innate reminder of his days in Marley. Most often he kept his hair pulled back in a short ponytail or else cut it short in the warmer seasons, though never as short as it had been in his days of adolescence.

He'd regenerated his leg and other limbs since the ceasefire, regained his motor functions in a week-long, agonsing process that he was sure Hanji would've loved had she been alive to witness it—but a day or so after settling into the cabin the old pain was flaring up again. He had a vivid memory of asking Commander Hanji once, at seventeen, after exhausting his father’s journal, but the only conclusion either of them could come up was phantom pain. Even if he were whole and unmarred, he did not anticipate sleep as any source of relief. Colours in his right eye gradually turned dull and it was getting harder to read even by candlelight, disorienting to walk out into harsh sunlight. Eventually he just began wearing a patch for the sake of simplicity. His other eye was unaffected.

He could still remember Ramzi's face better than most of his dead Scouts and it kept him up at night for hours. His way of life—the Titans, ODM gear—was quickly being phased out, trading blades and canisters for rifles and ammunition. His place among the armistice seemed moot.

Eren thought more often of his father. He did not wish to, explicitly, but the memories of him that popped into his head were usually indecipherable and triggered by stress.

The doctors in Marley would define this as shellshock. Other times they left impressions like the outline of the sun under closed eyelids; warmth, family, agony, guilt that would eat away at him for the rest of his remaining life.

Eren was, at least, confident in the fact that he was nothing like his father. He didn't pretend he was doing anything morally righteous, nor had he allowed himself to be molded into a pariah like Zeke. He had only accomplished what those same men were afraid or unable to do. It was nothing to crow about. He did not blame Zeke for that upbringing. Eren had taken action, knowing he would be hated and feared by his own comrades. He could only leave behind his memories in print, and if by some Godforsaken chance they somehow managed to fall into the hands of a like-minded company—well, perhaps one day he would be understood or misconstrued further. Rotting in the ground he could not defend his truth or bias.

But while he was alive, he could not rest. He knew better than most that all of this was fleeting.

It wasn’t as though he was out of shape with all the walking. He still stuck to drills in the morning to keep himself busy; awaiting orders that would never come. It sounded like something Armin might say. But Armin was content to busy himself with the sons and brothers of deceased bureaucrats; the succeeding generation to the brilliant men and women who'd led them right into the mouths of hell and out again.

Commander Hanji was dead. Commander Irvin had been dead four years now. Captain Levi was on his way to retirement and attempting to get Mikasa to replace him.

After seven years of military service his soldier’s inclinations remained unshakeable. He'd wake up every morning, going through the motions as though he were still a stowaway in Marley. He'd never allowed himself to consider a life beyond the pretext of enlistment and eventual expiration within the Scouting Regiment, much less the seemingly endless war between Paradis and the rest of the world. In the best case he had assumed he would die eventually, of old age or a more unheroic death out in the field. He'd never allowed himself to be ruled by that fear of mortality because he had to eradicate the Titans first—it was a child’s logic that had gotten him through military academy. Yet here he was, nineteen, with four going-on three years left to kill. Annie had three, going-on two. That was the only certainty she'd admitted to him without need for prying.

So Eren had to be sharp for the rest of their sakes. The war on Paradis had ended and brought with it economic turmoil. A mourning period that seemed to extend indefinitely. The next decade of prosperity would not be won in a year, nor three, and it would come on the backs of the losing side and breed the same old resentment, and then inevitably the same slow descent towards outrage and madness and oppression. Always in the back of his mind like the learnt urge to drink, or his inherited memories—he could almost convince himself of his hard-won stability. It was a good enough reason as any to stop answering Mikasa's letters.

iii.

The door opened to reveal the very last person he had ever expected to see again. She was every bit the woman he had seen in Marley and little of the girl in the crystal remained. What could he say to a four-year old crush-turned-heartbreak whose face he could scarcely recall among the hundreds of thousands of other casualties? "You shouldn't have come back."

When he moved to close the door, she stopped him with her heel. "I'm no longer a Warrior, nor a soldier. I have nowhere else to turn. You and I understand each other, so there's no point in bloodshed."

He gauged this, chewing his tongue. "Did someone send you?"

Her shoulders stiffened. "No one you'd know."

"I suppose you were sent here to finish the job for Marley?"

"No." Bluntly, she forced herself into the doorway. "I came here on my own. I just—"

"—all right, it seems like there's been some kind of miscommunication between you and whoever sent you."

"I was told you'd be able to accommodate me." 

"I don't need anyone else here."

Annie squinted at him. Her hand was clenched tightly on the doorjamb. "You must get bored living up in the mountains. And you could use another pair of hands if you're not regenerating." Eren said nothing. "Did you carve your eye out again?"

"Goddamn you," he growled, and wrenched the door open.

He let her walk past the threshold. Looked at her once, and then away. "I'll set a place aside for you to sleep," indicating a well-worn sofa, "you can stay as long as you need to until you find somewhere you like."

"I don't know why you're so upset. You could have killed me years ago. You've had every opportunity, and yet—"

"—I've moved on." He said it flatly, almost resigned. "You haven't, obviously."

Annie didn't flinch. "So you're just going to stay here and wait to die?"

"I keep myself busy."

"What do you do?"

"I teach the new cadets over at the Academy. It's about two hours from where we are; nothing special, but they seem eager to learn."

"I see."

He turned finally to face her. "What about you?"

Annie hesitated. "Used to work with the other displaced soldiers up until a few days ago."

"How'd that treat you?"

"It was all right. Why, are you too good for it now, now that you're a war hero?"

Eren ignored the barb. "It's been a while since everything settled down, so I wondered how you would fare."

"What, so you just popped up in this house?"

He scoffed. "Of course not. There was a tribunal, and it was decided to let me live on the condition I'd be kept far away where I wouldn't bother with anyone. I can't say the same for the others."

"You sold them out?"

He chuckled. "I didn't have to say much. They did it to themselves. We shared a common goal at one point but never the same ideology. At the very least, I can say I took no pleasure in what I—"

"—Ackermann gave you an out?"

Eren gauged the sharpness in her tone, the stiffness of her posture. "I didn't ask her to." He frowned. "You never told me how you got here. Did Mikasa have something to do with this?"

Annie froze, then averted her eyes. "I didn't have much of a choice. It was either come here or work myself to death doing manual labor. I wouldn't have minded that."

"Why didn't you tell me that she sent you?"

"I don't know. She seemed to pity you."

"Oi, it's not your fault. She can feel however she wants." He sounded bemused, scowling. "What the hell else she she think I'm going to do in four years? I have no plans to start another war."

Annie finally eyed him in her peripherals. "We didn't talk much other than that."

Within the next few hours he'd gotten a few more details out of her. In exchange for agreeing to be quartered here, her record was wiped clean. She had recently reapplied for the MP brigade under a new name and secured a position as secretary in the Karanese district headquarters. She had also admitted to him that she was dying to get back onto the streets again.

As a bedfellow Annie was, in some ways, more than he could've hoped for. Despite the introduction, she talked far less than they had as cadets. She did not seem particularly happy or unhappy, just neutral. She woke up each morning at six hours and left to do her drills. She would come back in an hour and offer to help him with whatever menial tasks needed doing, as if they really were holed up together in the remnants of a cabin lost ten years ago to a threat that would live on in sordid, haunting memory. The kind of life one would find beyond the realm of a weathered photograph. 

Unobtrusive without becoming idyllic. The best outcome he could afford her was three years of uneventful domesticity.

They didn't spar anymore. Not for lack of want, or kicking the habit. Eren just couldn't keep up with her the way he used to. His leg was shaky and she pointed it out first. It would have an impact on the kind of punishment he could take as opposed to when he was fifteen and shrugged off every injury like it was nothing. His eye was not healing. 

Annie was in better condition. Just by studying her gait it was obvious that she'd taken better care of herself. She had not had to bunk up with a gang of stinking, vulnerable soldiers riddled by shellshock. Trying to communicate with them in German worked, but it got him a lot of funny looks and no end of comparisons to fathers and grandfathers enlisted or long since dead.

Annie wasn't interested in his stories from Marley but she didn't brush him off either. She just tolerated it in a much more polite way than Mikasa or Armin would.

At twenty years old she came up to his chest. Either the crystallization had stunted her growth or she was naturally short. She was also scarred enough down her face but it was of the same sheer consistency as her hair. You would only know what she was if you were paying close attention.

She got skittish and temperamental if he tried to push his luck training with her. Initially it had pissed him off:

"What do you think I'm going to do?"

She'd looked at him bluntly. "You're still recovering. Why overexert yourself?"

He'd never told her about his injuries but the idea of her picking up on it this quickly rankled for reasons he did not care to discuss. "I'm not a kid."

Something flashed in her eyes. "I'm not going to push you."

And that was the end of it. He'd decided that this ritual mattered more to her than him, and respected her space. He still did his own drills.

But every time they locked eyes now he'd get that same, absurd itch in the back of his mind from a year ago. Sharpened his tongue and made him want to speak in ways he didn't think he should attempt to justify whilst sober.

iv.

Days passed. He did not always see her until late in the evening.

In the middle of the night he rolled over onto his bad leg and the pain woke him. In silence he got up, not enough to require medication but still pretty uncomfortable.

“Eren?”

He went still. Annie was up herself, over by the window, staring at him as though he were on his deathbed. In the low light her eyes looked strange and luminous. “Does it hurt?”

“Does—what?”

“Your leg.”

Eren sat up slowly as not to aggravate his condition. She didn't say anything else. “It’s not so bad that I can’t sleep.” He studied her face for signs of age, finding naught but scars, a weariness in her eyes he could speak to. She didn't frown. She just watched him coolly. Eren shrugged. “You can’t sleep either?" No answer. "Thinking about to-morrow?”

“I can get you something for it.”

Eren shook his head. “That's not necessary."

"Don't be stupid."

"This isn't something I can just take pills for.”

"It's chronic." Her tone pregnant with incredulity. "Why haven't you seen a doctor for this?"

"Annie, what the hell is a regular doctor gonna do for either of us? We already fix ourselves. There are other veterans that have been stranded here, they aren't growing their limbs back. They need all the help they can get. Anyway, it's only, what, three more years of living? I can take three. Fuck, I've taken ten."

The more he kept talking, the darker her eyes became. Clench in her jaw, tautness of her shoulders, pronounced enough to notice from a distance—an involuntary reflection of his own revulsion.

"I don't know how you managed to win one war, let alone, if you can't even prevent yourself from running into the ground." Her voice was icy and distinctly contemptuous. She stalked over to him. Cold fingers dug into the meat of his naked shoulder, pushed him upright between the wall and headboard; tight, controlled movements. "Four years later and you still want to pretend you're a fucking martyr. It might've worked on Mikasa, but I'm not your sister. I'm not going to help you hurt yourself."

She kneaded at his leg in a much brusquer way than the way the orderlies in Marley. Eren didn't argue. She was not going to take no for an answer. When it was done she coaxed him to lie down again. He stiffened as he felt her weight join his on the mattress, curled almost tentatively against his chest. She didn’t try to hold him, just huddled as though for warmth. She did not explain herself.

Eren had a vague recollection of the last time this had happened. Back then she came up to his chin, rather than the middle of his chest; their disparity was only thrown into relief. He could feel the human warmth of her through the thin undershirt, the softness of her hair on his cheek. He’d dreamt about this a lot when he was sixteen, while the tragedy of her betrayal was no longer fresh but still painful in his mind. He had no energy left to hate her then, for she was not his enemy.

He heard her breathing even out.

She had stayed this long. There was no sense in abandoning her now.

v.

Sometime after that, Eren started noticing her in more tangible ways. Smell of her hair. The subtle glint in her eyes in lieu of a smile. She'd wait up for him in the mornings before he left. He'd tell her good-bye.

When he came home he’d catch her eyes lingering on him in profile.

Just one day too many of the same quiet inactivity. The fact that they had slept in the same bed was just a catalyst of how familiar they were with each other already.

She woke up an hour later than usual and, fuming, went out to train. A light rain had started. Eren made breakfast. Over the next twenty minutes the light sheet became much more torrential. Annie came back in about half-an-hour, dripping water all over the floor. He would've told her off but she grabbed his wrist. He turned as she leant up and took his face in her hands and kissed him like her life depended on it.

Maybe the situation had always been building to this. He had forgotten about its immediacy until the moment presented itself. But now there was nothing left to say. So he gathered her up and placed her on the counter, kissing her breathless, bunching up her threadbare shirt, palming her tits through the military-issue brassiere—he muttered, "see, I thought you were just being nice," and she scoffed, set her heel to the small of his back even as he put his mouth on her. She was chilled from the rain; it was not yet summer. Half-dressed and needy, he took her right there on the countertop. Afterwards, there was no shame or lingering uncertainty that would have been present as cadets. She pressed her cheek to his.

"I'm going to be away for a while. It's higher pay if I stay in Karanese. Maybe two or three weeks." She looked up at him. Her eyes were bright but her tone was stoic. "I just…" She trailed off because he was only looking at her face. Eren smoothed her damp hair away from her cheek.

"I love you." Then he stopped. Like he was finally coming to grips with the idea. Annie blinked rapidly. A crease formed in her brow. Her mouth worked but no sound came out. Eren kissed her chin. "But, if you're gonna be trackin' mud everywhere you'd best clean it up after yourself."

She finally came back to herself. Shoved him lightly in the chest. "Fuck off." Then hoisted herself off the counter, fixed her trousers, and asked in a dry voice where he kept the washbasin.

vi.

On his own the cabin felt distinctly empty. Sometimes he'd wake up hard and just—take care of it. Annie on top of him. On her knees. Pulling him up to her. He missed her a lot more than he'd care to admit to her face and it wasn't just in the sense that she was available. She'd probably just smirk at him anyway.

But when she returned it was nice to have her around, even for a little while. She kept to herself and he gave her space; it was as though she had never left.

It was still morning. He was working when he felt her come up behind him, hands slipping over his wrists. “Oi,” he muttered, “I’m a little busy.”

“You’re just sitting there.”

He scoffed. “Really? How would you know what I’m doin’?” No answer. Eren closed the book. “You really are demanding, ain’t you?” Faux-annoyance. But he turned.

She looked prettier in uniform. Hair pulled back into less of a bun, more of a severe ponytail. She was looking him up and down as though deciding something for herself.

She leant down, kissed him firmly, nipping at his lip until went with it, half-amused. She stepped back, breathing evenly, eyes glinting. She cupped his face, a vestige of tenderness he did not anticipate.

Then her eyes shifted, something empty, strange. A harsh crack against his jaw he could not anticipate and he took it, worked his jaw, blinking rapidly. “What the hell are you—?”

Annie jerked her head back slightly, fixing him with the same expectance he realised he’d completely misinterpreted. “Hit me.”

Eren didn’t move. Her jaw trembled, then set. He caught her wrist. “That’s enough.”

“Why?” She sounded annoyed. “It’s all right. I can take it.”

“What is this?”

“I’ll be dead before you anyway, it would be easier just to take—”

“—I said that’s enough,” he said, terse. “I’m not going to do anything to you."

Her brow furrowed. "I thought you understood.”

Eren just stared, fighting to keep himself calm when he wanted to grab her shoulders and demand her to justify why the hell she wanted to be hit. "What am I supposed to understand?"

Annie’s eyes darted over his face and then to his wrist. “I want you to hit me back.”

“I’m not going to do that.” He cupped her jaw and she almost flinched; his stomach twisted. “Do you understand me?“

Silence built up between them. "I know you’d stop if I asked you to.”

“I’m not going to wait until after I’ve hurt you to stop.”

Annie pressed her face into his chest. He took her by the shoulders, watching her stiffen.

“Do you hear me?”

She nodded.

"Why d'you want me to hit you?"

"Do you want a list?" He gripped her tight enough to make her flinch and immediately regretted the look of fear that came across her face. He let go of her. "I’ve been complicit in the death of your comrades.” Her voice thickened. “And I’ve taught you everything I know. You don't need me here for anything other than your own gratification.” Returning to the facade of impassivity with unnerving ease. “So, there’s no point in comparing our tallies.”

“Annie—"

“Are you stupid?” Annie spat, the most emotion she had exhibited thus far. “You've taken my country and my life and my father and you—now you want me to love you back. You want to marry me as if we're ever going to—I'm the one who killed your friends, why would you ever want to be reminded of—"

"You love me." She looked helpless in her vulnerability. "What? What's the matter?"

"Why would you want me? I—I can't even have children. I'm going to die in four years. I'm going to watch you die unless I kill myself fir—"

"—Annie—"

"—you could fuck anyone you wanted!" she exploded. "Why does it have to be me?"

"Because you don’t have to earn anything from me! I just want to be around you—can’t you accept that?”

Annie kissed him hard. He trembled though he was holding her.

“Take me to bed." Eren opened his mouth and she kissed his chin. “I want you to take me to bed. I—”

Even then, he was hesitant to touch her. She led the way, stripping down to skin and splaying on his bed. He caressed her when she asked him to, a gentleness in his hands that betrayed his own sympathy; for once she didn’t chastise him.

Her scarring was far more pronounced in the light. He'd noticed before, briefly on the counter and more clearly with enough attention, but not like this. It clustered around her sternum and down her spine. He wondered, briefly, if that was why she'd wanted to do it quickly. Now her eyes were bright and shimmering but she took him into her, reached for him.

"Is this OK?" His voice was a croak.

Her eyes flickered to him. Cautious, sure. "Yeah."

He was on his knees, lifting the small of her back, working her towards a much sweeter surrender. He slid one arm around her waist to support her and touched her breasts, the side of her neck, cupping her jaw. His thumb ran over her scarring.

“Annie.” She gasped at the sound of her name. “Ann. Look. Come here.” She was biting her lip. Head fallen back, her hair was almost diaphanous in the light. He murmured her name and she was shivering with emotion. She turned into her elbow and told him in an unsteady voice to go faster, and the bed creaked to match him.

Her body arched, jaw slack. She wouldn't stop shivering. Her voice did not rise in expectation. It just wavered, edgeless.

He took her wrist away from her face and—she flinched. This serrated, ugly, sound that jerked out of her body. He pulled out, holding her. “Look at me,” his voice hoarse and horrified, “please.”

Annie curled up against his chest and shook. Eren just kept apologizing. She didn't push him away.

Eventually she stopped. Raised her head. Their eyes met and she lost composure again. He brushed her hair from her face. “Stay,” she croaked, “please. I need you.”

He kissed her brow. She almost flinched. He tucked his chin into her shoulder, arms around her back, until she’d calmed down.

"You don't have to do anything," he said quietly. "Do you understand that?"

"I know."

Laying prone, she only came up to his sternum. Annie sat up first. She got to her feet and went over to the window. Her shoulder was parallel to the glass. His attention stayed firmly on her profile. “You’re gonna get colder than hell. Come back here.”

She turned and glanced at his forearm curled half-surreptitiously against his stomach. Scar tissue along her breasts was prominent. In the dead light of this cloudy, April afternoon she finally looked her age.

There was a naked uncertainty in her eyes that made him freeze. "You're not my father and you never will be. You've been kinder towards me than I deserve, given the circumstances. I wish I could despise you."

Eren rolled his shoulders. The silence held for a while. "I don't know if what either of us have done can be forgiven. But, as long as you’re here, I want you to know that I don't hate you." All she did was stare, a slight crease in her brow. “I never could.”

“You love me,” she said. Not with scorn. Like she was testing the idea in a way they would have shied away from as kids. She averted her face towards the window.

She watched him get up and tensed. He limped towards her in a couple strides and draped the blanket around her shoulders with the same tentativeness. She did not put her arms around him. She pressed her face into his shoulder. His arm came around her back and she closed her eyes, just existing in the cold slats of wood against her feet and the rise and fall of his breast.

He put the blankets around her and laid beside her.

He’d always supposed he would heal with enough rest. He didn't know how to put what he felt into words, but eloquence had never been his forte. It was not unlike laying on your deathbed, mulling over all the things that hardly seemed to matter until there was no time left to spare.

There was no pain now, just certainty in the presence of another—the old urge to drink was absent.

This is a cleaned-up version of a couple tumblr WIPs + some old/new material blended in for fun. Think of it as a pilot episode for a much larger fic.

For what it's worth I did like the ending of AoT. Elements of that ending will likely factor into the aforementioned larger fic. I am totally disinterested in arguing about ships or wasted potential—at this point, I’d rather write whatever seems interesting, and leave it at that, canon or not.

And hey, if you think acknowledging canon will override my crippling addiction to the "morally challenged antihero/problematic blonde" dynamic… I really don't see that happening. Even after exiting this fandom, it's like, ALL I've been writing for a year (looking at YOU Insult to Injury) and I feel like I'm going insane. Back on topic though: Now that AoT has concluded, I find I am far less stressed at the prospect for writing for this series again. It won’t be my main focus, but I do like this fic’s concept enough to flesh it out.

[prettytragcdies]

It’s me. Hi. My name is Laura, and I prefer she/her pronouns. I’m currently located in the CST, and this blog is filled with a wide array of muses from various tiny fandoms. It also doubles as a Linda Gray and Emma Samms appreciation blog, but I digress.

Please enjoy your stay, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask away! I promise that I’m about as intimidating as a newborn puppy. With that being said, here are a few links to get you started. Welcome to my blog.

Guidelines || Muses || Memes || Navigation

My discord and various other social media accounts are available upon request. As for where else to find me over here, please see below.

Scarlett Ewing || Lauren Colby || Madison Kovac || Personal Blog || Resource Blog

Mini muse blurbs under the cut, just in case you want information without having to check out my messy, temporary biography page. Hope this helps entice you to write with me!

Meagan Maynard is the daughter of Captain Elaine Maynard. She's never met her biological father and thinks of Detective Lou Ransone as the closest thing she'll ever have to one. She had a near death experience while at the pier with her best friend during the tsunami, and it led her to make the decision to become a therapist who specializes in helping first responders one day. She's currently a sophomore at UCLA.

Amanda Ryder is the former sister-in-law of Judd Ryder. She divorced Judd's eldest brother in a very chaotic and messy fashion, and despite all of their endless drama, her ex-husband is still attempting to win her back. She's never held an actual job before, and her divorce settlement has fortunately kept her in the comfortable lifestyle she's grown very much accustomed to over the years.

Merritt Brady is the daughter of Lt. Jessica Brady, and she’s currently in college at NYU. She’s a work in progress until season 24 starts and I have more information to work with.

Katherine MacKenzie is the daughter of Mack and Karen MacKenzie. She grew up on a cul de sac in a suburb of Los Angeles, but once she decided to become a doctor, she was eventually matched at MED in Chicago, Illinois. Katherine walks the fine line between tomboy and girly girl. She’s very down to earth and sweet, at least until you attempt to mess with the people she loves most anyway. As a teenager, she worked as an assistant in her father’s law office.

Alexandra Dexter is the daughter of Dex Dexter and Sable Colby. She currently owns the Colby Collection gallery that she inherited from her mother. She's also a socialite and sits on the board of various charities throughout Los Angeles. She enjoys all things art ( including painting ) and often attends auctions in New York to purchase more ( as well as shop ). She prides herself on being very articulate and refined. In her One Chicago verse, all of this takes place in Chicago, rather than Los Angeles.

Krystina Carrington is the daughter of Blake Carrington and Krystle Carrington. She's currently the CFO of her father's company, Denver Carrington. She also had a heart transplant when she was only four years old, so she's still managing that on a daily basis, although nine times out of ten, she appears perfectly normal from the outside. She's very down-to-earth and kindhearted, unless you're her niece, Lauren, and you're both after the same son of the governor of Colorado. In her One Chicago verse, all of this takes place in Chicago, rather than Denver, and her family's company is instead called Carrington Enterprises.

Margaret Nash is the sister-in-law of Captain Bobby Nash. She is married to his brother, Raymund. She’s a mother to their children and an English teacher at a local high school. She’s still a work in progress, so patience is a virtue. Thank you.

Information about my remaining canon characters can be found in a quick online search. A biography for Lauren can be found on her blog, and a biography for Scarlett can be found on her own blog as well. As for my soap opera characters, there's too many plot twists to get into for a list of mini blurbs like this, so please see the messy, temporary biographies page for more information about that particular group. As for Bryannah, she's still very much a work in progress.