#but it's been both for so long that now we're here

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 4

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: kissing!!making out!! idiots falling in love!! team banter!!!

Word count: 4.7k

MASTERLIST

| PART 1 HERE | | PART 2 HERE | PART 3 HERE |

..

Kyra thought that last night had been a product of her dreams. She had kissed Y/n, her long-time friend and roommate while watching ‘But I’m a Cheerleader’. And when she woke up, she was cuddling with Y/n, which made everything even better.

Kyra’s arm was spread out on the mattress while Y/n slept on top of it, mouth slightly open as she breathed quietly. Her cast was on top of a pillow and her other–and good – leg was intertwined with Kyra’s. Kyra didn’t want to get out of bed, especially when Y/n’s sleeping face looked so cute, but it was 6:30 in the morning and both girls had a big day ahead of them.

The girl enjoyed a few seconds of Y/n’s warm body against her, but before Kyra could say anything, Y/n began to move slightly, pushing her face closer to Kyra’s body until she was lying on her chest, her left arm hanging on Kyra’s shoulder.

The physical touch was welcomed by Kyra. She gently ran her hands over Y/n’s scalp. “Good morning,” Kyra said in a hoarse morning voice.

“Hmm,” Y/n murmured, not opening her eyes, feeling the softness of Kyra’s shirt against her cheek. “What time is it?”

“Almost 7.”

“Too early, wanna sleep more.”

Kyra stroked her cheek. “I know, but you can take a nap after we get back from Arsenal, yeah? You have physio today.”

“I forgot about that,” Y/n said, finally opening her eyes to look at Kyra. “You’re pretty, did you know that?” she said smiling, still a bit dazed from the deep sleep she had been in.

Kyra blushed slightly, but hid it with a grin “Is that why you kissed me yesterday? Because I'm pretty or something?”

“Yeah… or something.,” Y/n said, kissing Kyra softly on the lips.

Kyra froze for a moment, but quickly melted into Y/n’s kiss.“We're just doing this now, aren’t we?” Kyra asked, smiling. “I mean, I'm not complaining.”

“What? Kissing? I guess so if you still want to.”

“Great, I do, I wanna do it a lot.”

“A lot?” Y/n giggled. “Won't even make me work for it” she said teasingly.

“If your leg wasn’t broken maybe, I might not be so nice,” Kyra said, tapping her chin. “But since I'm still your caretaker, then yes, you get free kisses.”

Y/n smiled, cupped Kyra’s jaw and brought her face closer, their lips touching. and Y/n deepened the kiss, neither caring if the other had morning breath or not.

“You’re the best caretaker, ever” Y/n whispered against Kyra’s mouth.

“Glad you like it, I might put it on my resume for when I retire,” Kyra said. She hesitated at first, but gently placed her hands under Y/n’s shirt, feeling the skin on her waist. “So I can get a job afterwards, or whatever.”

Y/n shook her head and kissed Kyra some more. “No, I don’t wanna share you with other sad and injured footballers, I just want you for myself.”

“So are you admitting you like having me around?” Kyra said.

“I mean, you give great kisses and you always remind me to take my medicine, so yeah, maybe I do.”

Kyra loved hearing that she gave great kisses. The thought of being complimented by Y/n made her brain go fuzzy. It was quite an overwhelming and new feeling. So Kyra turned to what she knew best: jokes.

Kyra pumped her fist dramatically in the air “Yey! Would you mind repeating that again?” She picked up her phone and opened a recording app.

“Oh fuck off,” Y/n pushed the phone away, laughing. “We were having a moment.”

“Sorry, couldn't help myself, let’s just kiss some more,” Kyra said before filling Y/n’s face with kisses.

..

They didn't talk about it.

They didn't talk about any of the kisses they had shared. They hadn't mentioned whatever it was they were doing, not because they didn't want to, or because it was awkward, it was just because it felt normal. As if they'd been in this domestic routine for ages.

Kissing Kyra; telling her she was pretty; cuddling up with her at night…it was all normal, comfortable and serene. Their routine didn’t change, they continued to do the same things every day, except they kissed.

Y/n was always very focused on football. So focused that she simply did not care about other things, like romantic relationships. She put everything she had into football because she knew it was up to her and no one else. She didn’t really open up to people, especially those who weren't her friends, so it was hard to build any type of romantic relationship.

However, after all these weeks of living with Kyra, she’d realised that her friend had meant a lot more to her, and she wasn’t afraid to show it. It felt good to finally let go and relax, to put football and her long-standing fear of vulnerability aside for a moment.

This wasn’t Y/n’s first time being with someone, she had one-night stands before, but they’d been very…awkward. In the mornings, she and random girls Y/n had met in London’s nightlife would dance around ‘good mornings’ and ‘see you’ or even ‘we should do this again’. But it was all very superficial, as it had to be.

Y/n was not sure what Kyra thought of their thing but she seemed to enjoy it. Y/n didn’t want to put a label on it. She just wanted to kiss Kyra some more, cuddle with her through the night and overall just enjoy their little domestic, and pretty much, ordinary life.

They didn’t have to rush into it, or overthink it. Just live in it for a while. There was no big elephant in the room that needed to be discussed. There was just Kyra and Y/n, and she was grateful for that.

After a few minutes of lying in bed and doing nothing, the girls left the bed and went to the kitchen to start their day.

“You can add the mushrooms and onions now, but let it cook before you add the salt and pepper” Y/n said. She sat on the kitchen counter while Kyra stood by the stove, wearing Y/n's apron with the saying ‘I love stirring things up’. It looked cute on her, but the size wasn’t right.

Y/n made a note to buy an apron just for Kyra. She didn’t really enjoy sharing her things. Red flag, yeah.

Kyra had a frown on her face, if Y/n hadn't known they were only making omelettes, she would have thought Kyra was being sent off to war.

“I hate cooking,” Kyra muttered, stirring the mushrooms uninterestedly.

“We can't live off of cereal for the next months to come,” Y/n said, without looking at Kyra, concentrating instead on the recipe book in her hand. “Can you also chop the spinach for me when you're done?”

Kyra grumbled so that was a yes.

Y/n took the eggs and the bowl that were already on the counter and started beating the eggs with a whisk.

Y/n loved to cook. It was one of the most therapeutic things for her. She loved cooking for herself and for others. She took pride in eating something and being able to explain, step by step, what she had done and what ingredients she had used.

When she got injured the doctors had told her that she wouldn't be able to stand for long periods of time, so cooking and baking was promptly removed from the list of things she enjoyed, but couldn't do, along with football and morning runs.

This was the first day she had cooked since the injury. She had tried cooking standing up in her crutches but this had led to her falling over while trying to pick up ingredients from the pantry. She had cried her eyes out of anger before Kyra found her on the floor, a mess of tomatoes and beetroot down with her.

She felt frustrated and pathetic, but there was nothing she could do about it except accept that she was fated to eat Kyra’s bad food for a while.

A few weeks after that incident, she tried another strategy, the one she was doing right now: sitting on the counter while giving instructions to Kyra, but, of course, she got frustrated again because Kyra couldn't follow instructions and Y/n was too much of a control freak, so she gave up cooking one more time

However, something had happened between Kyra and Y/n–they kissed! Y/n hoped that since they shared quite a few kisses, they could successfully share a kitchen as well, so she tried cooking again.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Y/n shouted from the other side of the kitchen.

Kyra stopped putting whatever spice she was adding to the food and looked at Y/n confused, holding the spice jar in the air.“What? You told me to add salt and pepper on it after it was cooked!” Kyra said, defending herself.

“That's not pepper, that's paprika!” Y/n pointed out, hands down her face. “Now our omelette is ruined!”

“No, it's not,” Kyra made a face. “It's just paprika, not cocaine. We can eat it just fine.”

“Here, pass me the eggs,” she demeaned. “Are they frothy already?”

Y/n took the bowl from the counter, and put it behind her, trying to get out of Kyra’s reach. “We're not putting my eggs on that. I hate paprika, it makes everything taste horrible.”

Kyra was silent for a moment, her face stoic. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes.”

“Why the hell do you have paprika if you hate it, then?” Kyra questioned.

“You can't be a real cook and not have paprika in your kitchen.” Y/n shrugged.

Kyra tried to take the bowl from her again, but Y/n was quicker and got it out of the way, holding it to her body for dear life.

“I'm being serious! Maybe we can throw the anions, mushrooms and spinach mix away and you can make it again, using the right and correct seasoning this time.” Y/n suggested.

“You want me to chop the onions again?!” Kyra said with a gasp. “I just cried, chopping them.” She pointed at the onions as if they had hurt her.

“Maybe you can try wearing sunglasses this time?” Y/n pointed.

Kyra didn't respond. The girl just turned away and opened one of the upper cupboards, taking out three boxes of cereal with one hand and two bowls with the other.

She placed the cereal boxes and the bowls next to Y/n and pointed At each box. “Do you want Coco Pops, Raisin Oats or Weetabix?”

Y/n stared at the cereals, disgust on her face. “What?!”

“Cereal. Which one do you want?” Kyra pointed at each of the boxes again, repeating its brand name.

“I don't want cereal,” Y/n said, more sassy than she liked to admit it.

“Well, but I do,” Kyra said, picking up the Coco Pops one, and pouring it into a bowl.

Before taking a spoonful, she took a step closer and kissed Y/n on the nose, then packed her on the mouth. "You're way too bossy in the kitchen–my cortisol levels are through the roof,” she explained, taking a bite of her cereal.

Y/n pouted defeatedly, picked up the Raisin Oats and poured it into her own bowl, without saying a word.

Kyra tapped the spoon against the bowl in her hand. “Wow! That's actually so good,” Kyra said mouth=-full.

“You say that as if you haven't done this every day for the last week,” Y/n said grumpily, taking a spoon of her raising. It tasted so processed.

Kyra shrugged. “Well, at least your Raising tastes better than paprika anyway.”

Y/n and Kyra could share kisses and a house, but they couldn't share the kitchen, or even the same cuisine taste.

..

Kyra and Y/n arrived at Arsenal half an hour before the training. Which was plenty of time for Y/n to say hello to all the staff members and Win on her way in. Y/n didn’t realise how much she had missed the people she used to see every single day. All the staff members made sure to tell her how much they missed her too and wished her a recovery.

Y/n felt strange at first. In the changing room, everyone was wearing their training kit, and boots and had their hair up, ready for training, everyone except for Y/n, who stood in the middle of the room, and couldn't help but feel like the odd one out, even though all the girls assured her that she was still very much part of the team.

It was still difficult to be surrounded by such amazing players, and friends, while Y/n had only just learned how to walk on her crutches without stumbling.

“Look who's here!” Leah was the first to see Y/n, greeting her with a hug. “How have you been? Giving that pest over there a hard time?”

“Always,” Y/n said, winking at her captain.

“Y/n! I didn't know you were coming in today.” Alessia said, being the next one in line to give Y/n a warm welcome.

Y/n hugged Alessia as she waved at other teammates, who were just as happy to have her back, even if it wasn't for playing or training.

“Kyra didn't tell you that I've been cleared to start physio with our physiotherapists here at Arsenal?” Y/n asked, turning to look at Kyra, who was sitting on the bench, putting her boots on.

“I did tell them!” Kyra said, defensiveness in her tone “But they didn't believe me.”

“Easy there, little pest,” Steph said behind Kyra, patting her on the back. “This is what happens when you think it's funny to make up stories, and now we don't believe you when you tell the truth.” Steph walked past a stunned Kyra, coming to greet Y/n. “But it doesn't matter anymore because Y/n is actually here!”

“Bloody hell! Is this still about the loose screws?! Have some mercy and let it go!” Kyra said, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

The team laughed at Kyra and for a few seconds Y/n felt what she used to feel before her injury, a sense of belonging to the people around her and to her club… After all the girls chatted with Y/n, they left the changing room and headed onto the pitch, leaving only Y/n, Kyra and Alessia still chatting, just like old times.

“And then Kyra tackled Renéé to the ground, can you believe it?!” Alessia said, having just finished telling her the story of how Kyra was responsible for getting Renée–aka their head coach–in the infirmary a few days ago.

“She told me to treat her like any other player,” Kyra mumbled. “I felt bad though, but she said she wasn’t angry.”

“I would give anything to see Renée get tackled,” Y/n laughed.

“I think Steph actually got it on video,” Kyra said.

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Really?!”

Kyra smiled. “Nah, I’m joking.”

“I hate you,” Y/n muttered.

Alessia interrupted the two girls by putting one arm around Y/n, but not quite leaning over her so that Y/n wouldn't lose her balance. “Did you know I’m gonna be your physio-buddy today?”

“I fell hard on my shoulder yesterday, Mary wants to have a look at it.” She added.

Mary was Arsenal's upper body physiotherapist. Y/n wouldn’t be doing any sessions with her, instead, Clare would be the one to keep up with Y/n's injury. But both physiotherapists did the physical therapy in the same room, so Alessia and Y/n would spend the whole morning together.

Alessia led Y/n through the door of the changing room, heading to the opposite direction of the pitch, where the physio room was. They quickly noticed someone walking behind them.

Alessia smiled softly, “Aren’t you doing drills with the team today, Ky? Or do you also have an appointment with Mary too?”

Kyra blushed slightly as she shook her head. “No, I don't have an appointment. It’s just that–” Kyra turned to Y/n. “–don’t you want some help? I always help you walk around and… I can stay with you and Alessia during physio today too, I’m sure Renée won’t mind.’

“Thanks, Ky, but it’s ok.” Y/n looked down at her crutches then at Alessia and smiled softly at Kyra. “Lessie here will help me, you don’t need to worry about me now, just focus on your training.”

Kyra listened to Y/n but didn’t move. Kyra had spent most of her free time with Y/n. The only time they had been apart since her injury was when Kyra was at training, so it felt strange not to be by Y/n’s side when she could.

She knew Y/n would kill her if she ever knew how much Kyra was worried about her and her injury all the time. Y/n absolutely didn’t like people fussing over her, so Kyra was having a particularly hard time today.

She needed to give Y/n some space away from her, maybe it would do her some good, and make her feel more independent too.

“I'll keep an eye on her, Kyra, ” Alessia said, placing a comforting hand on Y/n's back. “Don't worry, go on, if anything happens I'll come get you, yeah?”

Y/n smiled and Kyra a thumbs up, reassuring her that she could leave

Kyra just nodded her head, a small smile on her face as she turned around and walked away.

Y/n would be fine. Why wouldn't she be fine? She was only doing physio, for God’s sake. Kyra thought, a mix of emotions on her mind as she left the two girls alone.

“She seems very concerned about you,” Alessia said. “Did you fall or something? When Leah was injured she fell down the stairs of her house, remember?”

“Yeah I do remember that, I was the one that had to come to her house to help her” Y/n said. “I fell too, twice actually, once in the bathroom and once in the pantry a few days ago,” Y/n pointed to her crutches. “I still haven't got used to using them.”

“Was Kyra the one who helped you?”

“Yes, she was very nervous, but she didn’t wanna show it,” Y/n continued. “So she just kept saying I shouldn't try to kill myself trying to walk on my own because people would think I died because of her.”

“I think she was trying to hide how much she cared for you with her jokes,” Alessia said. “Did you know Clare and Mary had to ban her from getting into the physio room because she kept interrupting the other girls ’sessions to ask about your injury, and if there were any kind of new treatments around.

Y/n stopped and laughed at Alessia. “She did that? That’s so Kyra honestly.”

“Yes, but I think her ban was lifted a few days ago,” Alessia said jokingly as she opened the door to the physio room and helped Y/n to one of the therapy tables.

Thankfully the room was empty, so Alessia and Y/n were able to talk about whatever they wanted freely.

“It’s a little funny watching you and Kyra,” Alessia said, putting up a chair next to Y/n’s table. “I think we’re so used to seeing her acting as a menace and treating her like a little sister that we get a bit shocked when she acts more responsibly.”

“It’s adorable, really,” Alessia added.

Y/n smiled, thinking of Kyra’s soft face. “Yeah, she is.”

Y/n almost blurted out that she had never seen Y/n as a little sister, especially now. Y/n and Kyra weren’t exactly hiding that they were…kissing? snogging around? But Y/n still didn’t want to talk about it too much. It still felt too intimate. It was something that belonged to them.

“Kyra’s been treating me really well,” Y/n continued. “I mean she always jokes and teases me a lot, but she’s also very patient when I’m mad about my injury, and she always drives me around, so that’s a plus.”

Y/n wanted people to see Kyra the way she saw her. Not just someone who plays around, but also someone who’s very caring and generally loving.

“Well, I'm glad to know you have someone like Ky on your side right now.” Alessia smiled. “It makes me worry less about you and her, I feel like you act as her voice of reason sometimes. ”

“Please, I don’t need more people to worry about me, I promise.” Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “This whole recovery is going slower than I thought it would be but I’m just learning to be patient.”

“You’ll get there,” Alessia said reassuringly.

“Now please let’s talk about something other than my stupid injury, please!” Y/n said dramatically, making Alessia laugh.

“Ok, so let me tell you what happened in the tunnel in our last game–” Alessia started the story, and both girls were busy while waiting for physio to begin.

..

“I'm never coming back here again,” Y/n mumbled as she sat on the bench, wind in her face, watching her teammates do running drills on the pitch. Physio had taken up two hours of her and Alessia’s morning and it was hard; Y/n even considered just cutting off her leg and leaving it there.

“Yes, you're,” Leah murmured from her side, drinking her water and watching her surroundings “Physio honestly sucks but you’ve just gotta do it, mate” The captain shrugged. “It’s good that you’re feeling pain, it means your nerves aren’t screwed up.”

“Yeah, but it fucking hurts!” Y/n complained, crossing her arm “

“Breaking a bone hurts, what made you think growing them back wouldn't,” Leah said condescendingly.

“Have people ever told you how much you suck at supporting others in need?”

“Have people ever told you how annoying you are when you whine?” Leah bit back.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Hey, share your water with me, I left my bottle in Kyra's car.” Y/n made grabby hands, but Leah shook her head rather dramatically.

“Ew, no.” Leah said, “I hate sharing water, grab one from the cooler.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow at Leah, signalling at her cast. “Could you please get me some water, then?”

Leah complained all the way to the cooler and back, but finally handed Y/n her water bottle. “Are you like this with Cooney-Cross at home too?”

“Like this what?” Y/n asked, taking a sip of her cold water. Damn, she was thirsty.

“Demanding,” Leah said teasingly, taking the spot next to Y/n again.

“I wasn’t at first. I didn’t like asking for help,” Y/n answered, her eyes searching the pitch for Kyra in the pitch. “But she cracked me.”

“I think you cracked her too,” Leah said nonchalantly, watching Kyra as well.

“What?” Y/n asked, turning her head to Leah.

“She’s different.” Leah continued. “She’s not acting so much like a pest lately, she’s been more responsible, less reckless on the pitch too.”

Y/n didn’t answer.

“I wonder if it’s because of you,” Leah added.

Wow, Leah, always the straightforward one.

“She’s a young player, we’ve all been like that once,” Y/n said, trying to steer the conversation, sensing something suggestive in Leah’s voice, but not wanting to give in to Leah, not.

“I wasn’t,” Leah said proudly.

Y/n laughed sarcastically. “Oh yeah, because you were always so calm and collected.”

“I beg your pardon? I have the least yellow card ib from this team,” Leah bit back, rolling her eyes “Anyway, I’m just casually, very casually, letting you know that I’m sensing something different in Kyra.”

Y/n didn't answer again.

“So I’m just leaving the door for this conversation open,” Leah continued, trying to sound chill, but Y/n had known her for a few years now. The captain had thought this whole conversation through. “If you ever want to talk about it, I mean, I’m here.”

Leah honestly could give two shits about other people’s lives, so Y/n was rather amused by Leah’s way of showing that she was interested in her life and in whatever she had to do with Kyra’s change in behaviour.

“Is this your way of trying to be casual? Because you failed, bro.”

Leah furrowed her eyebrows. “I’m just trying to be a good friend. Alessia told me I should be more welcoming, and more…emotionally available, so this is me trying. If you prefer my old version I can bring her back”

“Please bring back my old Leah,” Y/n said, playfully putting her palms together as if in a prayer.

“What happened between you and Cooney?” Leash asked bluntly.

This was the Leah she knew.

“Nothing happened between me and Kyra,” Y/n said. “We just got closer, we’ve been sharing a house for the last one to two months, in case you don’t remember. ”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it was the best Y/n could tell Leah right now.

Y/n and Kyra weren’t even dating, but Y/n couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if they disclosed whatever they had going on to the team. It wouldn't be anything new, it was very normal to date with your teammates.

Arsenal itself had a lot of couples that were brought together through the club, it wasn’t something unusual. But of course, when new couples formed the dynamics of the team changed a bit.

If they started dating, would people stop seeing Kyra as their little sister? Would the team stop seeing Y/n as this tough player who only had eyes for football and maybe a nightstand here or there?

When she thought about it Y/n realised that she really didn’t care about what her teammate thought about it. When Viv and Beth started dating, everyone just moved on with their lives, it was the same with Katie and Caitlin.

Y/n and Kyra just weren’t the type to make a big deal about it, they would probably just notice the shift between them and accept.

“I’ll pretend to believe you if you tell Alessia I tried doing the whole talk your feelings out with you,” Leah mumbled next to her, pulling Y/n out of her thoughts.

“So Alessia was the one who sent you, then? That little minx was with me the whole morning, she could've asked me.”

Leah shrugged, getting up from the bench and starting to warm up. “She didn't want to intrude.”

“So you intruded on her behalf?” Y/n asked, finding the whole situation funny.

“Yeah, I mean, you get closed off sometimes and it’s hard to reach out to you,” Leah said, more firmly now.

“It takes one to know one,” Y/n said, smiling at Leah.

Both women had been friends for a very long time. But the friendship between Leah and Y/n was different, they didn’t text every day, and they didn't plan to meet every week.

It was the kind of friend shared by two reserved people who enjoyed their privacy but still knew they could always count on each other

Y/n and Leah had the same faults, they were proud, stubborn and overly independent. So they knew each other, they knew how the other reacted to the world. And of course, they knew how hard it was for them to open up.

“Well, you know where I live if you ever feel like talking about why your eyes haven’t left Cooney for a second,” Leah patted Y/n’s back before running back to the pitch.

Maybe people would realise that she and Kyra were together sooner than she thought. Especially since Y/n was bluntly staring at Kyra while she played.

So what if she actually cheered a little when Kyra scored a goal?

..

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

[havendance]

I have to offer: AU snippet where Tim travels back in time to Knightfall and bothers Helena about it :)

Helena's apartment had been invaded. There was a cape hanging over the back of her couch, a pair of boots tossed haphazardly on the floor, and curled up on her couch balancing a laptop at an uncomfortable looking angle with an open bag of chips next to him, was a familiar teenage boy in green tights and a sweatshirt.

She set her groceries down on the counter "What," she said, "are you doing here?"

Robin looked up. "Helena!" he said with far too much enthusiasm for someone she teamed up with once and who was now acting far too comfortable in her space. "It's a long story." He wasn't, she noticed, wearing his mask this time.

The show of trust was appreciated, she had to admit. The showing up without warning was not. Helena crossed her arms and gave him the do you want to try that again look she'd perfected on her students.

He grinned back, unphased.

"My apartment is not a clubhouse, kid."

"I'm here for business," he said, unconvincingly. "I have a proposal."

"Which is?"

"How would you like to become Batman?"

"Excuse me?"

He had a whole presentation prepared, it turned out. Apparently that was what he'd been doing while eating her chips.

"Sorry," he said unconvincingly when she pointed this out.

Helena sighed. "Just show me this presentation."

"You know what happened to Batman," Robin said. In case she didn't remember, the first slide had the picture of Batman being tossed down into the streets by Bane that every news station had been running for the past week.

Helena nodded. "Yes."

"Well that left Gotham in a bit of a mess..."

Point 1 of Robin's argument: Gotham needed Batman. This was argued with a fervent sense of bone deep conviction on Robin's part and also graphs. Lots of graphs.

"I get it," Helena said, after he'd been talking for at least five minutes. "I think you can move on."

He made a face at her, but skipped past at least half a dozen more graphs to get to point 2: Batman's chosen replacement sucked for reasons including assassin brainwashing, not listening, and also more graphs of predicted casualty reports.

"Where did this data come from?" she asked, looking closer. There were some awfully specific points on that graph...

Robin skipped forward. "Not important. Just trust me on this," he said, sounding untrustworthy.

"So why me?" she asked when he finally got to the end.

"I can't take down Azrael on my own," he said, "and it's not like I can put on the Batsuit on afterwards either."

Helena waved a hand dismissively. "That much was clear, but why not someone more trustworthy."

"I trust you," Robin said without hesitating which was both endearing and also a little intimidating.

"But what about that Nightwing guy? Wouldn't he make a better choice."

For the first time that evening, Robin dimmed slightly. He looked away, an unreadable expression on his face. "Nightwing's... complicated," he said. And then, lighter again: "And maybe I want to make Batman sweat a little after ditching me with Azrael. Come on, it'll be fun. Please?" he added when she didn't say anything.

He made a very tempting case was the thing. Helena doubted that it would be as easy as he made it out to be, but it would be fun to mess with the real? former? Batman some.

"If we're doing this, does this mean I get to know who I'm partnering with?" she asked.

"Tim," Robin said, far easier than she was expecting. "Tim Drake. We have a deal then?" He stuck out a hand.

Helena shook. "We have a deal."

[leashybebes]

Oooh #31 to help distract you and also, good luck!

single parent au, my beloved! and now i'm going to bed. more of these tomorrow, hopefully!

There's a voicemail waiting for Tommy when he lands after his first flight of the shift. It's only thirty minutes old but his heart sinks when he hears, "Hi Mr Kinard, this is Stephanie, I'm a receptionist here at Central Elementary."

He covers his other ear with his free hand trying not to spiral.

"I'm sorry to say that Lila was involved in an altercation with another student - "

"What the hell," he murmurs. Lila's a little sassy - blame him for that, sure - but an altercation?

" - no one was hurt, but emotions are running high so we're asking the parents of both those involved to come pick the girls up for the day."

Tommy groans and heads towards his captain's office.

—

Buck stares disbelieving at his phone after he ends the call with Robbie's school. His baby girl, fighting? He can hardly believe it. She - alright, she may have inherited some of his more over-dramatic qualities, but she's a little angel.

"Uh, Bobby?"

"What's up, Buck?"

"I'm gonna need to take off for like…half an hour. Apparently Robbie got in a fight at school?"

"A fight?!"

"An altercation," Buck says, sounding the word out doubtfully. It sounds like a lot for a five year old. "They said she isn't hurt, but. Yeah. They want me to pick her up for the day."

"Okay, well just take her home," Bobby says. "We'll manage without you, and you know the firehouse is a treat."

"Thanks, Bobby," Buck calls over his shoulder, already jogging towards the parking lot.

—

Tommy hits traffic and the normally short drive to Lila's school takes him twice as long as it should. By the time he gets there, the pick up lot is empty aside from a Jeep, whose driver side door is just opening to reveal a tall, good looking guy in - Tommy blinks as he pulls his truck into an empty spot a few spaces over - an LAFD t-shirt with BUCKLEY stamped across the back.

Tommy gets a sinking feeling when the guy heads for main reception. Tommy catches up to him as he reaches the desk and hears him say, "I'm Roberta Buckley's dad, is she okay?"

"Oh, Mr Buckley, hi! If you can wait right here, I'll fetch the principal."

"Before you do," Tommy interjects. "Stephanie, right? Got a feeling we might be here for the same reason. Lila Kinard's dad."

Buckley glares at him while Stephanie disappears into the office. Tommy raises his eyebrows.

"What?"

"Can't believe your kid started a fight with my kid," Buckley grumbles.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you'd already spoken with the principal," Tommy says, hackles rising.

"Robbie's a good kid!"

"So is Lila!"

Buckley scoffs and Tommy bites his tongue. Much as he would love to right now, he's not going to start a fight with another parent at the school reception, so he folds his arms and looks away.

—

Lila's dad is a fucking asshole, Buck decides. Thinks he's sooo superior just because he can fold those huge arms over that broad chest and look away when Buck's working up for an argument. Thinks he's sooo great with the cleft in his chin and his stormy blue eyes and the stray curl on his forehead, like the jackass is cosplaying as Superman or something.

He's distracted from stewing in his own frustration when the door opens and the school principal - a friendly but steel-cored woman who he only knows as Mrs Jonas appears, Robbie on one side of her and Kinard's demon spawn on the other. He does have to grudgingly admit it's very cute when Kinard goes onto one knee to catch his kid as she flings himself in her direction with a cry of daddy!

He sets his big hands on her shoulders and looks at her seriously.

"What's this I hear about fighting, huh?"

"We made up!" Lila insists.

"We did," Robbie chimes in. "We did, daddy!"

"That so?" Buck asks, scooping Robbie up in one arm to look her over. Her braids are a bit of a mess and she has that redness in her cheeks that means she's been mad or crying or both recently, but she looks otherwise okay. He has to admit Lila's in the same condition, nothing too bad, but a little rumpled.

"Gentlemen," Mrs Jonas interrupts. "My office, if you would?"

—

They wind up taking the girls to the playground after their joint interview-slash-dressing down from the principal. Turns out Buckley - Evan - isn't so bad. Tommy can't really fault him for going a little all guns blazing where his daughter is concerned. Actually, he kinda likes it.

They'd both struggled to keep straight faces when the reason for the altercation was made clear to them - can firefighters fly? One strong vote for yes, one equally strong vote for no, two stubborn little girls both equally devoted to their dad's good name, and boom. Tinderbox.

The girls seem to be firmly over it now though, chasing each other around the playground and shrieking in excitement at having the place pretty much to themselves. It's maybe not the most effective parental response to fighting in school - 'fighting' in this case mostly meaning yelling and a little shoving - but Tommy can't bring himself to take it too seriously. He'll talk to her more later about using kind words and keeping her hands to herself, but the conflict resolution skills of a pair of five year olds seems to have gotten them past the worst.

Evan arrives back at the bench where Tommy's keeping an eye on the girls, with a takeout coffee in each hand. He passes Tommy one and sits next to him, giving Tommy a soft smile before he turns his attention to where the girls are whispering together intensely.

"Looks like we might have playdates in our future," Tommy suggests.

"Looks like," Evan says, with a sunny smile.

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A Female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Forty One)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Forty One: Y/N and Cillian start their Monday with the the trip to Cork that they've both been eagerly anticipating, and feeling anxious over. Y/N takes a few moments to think about how she sees herself outside of the relationship, and also how much Cillian means to her. They put one another at ease before they set off to inform Cillian's family of their pregnancy. [Fluff/Mild Anxiety]

@cherry-cilly @whatcjdidnext @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @strangeions @borntodiemp3 @watermeezer @lavender-haze-01 @meadowshelby

Just a reminder, use of the word "fag" for cigarette and not in the offensive manner.

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

After a weekend at home filled with noise, courtesy of Malachy and Aran both staying from Friday to Sunday, you were exhausted even after a good sleep over the Sunday night when Monday morning arrives. You wake with a resurgence of your nausea, feeling horribly sickly, and the idea of the planned, long drive to Cork makes your stomach twist with dread as you lie still - glad of the silence - but urging yourself not to throw up. Cillian's calls to his family had been under the guise of a visit before he ends up busy again, and he'd arranged that you'd stay with his parents for Monday and Tuesday night before returning home again Wednesday, with a family dinner - to break the news - on Tuesday. You were nervous but looking forward to it, but it was shadowed right now by the awful nausea. You breathe deeply, listening to the sounds of Cillian's snuffling sleeping breaths beside you, and you know you're fighting a losing battle when you begin swallowing frequently. Not wanting to heave all over the bedroom, you stand up slowly and then dash as quickly as you can to the bathroom. The sink is closer than the toilet, and you grip the sides as you retch painfully. You've nothing to bring up, but your stomach tries anyway. You know each belching heave is loud and dramatic, and you groan as it finally slows but your stomach hurts from the effort. Still clutching the sink, you swallow against your sore throat and breathe out as steadily as you can with pursed lips. After a moment, you brave straightening up and walk slowly back towards the bedroom. You'd left the door open, and as you step inside you can see Cillian is awake and lying facing the door, evidently disturbed either by your running out or your heaves. 

“Y’alright?” He croaks sleepily, and you nod your head slowly as you shut the door. “You going to be fit to be sitting in the car?” He asks as he stretches beneath the blankets, then groans noisily. 

“Have to be,” you shrug as you return to the bed. You sit on the edge and pick up your phone - it's only seven am but the plan was to be out by nine anyway, so it's not necessarily a bad idea to stay up. “Maybe we can get some travel sickness medicine before we go, it might help?” 

“If it's safe to take,” Cillian agrees, then yawns noisily. He groans again as he shifts and sits up, and you glance over your shoulder at him. “I need a piss - then I'll jump in the shower. Y'alright here?” He says as he walks around the bed. He stands beside you and you close your eyes as he bends to kiss you on the top of your head. As he straightens up, he dances a little on the spot like he's choosing between leaving and staying.

Laughing, you swipe his hip with your palm “I'm fine. I'll bring the bag down and get the kettle on. Don't take too long in the shower if we're getting on the road by nine.” 

“Leave the feckin’ bag there,” he tells you immediately as he walks towards the bedroom room, “I'll bring it down when I'm coming. Don't even think about lifting that yoke.” He disappears out without another word, and you hear the bathroom door shut and bolt across a moment later. 

Still feeling nauseous, you breathe like you're already in labour to try and calm it as you gather up yours and Cillian's phone chargers to add into the big for the trip to Cork - everything else has already been forced inside of the holdall that is usually Cillian's longer-length travel bag. You crouch at the bag on the floor and stuff the chargers and Cillian's earphones inside, knowing there'll be at least one moment in time when he'll decide he needs a break, or to go for a run. It's when you think about that prospect that it occurs to you that he's only been running twice since the new year, and you wonder if he's lacking motivation or if it's just the want of being at home. When you're satisfied you have nothing else to remember, you freshen yourself up with wipes - having showered the night before - and dress quickly into a pair of comfortable leggings, a long tunic, and a light cardigan before you fix your hair before the mirror. You grab a pair of thick socks from the dresser and take them, and your phone, with you as you leave the bedroom and head down the stairs. 

The house is warmer downstairs, and you feel cosy even without having put your socks on yet as you pad across to the kitchen. But you perch on a stool at the island to pull them on regardless. You bring the kettle to the sink and fill it from the cold tap, then halt on the spot as you turn it off as you remember it has a tendency to affect the shower if a downstairs tap is run. But you don't hear Cillian squealing, so you decide it's fine this time. You set the kettle back onto the base and flick it on to boil, then grab mugs and set them beside it. You don't know if Cillian wants coffee or tea, so you leave that until he appears. Walking across the kitchen, you reach into one of the wall mounted cupboards and pull out the box of multivitamins inside - Cillian had insisted on them in the days after your scan, and you'd followed his advice keenly. You weren't sure if they were actually going to be beneficial, but they promised an increased amount of vitamins B and D, and folic acid, which claimed to be very important during pregnancy. You take the single, absolutely enormous pill in hand and take it with you to the sink to swallow it down with water. It takes two gulps to shift it, and you're sure these are meant for horses not humans. 

Standing at the sink, though, you take stock of yourself and realise you've begun to feel a little less nauseated. It isn't gone by any means, but that threat of gagging has eased from your throat. You rinse the glass you'd just used under the hot tap and set it back down against the drainer, and pause again with a slight smirk in anticipation of Cillian yelling out upstairs. But once again, it doesn't come. But you do hear the bathroom door open and Cillian's footsteps tipping across the landing a few moments later, so you return to the kettle and set it once again to boil. You scold yourself as you do, though, knowing full well Cillian would have moaned about energy conservation at your first unnecessary heating of the water had he been around. And then you laugh to yourself at all the times you do something, or think something, and then have the secondary thoughts of what it is Cillian might say or do about it. 

You really do feel linked with him - it's a blessing and a curse. It means you love him to your very core, and that's a phenomenal feeling - but you can't remember the full you you were before him, and that alarms you sometimes. When did it become that your entire life was Cillian - or ‘you and Cillian’ - as opposed to ‘you’ and then ‘Cillian’? It isn't necessarily a bad thing, of course not, but Cillian has so much outside of your relationship and you consider that beyond work, you're not entirely sure what you have. You're brought from your thoughts by Cillian appearing almost right in front of you, dressed in cuffed jeans and a blue t-shirt, with a heavy-knit black cardigan pulled over the top. His hair is damp and flicking about the place like nobody's business, and he has his glasses on which makes you wonder if he has a headache or his eyes are straining him. He wore them usually when working, or reading, but you'd noticed that he would reach for them when he had head pain - he rarely ever voiced that the pain existed but you'd come to equate the two. You made a mental note to ask him later, if he didn't remove them. You raise your eyebrows and smile, “Nice shower?” 

“Some fecker kept sending the water cold,” he smirks at you, and you bite your bottom lips as you laugh nervously. “That kettle boiled?” 

“A minute ago,” you say. “Tea or coffee?” You turn to the kettle and flick the switch for a third time, but he's turned his back and apparently hasn't taken any notice. 

“Eh, coffee…” he calls back with his head in the fridge behind you. “Will we eat on the road, or are you hungry now?” He asks. 

“I'm not hungry, but I think I'll feel worse if I don't eat something. Maybe I'll just get an apple or…you could be kind and give me a flapjack.” You hear him cackle a loud laugh behind you as you focus on pouring the hot water. 

“Like you don't be in there swiping them anyway,” he's still laughing as he shuts the fridge door. “If you find you can keep them down then bring a few with us, I'd rather you'd something you can eat than trying to eat and ending up getting sick.” 

You turn around to hand him his mug and nearly jump out of your skin when he's right behind you again. It's a miracle you manage not to get the entire mug of boiling hot coffee over the two of you. “Jesus! You're gonna kill me one of these days. How do you have feet that fucking quiet.” You shake your head as he takes the mug from you, laughing silently.

“Sure I was a ninja in a previous life,” he says with one eyebrow raised, bringing the mug with him to the island. “Here, if you're not into breakfast, I'll just grab car snacks when we get fuel before we head on. We'll get you the anti-puke stuff, and maybe we'd be better bringing plastic bags like they do for wee ones, because we can't pull over on the main fucking stretch.” 

“Bit rich coming from the man who can't go two hours without stopping for a wee!” You tease him back, and the laugh he gives - with that cheekily peeking tongue - makes you want to squeeze him tightly with affection. “Maybe make sure the car snacks don't include too much to drink.” He shakes his head at you, but that tongue-prominent smile returns. “And make sure you go to the toilet before we go…” you drag the joke on, but he's still smiling and you love it. “How long is the drive?” You ask, leaning against the counter with your coffee though you're not sure you're able to drink it. 

“Just shy of three hours if we go on the M7. If we go M7 and N20, it's over three and half, but that could be better depending on what lies ahead.” He says and lifts his mug. “We'll be there for around half twelve in any case.” 

“How are you feeling about telling them tomorrow evening?” You ask and you watch his face change. He'd been ignoring it, whatever he feels, and you don't know if he'll even tell you now you've provoked it, but you wait patiently. 

He rolls his eyes, “I dunno,” he says and rolls his eyes again. “I don't want to…” he stops and you frown. “Upset them, you know? Or whatever.” 

“Love, you don't need to be worried about upsetting them. They're so fucking proud of you, all of them. They accepted your separation from Yvonne, and they know how happy you've been since. I mean, fuck, Cill…” you smile gently. “They'll be happy you're happy, and if they're not then does it matter anyway? We're happy.” He smiles softly, but you know it means more to him as they're his parents and siblings. Not that you don't care - of course you do - but you have the privilege of not being related and therefore having that distance that he doesn't. “C’mon,” you walk to the island and set your barely touched coffee beside Cillian's mug. “Let's get going while I don't want to throw up on my own feet.” You smile softly and cup your hands around his freshly shaven cheeks. “Because it's in the post and I was thinking that I want to do it in the car, into SuperValu carrier bag with you sitting right beside me listening to me heave.” You grimace, then laugh when he rolls his eyes and grins back at you. You edge forwards and steal a kiss, whispering “Love you,” against his lips. 

As you draw back your face and hands, he smirks at you, “Love you.” He repeats. “Go on and get yourself set. I'll wash these then we'll go.” 

The drive to Cork is fairly uneventful - while you feel washed out with nausea, the travel sickness medicine you've been eligible for is helpful, and so is the abundance of boiled sweets and ginger biscuits Cillian picked up. Cillian entertains you for almost the entire drive, filling the car with a ridiculous mix of music, and sings along to almost every song. He drives carefully - used to it from ferrying the kids around - but it doesn't delay your travel time. What does, though, is stopping when you are just outside of Thurles in Tipperary. With that, you add a half hour to your journey but it is worth it to pee in comfort and stretch your legs for a few moments - and for Cillian to have the cigarette he's been craving but you've absolutely refused to allow whilst driving, even with the windows down. On the ‘home stretch’ once reaching Fermoy, you delight in Cillian's pointing out of places he knows well until you finally reach his parents' house. 

Cillian stops the car and drags up the handbrake, then turns to look at you. “Y'alright? You're gone fierce pale.” He sticks out his bottom lip. 

You nod slowly, but you do actually feel like you might get sick. You don't even want to move your tongue inside your mouth to speak. You release your seatbelt, hold out your hand to him, then turn abruptly, thrusting open the car door, and lean out awkwardly as you retch noisily - with only two biscuits and boiled sweets inside you, the upbringing is minor but contractions of your stomach to expel it are harsh. “Fuck…” you moan breathlessly, still leaning awkwardly out the door, waiting for the threat of another gag to pass. When it does, you slowly sit upright in the seat, leaving the door open for the air, and cover your face with your hands. “Gross.” 

Cillian's hand drops down onto your thigh, “Do you want a drink?” He offers, his hand moves gently against your leg. 

“Not yet,” you shake your head as you bring your hands down, and you rest your right hand over his fingers against your leg. “They're going to work it out before tomorrow evening if this keeps up.” You say, your head resting back but turned to face him. 

“It's only my Mum and Dad, if they know then it'll be a surprise announcement just for the rest of them.” Cillian says gently. “It doesn't matter.” He sighs. “Want to sit a wee bit more, or are you fit?” 

"Let me sit a minute," you say and he nods his head and draws back his hand.

"No bother - I'm gonna have a fag, then when you're ready we'll go in." He says. He pulls back his hand from your leg and climbs out of the car door. He stays close and paces around by the car as he smokes. You focus on breathing slowly, and reach into the bag of boiled sweets for a mint one, hoping that both the peppermint and the sugar boost is enough to soothe your nausea. You keep your head back against the seat and your eyes closed - while it makes you feel like you could nod off for a nap, you're also slowly beginning to feel a little better. When he opens the car door and slips back into his seat a moment later, his door left open, you drag your tired eyes open. His left hand claps onto your leg again whilst his right one digs into the sweet bag. You watch him fire a mint into his mouth and he smiles when he catches you peeking. "What? You're not gonna kiss me if I taste like an ashtray." He laughs and you smile back, a breathy laugh escaping as you shake your head at him. "Right, you good? Wanna get moving?"

You nod your head, “Yeah, c’mon, let's go in.” You pat your hand against his and then ease yourself from your seat and out onto the tarmac driveway outside of Cillian's parents home. It's been a good while since you've been here and, as you did the last time, you admire the house from the outside for a moment or two, standing with your hands on your hips. Despite being in Cork city, you’ve always thought the house looks like it has been picked up from rural West Cork and just planted here - it is lovely, but it felt like a house you'd pass in the back-arse of nowhere. 

“Missus,” Cillian calls out to you, smiling when you look around, and you see him beside the bonnet of the car with the travel bag in hand, and your coat under his arm. “Y’coming?” You smile back and walk towards him, catching up to where he is, and walk a step behind him up to the front door of the house. Your stomach is twisting nervously, but you're excited for the next couple of days too. You just hope - more for Cillian's sake - that the news is received well.

[cherryeclipses]

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓 i love you, i'm sorry...pt two

dean winchester x reader

part 1 here

ex lovers to enemies (potentially back to lovers) angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, bestie!sam

definite timeline inconsistencies with the show oops

word count: 2.6k

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

Dean let out a pained cry, his back slamming against the concrete wall, the demon he was attempting to fight had a knife pressed hard against his throat. Sam was down the other end of the room, slumped over in pain. This was it they both thought. Finally up against a demon strong enough, smart enough to beat the both of them.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out loud, before the demon fell backwards in pain before he was stabbed right through the heart, killing him instantly. Dean slid down the wall, trying to catch his breath. "Thanks." He wheezed. "You're welcome." An all too familiar voice replied. Dean's head snapped up to meet your gaze. "What the fuck?" He muttered, coming to his feet. You ignore him, walking over to Sam to check on him. He was alive but terribly injured, you help him up "what are you doing here?" Sam manages to ask. "Saving your idiotic asses obviously." You answer seriously. "Now stop asking so many questions and let's get you guys out of here and patched up before you bleed out." "Woah, woah. stop right there. We can handle ourselves, we're not going anywhere with you." Dean snarls, pulling his brother off of you. "Fine. Next time a demon nearly tanks the two of you, I won't try to help. Besides, you look like you're in great shape to stitch up your own wound." You say frustratedly pointing out the open wound on Dean's stomach, blood seeping through his shirt. Sam took Dean aside, gesturing for you to give them a minute alone. "C'mon man, she did just save our lives and you're bleeding out pretty bad." "No way. I'm not letting her touch me."

You were leaning up against the impala, kicking rocks from under your feet, wondering how long you should wait for them when they finally returned. "Follow us back to our motel and thank you again. I don't know what we would've done if you weren't there." Sam said sincerely. "Get off my baby, you'll put a dent in the door." Was all Dean had to say.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

Once at the boy's motel room, Dean reluctantly laid on the bed as you began cleaning and stitching his wound. Sam retreated to the bathroom to get himself cleaned up and also to give the two of you some time alone. It had been almost 4 years since you last saw Dean. "Are you almost done?" Dean winced, taking another swig of his whiskey. "Do I look done?" You answered. "You're probably just taking longer so you can torture me." "Thanks for the idea." You said, tying off the end of his stitches. "There. You'll live." You stood up, snatching the bottle off Dean and taking a long sip before calling out to Sam "hey Sammy I'm heading out."

You had just made it to your car when you heard Sam calling out after you. "You're leaving already?" "I said I was coming to make sure you guys didn't bleed out, I did that, now I'm leaving." You shrug. "Please stay? I haven't seen you in so long and it'd be good for Dean too." He begged, looking at you with his big brown puppy dog eyes. You gave him a sad smile "I can't Sam, I'm sorry." "Okay fine but can we at least get a drink or something without Dean?" You thought about it for a minute, you really still loved Sam. He was your best friend and little brother. "Yeah okay, I'd like that." You admitted. "Great, um still got the same number?" He asked hopefully. You chuckled, "yeah I do, I'm staying in town for the week so just text me whenever, okay?" With that he hugged you goodbye and you drove back to your own hotel just 10 minutes down the road.

"What'd you say?" Dean asked Sam, finishing off the bottle of cheap whiskey. "Nothing, just wanted to say goodbye." "Why?" "She was my friend Dean, what happened between the two of you anyways? You never talk about her." Sam asked frustrated with his brother. Dean narrowed his eyes "nothing, like I told you we just didn't work out." The conversation trailed off with Dean announcing he needed sleep. Sam couldn't believe that your relationship ended amicably. Not with the way Dean was so quick to fire up at you and the hurt he could see in your eyes when he did.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

You entered the diner feeling nervous, you hadn't seen Sam since he went off to college; meeting up with him once or twice before your lives both got too busy. You had no idea what Dean had told him or what he thought of you. You spotted Sam in the corner booth, wiping your damp palms on your jeans you made your way over. "Hey, you actually made it!" The boy smiled, leaning down you hug you sweetly. "Of course, why wouldn't I?" You sat across from him, a steaming cup of coffee already waiting for you. "I don't know, maybe you hate me as much as you do Dean." He said with a laugh. "This is for me?" You asked bringing the coffee cup to your lips. "Yeah, black, no cream, no sugar, right?" "Yeah...you remembered." Sam Winchester truly had not changed, he was still thoughtful as ever. "Of course, it's not that difficult of an order." He joked, not mentioning it was the same way Dean liked his coffee.

"So how's Jessica? Did you ever ask her out?" You asked, hoping not to spend all afternoon talking about your relationship with his brother. Sam took a little while to answer. Shit. Had you said the wrong thing? "Um, I did. " He begins quietly. "She was killed, a few years back." Your jaw dropped. "Shit, Sam I am so sorry. I had no idea." "No it's alright, of course you didn't. Um things were good, we dated for awhile and I think she was the one but a demon got to her. Same one that got mum actually." Sam explained. "Fucking hell Sam. That's horrible. Honestly that is so shit. I 'm sorry... At least you got some time with her. Really, it's like whenever your life is going well, they can sense it and come to mess it all up." You vent, no one deserved that. Especially not Sam. "I know but it's okay. I've dealt with it." He said sincerely. You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee.

"Anyways how have you been?" Sam attempts to change the subject. "Alright, y'know the usual. Just picking up hunts here and there." Sam had a way of looking right into someone's soul, a look that would make anyone confess their sins. You could tell he was waiting for you to say more, but you don't. "Okay, can I just say it? What happened with you and Dean. The last time I saw you everything was going well and now Dean refuses to talk about you." You weren't surprised, honestly you were waiting for him to bring it up but you thought Dean would've spent the last few years bad-mouthing you considering the way you left. "He really didn't tell you?" You ask skeptically. Sam just shook his head. "Alright fine, only because I know how much you love gossip." You sighed, Sam laughed, allowing you to continue. "You're right, everything was going well. Really well, but I could tell John was getting fed up with me y'know. One day I heard the two of them arguing -" "About you?" Sam interrupts. You nod, "to cut a sad story short, Dean came out of that argument and broke up with me. No explanation, just said it was something he had to do." You finished, your chest feeling tight as you relived your worst memory. You had tried to act like that day didn't exist, never allowing yourself to remember it.

"What a dick." Sam exclaimed. "That's it? He didn't explain why?" "Nope. Nothing. Now you see why I didn't want to say. Your idiot brother broke my heart Sam." Sam reached out to cup your hands in his in comfort. "I'm so sorry. He always lets dad get into his head. He really did love you." Sam said. "You don't need to apologise, I'm just glad we can still be friends. I should call you more." You give your best friend a smile.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

"I promise to keep in touch." You say hugging Sam tightly. "Good, stay safe please." He asks before you're driving back down the highway.

A few weeks had passed since you last saw the Winchester brothers and the hole in your heart, you thought you had healed had reopened. It felt like Dean was breaking up with you all over again, memories of your romance keeping you up at night. There had been other men since Dean, sure, but no one felt the same. No guy understood you like he did, wanted you and loved you like he did. You couldn't find the motivation for another hunt at the moment, all you had the motivation for was wallowing in your own heartbreak.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

"There's no lore on this goddamn son of a bitch anywhere!" Dean exclaimed grumpily throwing another old book onto the floor. "Did Bobby call back yet?" He asked Sam. "Not yet..." Sam replied, getting up from his chair to get another beer. "What the hell are we going to do? We don't know what it is, where it came from or most importantly, how to kill it!" Dean said, slumping over in his chair. After a moment of uncomfortable silence Sam spoke up, "you know, there is someone who might know what we're dealing with." "Who?" Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, "someone who can read in 4 languages and has a near- perfect memory for all things deadly." "No way." Dean almost laughed as the relisation hit him. "We are not calling her, she already embarrassed us by saving our asses against that demon. We cannot go crawling back to her now." "Why would it be so bad? We need help, she's the only other person who might be able to." "Sam, I said no. I'm not working with her." Sam rolled his eyes and waited until Dean left the room before pulling out his phone and dialling your number.

"Hey Sam, miss me already?" You answer the phone in two rings. "Hey. Yeah something like that. Look we're working on a case, honestly we have no idea what we're up against, neither does Bobby. Do you think you could give us a hand with some research?" The line was silent for a few moments. "I don't know Sam..." "I get it, I mean you're only our last hope." He said, baiting you. "Does Dean know you called me?" It was Sam's turn to go quiet. "Fine, where are you boys?" "Mississippi, I'll text you the address." "I can be there in 3 hours, 4 tops." You answer, already packing up your bag. "You're the best. Thank you." "Only for my favourite Winchester." You chuckle, hanging up the call.

Within 20 minutes your bags are packed and you're on the road. Maybe this time will be different...who are you kidding, you and Dean are equally as stubborn. You think to yourself as you roll the windows down, letting the cool afternoon breeze flow through your hair.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

A soft knock at the door caught Dean's attention, narrowing his eyes over at Sam, one hand reaching for his gun. "Put it away." Was all Sam said as he opened the motel door. "Hey." You said quietly, embracing the younger Winchester in a hug. "Thanks for getting here so fast, we could really use your help." "No problem-" "You called her?" Dean asked gruffly. "Sure did. We need help Dean." Sam said standing his ground, as he took your bag from you. Ignoring Dean you walked over to the pile of newspaper articles and Sam's open laptop. "So what are we dealing with?" "We have no idea." Sam began, pulling up a chair and going over the recent cases with you.

"It's nearly midnight, I'm going to check you into a room. I'll be back in a minute, try not to shoot each other." Sam begged, leaving you and Dean alone. You looked up from the article you had been reading, Dean's brow was furrowed, concentrating on reading an ancient lore book, he looked exhausted. The bags under his eyes looked like they had been there for months but he still looked beautiful. It was unfair how stressed he could be but he still looked gorgeous. Lost in your daydream you didn't realise Dean had been talking to you. "-but you ever seen anything like this before?" He asked. "Uh, sorry I kinda zoned out. But this is nothing that I've dealt with, it feels so familiar though." Your cheeks flushed, you couldn't believe you got caught staring. "Well that's just great." He said, slamming the book closed. "Can we just stop. This is so childish, we can't even be in a room together without arguing. Just remember who broke up with who Dean." Your heart was beating in your ears but you had to address it. Dean leaned back in his seat, locking eyes with you. "I do remember. That's why I don't want you here." Your jaw dropped slightly, you'd never heard Dean be so cruel, you knew he was upset but you didn't realise he hated you so much. Just as you opened your mouth to respond Sam returned. "All booked in room 8 next door." He said. "Thanks Sam." You stood up grabbing your bag and slamming the door behind you."

That night you refused to allow yourself to cry, Dean was your high school boyfriend he shouldn't have this much hold on you. So you turned to alcohol, drinking a whole bottle and then some. You awoke groggily the next morning wearing the same outfit you had on the day before, your makeup imprinted on the pillow. You sat up quickly, much to your head and body's horror; suddenly having a realisation as to what the boys were up against.

Dean rolled over after an uncomfortable nights sleep, Sam humming to himself in the shower waking him. He had tossed and turned all night, thoughts of you keeping him up. You were always the one he let get away, no matter how many women he met, how many he slept with, he always ended up comparing them to you. Now you're back in his life and he couldn't handle the thought of losing you again, so he pushes. Pushing you away, so far that you might never come back and his heart can stay guarded.

He finally found the strength to get out of bed, yawning as he began looking around the room for where he threw his shirt last night, when the door flung open surprising him. "What the f-" "Leviathan." You say out of breath. "What are you talking about?" Dean asked, startled. "I know what those things are, Leviathan from purgatory." "You're a genius." Sam yelled from the bathroom. "Well now you've figured it out, can you give us some privacy. You can't just go barging into people's rooms like that." Dean said finally picking up his t shirt. "It's nothing I haven't seen before." You wink at him before closing the door.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

taglist: @s0urw00lf

inbox is open! currently writing part 3 (probably the final part)

[lemotmo]

Eddie makes sense but I will also take it anyway they want to give it to me.

Q. Once they both know how they feel about the other who makes the first move?

A. If they don't go the big dramatic route, which I still think they might, then my money is on Eddie. It needs to be Eddie. Eddie's storyline has been centered around allowing himself joy and figuring out who he is outside of being Christopher's dad. I think Eddie needs to choose Buck (that would be him actively choosing his joy). And the single most consistent thread from Buck's character arc throughout the entire show is his belief that he's not worth choosing. That he's not enough for anyone. And this is my preference actually. The dramatic reveal would be amazing don't get me wrong, but we've spent years watching Eddie just do what he knows is expected of him and Buck never feeling like he's enough for anyone. So Eddie and Christopher coming home and Eddie actively allowing himself to choose Buck and Buck realizing that he's actually the reason they came back, yes in reality there are other things to come back for but I think the show would establish that Buck was the main reason, would actually be everything. And would tie up both of their character journeys very nicely. And would allow both characters to move into their next phase. And lots of other story possibilities. All of them having to adjust to Buck's new role in Christopher's life, he's officially a parental figure now, he always was really, but now it's official. Eddie allowing Buck to parent and have a say in the things that have to do with Christopher. The subject of kids and marriage (they're both going to have lots of thoughts about marriage in general). Their first fight as a couple (I'm personally very excited to see this because Buck will absolutely spiral, lol). And figuring out how to not only work together and live together but learn how to separate those in a way that works for them. There's just lots to do once they pair them off.

The show is going to put them together, and I'm not going to dwell on how they're doing it versus how I would prefer they do it. They're inevitably going to do something along the way that I would have done differently but we're finally here so I'm going to enjoy the journey.

Thank you Nonny! Much appreciated!

🤗🤗🤗 Yes! I'm definitely team 'Eddie makes the first move'. I think it would be nice to see Eddie choose for himself who he wants. Also, if Buck is spiraling over being in love with Eddie, his 'straight friend', he will never make a move. It has to be Eddie.

But you know, if the show has something else in mind? That's fine too. I'm at the point where I'm just going with the flow. My preference would be Eddie, but if the show decides to do it the other way around? Fine. As long as they finally end up together and can finally be happy, I'm content. 😋

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[thegreatyin]

And thus, with the passing of 24 hours, Caeru's ambition truly comes to an end. Major Nemesis spoilers below the cut- we're talking endgame ambition business here. Mostly on a character RP front.

The Doomed Scientist made quite a few... choice decisions, in the end. Killing Cups once and for all, recording his story as one of grief-

And sparing what little remained of Mr Mirrors, leaving it free to roam Parabola as it sees fit.

Some of them, he can explain. Others, he's still left to feel... discontent.

Cups needed to die. That much was certain from the start. It was a tyrant, as all Masters are, and complicit in the bargaining and eventual destruction of four (potentially five) cities, as all Masters are. It was an obstacle. A murderer. A petty monster that felt no remorse even on its deathbed, and it went out of its way to ruin multiple lives just because it felt owed its own sick and twisted idea of revenge.

It killed his first love. It looked him in the eyes and he knew what it had done and he knew from the start it was going to die.

Perhaps, in the end, it knew too. And yet it still pleaded, and wanted to live, and-

It made a bargain.

A bargain Caeru didn't take.

Not because he didn't want to. Gods, he wanted to. He wanted it. He wanted it more than anything else in the world. To have Greylu back, to give him the gift of life, of love, to show him the wonders of the Neath and the beauty of the correspondence and all of the people Caeru has met and loved and found home with along the way-

But. He couldn't.

Because Cups was a monster. And no matter what, it deserved to die. And he could not, in good conscience, allow it to live.

Even if sparing it meant everything he's ever wanted.

So he's left here, now. With a bloodied traveling coat, and a bloodsoaked knife, and a favor finally fulfilled.

And nothing to live for. No resurrected lover, no charming visits to Helicon, no slow dances in the living room, no memories to rebuild and lives to live and he won't live again-

Nothing. All he has is a coat born of obligation, not to his love, but to people he's never even met. To lives he's never even touched. To a paramour, still alive, with hair of rose-pink, who doesn't even remember her own brother's existence.

Cups didn't die for Caeru's sake. Cups died for the sake of all who wanted it dead. For the revenger's court, and the ghost screaming in his ear, and the reckoning that will not be postponed indefinitely.

And Caeru, who acted as a tool to carry out their wills? Who all but betrayed his own lover, just to satisfy a cause he never knew existed?

All Caeru is left with, is regret. Regret-

-And grief.

[asfdhgsdkjhgb]

god is swuarshing me beneath his thumb like i am an aphid or perhaps a clover mite. yeah. its slow and painful and im small. and also meek

[sysig]

Physical media is forever (Patreon)

[doctorweebmd]

accidentally* brainstormed a very complete outline for chapters 4-8 for eih, which should theoretically take us through Part 1. which is. you know. a godsend or whatever.

*accidentally meaning i was just eating delicious pancakes and the thoughts happened. usually its me crying screaming and shitting myself in front of an empty word document where ideas manifest. this is notably much more pleasant.

[mainfaggot]

how do you cut someone off

[bangcakes]

.

[jakeperalta]

spent weeks psyching myself up to stand up to my mum and then immediately got shot down by her 😃👍

[practically-an-x-man]

me: *googling 'can you go skydiving with a new tattoo'*

also me: I think I've reached a new level of thrill-seeker

[whoslaurapalmer]

my brother's been playing ace attorney and like. our entire lives it's been 'my brother played this game when he was younger and now i am playing it or we're playing it together' so for HIM to be playing a game that i played when i was younger and for me to be the one doing 'oh yeah! i remember doing this or that in the game when i played it for the first time back in 2007 or 2008' about a game is such a wild experience

[sometimes-stufful]

Hey guys. It's been um *checks watch* like 5 or 6 years since I've used this blog. How's everybody doing? Sorry for the unannounced hiatus all that time ago.

I don't know if this blog will become active again. However there is a good chance that it might! I'm starting to create a plot for the blog's characters (because I still love them dearly), so hopefully I can create that and get this show up and running again. I've also been updating everyone's refs. So even if I don't come back to posting here officially, I think I'm going to at least upload those. I also have some new characters in the works that I may post refs for if I don't go thru with returning/making this blog more plot-centric.

I really do want to return to sometimes-stufful. However I'm an adult now (I'm literally about to turn 25 in 10 days, holy shit), and the past few years have been rough as hell on my mental health. I've lost a lot, and am just starting to heal from everything that's gone down. And I work full time, and have a datemate now, so finding the chance to draw is difficult. But this blog helped me on my art journey before. And I'd love to use it as an excuse to draw more, which is the main thing that pulling me back into the pokemon ask community. Another thing that's been pulling me back is the strong af urge to create content for my characters. Because I still love them so very much. I think about them so often that I want to put them in Situations and share it all with you. Although first I wanna get better at drawing humans lol (its relevant I swear). But I could get back into the swing of drawing some 'mons if I really set myself out to.

Let's see how it all goes. I'll keep you all updated. For those of you who have stuck around waiting so long, thank you. I hope to join you in this community again soon.

In the meantime, here's where you can find me and my artwork:

Main blog Toyhouse Artfight