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highvern · 3 months

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Work Me Out

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+

Warnings: working out, flirting, touching, almost car sex, making out, breast play, fingering, oral, face sitting, multiple sex positions, big dick mingyu, protected sex (gasp!), strength kink, dirty talk, choking, spanking :) lover boy gyu as always. let me know if i missed anything!

Length: ~5k

Note: y'all thought cheol rot was bad but the OG bias wrecker is back. dont come at me for gym terminology i go by vibes. replaced my gym crush with mingyu and this is what happened <3 i have a bonus/pt 2 in the drafts too but I'll wait to post it bc too much muscle pig mingyu is bad for the soul... and the [redacted]

to the anon that sent me a seok ask forever ago about his arms, im sorry i used it in this fic. but know i have a seok fic with exactly what you asked for in the works rn. everyone say thank you anon.

@bbychocolat do not hit my line about mingyu for at least 24 business hours i need to recover

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

read part II

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Figuring out the ins and outs of a new gym isn’t easy but it isn’t impossible. Go too early and you’re surrounded by creepy men old enough to be your grandfather. Right after work is a sure way to experience hoards of gym bros crowding around machines like they own them.

So you go as late as possible.

Only a handful of people are dispersed through the large space. A few run on the treadmills lined on the catwalk of the second floor, several switch through different weights in front of the mirrors. You make your way through the maze of equipment towards the leg press; your final sets before you can go home and wash away the grime of the day.

Or you would if someone wasn’t occupying the one machine you need.

Peeping your head around, you notice a black backpack and matching water bottle on the ground. You glance around, unable to find a clear owner since the next closest person is halfway across the gym doing a different exercise.

Would it be that rude to take the machine out from under someone if they’re not even using it? You could probably get in all your sets before the person even came back if you moved quickly.

You wait a few minutes. How embarrassing would it be to have the mystery person walk back up the second you sat down? But after five minutes pass and no one emerges to claim the spot, you set about changing the weights out.

And just when you slip into the seat, you look up and find someone approaching.

He’s tall, he’s handsome, and he’s barely ten feet away. Your saving grace is that he hasn’t spotted you yet thanks to his phone.

But that doesn’t last long.

“Oh! Sorry! Were you using this machine?” You ask, trying to sound cordial.

“It’s okay!” He smiles at you. “Do you need it?”

Yes.

“No, I can find something else to do.”

You rise to do just that when he stops you with a shrug.

“I don’t mind sharing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I take long breaks between my sets anyway so it’s no big deal.”

So that’s where he went.

“Okay, thanks.”

“No problem.”

He moves to lean against the wall, face buried in his phone once again as you work through your set. Honestly you think he forgot you were even there until you start standing up and he pushes off his perch.

Exchanging polite smiles, you skirt around him and snag your water bottle before occupying the same spot against the painted bricks. You try not to be a creep but watching the way the muscles in his legs bulge and coil with each rep is impossible to look away from. Especially when there’s just so much to look at.

He racks up twelve reps with ease and switches back off with you before wandering out of sight.

You work through two of your sets before he comes teetering back.

“I tried putting it back to your weight.” You laugh, sipping from your water bottle.

“Three forty? Ouch.”

“What? Should I have made it lighter?”

“Try heavier. Like four hundred.”

“My sincerest apologies.” You mock, placing your hand over your heart. “I’ll remember that next time.”

He laughs again before slipping back into the seat and working through the motions.

This time you don’t bother hiding the way you watch him over your phone. He looks good, it’d be a waste not to watch the swell of his chest or the stretch of his thighs. The gym shorts and snug black t-shirt only exacerbate how cut his physique is.

And if he makes a comment you can always twist your not so subtle gawking into a compliment about his form.

When he finishes his set again, he snags his bag and water bottle off the ground before turning to you. “All yours. Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

And he’s gone.

Over the next few weeks, you learn mystery man works out at the same time you. He’s there when you arrive and remains when you leave after an hour and a half of sweating and gasping like a dying fish, only absent on Wednesdays when you manage the most last luster workouts of your life. The disappointment the first time you realized you were looking for the backwards cap sticking out amongst the free weights would have been embarrassing but what's wrong with a little eye candy while breaking a sweat?

And what a great view he makes. Your brief peeks into the mirrored walls are full of nothing straining muscles and glowing skin. The first day he did arms in a cutoff tee will go down in history as the worst day of your life. Only rivaled by all the other days he works his legs in shorts accentuating just how nice his ass is with every squat.

Your friends all ask when you’re going to talk to him again. As if you’ll just walk right up and interrupt the best part of your day. No, you’d rather watch him move across the gym floor from the corner of your eye, throw him a friendly nod, and go about your business than run the risk of making things awkward.

Unfortunately, doesn’t possess the same desire to remain a friendly nameless face like you do.

His name is Mingyu. Or that’s what the employee with glasses calls him while they joke around one night. You don’t mean to eavesdrop but they’re loud and the only exit takes you right past the U-shaped desk. Mingyu throws a grin as you pass by on your way out and the flash of teeth spikes your heart rate higher than any exercise you’ve done that night.

When he officially introduces himself at the water fountain the next night, you have to bite the urge to tell him ‘I know.’ Instead you snort at his extended hand, providing your own name over the firm shake like you won’t be haunted by the feeling of the calluses on his fingers or the heat of his palm for the next week.

What’s worse is how he says your name back, rolling the sound across his tongue and past his quirked lips.

And the final nail in the coffin is when you leave and you see the way he turns in the glass doors to watch, bidding you a goodnight with your name signed at the end.

Mingyu might be the worst gym crush in the world. Mostly because your thoughts of him extend beyond the brick walls he should only exist in. And partially because he’s caught you staring more times than you care to admit.

Not as many times as you’ve caught him, but the point stands.

No, the worst part, you find out, is Mingyu is an incorrigible flirt. And he knows it.

Tonight you’re off schedule, runny nearly half an hour later than usual.; work clothes sticking to your skin as you make your way towards the off shooting hall housing the entrance to the locker rooms. In a rush, you step around another body only to end up in front of one much more familiar.

“There's my girl.” Mingyu smiles. “Thought you were skipping out on me.”

My girl. My girl. My girl, my girl, my girl….

There isn’t a thought in your head beyond the bold casualness he drops that bomb on you with so you nod awkwardly and force yourself not to sprint the next twenty feet to hide.

Half an hour later, when you catch him watching you in the mirror over his own weights, the bastard smiles like the cat who caught the canary.

But you end up on top when Mingyu offers to spot you while doing weighted squats. He’s at your back, an appropriate amount of space between your bodies you wish he’d close. You don’t need his help. Your form is better than his (you would know, his ass and thighs give you tunnel vision when its his leg day). And the weight on the bar isn’t even enough to make you strain but why pass up on the offer? Especially with how Mingyu meets your eyes over your shoulder in the mirror with each dip.

And then he cheers ‘that’s my girl’ again when you re-rack the equipment with ease and it's over.

“Shit,” you grunt.

Mingyu pops up from his perch between your breasts under your shirt, hair a mess and eyes glazed. “Good?”

“No, your steering wheel is in my back.” You wince, attempting to wiggle away and ending up further up his lap.

“Sorry, let me just…”

The seat flies back under your combined weight, throwing your forehead right into Mingyu’s chin.

“Fuck!”

“Oh my god!” You gasp. “Are you okay?”

Mingyu’s head falls back as he releases a massive sigh. Each second that ticks by has you both coming to the same conclusion.

“Yeah,” you breath, sitting up. “I think this was a bad idea.”

“Oh…”

“I just mean like your car is small and you’re too big and I—“

The guffaw Mingyu tries to hide slips free too easily. “That’s what she said.”

“God, you’re gross.”

Your nose crinkles as you rise up, using his chest for leverage. It feels as nice as it looks and its the worst knowledge you’ve gained in you life.

“Sticks and stones,” he hums.

“Well this was fun. I’ll ugh… see you around?”

When you try to shift back into the passenger seat to exit, Mingyu’s hands flex over your thighs to keep you in his lap. His sweats do nothing to hide his semi. Something he doesn’t even seem to consider as a concern given the way he unconsciously curls into you.

“Or we can go back to mine.”

He’s trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Like he won’t go home and fuck his fist in the shower with the echoes of your sighs filling his ears if you turn him down. You can see it in his eyes. What hinges on his offer and how much you’ll both regret it if the tension fizzles and dies in his SUV.

From where you’re sitting, it’s incredibly difficult to think with your head and not your hormones. Mingyu is hot, he’s nice, he seems decent enough. His behavior doesn’t hint at him being a creep. If he’s normal enough to fuck in his car, is he not normal enough to fuck in the comfort of a bed?

The thumb stroking your thighs and the hopeful eyes staring you down make the decision for you.

“Yeah, okay.”

With his address in your phone’s GPS, you trail after his SUV in your own car. The roads are familiar because they’re the same roads you drive when you return to your apartment that turns out to be only three blocks closer to the gym than Mingyu’s.

All this time he’d been so close and you never even realized. Did he think about you the same way you thought about him when he drove home? If he did, you’re in for a night.

Rolling into a space only a few down from where he parks, you pause to hype yourself up.

People have sex all the time. It’s no big deal. I can do this.

A knock at the window interrupts your spiral, finding Mingyu smiling sheepishly through the glass. The muscles in your chest squeeze when he opens the door and holds it for you to exit; and threaten to explode when his hand finds the small of your back and guides you towards the stairwell.

Footsteps echo down to the hall, Mingyu only a fraction ahead to lead the way to a non-descript door with a seasonal doormat that's seen better days.

“Ugh, this is it.”

His apartment is shockingly clean for a guy your age. Not clean in the ‘I don’t own enough shit to even be dirty’ way. No, Mingyu’s apartment is cozy. There’s throw pillows and blankets on the couch. He has a lamp and bookshelf in the corner and the walls are adorned with a collage of artwork thoughtfully pieced together. Several personal photos are littered throughout, some with an obviously younger Mingyu propped next to what must be a sister or a cousin, a few of him with friends. One of him and a familiar man with glasses, their faces blurry but the glee clear as they’re frozen in time. Your lips lift with a soft smile at the personal touches bleeding into every corner of his space.

Turning over your shoulder you ask, “You and the guy at the gym are friends?”

Mingyu’s watching you with something unidentifiable in his eyes, stepping forward to figure out which frame you're looking at until he’s only a foot behind you.

“Yeah, we went to the same middle school.”

“And this one?” You say, fingers tracing the edge of the wooden frame.

“My little sister.” Mingyu follows, still only a step behind.

“And I’m assuming these are your parents?”

“Actually those are Wonwoo’s parents.” He chuckles. “These are my parents.”

Mingyu’s arm reaches around to point at the correct photo, his chest brushing against your back.

“Wanna give me the tour?”

Mingyu manages to show you everything in five minutes. The living room and connected kitchen you’re already standing in, the door of the hall bathroom, and finally his bedroom. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, discovering the new smattering of details that uncover more about the man waiting with baited breath in the threshold.

“Why are you over there?” You ask.

With arms crossed and shoulders up to his ears, Mingyu resembles a kid waiting to be scolded rather than a man who tried to hook up with you in his car less than thirty minutes ago.

“I’m nervous.”

You can’t stop the satisfaction from spreading to your face. “I make you nervous?”

Mingyu pushes off the door jam, shuffling forward until he’s standing a foot in front of you. “Yeah. I don’t really do stuff like this.”

“Stuff like what? Try and fuck girls in your car?”

“Haha.” Mingyu mocks, face descending until he rubs his nose with yours.

Your eyes slip closed when his do, breathing each other's air. “Stuff like what, Gyu?”

Your hands find the material of his shirt stretched across his shoulder. Each brush of his lips across your cheek, down your jaw, until he finds your ear.

“I don’t sleep around with girls I’m not dating.”

Oh.

“We don’t hav—”

“Which is not the best way to ask you out.”

You press him out of your space, far enough that you can look him in the eyes and see if he’s serious. The tips of Mingyu’s ears burn red but he’s looking right at you despite how embarrassed he clearly feels.

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“Ugh, yeah. I think it’d be fun. But you don’t have to! If you just wanna do this that's fine t—”

Whatever words Mingyu was trying to say fizzle on the tip of his tongue as you pull him into a kiss. He curls over you, pressing you further into his bed with every fervent pass. Wedging one hand under the small of your back, Mingyu lifts you up and carries you while he crawls to the center.

Your mind wanders to all the other ways he can manhandle you into the mattress.

He settles flat against you, hips cradled between your own while delving into your mouth. You fill your hands with his ass, dragging Mingyu’s covered cock against your core. A groan backs apart your lips as Mingyu falls into the curve of your neck.

“This is a yes to the date by the way.” You pant now that he’s taken over, hands scratching up his back in an effort to get rid of his shirt. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

Mingyu’s clothes disappear over his head and across the room, yours following shortly after. The heat of bare skin on bare skin is better than anything until he takes one of your breasts in his palm and the other in his mouth.

Every curse you know flies through your lips as he sucks and pinches until you're sore between the legs.

He takes the squeeze of your thighs and the rock of your hips as a greenlight, hands leading where his lips follow until it’s nothing but your panty clad core an inch from his face.

“This okay?” Mingyu asks in the fat of your thigh, tongue trailing fire across the skin.

You nod with a sigh, “Mingyu, please.”

He doesn’t need much more than that, the fabric barrier gone in a blink and his nose traces your folds until he’s dying for a taste.

Mingyu eats pussy like he doesn’t need oxygen. The path of his pointed tongue around your clit is nothing short of precise, meticulously tracing every ridge and curve until the sheets stretch under your fingers. When he flattens it to pay broader attention, your legs squeeze and Mingyu’s hands force them wide around his shoulders.

Your feet flatten on the bed and thrust up his mouth, wet and crude with fingers in his hair and your whines in his ears. Every suck of Mingyu’s mouth forces the muscles in your neck to lerch until they hurt and your head falls back. He takes pride in the way you drip for him, making the best mess he’s ever had the privilege to clean up.

You reward him with an lavishing praise at the next twitch of your insides, “Fuck, just like that.”

Taking advantage of the slight arch in your spine, Mingyu’s hand sneaks under your back, fingers unforgiving as they dig into your ass. He curls your hips up and buries a finger in your core with mortifying ease.

Between your legs, Mingyu catches your eyes. Pupils blown wide, mouths bruised around stuttered breath. A matching set of debauched expressions. He’s more familiar like this; skin glowing with sweat, and hair matted to his forehead. Next time you see him at the gym you know it's all you’ll think about. Next time you're alone in your room, or the shower, or the grocery store. Or anywhere you’ve day dreamed about him before.

He leans back to watch the digit disappear, only to reappear soaking. “Feels good?”

“Give me another and it will.”

You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you for what you felt under his shorts. His tongue is hard and wet at your clit, fingers stretching and spreading until your stomach dips and you nearly buck him off as your clit swells from abuse.

Your fingers pluck at your nipples and Mingyu apparently likes to watch because he manages more enthusiasm, forces his finger to crook just the right way, and continues to suck even after you start screaming.

“Oh fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant, voice cracked.

Something sounding suspiciously like a ‘thank you’ drops into the mix but Mingyu’s the only one to hear it. In his opinion, he should be the one doing the thanking; you just gave him enough spank bank material for the next six months.

You don’t dislike the taste of yourself on his tongue, his lips, his chin, his cheeks, and even his chest when you flip Mingyu over and aim to return the favor. He blushes when you lap against the hollow of his throat; embarrassed from the way he goes boneless with such simple affection.

He sinks into the plush of the mattress, propped up by the mountain of pillows at the headboard. Mingyu’s stomach stiffens under your tongue and the twitch blooms a smile on your face. Predictable.

“Sensitive?”

Your nails raking up the shape of his thighs turn the denial falling from his lips into a whine, and it makes you wonder what other sounds Mingyu will make with his cock in your mouth.

The vein bulging along the underside of his length gives your tongue something to trace along as you lap from base to flared tip, sucking down until it shines from spit and pre-cum. You take all you can until the curve of your throat protests.

Mingyu’s big and he’s loud.

“Oh God, shit.” He babbles with abandon, hands fisted at his sides until his knuckles turn pale.

You focus on the cock in your mouth rather than how pretty Mingyu’s chest would look covered in bite marks. How a bruise on his hip would be just visible when he reaches over his head to do pull ups, and red streaks from your nails on his bicep would make a great accessory.

A hand lands on the base of your skull, gentle until it's not. His thumb dips to stroke the bulge of his dick through your throat as you take him deeper. And like some ridiculous porno theres still an inch you’ll never be able to take even if you do nothing but let him fucking your mouth until the only thing you taste is cum.

“Fuuuuck,” Mingyu groans from a harsh suck on the upstroke.

He distracts you with his tongue on yours, keeping you from diving back down and destroying his ego from how quick you almost made him cum. Your one solace is the lazy grip you have on the base of Mingyu’s length, fingers tightening around the head while he cants into the squeeze.

You think Mingyu is going to plant you on his cock and make you ride it until one of you is crying. But he keeps pushing and pulling until you’re kneeling over his face, knees cushioned in the pillows and hands against the wall to steady you while he dives in again.

His head shakes back and forth, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit as you grind into his face. The last grip of sanity you have gives you the mind to reach back, jerking Mingyu off while he eats it, a cycle of moans moving through you; him into your folds when you squeeze from a grating pass off his tongue that has you whining to the ceiling fan.

“Shit, need you to fuck me.” You whine but don’t stop curling against the latch of his lips, legs stiff with ache.

It’s Mingyu who brings things to a halt, raising you away from his mouth until you're left on your knees while he stands to rummage in the drawer for a condom. You listen while the paint of the wall cools your forehead.

The hand at the dip of your spine makes you melt when he checks in, “Still okay?”

Nodding, you find him over your shoulder with a thick swallow. Mingyu’s nose follows the slope of your muscles, lips untying all the knots he’s worked into them over the past few weeks.

“Want it like this?”

“Yeah.”

You drop until your chest meets the bed and arch until it hurts just to put on a good show. Mingyu shuffles behind you, knocking your knees wider with his own, palms molding to your ass and spreading it apart to take a good look like he wasn’t tongue deep inside your pussy already. The room is nothing more than the sounds of grounding breaths; Mingyu watching the way your torso moves around the air, releasing a long exhale before moving closer.

The feel of his chest against yours was great, but the hard muscle of it along your back, his chain caught between and leaving a definitive mark, is life ruining. It shreds the last bit of humanity you’ve been clinging to since you dragged Mingyu to the parking lot and tried to stick your hands down his pants while leant against the passenger door.

No matter how well Mingyu stretched you for his cock it was never going to be enough. Taking the first inch nearly splits you in half. But you're soaked and needy; nothing short of the end of the world is going to keep you from getting the satisfaction of feeling him in your guts. You take it with measured breaths and affirmations to relax. Slow arches of his hips work him in until he’s flat with your ass and whispering absolute depravity into your ears.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

Arching your ass higher, you whimper, “You’re huge.”

Your ass stings under his punishing hand, thrown forward by an involuntary buck of his hips.

“Don’t say that.”

You turn until you can look over your shoulder again, meeting wild eyes. “You feels so good.” You moan, eyelids low and wrecked.

“Didn’t—shit, think you’d have such a dirty mouth.” He bites into the side of your neck, sucking a bruise like a depraved teenager.

“I knew you’d have a fat cock.”

You get what you want so easily it's almost insulting; Mingyu’s hand forcing your face into the sheets and his hips rushing into you with pure need. Every prod into your cunt has you wailing. It’d destroy your self respect if you could think of anything beyond how he’s ruining you for anyone else.

Pillows topple off the edge of the bed as you scramble for a hold. Anything to ground you against the burn in your veins with every tight squeeze around Mingyu’s cock. His balls slap against your clit teasingly, more degrading than the way he has you bent in half.

“Harder,” you beg.

Mingyu falls back on his haunches, pulling you with him until you're sitting up right. His arm comes into view, curling around neck until your throat sits in the crux of his elbow and his hand latches on your shoulder; a crude headlock he uses as leverage to keep fucking into you. You’ve been choked but this is infinitely better. Whatever Mingyu wants to take from you, he’s in a position to do so.

“Gonna cum?” He nips into your earlobe.

His hand shoves its way between your legs, swipe roughly against your clit before you can even hope to answer.

A pathetic nod is all you manage thanks to the muscles gathered under your chin limiting your mobility.

Mingyu let's go then and your hands prevent a crash into the headboard, putting you back in the same position as before but you have to work for it now; ass bouncing in his laps as you ride him. Finding your balance, you drop one hand to your clit as Mingyu’s pinch your nipples.

“Let me have it, let me make you come." Mingyu pants into your spine. "Fuck you look so good like this, shit.”

He keeps rambling, flying with you towards the edge hand in hand; both breathless from the slap of your thighs against his.

“Mingyu, feel so good. Oh my god, oh my g—”

The softness of the pillows greets you once again while everything flashes white. Mingyu scrambles behind, fucking you into the mattress while you soak his cock. Muscles twitching, teeth ground till they crack, you come and come and come while begging him to do the same.

Mingyu gives in without hesitation, all his weight behind his hips as he fills the condom; dragging you back with an arm around your waist. Every jerk of his cock against your walls from the force makes you vibrate until he’s slipping out, soiled and used against the back of your thigh.

The last thing you register is his lips finding your shoulder again, rubbing back and forth as he comes down.

You fall asleep under the heat of his body for who knows how long, content in the mind shattering numbness of what just happened. Mingyu seems to feel the same, dead weight hanging half off you so you can at least manage to breath.

When you wake, whether it's twenty minutes or two hours later, Mingyu is snoring into the pillow, still naked. His lips pout in his sleep and you swallow the urge to shower them with kisses thanks to the drool at the corner of his mouth.

Even without the covers, you're warm. The kind of heat that slips over your skin, sinks into your bones and keens for you to fall asleep and stay. But Mingyu asked you on a date, not to spend the night. And you’d hate to assume and ruin whatever this is before it as a chance to start.

“Where are you going?” He pouts.

You don't make it two inches out of his arms before he’s pulling you back, tangling them around you so there's no chance of unnoticed escape. Mingyu digs his nose into your cheek and waits for an answer like he has all the time in the world.

Something tells you if he knew you were attempting to head home, Mingyu would throw a fit. And what use is that when you want to see what a night sleep with a giant human furnace is like?

“Bathroom.”

Adding to the list of information you’ve learned, Mingyu is a stage five clinger. He latches on to your back, guiding you into the shower stall for a quick spray down that leaves half your face, part of your thigh, and almost none of him clean.

He falls asleep against the base of your skull while brushing your teeth, because of course he has a stash of extra toothbrushes under the sink just in case.

And when you crawl under the fresh sheets, he pulls you into his chest, leaves a kiss against your forehead, and tells you he can’t wait for your breakfast date tomorrow.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

#svthub #ksmutsociety #kvanity #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu #svt smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #🫡 highvern

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shanastoryteller · 4 months

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Happy Holidays! ❄️❄️ more from What They Expect please! I love that AU!

continuation of 1 2 3

It’s been well over a year since she’s seen Mustang. Al’s all aflutter about it, and how puberty has her looking like something other than a twelve year old boy, but she’s really not worried. Mustang is so involved with his own shit that he doesn’t have the time to care about hers. It would be a damning quality if it wasn’t exactly what she needed from him.

She is, sort of, a little bit worried about Riza. Not worried as in she actually thinks something is going to happen, but just that if anyone out of Mustang’s little idiot brigade would figure her out, it would be her.

Maes is a distinct possibility, but also not really. The thing that saves her, always, is that no one’s really looking. She’s loud and flashy and angry and no one thinks she’s too short to be a guy because of how sensitive she is about it and no one notices she’s pretty because they’re too busy dealing with her being mad and scowling and, with these guys, she’s got an extra ace up her sleeve.

They think they already know all her secrets.

They know about human transmutation and binding her brother’s soul to a suit of armor and every questionable and terrible thing she’s done since in her pursuit to fix it.

Why the hell would she be lying about her gender? It’s not even a thought in their heads, and if it ever becomes one, they’ll dismiss it before he even has a chance to.

Eden binds her chest tight extra tight, so her chest is nearly flat, and puts on her baggy tank top and giant red coat that hides the way her hips curve and the giant stompy boots that she really does love, sets her face in a familiar scowl, and goes off to war.

If war was child’s play, that is.

“Where have you been?” Mustang demands, towering over her and nostrils flaring.

Well. Sort of towering over her. She must have had a growth spurt, because he’s really only got a couple inches on her, which is sort of hilarious. She hadn’t noticed that he was short before. “Uh, lots of places. Haven’t you been reading my reports?”

She does not laugh in his face at the way his eyebrow ticks. She spends so much time meticulously writing everything down in dedicated code in her travelogues, she really doesn’t have the energy to spare when she gets to her reports for Mustang. Besides, he doesn’t really care what she’s doing, only that it’s big and flashy enough to distract from whatever he’s doing.

Is she supposed to know that? She can’t remember. But it’s so obvious that it doesn’t feel like something that can be a secret.

Then again, the rest of the brass haven’t caught on, so.

“What were you thinking in Liore?” he snaps.

Eden blinks. “Liore? That was forever ago. Did something happen? Rose didn’t mention anything in her last letter.”

“Yes, Edward, it was forever ago, but since you declined to answer my summons to come here and explain yourself, we’re discussing it now,” he says.

God, she’d forgotten how bitchy he gets. “Okay, well that priest guy was pretty strange-“

“I don’t care about the priest!”

She stares. She had to kill the guy twice and he doesn’t care? Honestly, she thinks it’s sort of memorable.

“What were you thinking messing with that river?”

Ed tilts her head to the side. “You’re upset about the river?”

He glares. “Of course I’m upset about the river!”

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Al’s really worried over nothing.

Mustang is never paying attention to the right things.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #canonwhatsthat #fma

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hopefulromances · 9 months

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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

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt/reader #jamie tartt/y/n

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fortheloveofwonderland · 8 months

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Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 14 | S.R

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Chapter Summary - When Spencer’s drinking gets out of control, he reaches out to a friend for help. He makes a series of decisions for the sake of his own mental health.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

A/N - I don’t know how finals work so I just made it up. Also questions detailed for Spencer’s therapy are taken from real life therapy questionnaires.

Warnings - arguing, drinking, drunk Spencer, one night stand, mentions of protective sex, swearing, slight alcohol abuse, AA meetings, mention of past drug addiction, therapists, talk of depression, Spencer gets angry at Taco, mentions of dog urine and faeces, therapy questionnaires, mentions of affairs and divorce, mentions of schizophrenia.

WC - 5.7k

Chapter 14 - Forever Winter

He says he doesn't believe anything much he hears these days,

He says, "Why fall in love, just so you can watch it go away?"

He spends most of his nights wishing it was how it used to be,

He spends most of his flights getting pulled down by gravity.

Professor Monroe did not return to work on Monday and so Spencer had to spend another week with you.

It was finals week which meant longer hours, more time having to be spent together. It made the long, awkward silences more uncomfortable, the withering looks more grating.

He tried to focus on the fact two days after he’d put in the offer on the house it had been accepted, and less than twelve hours after that he’d agreed an offer on his own home.

Between finals, the tension with you and getting the ball rolling with his house sale and purchase, Spencer was stretched extremely thin.

He still tried to give his all to his girls but his evenings were spent with papers and forms and all kinds of other legal nonsense that Maeve had taken care of last time.

Honestly, he was exhausted. And it didn’t help matters that every time he saw you his heart shattered a little more.

He thankfully made it through the last week of the semester with his sanity still just about in check. He was packing up his office for the summer when there was a knock at his door.

“Come in,” he stood up straight as the door opened and you tentatively walked inside.

You clutched your purse close like it was your only lifeline.

“Was there anything else you needed before I head out?” You asked politely, but there was a hint of frustration in your voice.

“Uh no I don’t think so. Have a good summer I guess.” He replied, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

You nodded curtly and turned back to the door but before you could leave Spencer spoke again.

“Do you want to maybe grab a coffee? I’d really like to just clear the air.”

Your back straightened as you slowly turned back to him.

“I, uh…I have plans.” You shrugged, rolling your lip between your teeth.

Your facial expression told Spencer all the things you weren’t saying.

“Oh,” he croaked. “You have a date?”

“Not a date…not really. I’m just having dinner with a guy I went to college with. S’not a big deal.” You continued gnawing on your lip.

“Wow, good to see you’ve bounced back so fast.” His lips drew into a tight line and he grabbed his satchel off the desk, swinging it over his shoulder and heading for the door,

“It’s not like that.” You huffed, holding your hands out to stop him as he went to pass you.

“Sure it’s not.” He rolled his eyes. “So while I’ve been missing you every second of every day you’ve been reconnecting with an old college “friend”. Super, just super.”

You grabbed him by the shoulders when he tried to pass you again and shoved him backwards a little.

“You don’t get to do this,” you spat. “You don’t get to be mad at me for moving on. We broke up because you’re in love with someone else, Spencer! What am I supposed to do? Pine over you? Make myself miserable and wallow because you didn’t love me the way I love you? You don’t have the right to be mad, Spencer.”

“I have the right to be whatever I want to be.” He bit back. “Clearly you didn’t love me as much as you claimed to if you can move on so fast. I was married for a long time, I’m allowed to have complicated feelings about that. But my feelings for my ex in no way diminished my feelings for you. There’s no rule book on love Y/N. Just because I still love my ex-wife doesn’t mean I don’t also love you. Have a good summer, and have a wonderful time with your college friend.”

He pushed past you and you let him go. He swung open the door so aggressively it bounced on its hinges and hit the wall. You stepped out into the corridor after him and couldn’t stop yourself yelling after him.

“Go to hell Doctor Reid!”

You saw him slow his pace briefly, as though he might turn back and reply but he didn’t. He forced himself to keep walking.

And once he was out of sight, your first tear escaped your eye.

***

The music thrummed through the speakers, vibrating down the walls, through the floorboards and up through the soles of his shoes.

It pulsed and pumped like a frantically beating heart, filling his veins with a nervous energy which manifested in his constantly jiggling left leg and fingers drumming against the table top.

His free hand which wasn’t tapping the table was grasped around his glass as he raised it to his lips and swallowed down the amber liquid.

He slammed the empty glass back on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m getting another drink.” He yelled to be heard over the music and went to stand but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“I think you’ve had enough, Reid.” Emily replied just as loudly.

“Weren’t you quitting drinking anyway?” JJ asked him.

“I thought this was supposed to be fun. I’m not having fun.” He groaned.

After dropping the girls at Maeve’s he’d called JJ and asked if he could come over, not wanting to be alone.

She’d informed him it was girls night, she, Emily, Penelope and Tara were going out to a club on one of their rare Friday nights off.

The next thing she’d known, Spencer had invited himself along.

He was four scotch’s deep and it was already going to his head. All four women were incredibly worried about him.

“What if we dance? Dancing’s fun.” Penelope tried.

“I hate dancing.” Spencer shook his head. “I’m getting another drink.”

This time when he got up no one tried to stop him. The four women exchanged glances as he pushed his way through the crowds towards the bar.

“I’m worried about him.” JJ shook her head sadly.

“Me too.” Garcia agreed.

“He just needs to blow off some steam. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Tara shrugged, sipping her wine. “Not much of a ladies night.”

“Let’s go dance while he’s distracted.” Emily suggested and the others nodded in agreement.

Spencer didn’t see them go, too busy trying to get the bartender's attention. His head was spinning and he felt like he could taste the music, it was so loud.

But the more he drank, the less he thought about you and your date-not-a-date. The more scotch he consumed the less he pictured you rolling around in bed with some college friend you’d never mentioned before.

The more alcohol he indulged in, the less his heart felt like it was breaking.

He ordered his drink and took a large sip of it, relishing in the way the alcohol burned as it slid down his throat.

When he turned away from the bar there was a set of large brown eyes staring right at him.

The woman the eyes belonged to was tall and curvaceous, shoulder length blonde hair and a smile directed right at him.

She moved closer to him, her hips swaying as she walked. When she reached him, she placed her hands on his shoulders, moving her face close to his ear so she could be heard when she spoke.

“Hi,” she breathed against his ear. “I’m Lauren.”

“Spencer,” he replied, his free hand finding purchase on her hip.

“I saw you with that group of women, one of them your girlfriend?”

“Nope, no. Just friends. No girlfriend.” He swallowed, his hand gripping the glass shaking a little.

“That’s good to know.” She giggled, pulling away from his ear and looking down at his lips which were parted slightly.

He knew this was a terrible idea, so far past terrible in fact. But he also couldn’t help himself. Lauren was beautiful, seductive and clearly interested in him. And maybe she was just what he needed to take his mind off of things.

He raised his drink to his lips and downed it, placing the empty on the bar behind him. One hand still on her hip, his now free one cupped her cheek, brushing his fingertips against her skin.

“You got a problem with me kissing you?” He smiled at her.

“Not at all.” She smiled back before he was soon slamming their lips together.

The last thing Spencer remembered before the alcohol took over was grabbing her by the hand and leading her towards the door, the two of them fleeing together into the night.

***

By the fourth time Taco barked, Spencer forced his eyes open. The mangy dog was sitting on the floor next to his bed, glaring at his owner with his beady little eyes.

“Go away,” Spencer grumbled, his head immediately starting to throb. “You aren’t going to starve. Just need a little more sleep.”

He pulled the duvet over his head and ignored Taco when he barked twice more. He groaned into his pillow, his stomach turning and head pounding.

Taco barked again and Spencer half considered getting up just to kick the dog until he was silent. But the dog was the least of his concerns.

“Can you shut that thing up?” A female voice came from behind him and Spencer sat up and whipped around so fast the whole room spun.

Her blonde hair was tangled on the pillow and the sheet was slung around her waist, her bare chest on display.

“What the fuck?” He panted, lifting the sheet and looking down at his own naked body beneath it. “Oh fuck, did we? Shit!”

He lept out of bed and the woman grumbled while he tried to locate his boxers.

“Why are you being so loud?” She whined.

He found his underwear and pulled them on before turning back to her.

“You need to leave, now.” He told her, her eyes fluttering open.

“Well that’s rude.” She pulled the sheet over her body.

“This shouldn’t have happened. We shouldn’t have…fuck!” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Did we use protection?”

Lauren sat up against the pillows, eyes blurry and hair messy.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I was as drunk as you were.”

“Are you on the pill?” He glared at her.

“Yes.” She huffed,

“But you don’t know if we used a condom? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m such a fucking idiot.” He started pacing, hunting the room for a used condom or a ripped packet.

“What is your problem?” She groaned, rubbing her eyes and causing her mascara to flake.

“My problem? My problem!” He raised his voice even though it hurt his head to do so. “My problem is I have two kids that were born from a combination of too much alcohol and forgotten condoms. Fuck, how could I be so stupid?”

“You have kids?” She frowned.

“Yes! Why do you think I live in this giant suburban hell hole?” He continued to search the room.

Lauren glanced around the room, she hadn’t noticed last night how feminine his bedroom was.

“Jesus Christ, you didn’t tell me you were married!” She spat, swinging her legs out of the bed.

“I’m not married. I said I have kids.” He found the trash can in the corner and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the used condom sitting on top. “Oh thank fuck.”

“You’re telling me a woman doesn’t live here?” She scoffed, locating her clothes and starting to dress.

“A woman used to live here, I haven’t decorated. I’m moving out…it doesn’t matter. None of that matters. You need to leave.”

“Don’t worry I’m going.” Lauren dressed as quickly as she could. “I did not sign up for this.”

She was soon throwing her heels back on and found her purse tossed on the dressing table which she grabbed before leaving the room. Spencer followed her, still wearing only his underwear and motioned her downstairs towards the front door.

“I, uh, I don’t mean to be an asshole,” he swallowed as he unlocked the door. “I really wasn’t in the right frame of mind last night. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” Lauren clucked as the door opened. “It is what it is.”

She weaved past him and out of the door, heading down the front steps as the gate opened and someone started up the path. Spencer closed his eyes and leant back against the door jamb.

He didn’t watch as you encountered the scantily dressed blonde halfway down the path. He refused to look as you gave her a once over and as Lauren rolled her eyes.

“I thought you said a woman didn’t live here?” Lauren called back to him.

Spencer’s eyes shot open and he looked guiltily between you and her.

“It’s not…I know this looks bad but it’s not…” He groaned, wanting the world to swallow him whole.

“Wear a ring, asshole!” Lauren spat and before he could explain, she was strutting away on her too high heels.

You glared at him from the path, not wanting to come any closer as the rage bubbling through your veins might cause you to physically hurt him.

“Hi,” he shrugged meekly. “I really wish you’d shown up like, two minutes later.”

“You really are something else, aren’t you?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You called me sixteen times last night, left me five voicemails telling me how much you missed me and now I show up here and see some bimbo leaving your house? Jesus Christ, Spencer, seriously?”

“I…sixteen times?” He frowned, he didn’t remember calling you once let alone sixteen times.

“Yes,” You nodded, taking a few tentative steps closer. “I even left dinner earlier, I walked out on a nice evening with an uncomplicated, charming man. And I actually came here today because I thought, maybe, maybe we could work on things. And then I see her leaving and it certainly doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened between the two of you.”

He followed your gaze when you gestured up and down his nearly naked frame. He grimaced, wrapping his arms around his torso as his cheeks flushed.

“I was…drunk. Really drunk and I made a really bad judgement call. But in my defence, I was upset, ok? I was sad and so I drank and I couldn’t stop thinking about you and your college friend and I figured a one night stand might take my mind off of things.” He shrugged with a deep sigh. “It didn’t mean anything, I swear.”

“I don’t care, Spencer.” You shook your head. “I’m glad I saw her actually, because now I know it was a huge mistake coming here. We were never going to be able to work things out. Your one night stand saved me from more heartbreak.”

“Just come inside, let's talk.”

“No.” You shook your head, taking a few steps backwards.

“Y/N, please?” He begged, stepping out of his house.

“No, no. I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. I have to go.” You continued walking backwards while Spencer carried on towards you.

You bumped into the gate and quickly turned to open it.

“Y/N, wait, please!” He hurried towards you, but you were already back on the street, running towards your car. “Y/N! Wait….please? Fuck!”

He yelled, running his fingers through his hair. He glanced across the street where his neighbour who had been tending to her yard was staring at him. Of course she was, he was the crazy man screaming after a woman wearing nothing but his boxers.

“Morning Mrs Lopez.” He offered a tight lipped smile and meek wave before turning away from her and retreating back inside.

Once the door was closed he fell back against it, shaking his head at his own stupidity. Just when things seemed to be as bad as they could get, he kept making them worse. He couldn’t seem to do anything right lately.

Drinking as much as he was certainly wasn’t helping matters. He thought he’d had it under control but maybe he was wrong.

He was falling apart at the seams. He needed to do something, needed to make a change before his anger and his sadness ripped his whole life apart. If he continued on this self-destructive path he could lose everything, his girls included.

And they deserved more from him.

It was time he took a good, long look in the mirror and made a change. It was time for Spencer Reid to start thinking about himself and make some drastic changes before his life wound up upside down.

No more drinking. He had to put a stop to that before it had a chance to escalate, he knew all too well the perils of addiction.

He dragged himself back upstairs and found his cell phone, pulling up his contacts and locating her number. He sat on the edge of the bed while it rang a few times, soon her breezy voice was carrying down the line.

“Reid, hi. Where did you go last night, we were worried about you?”

“I’m fine, everything’s fine.” He tried to placate her but then he sighed. “Actually that’s not true. Nothing is fine.”

“What’s wrong?” She quickly panicked down the line.

“I need your help.” He sniffed, his eyes welling with tears. “I hate to have to ask you this with your history with your ex, but I don’t know who else to ask. I can’t keep on like this, I really need to get sober. Would you…would you go to a meeting with me?”

There was a pause of silence while his words sunk in and he worried briefly she would shoot him down. But soon enough she was speaking.

“Of course I will, Reid. Of course I will.” Tara Lewis replied, that calming tone of hers wrapping him in a comforting blanket.

“Thank you Tara. Thank you so much.” He sniffed again, a few tears escaping.

“I’ll have a look online and find something nearby ok? I’ll text you the details.”

“Ok,” He nodded, closing his eyes. “Tara?”

“Yes Reid?”

“Please don’t tell anyone. They’ll only worry.”

Tara didn’t think it would help him to hear how worried they all were about him already. Instead she agreed and soon they were both hanging up the phone.

***

It had been over fifteen years since Spencer set foot in some kind of meeting. Back then, when he’d been going through his dilaudid addiction, he’d attended a few meetings at Beltway Clean Cops. This was his first time going to such a place with civilians.

But he’d been a civilian himself now for a long time, so he guessed it made sense.

He spent most of it sitting in the back with Tara, clutching her hand while others spoke. Towards the end she encouraged him to go up and speak.

Despite his awkwardness, public speaking had never phased him much. Not usually anyway. But standing up at that podium and having to talk in front of a room full of addicts was one of the most nerve wracking experiences of his life.

He made eye contact with Tara who gave him a soft smile and a nod of motivation.

“Uh, hi, I’m Spencer.” He began, not taking his eyes off of Tara.

“Hi Spencer.” The room spoke in unison.

“I, uh…I suppose I’m here because I have a problem. I don’t want to use the word addiction because I don’t think I’m at that stage yet but it’s certainly heading that way.” He rolled his lip between his teeth. “Years ago I had a problem with dilaudid, I haven’t used in over fifteen years. I don’t know that I can say I was sober though, because I still drank from time to time.

Over the last year that drinking has gotten heavier. For a long time I didn’t think of alcohol the same as I did dilaudid, it seemed so harmless in comparison. But I think I’ve started replacing one vice with another and if I don’t stop drinking entirely it is going to get to a point where I can’t stop.

I have two kids, two little girls and I am their primary caregiver. Lily is seven and Daisy is fourteen and old enough to know that I am struggling. Their mom and I were married for thirteen years before she dropped a bombshell that she’d been having an affair for three years. I guess I’ve not been the same since. On the weekends I don’t have my girls, I tend to drink to numb the pain.

I know I need to make a change, even if only for my daughter’s. So I came here in the hopes of quitting drinking before it’s too late for me.”

He took a deep breath once he was finished. He hadn’t planned to say all of that but he found when he started talking he couldn’t stop.

Tara was smiling at him with pride and she started to clap which caused the rest of the room to join in.

Spencer felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment and he averted his gaze down to the podium. He hurried away while the applause continued and kept his eyes on the floor as he made his way back to his seat.

As soon as he sat down, Tara took hold of his hand and he glanced at her. She was smiling brightly at him and if he wasn’t mistaken, he swore she had tears in her eyes.

“I’m so proud of you.” She mouthed at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

He smiled in thanks and turned back to face the front as another speaker took to the podium.

Truth be told, he was proud of himself too.

***

Tara took him for lunch after the meeting and he regaled her with all the sorry details of what happened after he left the bar last night, including you showing up at his house. She listened patiently, giving input where necessary and never once judging him.

After they ate, they went for a walk in the park for a while until it got a little too hot and they found a bench in the shade of a large tree.

“A while ago you mentioned to me about seeing a therapist.” He spoke without looking at her. “I think it’s probably a good idea.”

“I have some friends in the field, I can give you some numbers.” She watched the side of his face.

“Yes please, that would be helpful.” He played with his hands in his lap, slowly turning his head to look at Tara. “You know, Daisy asked me if I was depressed and I honestly think that’s the first time I’d ever really thought about it before. That’s what this is right? Depression.”

“Most likely.” She nodded slowly. “But I think with the right combination of therapy and medication you’ll be just fine, Spencer.”

“You think it gets better?” He asked, rolling his lip between his teeth somewhat violently.

“I know it will get better.” She took hold of his hand once more and held it tightly. “You’ve had a rough time, life has not been kind to you. But you deserve to be happy again and you will be.”

“Thank you.” He sniffed.

“For what?”

“For today, for everything really. If it weren’t for you and the team and my girls, I would have crumbled a long time ago.”

“If you ever do crumble,” Tara squeezed his hand. “You can be assured we will all be there to help you pick up the pieces. That’s what family is for.”

A tear escaped his eye and he was quick to bat it away. Tara continued to hold his hand while they sat in silence, watching the world pass them by from the park bench.

When they parted ways, she gave him some numbers of therapists and he promised to call her if he felt the need to drink again. He had to admit he felt a little lighter by the time he returned home that evening.

But then he walked in his door.

In the state he’d been in that morning he had forgotten that leaving his shit for brain’s dog alone all day would be a terrible idea. He’d also forgotten to feed the mangy thing. And boy had Taco protested.

His couch was almost entirely ripped to shreds, the leather fabric clawed and scratched apart. The one remaining couch cushion Taco hadn’t already destroyed was now ruined, in a pile of fluff on the floor.

He’d knocked over the coat rack and torn apart Spencer’s favourite navy blue pea coat. The coat rack had clearly knocked into the wall and left a dent behind, one more mark he would have to fix before he moved.

On top of that there was a yellow urine stain in the middle of the living room and as Spencer moved further into the house he found Taco had also defecated at the bottom of the stairs.

He ignored the mess and the dog, because if he didn’t he might actually strangle the mutt, and headed through to the kitchen. He opened the back door and Taco sprinted into the yard.

He put food down for the moronic creature, wanting nothing more than to open the back gate and let the dog run free, he could tell the girls he accidentally got out. He cleaned up the pile of faeces in the hall and scrubbed the carpet of urine.

He left the back door open while he trudged upstairs and was met with yet more destruction caused by the dog.

Thankfully Daisy and Lily’s bedroom doors had been left shut but he’d failed to do the same with his own. One of his pillows had met the same fate as the couch cushion. He’d managed somehow to get the book off of Spencer’s nightstand and torn that to shreds, ripped pages littering his bed.

He’d turned the trash can upside down and the used condom was laying in the middle of the room.

“Gross, so gross.” Spencer groaned, picking up the garbage, condom included and throwing it back in the trash. “I swear to god I am going to put you down myself, Taco.”

In his ensuite, Taco had pulled his towel off of the back of the door and urinated on it.

He snatched it up and marched downstairs where he tossed the soiled towel into the washing machine. Taco was back inside, happily eating his kibble without a care in the world.

“Something needs to change.” He spat at the dog even though he couldn’t understand him. “I am not putting up with this.”

Taco, not surprisingly, didn’t reply, instead carried on eating.

Spencer closed the back door and slumped through to his living room, falling down on his trashed couch.

He pulled out his cell phone and typed a quick text message.

📲 To: Luke Alvez - Hey man, I don’t suppose you know any good dog trainers? This fucking creature is going to be the death of me.

He hit send, before pulling out the list of names Tara had given him earlier. She’d put a little star next to one name in particular who she thought would be a good fit for Spencer.

Before he could change his mind, he dialled the number.

“Hello, you’ve reached the office of Doctor Maria Sanchez, Hannah speaking, how may I help?” A chipper female voice came down the line.

“Uh, hi. A friend of mine gave me Doctor Sanchez’s number. I’d like to make an appointment I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Ok, sure. You’d need to fill out a questionnaire but if you give me an email address I can get that sent over to you. You can just email it right back and Doctor Sanchez will review it and be in touch.”

Spencer exhaled before reeling off his email address. A few minutes later he was hanging up. A reply from Luke awaited him.

📱 Do I know any good dog trainers? You offend me, Reid. Who do you think trained Roxy? I’d be happy to help corral your pup. Just been called in on a case but I’ll hit you up when I’m back.

He put his phone down and exhaled deeply. He was starting to make strides. He was moving house, he’d gone to his first meeting, he was looking into a therapist and sorting out his nightmare dog.

The next thing on the agenda was to buy a new couch.

***

The following morning he opened his computer in his office and faced a four page pre-therapy questionnaire.

It started out simple enough, his name, date of birth occupation, current employer and his home address. Relatively straight forward stuff. The first set of questions were about his parents, what his childhood was like and a section to detail any siblings.

It wasn’t easy to fill out given his family history, but he managed it. It was the next section in which he started having issues.

If married, please give the name and age of your spouse and the date of your marriage. If you have been married before, please write the names of your former spouses(s) and the date(s) of that (those) marriage(s).

Briefly describe your marital relationship(s).

God-fucking-damnit.

He tried not to let himself think about what he was writing, just let his fingers glide across the keyboard without giving it too much thought. It was easy enough to type out her name and age and the date of their marriage. It was the second question he had difficulty with.

He swallowed thickly as he started to type in the allocated box.

I became separated from my wife over a year ago when she informed me she had been having a three year long affair. We later got divorced. Before her affair we had a good marriage, for the most part. I wasn’t always home a lot due to my job but we were happy I think. I guess that’s not true though because if that were true then she wouldn’t have cheated on me. We have not remained on good terms.

He started typing about his girls but then his eyes glanced at the next question and realised that was better saved, so he deleted that part and moved onto the next box.

Please give the names and ages of all children and stepchildren, whether or not they are living at home.

Daisy Reid, fourteen / Lily Reid, seven. They live at home with me and stay with their mother every other weekend.

He stopped typing to take a sip of coffee while he glanced at the next question.

Do you or anyone in your family have a history of depression or other mental illness? Were any ever hospitalised for this?

He closed his eyes and let out a staggered breath. He’d thought the actual therapy would be the hard part, this was supposed to be a walk in the park in comparison. He had another sip of coffee and began to type again.

My mother suffers from schizophrenia and I made the decision to institutionalise her when I was eighteen.

Short and simple. He didn’t want to dive too much into this. But then the next question almost forced him to shut the computer down entirely and retreat back to bed.

Have you or any member of your family ever had a problem of misusing alcohol or drugs? Who and for how long? Is there a current problem?

He let out another breath, shaking his head at the computer as if it was somehow the device's fault.

I had a problem with dilaudid between 2006 and 2007. I have been clean since but have recently realised I use alcohol as a coping mechanism. I am going to meetings and trying to get sober.

The following few questions were about his educational history and his physical health which were much easier to answer. The next section was about his concerns about therapy and what he hoped to achieve from it. All fairly straightforward.

The last section was a list of fifteen statements in which he was supposed to mark on a scale of 0 to 3 how often those problems had affected him in the last week, zero being none at all and three being severe. He took a breath and just tried to hurry through them.

Feeling lonely 3

Low motivation to get things done 2

Trouble concentrating 3

Fatigue 3

Worry 3

Trouble falling asleep 3

Awaking during the night with problems returning to sleep 3

Tension in shoulders, neck or chest 3

Irritability 3

Thoughts of ending your own life 0

Feeling guilty 3

Feeling hopeless 3

Feeling worthless 3

Sexual concerns 0

Body discomfort 0

At the very least he hadn’t answered three to all of them, he thought, grimacing at his answers. Before he could talk himself out of it he replied to the email and attached the form, hitting send and not letting himself dwell on the answers he’d given.

He sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee, knowing he needed to go out and buy a replacement couch before he picked the kids up tomorrow. He didn’t enjoy the idea of them seeing the destruction their stupid dog had caused.

It took him almost an hour of sitting at his desk, staring at the wall until he finally got his legs to cooperate and he stood up. Before he left the house he shut Taco in the kitchen, hoping to contain the mutt's cataclysmic behaviour.

And then he drove out to the district to a furniture store and reluctantly picked out a new couch, paying extra for the privilege of having it delivered the same day and for having them haul his old one off, before driving back home and waiting for them to show.

His therapy application played on his mind all day, that and the fact he really wanted a drink. He didn’t call Tara, not wanting to bother her while they were on a case and just hoping he could stave off his cravings until it was time to pick up Daisy and Lily.

@andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @muffin-cup @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @foxy-eva @kbakery @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @redbulldinner @derekm24 @pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @angelicasworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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fluentmoviequoter · 9 months

Note

hi!! i love ur dalton fics and i was wondering if you could write one based before the red door where dalton and the reader are child hood friends and they are in high school. maybe some angst along with it 🫶🫶

Hi! Thank you so much, I'm glad you love them!! Ask for angst, and angst you shall receive! Honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about this one so I may revisit this request and try again later (the title is the only thing I'm sure I like). I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted though! :)

Warnings: angst, references some of the events of Insidious (2010). 1.0k+ words.

Beg You to Stay, Push Me Away

You wait for Dalton by his locker, one of your many traditions since starting high school. You have known Dalton for most of his life, and the time taken from you during his coma only strengthened your relationship.

“Morning, sunshine,” you call as Dalton approaches.

He smiles when he sees you, shaking his head fondly. “You’re too energetic.”

“Perhaps it is you that is not energetic enough, D-Dog.”

Dalton turns to you, his fingers freezing halfway through his combination. “What did you call me?”

“I was trying something. Didn’t work.”

Dalton shakes his head again, chuckling at your antics. He finishes what he’s doing, then gestures for you to lead the way.

“Ten bucks says our English prompt is romance-related,” Dalton proposes.

“Oh, I’ll take that deal. There’s no way it’s not something historical.” Dalton extends his hand, and you shake it once before entering the classroom.

“Nice of you to join us,” your teacher says, looking at the clock, “twelve seconds before the bell rings.”

“We aim to please,” you respond as you sit behind Dalton.

“Today you will write a page about where you plan to go to college and why,” your English teacher announces.

Dalton turns to you and shakes his head in defeat, mouthing, “Tie?”

You nod, and he smiles before turning back around. As you write, you remember the conversations you and Dalton had as a kid about being together forever, even in college. The moment you decided to sacrifice your Ivy League hopes in exchange for a life with your best friend.

“Your time is up, turn them in and start reading chapter 6 while I grade them,” your teacher says.

Dalton stands, allows you to walk by him, and follows you to the desk.

“I’ll give you two peas in a pod a pass if these papers are the same.” When you sit back down, Dalton turns to you again. The teacher doesn’t care this time; no one reads while she grades.

“Why would they be the same?”

“Because we’re going to the same school,” you answer with a laugh. Dalton still looks confused. “Remember? We’ve said for years we had to stay close.”

“I don’t remember that. Besides, I want to go to art school.”

Dozens of questions float through your mind, but your teacher interrupts the conversation.

“We’ll talk later,” Dalton whispers as he turns.

Dalton doesn’t remember some things before his coma, but this conversation has happened many times. As the class ends, you walk out before Dalton has packed his things, unsure if you want to talk to him.

“Hey, why’d you leave so fast?” Dalton asks as he sits beside you in the next class.

“I had to go to the bathroom first,” you answer, not looking up from your notebook.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect.”

Dalton tries to talk to you several more times before lunch, but you tell him you’re busy or can’t hear, even raising your hand and asking to go to the nurse once. He knows you’re upset but isn’t sure if it’s because he doesn’t remember a conversation or art school.

Standing at your locker before lunch, you jump when someone leans against the locker beside yours.

“What did I do?” Dalton asks. “And don’t make up another excuse not to talk to me.”

You sigh and push a notebook into your locker with too much force.

“Nothing, Dalton, I’m just tired, I think.”

“You weren’t tired earlier. I’m sorry that I forgot our conversation about college.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, smiling as you close your locker.

“Then what is the problem?”

“Um, can we just talk later?”

Dalton swallows harshly and nods. “I’ll see you in history.”

“Have fun at art,” you reply.

Just as this morning, you wait for Dalton as school ends. You plan to tell him that it hurt your feelings he forgot something important to you.

“Hey.” Dalton smiles as he walks to you. “Want to see what I drew in art?”

“Sure, but in a minute? Can we talk first?”

“Of course.”

You wait until students have cleared out for some privacy before you begin talking.

“So… My feelings were hurt, and I reacted childishly, and I’m sorry.”

“I hurt your feelings?” Dalton asks quietly, stepping closer.

“You forgot about going to college together.” You shrug.

“I’m sorry. I- When did we talk about it?”

“When didn’t we, Dalton? We’ve talked about it pretty much every back-to-school season since kindergarten.”

“Oh. Um, yeah. Where did we want to go? Somewhere with an art program, I hope.” Dalton laughs at his last sentence, and you realize he doesn’t care as much as you do.

“How long have you wanted to go to art school?”

“As long as I can remember.”

You nod and pull on your fingers. “I just don’t understand how you forgot something so important.”

“Going to the same college is that important?”

“I thought so.”

“I mean, it’s the twenty-first century, we could video chat and text every day, that way we could both chase our dreams,” Dalton argues.

“And what if staying close, going to the same college, was my dream?” You ask, hoping that you don’t start crying.

“Then you can go to the same school as me. But I found an art program that’s my dream.”

You take a deep breath, now trying not to yell. “Forget it, Dalton.”

“You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder all day and now you just want me to ‘forget it’? Over a stupid college decision?”

“No! What was stupid was being so willing to throw away an Ivy League education to follow you. Do whatever you want!”

“I will! I’m going to art school, no matter the sacrifices.”

“You know what, Dalton, I hope you get into that art school. And I hope we end up on opposite sides of the world. And maybe someday you will realize that the people closest to you didn’t deserve to be pushed so far.”

You walk out, slamming the door, and Dalton’s mind flashes to a different door.

#dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert #insidious #insidious the red door #requests

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davnittbraes · 2 years

Text

Series: Completed, takes place between Season 1 and Season 2

Summary: You have a good life. You move from planet to planet as you see fit, work wherever your skills come in handy, dodge your past whenever it threatens to haul you back and generally find contentment wherever you land.

Until a Mandalorian and his kid interrupt your vacation.

Pairings: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: I am marking this entire work as Explicit because it deals with dark and potentially upsetting subject matter (and yes it also contains smut)

Word Count: 155,600

Notes: In this series, first name Din, last name Djarin.

General tags/warnings: Reader-Insert, AFAB and female reader, Anxiety, Slow Burn, Angst, Blood and Injury, Emotional Trauma, Violence, Negative Self Talk, Panic Attacks, Discrimination, SMUT, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, AU, Each chapter is also specifically tagged but this covers the big stuff

The First Step

The Second Step

The Third Step

The Fourth Step

The Fifth Step

Chapter Thirty-Six | Chapter Thirty-Seven | Chapter Thirty-Eight

Smutty Snippets

Literally just the smut scenes 😉

Other stuff:

Series masterlist artwork - credit to a lovely fan who wants to remain anonymous, please do not copy without permission

Chapter banners - credit to Canva and my clearly insufficient graphic design skills

AO3 - link in my bio

Inspo tag:

#the world is light embodied inspo

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #reader insert #no y/n #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the world is light embodied

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purgemarchlockdown · 7 months

Text

Im going through all the dogs in my head and yeah it all lines up pretty well-

First of all, Neotony is defined as "retention of some larval or immature characters in adulthood" it is also known as juvenilization because the idea is that these traits are only seen in juvenile members of the species. Humans can experience neotony but we specifically bred dogs to have neotenized traits. Second: Not a biologist...at all! Just some guy who knows too many animal facts! Plus I'm using this concept in loose metaphorical terms. Neotony is usually connected to physical traits but it does show up mentally in ways such as decreased aggression.

Anyways the Big Ones:

Haruka: ...Okay do I need to explain this one? Haruka both wants to return back to being a "child" where he was loved and cared for and hates the "weak" parts of himself. When he killed dogs he, in the process, destroyed the idea that he could "be a child again."

(Note: Haruka also kills a Cat which...Cat=Sin fans we stay Winning!) John: John is a "dog's name" and has refereed to himself as a "newborn" and wishes he wasn't "born" Once again connecting being a dog to being a "child," plus there's also the children noises in Double.

(Note: Tsuwmya has covered over Here ideas of age and maturity in relation to milgram characters and for Mikoto she put them down as "an adult that wants to become an adult" talking about how he has a lack of control in his life and even though he wants to be an adult and taken seriously by the people around him, he isn't. Go read the post its good) Kotoko: Notably Kotoko has Wolves and not Dogs, the non-domesticated, non-juvenilized version of dogs. However Kotoko herself has a lot of child-related imagery and concepts. Her name is written with the kanji for "child" she has a connection to Little Red Riding Hood and tells Amane that she was "the way she is now by her age" not growing or changing past being twelve. Tsuwmya's post actually covers it really well how she's an child stuck as an adult forced to be a child.

Other various details: Amane (I GOT HER IN!) has a dog Magic.

Notably unlike the cream cat (which is collared) and Her Cat (which well...dies and is also a representation of her and her sin) the bunny and the dog are uncollared (domesticated without the need of something to control them)

Magic is notably child-like in it's art direction too.

Mahiru:

Admittedly this one alluded me but Tsuwmya's post strikes again! Mahiru is an adult stuck as a child! The dog isn't too relevant to her but ay it works with my point! Would also like to mention the line that goes over here is:

We fought sometimes, I was happy to get hurt

So that's interesting.

Kazui: Family dog that is At His Parents House. Kazui has a notably bad relationship with his family and doesn't want to be an adult and deal with adult responsibilities. Yet he doesn't Really want to be a child because that means doing what his Parents want him to do and having the pressure on him.

Note again: We caused the Neotony in dogs! Each character's "childishness" can be traced back to something. Haruka was neglcted and abused, Mikoto is overworked and disrespected, Kotoko presumably had something in her past, Amane...I will talk forever if I say hers so I wont, Mahiru was sheltered, Kazui is trapped in the pressures of society.

So yeah...I think someone on the Milgram team must Really like Animals.

#milgram thoughts #cw child abuse

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turboemmy · 2 years

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thinks abt them

#big deal looove ma'am #buttwitch #big deal #12 forever #twelve forever #buttdeal #butt witch

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fullgrownpalace · 3 months

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Some BW/Full Grown, Big Deal, and (older AU!)Reggie appreciation

I’m an unabashed ButtDeal lover, anyways- Sorry I mainly draw older Reggie, it’s for mine n my best friend’s AUs and it’s interesting to poke at her development as she has to grow up (she’s still a messy chaos girl forever)

#twelve forever #12 forever #buttwitch #reggie abbott #buttdeal #big deal #my art #I mostly draw older Reggie wearing my wardrobe hskxlsl #LEIA LOOK ITS OUR BABIES

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slitherinfest · 10 months

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Slither In Fest Masterlist!

A big round of applause and a heartfelt thanks to all the awesome people who have joined us for this year's fest! It's been an absolute delight to see each and every one of your entries.

Once again, special thanks to @dividawrites for letting us reuse her banner art.

Thank you all for appreciating Bottom Tom | Voldemort with us! We hope to see you all again next year.

Please see below the cut for a masterlist of all works!

A Total Absence of Light by @crowcrowcrowthing E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | 7,535 words | Complete

My name is Tom Riddle, and I am the Boy Who Lived. Something happened to turn Harry Potter into the Dark Lord, and I will do whatever it takes to learn his secrets. I don’t care that he killed my parents. I don't care that he stole my childhood. All I want is to earn the right to call myself his apprentice.

chiaroscuro by @cindle-writes E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | 7,213 words | Complete

Immortal children are illegal. Harry makes one anyway.

Flinch by @applesbasketcaseart E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | 5,082 words | Complete

"Tom, I want you to meet my friend, Harry Potter." There's something a bit odd about Mr. Potter.

Freedom from those Pages by @azuredreammira E | Tom Riddle/Voldemort | 9,417 words | WIP

It started out as a deal, selling his body in exchange for freedom. But Tom Riddle quickly became Voldemort’s advisor and lover, ensuring that the one who had created him years ago did not go insane.

He'd Love To See Inside by TrinisetteArcobaleno E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | 5,631 words | Complete

Lord Voldemort has an important event to go to tonight. He obviously decides to wear his best suit. Harry Potter, a child that Voldemort took in after killing his parents, presented as an alpha the same day of the event.

In Perfect Unity by @i-dream-of-libraries E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | 9,052 words | Complete

Harry has just begun his work as the only Priest in a small town when a man comes to confessional one night and traps Harry in the booth with him.

Tom walks in on purpose. He’s heard the warnings of the townsfolk some miles away from the border. They warn him against entering, against lingering, against taking an interest, but he is Tom Marvolo Riddle. He is in his prime, forever frozen that way, and he will conquer the world.

Like Calls To Like by TrinisetteArcobaleno E | Tom Riddle/Tom Riddle Sr. | 4,856 words | Complete

Tom Marvolo Riddle’s father found him before he had ever known about Hogwarts. Unbeknownst to Tom Jr., his father planned to visit him tonight.

multiplicity by @duplicitywrites E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle/Harry Potter | 7,780 words | WIP

At the age of twelve, Tom is well on his way to having all of Hogwarts wrapped around his clever, crooked finger. Others are beneath him, unworthy of his regard—but for Professor Evans, Tom is willing to make an exception. When transfer student Harry Potter arrives mid-November, Tom is inclined to dismiss the older boy as another arrogant Pureblood who will treat him with disdain. Only, Harry isn’t like the others. Not at all.

Never Meet Your Heroes by @ujiin E | Salazar Slytherin/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | 6,960 words | WIP

Tom is in a little bit of a predicament. "Did you need anything else, Slytherin?" Tom manages to say without a single hitch or stutter, even though it feels so incredibly wrong to address a literal founder of Hogwarts this way.

Pitch Black by @kagariasuha E | Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Horcrux/Harry Potter | 2,403 words | Complete

The proximity of Horcruxes can influence anyone - especially Harry.

Tight Quarters by @maraudersaffair E | Abraxas Malfoy/Tom Riddle | 2,488 words | Complete

High off casting dark magic, Tom and Abraxas sneak into a cupboard and have some fun.

Wind Tunnels by @mrmxlemons E | Tom Riddle | Voldemort/Ron Weasley | 10,433 words | WIP

The locket holds Ron closer than anyone else has. He doesn't want to let it go.

#harry potter #tom riddle #voldemort #lord voldemort #bottom tom #bottom voldemort #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle rarepairs #slither in fest #update

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marcelllyn · 21 days

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Unexpected proposal

I think I'm obsessed with Dean Winchester and I don't blame myself for that, because he's so… Maybe this will become a fanfic with more chapters, depending on my mood. Language: English (is not my first language). Synopsis: Colette is an old friend of Dean who is going through an identity crisis. When meeting Dean again at a diner, he ends up making an unexpected proposal. Warnings: Nothing but cute. Nasty review.

I was sitting there in a diner that smelled like old grease, drinking the worst coffee of my life. A cup of coffee and soggy toast with sour jam. Observing the people passing by on the street, every time a person in a suit or dressed in a work uniform passed by, my chest sank. Everything seemed so far from reality, as if I were a leftover piece of the puzzle of life. And let's face it, living off his father's inheritance wasn't going to be a good thing forever.

I needed a job, even though being a waitress, a store attendant, a dishwasher was getting repetitive, I wasn't able to keep a job, and I also couldn't finish any of the three colleges I started, money wasted.

Focused on the street, taking small sips of coffee, the world seemed to slow down when a black Impala parked in front of the diner. My memory wandered to simpler times.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, remembering the memory of driving an old friend's Impala, the way his face looked disappointed when I scratched a little on his car. How could I fall madly in love with someone that day.

I opened my eyes, took another sip of that greasy coffee, -How must he be today? -I thought. I imagine that Sam, one of my few friends from school, must be going to college, now his brother, the feeling that even if he wanted to he would never be able to leave that life. Life I've always been interested in, ever since I met Sam eating alone in the cafeteria when he was twelve and invited him to my house for cookies almost every day after school.

When he and his brother disappeared after spending two months in the city, I remember being devastated and crying for a few weeks before I got over that I would never see them again. Well, I saw them again five years later when I moved away.

I woke up from my trance of memories when the entrance bell rang. My eyes widened when I saw him, majestically well, adjusting his leather jacket, running his hand through his blond hair. I could feel my jaw wanting to drop, his beauty was always jaw-dropping, it's no wonder my sister already had it. My stomach knotted, maybe from the coffee, maybe from the spoiled jam.

Dean leaned against the counter, I wish I could go over there and maybe say hi, but at least I know if he remembers me, and even if he did, what would he talk about? My life hasn't changed much since the last time we saw each other. The only big change was that I was now more like some kind of current nomad.

I stared at the cup, I felt embarrassed that I didn't have anything innovative to say.

—I can not believe. — That charming and mocking voice took over me.

I pictured Dean, smiling like a fool.

— Colette Schmidt!, or rather, Lety! — He leaned on the table. — I could recognize you from a thousand meters away, with that huge nose.

I snorted and motioned for him to sit in the yellow armchair in front of me, and he did so. I could hug him, but I knew he was never a fan of hugs or touching in general.

I narrowed my eyes, taking in every point of her beauty.

— He's older. — I commented.

— And that's the first thing you say to an old friend? - He laughed. — I'm still at my peak.

— And when haven't you been? — My smile was big, he could make me smile like an idiot just by looking at me. — Where have you been?

— Around— His vague answer left me unsatisfied, I lightly kicked his calf under the table. — I was walking around with Baby, no big deal, you know.

— Is Sam with you?

— I'm going to see him at college, can you believe he's really going to college? — He said with a slight frown.

— Sam was always smart, you'd imagine. — I took a sip. — Hunting?

He wrinkled his nose and said:

— Do I need to answer? — He said with a harsh tone.

I shook my head.

— What is the name of the college?

—Stanford University. — He measured me with his gaze. — Did you let your hair grow?

— And I stopped straightening. — I could have run my hand through my curls if my hand hadn't been so greasy.

— It was very beautiful. What are you working with?

I swallowed hard, I shouldn't be ashamed to expose my situation to Dean, I mean, he could never judge, after all, he's not in a position to do so. But I was afraid he would look at me with disappointment, the same way he looked at me when he was teaching me how to drive and I scratched Baby by accident, that look was fatal.

— I'm not doing anything at the moment.

Dean groaned in pleasure when the waitress placed his plate of waffles and some fruit on the table.

— And why aren't you working? — He put a piece of strawberry in his mouth.

— I don't find anything that interests me, everything seems futile. Something common people do, you know? — I provoked.

— Have you ever tried being a stripper? — He smiled with his mouth full.

I let out a satisfying laugh, one that I had been holding back for a long time.

— You know that I wouldn't even be able to do it if I wanted to, you've already seen me dancing.

— As your prom date, I say that you, in addition to being the first person who made me wear a suit, were the first person who also managed to make me end up in the hospital for stepping on my foot.

— Imagine doing a twirl on a stick? — As soon as he said it, Dean started looking at the ceiling with a satisfied look on his face.

— And what lingerie would you be wearing, in detail? — His eyes closed tightly as he bit his lower lip.

I took the opportunity to grab a strawberry from his plate.

— A pair of Scooby-Doo panties, a bra with images of severed heads.

He glared at me.

— Ruined the costume, even though the Scooby-Doo panties weren't the worst thing. — He stuffed a forkful of waffles inside. —But the way you are, it's quite possible that you'll hit some innocent person in the face with your heel.

I tried to get another strawberry and Dean looked at me like a rabid dog and patted my hand three times. We were silent for a few minutes, his eyes narrowed. The silence began to become uncomfortable as he chewed like a hungry child.

— It's strange, seeing you like this, meeting you again after five years. — He commented.

— Yes, it's thinking that in the past, well, it's… Never mind. — He shook his head, shaking off his thoughts.

He knew where he wanted to go, but that whole thing should stay in the past.

— I haven't changed much other than my hair and some tattoos.

— That's not exactly what I meant. — His eyes widened. — Calm down, did you say tattoos?

— I made some. — I lifted the sleeve of my blouse. Showing a small tattoo of the Metálica band logo. — It's a little cheesy, but I really like the band.

His face turned white as if a ghost had just walked past me, which would be harmful if it weren't for Dean Winchester.

— Who are you and what did you do with the real Collete? — He held my arm gently. — You hated Metálica!

I smiled like a fool again. His hand wasn't exactly soft, but it was definitely a good session.

— I was very strange.

I let him finish eating, the closer he got to finishing, the more an emptiness began to appear in my stomach, a feeling of abandonment. I would rather never see him again if he were to leave on the same day, on the same morning. At least the last time, Dean knocked on my door at one o'clock in the morning with Sam to say goodbye. The second game was the one that hurt the most, after all they had stayed by my side for a whole year, but apparently their father had decided to leave the city in a hurry. He wiped his mouth on his napkin once he was done.

— Anyway, where are we going now?

My gaze lit up.

— What?

— Take a drive, talk until we get tired of talking.

He gets up, leaving an insulting tip, and we leave that disgusting diner.

♡

Dean then did something unimaginable, he opened the car door so I could get in.

— This is new. — I mocked.

— Don't get used to it.

I got in the car, it felt like time had stopped. Dean sat down on the bench and started the car.

— Where do you want to go?

— I have no idea. — I looked at the back seats. — Is that a pair of panties?

— I swear it's not mine. — He grabbed my face and turned it forward. — I didn't know I would have visitors today.

— Didn't you have time to hide the panties that your lovers leave as souvenirs? — I scoffed.

—exactly! — He put a tape on the radio.

— Wow, do you know it's the 2000s?

— Shut up. — Your hand covers my mouth. — I want to see where you live.

I looked at him suspiciously, he was always a mystery, he was never very open, but there are things that never change.

—Dean. — He said suspiciously.

— Don't be like that. — He pouted. — I just want to see your house, without ulterior motives.

I nodded.

♡

I guided him to my house, a small apartment in an area that looked like Batman would be murdered if he stepped foot in that place.

—No judgement. — I covered his eyes while I opened the door. — And take off your shoes.

— This hallway smells of so many things. — He mocked.

I opened the door and the smell of lavender entered my nostrils like a perfume bomb.

— Everything is so tidy. — He threw himself on the sofa. — A living room with a view of Gotham, a kitchen and a bedroom.

— I don't need much. I don't even spend that much time here anyway.

Dean got up walking down the small hallway, ignored the bathroom and went directly to my room.

— Cute room. — Throw yourself on the bed.

— Dean, those dirty clothes on my bed! — I mumbled, laying down next to him.

— Your bed is more uncomfortable than the seat in my car.

— The sofa is more comfortable, I admit.

He pulls me to him, I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

— Ready for a question bomb?

—Ever…

— Is the rent up to date?

— Yes.

— Falling in love? Or a very close friend?

— No. — That was sad, all my friends were going away or dying.

— You don't have a job and nothing keeping you here, why don't you just leave?

—And where would I go?

— You could go with me to Sam's college and then see if he likes anything there.

I sat up in bed, blinking repeatedly quickly.

— You are crazy.

— I thought you already knew. — Laughed. — Seriously, your company would be good and I hate seeing how unhappy you look.

— Dean, it's been almost five years since we've seen each other and now you're asking me to give up everything I have to go traveling with you?

— You only live once, and, in fact, we could go without seeing each other for ten years and still, when we saw each other, it would be the same as the last time.

— But this is crazy. — I sat on the bed. — You're a hunter, and I have a life, an apartment.

— Lety, you have an apartment, but not a life, that's survival. — He snorted. — You know, fate, even if I don't believe it, may have made me go to that diner that smells of old grease just to meet you again.

— That was the biggest nonsense you've ever said to me.

— I know. — He murmured. - Accept my invitation?

— Promise not to hunt on the way?

— Only in case of emergency. — He sat down on the bed. — Speaking of hunting, do you still remember some of the things I taught you?

— Of course, it’s impossible to forget. — My body shivers with the memories. — I remember everything you ever taught me. — I murmured. — I need some time to think about your proposal.

— It just won't take long, I'm starting to get worried about Baby.

Jumping out of bed, he started rummaging through my closet.

— Where are there towels here?

— Third drawer.

He opened the third drawer, and looked at me with a mischievous smile.

— Stop looking at my panties!

While Dean took a shower, my mind worked on the possibility of going with Dean, but my rational side begged me to continue my mediocre life. How I wanted to say yes, but leaving all my comfort to go to another city and then being aimless seemed crazy.

The noise of the shower stopped, Dean appeared in front of me without a shirt, focused on putting on the belt of his jeans. My mind seemed to be stopping, his tattoo showed on my chest, I remembered that I have one like it on my chest. Through his pure influence.

— Have you made up your mind?

— Why do you want to visit Sam?

— Family thing.

— What am I going to do when I get there?

— There will be things, believe me. Don't worry so much.

— What kind of things?

His face fell and he sighed deeply.

— I'm just worried about not having enough money.

— Your father gave you a lot of money, I imagine, you'll manage.

I sighed. I wanted to go with him, I really wanted to. I loved his presence, it would be nice to spend time with him and Sam again.

— I think that's it. — I shrugged. — I will, but no sleeping with women in the car. I will not sleep on the same bench where you fornicated.

— The car is mine. — He mocked. — No driving, no eating in the car.

— But what if you're sleepy?

— Then I'll stop so we can sleep.

I opened a smile, looking at her belly, I felt a tingling sensation. Get rid of this feeling as soon as possible.

— Help me pack my bag, I’m terrible at organization.

— Unfortunately, as I'm going to drive, I have to take a nap. So, when you're done, let me know and make sure Baby is okay every five minutes, okay?

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