#Jamie can be vulnerable for five minutes

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Uh, so, I saw this kickass piece of fanart by @thwipped and whoops, innit:

---

If caught and asked about it, Jamie couldn’t have explained why he did it.

Actually, no. Scratch that.

He could have explained, probably. He just wouldn’t have cared to.

---

The way it goes is this:

He’s been with Richmond for a couple of months and haven’t those been the longest fucking months of his life, because yeah, ‘course it’s fun being the best fucking player on the team, ‘course it’s fun hearing the fans chant his name, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, and getting a bit of rest from his dad ain’t bad either, but Richmond is a shit club with a shit manager and the only fucking bright spot—

Well. That’s turned out to be shit too, hasn’t it.

At least Jamie’s killing it, at matches, at training, every fucking time he steps onto the pitch. No one can fucking touch him, dominating yeah, and today’s been a good day for it too, what with the photographer on the sidelines snapping picture after picture for some promo or other. Jamie didn’t pay too much attention to the details, just made sure they got him from his best angle (every angle’s his best angle), and that’s that, until a couple of days later when he walks past Hopkins’ (or Huggles’?) empty office and sees the photos spread out all across the desk.

And well. ‘Course he steps inside to have a look. Bound to be a bunch of him looking fit as fuck, right, and who doesn’t want to see that, and maybe he can grab one for Keeley, bet she’d love it.

There is a bunch of him looking fit as fuck, no surprise there. Difficult to choose the best one really, they’re all fucking brilliant  (‘cause he’s fucking brilliant), and he’s deliberating between an action shot of him about to score one of the prettiest goals this sad fuck of a club ever saw and a shot of him afterwards, chin raised against he blue autumn sky like a hero out of a movie or something. Gorgerous, innit.

And then his eyes fall on a picture of Roy.

A picture of Roy fucking Kent. And. Like. It’s not even anything special, not like Roy’s actually doing anything in it, it's just a stray shot of him caught unawares with his shirt raised to wipe the seat of his forehead and he’s—

He’s. Uh.

Fuck. Jamie stares and he stares and he stares because for all that his old attraction to Roy didn’t survive five fucking minutes of actually being in the same room as the man, that’s just—

The shorts riding low on his hips. The dark hair trailing down and down, and the glistening drops of sweat on his forehead and Jamie can fucking smell him and that’s not sexy, is it, except it really fucking is, and those arms, and something unguarded and vulnerable and the real Roy Kent is a royal cunt but the Roy Kent in the picture—

He’s something else, isn’t he. He’s fucking fit. (Okay, the real Roy Kent is that, too, but it kind of fades in the face of him being an insufferable old twat and all that.)

Jamie grabs the picture. Doesn’t let himself think too much about it. Shoves it in his pocket and walks away, feeling it burn, burn, burn against his side.

---

When Jamie was twelve his mum gave him a poster of Roy Kent and Jamie was over the fucking moon. When Jamie was twenty-three he met Roy Kent and Roy Kent glared at him with unmitigated disgust and okay, fuck you too, mate. You’re not even that good anymore, and still you expect everyone to fall at your fucking feet, do your fucking bidding and make like you’re the fucking king, and fuck that, the king is dead, old man; long live the king.

Thing is, looking at the picture now it’s not that hard to forget about the real Roy Kent (nasty bastard) and remember the Roy Kent (fucking legend) that looked down on Jamie from his bedroom wall and whispered encouragements in the back of Jamie’s head and, a little later, featured frequently in fantasies of a different sort.

Picture in one hand, cock in the other, Jamie wanks to Roy for the first time since he came to Richmond (and if it’s not all just the memories of the man he once imagined, if it’s a little bit tinged with dark looks and growls and Roy snarling his name like it’s an insult… Well. That’s nobody’s business, that.)

---

He keeps the photos in the bottom drawer in his bedroom and he doesn’t pull it out a lot, ‘cause there’s Keeley and she’s fucking fit and the sex is mindblowing and Jamie doesn’t need to gawk at pictures of sad old has-beens to get his rocks off.  

Sometimes there’s a different sort of itch, though, and he scratches it. No big deal.

(He wonders sometimes, what the real Roy would say if he knew. Plays it out in his mind, all the different ways it might go. Cums as he imagines it.)

He thinks maybe Keeley would like the picture too. Not ‘cause she’d like Roy, she’s got way better taste than that, and she’s fun and she likes a bit of fun and if there’s one thing Roy Kent ain’t, it’s fun, innit. But he’s fit and all, and Keeley’s got eyes.

He imagines it, sometimes, the two of them getting off together over the picture. If Roy – the real Roy – wasn’t such a miserable old prick, he’d suggest it to her maybe. But Roy is such a miserable old prick, and the whole thing is way too complicated to explain, so he doesn’t.

Then Keeley dumps him and the dream was only ever that.

---

They send him back to City. Jamie doesn’t understand. One moment he’s sharing a bottle of tequila with Dani Rojas and taking up the Richmond chant and Jamie’s not wrong and for the first time he wonders if maybe there could be something for him here, and the next he’s woken up by his agent and that same evening he’s back in Manchester like he never left, only the stale air in the house he bought with his fifth paycheck tells him he did, and the numb sense of loss as he steps through the door tells him he did.

It’s months before he gets everything from London shipped and sorted. Busy getting up to speed with everything at the club and all. It’s good to be back, really, a proper team, a proper coach, all that. Dad starts getting in touch again, sure, but it is what it is.

So yeah, it’s months before he gets all his stuff unpacked and months before his fingers brush over something familiar and he stands there staring down on the picture or Roy and it’s odd because it seems like only yesterday he first saw it and it seems a lifetime ago.

A rush of lust – Pavlovian, right, Keeley? – but a rush of something else too, rusted barb wire tugging at his guts, sharp and sickening.

He looks at it for a long time and then he puts it away and this time he doesn’t take it out again. That’s over and done with.  

(Only, he doesn’t throw it away either. Just lets it sit in a neglected drawer, ignored but never let go, like all the other things that must never be.)

---

(There’ll be a time, some years later, boxes packed and moved and unpacked and an old photo slipping to the floor and

what the fuck is this?

and

what’s that, babe? oh my god, you look hot! fucking hell! jamie, where did you even get this?

and

when did you get this? i’m still playing here

and

uh, well, you remember that photo shoot they did for the promo just a couple of months after i joined richmond?

and a raised eyebrow and

yeah?

and a shrug and cheeky grin and

yeah, well, picked it up for darts practise, didn’t I

and Roy snorts but he’s smiling too and

figures you’d be shit at darts

and

what are you on about, man, i’m aces at darts… ooh, because there’s no holes in it you mean, yeah, no, you’re right, you’re right, i’m shit at darts, fucking terrible

and they’re both smiling now and Keeley is too and Roy notes how it’s clearly been handled a lot and what were you doing with it really and the glint in his eyes says he knows but Jamie tells him – tells them – anyway, in great, great detail.)

[lassofics]

Who Told You That?

Word count: 617

Timeline: Season 3

Warnings: Injury, implied abuse

Summary: Jamie’s waiting on the results of an x-ray. Of course, Roy is by his side.

Jamie rapidly taps his fingertips on the armrest of the chair, anxiously looking down at his watch. The minutes have been crawling by slower than molasses. The doctor had said the X-ray results would be ready in fifteen minutes — and it hadn’t even been five.

Sitting next to him, Roy finally slams his magazine down onto his lap. “Would you stop that?” he hisses, giving Jamie’s wrist a light shove off the armrest. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

For once, Jamie doesn’t have a comeback. He just murmurs a quiet “sorry” and crosses his arms over his chest, slumping down.

Roy sighs deeply, knowing Jamie needs some kind of emotional intervention. He’s never been good at that type of thing, but he has been in Jamie’s situation before. After a moment of trying to think of the right thing to say, Roy just gazes back at Jamie again.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he finally grumbles, his tone oddly soft.

Jamie just looks up at Roy, a look of genuine worry in his eyes. “You don’t KNOW that, Roy. What if I broke it?”

Roy resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You didn’t break it, idiot. You can still bend your toes.”

“It could still be a-a… a fracture, or… or a bad sprain,” Jamie insists, sounding a lot more anxious and vulnerable than usual. “Like, I’m gonna be out for at least a week… maybe more. What if I’m out for a month? What if… what if I need fucking SURGERY?”

“Tartt.” Roy semi-roughly grabs his shoulder, his voice sounding firm. Jamie’s tirade stops.

“You freaking out… is NOT gonna change the results of that X-ray.”

Jamie sighs, knowing Roy’s right. He slumps down in his chair, playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie and trying to calm himself down. But after a while, the silence becomes deafening, so he breaks it.

“I have to play,” he murmurs, his gaze fixated on one of the colorful tiles on the floor. “If I don’t, there’s no point. Without football, I’m… bloody useless.”

These words almost make Roy do a double take. He doesn’t show it, of course; he’s mastered the art of keeping a stoic facade through everything, but those words — and the way Jamie had said them so casually — almost breaks his heart.

Jamie doesn’t see any other good qualities in himself, Roy silently and suddenly realizes. He only sees the talented footballer.

After a moment of hesitation, Roy puts his hand back on Jamie’s shoulder, then speaks in a much softer tone.

“Who told you that?”

Jamie opens his mouth to say, “that’s just the way things are,” but he suddenly falters. The words get caught in his throat.

It takes his brain a moment to catch up, but the realization hits him like a truck.

He’d had it screamed in his face more times than he can count: “You’re nothing but a talented piece of shit! If you weren’t so talented, no one would like you!”

Suddenly, Jamie wants to cry.

Instead, he just swallows the unexpected lump in his throat and looks up at Roy, exhaling softly. “…thanks.”

Roy squeezes Jamie’s shoulder gently, then just grunts in acknowledgement. Jamie, not-so-subtly, leans into his touch, shifting slightly closer to Roy.

Roy doesn’t say a word. Instead, he just silently moves his hand to Jamie’s other shoulder, inadvertently wrapping his arm around him.

Surprised but not complaining, Jamie leans into it. Roy always seems to be able to break through his defenses, faster and more effectively than anyone else.

He loves him — like a protective older brother. And even if he’ll never say it out loud, nothing can take that away.

[reminiscentreader]

Love your fics!😩 Can u write one where there is an event the Hawthornes+Avery have to attend but they haven’t left the house cuz Grayson is late and everyone is confused, and then one of his brothers come to check on him in his room only to find out he’s asleep cuz he’s feeling sick, and then that brother stays with him??😭

Thank you for being so patient! I’ve been wanting to write this for a while but I’ve been really busy 😭

Anyways hope you enjoy xx

_________________________________________

Jameson

The annual Hawthorne gala, Hundreds of important rich people from al over the world coming to see the Hawthorne heiress, my Hawthorne heiress. I watch as Avery slips on her deep green dress, it fits her perfectly, she is perfect, “Jamie,” I sit up a little straighter, “zip me up will you?” I make my way off our bed and towards her “of course heiress.” After I zip up her dress I rest my hands on her shoulders and tuck my head into the crook of her head, “you look so beautiful tonight heiress” I reach my hand out to stroke down her braid, “I love you” Avery leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head, “I love you too.”

Grayson

I feel awful. I don’t ever get sick but right now I feel like curling into a ball and dying, I can barely stand up or see and there are tears streaming my face. I hate how vulnerable I’ve made myself, I’m ment to be attending the annual gala for goodness sake, so if I don’t sort myself out in the next five minutes, I’m fucked. I desperately try to make my way to the bathroom but I’m hopelessy stumbling around, tears blurring my vision. What would the old man say if he saw me now? Your letting yourself get sick Grayson? Hawthornes don’t get sick. They are fighters. We don’t let anything get in the way. Kill yourself tobias, is what I would’ve probably thought if he wasn’t already dead.

I don’t know how long I’ve had my head stuck in this toilet for, violently vomiting to the point of passing out, I suddenly feel light headed, maybe I should get some sleep, maybe I should take a break from work? No. Weak.

weak.

weak.

weak.

weak.

weak….

Nash

I clap my hands to get everyone’s attention, “Right ya’ll, everyone here ready to go?” 7 heads nod back at me, “alright let’s head to the car room.” About five minutes into walking Avery exclaims, “Grayson, Have you got the papers we need?” Nobody responds. “G-Grayson?” Everyone starts to look around murmuring, “Now where the hell ‘as Gray gone.” I say looking for him in the crowd of people following me, “Jesus Christ, did anyone see him come out?” Again in response I get a couple of murmurs, “Nobody?” They all shake there heads, “Guess I’ll go find him then.”

After walking all the way back to the house, I was starting to wonder if Grayson wasn’t even in the state, maybe he went to go visit his sister or something, nah, I know gray wouldn’t miss this if he was half dying. I’d stopped to ask one of the maids if they’d seen him, “M-mister Hawthorne hasn’t been out of his wing all day.” I quickly thanked her with the tip of my hat and headed towards graysons wing.

so here I am, stood outside graysons wing I’ve already knocked five times, five times with no response, “GRAYSON DAVENPORT HAWTHORNE I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DONT OPEN THIS DOOR IN 5 SECONDS IM KNOCKING IT DOWN.” No response. 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.., still nothing, I know how much grayson hates privacy invaders, but it’s for his own safety, he could be dead in there for fucks sake. So Nash kicked down the door.

Grayson

the first thing I heard when I woke up was the bang of what I assumed to be someone kicking down my door, I tried to pull myself up, to see who it was, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything without it hurting, the next thing I saw was Nash standing at the bathroom door, “oh gray” Nash knealed down to my level and pushed a bit of hair that had fell into my eyes away, “what’s up?” I only grunted in response, I didn’t trust myself, “ok gray let’s get you into bed.” He helped me up, I was shaking so badly, I was tired, so so so tired. I fell asleep almost immediately, I heard Nash pull up a chair next to my bed and say something like, “Get some rest gray, please.” He helped me into my bed and the minute my head hit the pillow I fell fast asleep.

—————————————————————

Nash stayed with Grayson that night, and when his brothers arrived home, he did not tell them what had happened, he simply let them guess, when Grayson woke up, he did take a break from work. The night Grayson Hawthorne missed the annual Hawthorne gala, would become a secret between the two oldest Hawthornes, that the others would never found out about.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><> I am so so so sorry for how long this took 😭 I really hope you enjoyed it ❤️❤️

[zalrb]

Bridgerton 3.05 Review

"It's just, we've known Penelope for all these years and now she'll be my sister!" No one has questions??

Youngest Mouse Man brother sounds like Daniel Radcliff.

You didn't know she had feelings for Colin? You were best friends? And I feel like she wasn't subtle??

This is supposed to be a heart-wrenching moment between Eloise and Penelope and I do not care.

I still want Edwina to come and massacre them all.

Hey, Kate, where is your sister?

How is that man not the oldest of the Mouse Man Brothers?

Oh my god the Bridgerton family is BORING.

Idk Eloise and whatsherface Mean Girl girl should have a romance. It'd be interesting.

I mean, Penelope's mother is right to be cautious. One Bridgerton brother JUST jilted the sister of his wife. They're fickle af.

Colin standing up for Penelope is supposed to be this Moment but the acting is not good.

AND HE TURNS HER TO THE MIRROR SO SHE CAN SEE HERSELF AS HE COMPLIMENTS HER IN A WAY FOR HER TO GAIN CONFIDENCE. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

It's not fair, but if we're doing this

I'm just going to think of when Jamie described Claire's hair

14. Jesus Christ, Nicola's back must be TIRED. She's doing the best she can because dude is dead in the face.

15. *cries* she needs a better scene partner.

16. So, does every Bridgerton pairing have the "We should stop" "Do not stop" moment, then? No variations?

17. She's moaning, she's panting and he's just ....

18. This mirror scene should either be sensual or hot and instead it's mechanical.

19. Yes, yes, naked vulnerability, he strips for her, so they can see each other and just be bare together, *cries* you need chemistry for this.

20. I also feel like Penelope covering her breasts undercuts the scene? Like we don't have to see them, they can do different cuts and angles to let us know that she's naked without us having to see it or they have to have some dialogue about not being shy or embarrassed etc. etc.

21. "Tell me what to do." I mean he couldn't be, like, kissing her neck and she asks that breathlessly and then they pull away and have this conversation?

22. I just ... for a show that's supposed to be spicy and romantic, it's pretty clinical.

23. Jesus Christ, I'm not even 20 minutes in?

24. Even when he says "Not there. Not yet." He could SOUND like he's struggling?

25. I just feel like Colin going slow and Penelope not having experience and him checking in with her and making her comfortable and explaining that sex may hurt etc. doesn't mean the scene has to be devoid of heat or passion or gentle sensuality in terms of tone.

26. I'm slightly surprised he didn't go down on her, though, that's like a staple? And it's usually before penetrative sex. Interesting.

27. "I'm very happy. Who gives a SHIT about my sister."

28. "But Colin..." I mean to be fair, Eloise, he discovered this like five minutes ago.

29. "I would much rather go off riding" the two NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS.

30. "Do I look a mess?" No, he did not blow your back out.

31. "What did you wish to tell me?" that it is I, LADY WHISTLEDOWN.

32. Wow, he is not a good actor.

33. "All she had to do to get him to marry her is be herself" and emotionally blackmail him for a kiss.

34. I know they need to keep up appearances for the sake of propriety but considering that they just had sex, Penelope for the first time, I would've expected some secret smiles and lingering gazes. Like FNL was really good at showing giddiness even with just shots of feet

35. Cressida, that's right.

36. "We should tell them tonight." "I thought you wanted to wait" since when were either of you considerate of other people? Please.

37. This show should be so much more fun.

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with Glamour Magazine UK (2020)

“Nothing says sex more than a montage,” Jonathan Bailey the new leading man on the costume drama scene jokes. We are approx. five minutes into our interview, and we have already covered the delights of mince pies, stilton and Nando’s but our attention has turned to the racy romance in Netflix’s new TV show, Bridgerton and its sex scenes.

Bridgerton, Shonda Rhimes’ (the producer behind Scandal and Grey's Anatomy) first foray into costume drama, is set in London during the Regency era and follows the trials and tribulations of the marriage market. Johnathan plays the troubled Anthony who after the death of his father is forced to assume the role of head of the Bridgerton family that contains eight close knit siblings of which Daphne - played by GLAMOUR UK cover star, Phoebe Dynevor - becomes the most celebrated catch on the scene. The resulting ‘romance’ will have your grandmother clutching her pearls, let’s just say that.

It’s certainly a career making role for Jonathan, who previously appeared in Broadchurch and Doctor Who, as well as sweeping a Laurence Olivier Award win for Best Actor in a Supporting Role in a Musical for his portrayal of Jamie in the 2018 West End revival of Company.

As Jonathan prepares to hit the big time – by appearing bottom first on Netflix - he talks how life is just like a boogie board - you just have to ride those waves - when it comes to dealing with your mental health and self-esteem… sounds poetic, no?

What do you think is so game changing about the way Bridgerton approaches sex and relationships?

I think romance as a genre exists on a beach holiday with a glass of rosé and it hasn't been given the respect that I think Shondaland and Netflix are now giving it on this wider platform. Inherently romance is about identity and about basic human interaction and sex is a massive part of that. With Bridgerton, you're following eight siblings, all with different wants and they'll meet people along the way, and they'll interact differently. It shows how you can exercise respect, have sex in different ways and how sex changes through relationships as they change. With the romance in this - with the amazing Sabrina Bartlett (who plays Anthony’s love interest)- one of the things that we talked about a lot was how power through sex can change. With Phoebe's character, I think the most extraordinary thing is about conversation and about how important it is for parents to talk to their children about sex so that they don't go into these situations which can be incredibly vulnerable.

I think it is a game changer. It's so important to see everything through every gaze and the female gaze in terms of sex is not something we have seen much of. Let's reassert that balance! Ultimately, we're telling it at a time where it's incredibly safe to do so because of the post #metoo era as there's intimacy coordination and because there's now a safety and there's an understanding you can tell a story through sex. Whereas before, I think it was just a white-knuckle ride, you had to just get through it, and it would be the day on the schedule that you'd be slightly terrified of.

It’s actually so shocking that we still talk about sex in 2020 and get really bashful about it…

No, I know! I was speaking to a friend the other day about sex in TV and film and we worked out it's more awkward to watch it on your own. Somehow it makes it better when you're watching it with a friend or you're in a group or you're in the cinema, because then at least it's a collective experience. I think there's an inherent curiosity about sexuality because it's linked to tribalism and knowing where you stand with people and how you interact. That's why it's always exciting. I think with period dramas - which is genre that I love - we always know that there'll be an unbuttoning of the corset and maybe a kiss at the end with a firework. But what better way to flip that genre like Shonda Rhimes has done. I think with Anthony you see his bottom first and then it pans up. There's no better way to say, ‘we see the genre and we raise you!’ Bottoms up!

For the role you worked out with a personal trainer didn’t you…

Yeah, I did. I just finished Company in the West End and then I just went on a really delicious traveling escapade, which involved just enjoying all the delicacies that I could find. When you're getting your kit off, you just want to feel confident. I also think getting into the discipline of exercise really helps when you have a long grueling schedule so exercising and getting ready for a role is more of a mental thing as well as a literal physical thing.

Having to get your body out there on screen is quite a conscious process. How does that affect your own relationship with your own body image, would you say?

Once upon a time there would always be a caveat with an audition saying there'll be nudity and you have to be okay with that. That would always sort of send a tremor up your spine, but I think actually everything I've done involves me getting my bum out, weirdly! It's something that I've become used to, but you've just got to be really careful that you're doing it for the right reasons. Of course, it does bleed into your everyday life and when you're trying to sustain something for nine months, you go through different barriers in terms of what is healthy and what isn't.

There's an element of control that comes with acting which you've just got to be really mindful of. When you start trying to control how you want to be seen or how you see yourself or how you feel on a certain day, you can get into habits. If you're self-aware enough, you can identify them as they're coming in and then continue. I can see how you can get into unhealthy thought patterns when it comes to body image, but that's why it has to be a constant conversation.

You play a new kind of costume drama leading man as he is an anti-hero is many ways isn’t he?

There's a real obsession around the ‘Darcy’ figures in literary history. Here you meet someone who is so vulnerable, susceptible to other people's opinions and society's opinions change his value system. The idea of masculinity is very important in Bridgerton, I really thought, ‘God, if you were a therapist, and you could time travel, you'd want to go to the Bridgerton’s straight away and it down with them because you'd make a fortune.’ They have literally just lost their father and Anthony becomes a viscount and head of the family within one night. This is the patriarchal system, that’s how that worked, and that has completely limited and shattered female existence. There is also a very modern sensibility of mental health in men. Hopefully he's not just a baddie and there's something quite human going on.

There are redeeming features…

Yeah, like his hair or mutton chops. I could write a thesis on how having facial hair like that can augment your sense of self within your social circles. Suddenly people are like, ‘Oh my God, are you in a band? Are you from Camden?’ It just changes the shape of everyone's face and makes it sharp.

The sideburns are like 19th century contouring!

Exactly! Your cheekbones are on fleek.

Bridgerton brings up how some men really do struggle behind the very public roles that they play. How do you look after your own mental wellbeing and what societal pressures that have put pressure on your mental health?

That's a really good question. I think there's just incredible amounts of labeling generally and as woman, as a man, as a gay man, as a mother, as a father, there's just a sense that there's opinions everywhere. And at this moment in time, that can come straight to your phone, but I know what the ‘balm’ is and for me it is having friends that you nurture you through and keeping transparency and openness. That’s not always easy and that requires work but when you get there and if you feel confident enough to be able to say how you're feeling moment to moment, you get a greater sense of your own identity.

If you do talk, sometimes you surprise yourself by how you're framing things in words, and it's completely different to how you think. My experience of any moments of real fear or trauma in certain ways is that you realize that other people have been through it. That's the power of storytelling as well as conversation. I am so lucky, and I escaped the Instagram teenage years!

I mean, MSN messenger was bad enough!

Yeah. I know – BRB and the wobbly nudge! I hated being nudged and I still hate being nudged. Who knows how self-image and self-esteem is really going to be affected going forward?

Existing authentically is the hardest battle of all really, isn't it?

Yeah! It's ebb and flow. I think it's like when you are in the sea, you've got your boogie board, if you're lucky you've got a wetsuit, and the waves are going to come, and you don't know how you're going to surf them. But as long as you know that that boogie board is yours and your pals are also down the road in the same sea then you're going to be all right because you know you're all experiencing similar waves and similar tides as them God, that was a real strong image, wasn't it?

‘Life is a boogie board,’ is truly a great way to look at life!

It’s a new mantra!

Source

[fantasy2739]

Honestly Jamie Tartt and Trent Crimm - an interview upon his return.

Interview written!! I tried with this but well Trent Crimm the independent is an icon and I am just fortunate enough to get to play with his character.

Enjoy!

Jamie knows that coming back isn’t as simple as turning up one day as much as he’d like it to be. It’s going to be hard work. He’s got teammates to rebuild bridges with, an ex to be friendly with, and to show his coaches he’s worth it. He knows all that and yet something still slipped his mind.

The fucking press.

It’s not that he doesn’t like the press. In fact, he loves the attention they lavish on him. Sometimes though, they get a bit too personal. He doesn’t want them poking around in his love life, or asking about his family. His mum didn’t sign up to be hounded by the press and he doesn’t want to inflict it on her. They can be real cocks about things as well. Losses, break-ups, affairs, why aren’t you this, why won’t you tell us that. Jamie’s mastered handling them. He knows how to crack a joke or some across as flirty. He knows the beauty of a good misdirect. He knows it means he comes across as an idiot sometimes. A loveable idiot. Better than when he’s caught off guard and starts chatting absolute shit. Like right now.

“Hello Jamie Tartt, returning to AFC Richmond.” Trent Crimm says, sliding his glasses off. Jamie wonders if this is some kind of penance. Maybe Miss Welton was ensuring he wouldn’t fuck about with Keeley. They’re sat in the press room because… well because AFC Richmond has fuck all private spaces.

“Trent Crimm.” He grounds out. After his last meeting with Trent, he’s a little wary. He really wants this all to work. He’s going to hold his tongue about any shitty comments.

“You seem nervous.” Trent says blandly. Jamie doesn’t reply. It feels like a trap. “Why don’t we get started?”

“What d’you wanna know?” Jamie asks. He knows full well every word about to come out of his mouth is going to be bullshit.

“Well, I’d love a direct quote on why you left Manchester City.” Trent says, pen at the ready. Jamie thinks about this.

“I just felt it had to.” He says. Trent raises an eyebrow and indicates a sort of ‘go on’ motion. When Jamie says nothing because he’s not getting into why he actually left, Trent squints for a moment.

“You said that it had to do with finding out George Harrison died.” Trent prompts. “Was it the realisation life is fleeting? Or was there more at play?” Jamie blinks and shit. What the fuck is he supposed to say?

“I guess there was more to it.” Jamie says and he’s not going to mention his dad. He knows it’ll get latched onto like a dog with a bone. “I suppose me playing for Richmond and then helping to relegate Richmond felt weird. We won the league but I could have been on a team getting relegated. Life’s like fickle.” Trent’s nodding as he jots it all down. Jamie thinks it’s not a half bad response.

“So you’ve returned to Richmond.” Trent states. “Why Richmond?” Okay this Jamie can answer.

“Because I need Richmond.” He says. “Ted’s a great coach and he makes me a better player.” Trent gives him a look that makes him feel like he’s stepped into a trap.

“Really, because previously you’ve said that Ted Lasso is a, and I’m quoting you here, ‘a rodeo clown’.” Trent says and cock, Jamie forgot about that interview. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets.

“Yeah because… he can be.” Jamie says. “Not in like a bad way, but his coaching is different. Like really different.” Trent can probably tell he’s bullshitting but Jamie’s not saying what a little shit he was. “It works.” He adds it a little helplessly.

“And coming back to Richmond, you don’t think there will be any difficulties?” Trent asks and Jamie’s wondering if he means that he’s out of practice. Trent is perceptive as shit it seems. “I’m referring of course to your fights with the team.” Jamie feels himself flush slightly.

“Oh yeah. I’m not, uh, the teams great.” He says flatly. “I wasn’t… I’m going to be a better teammate. Really show that I’m just one of eleven.” There’s a slight smile and twinkle in Trent’s eyes that says he remembers that line.

“You don’t think the issues will last?” Trent says, clearly fixed on this angle. Jamie isn’t sure what he wants to hear. That he doesn’t have a clue? That he’s probably going to have to go through weeks of people not wanting to be anywhere near him? That he knows it’s his fault?

“The team knows I’m going to do better. And they’ll see me do better.” Jamie reiterates. “So as long as they’re seeing that, it’s gonna be fine.” Trent nods, but it doesn’t seem to be the answer he wants. Not like he’s fishing for one but like he knows Jamie isn’t being honest. Shrewd fuck.

“Is there anything you’d like the readers to know or hear from you?” Trent asks. Jamie shakes his head.

“No.” He says meekly.

“Well, thank you Jamie Tartt.” Trent says, standing up. He shakes Jamie’s hand and Jamie feels like he’s missed something. Like what he’s said isn’t enough and Trent is going to come for him like he deserves. Fuck, Jamie thinks, would it kill him to be honest.

“I fucked up.” He says. Trent stops on his way out. He turns to Jamie, waiting for him to continue. “With Richmond. I was a prick. A… and I don’t think it really clicked for me how much of a prick I was. Or who I was turning into.” Jamie swallows thickly. “I’m really grateful to Ted for giving me a second chance. Because he didn’t have to. And I’m going to show that it wasn’t a mistake.” Jamie says it firmly. Enough that he almost believes it. Trent crosses his arms and nods. His smile makes Jamie think he’s done something right.

The article the next morning is titled- Return of the Prodigal Son: a tale of second chances.

Jamie thinks it isn’t half bad.

[hacash]

Obviously my angst-loving ass wants as much fall-out from the Betrayal as humanly possible and as much reaction from as many people as can be stuffed into forty-five minutes

but on the other hand this show is usually...very measured about not meting out ‘punishment for bad choices and bad behaviour’ from its characters? like in another sitcom you would absolutely have had Jamie or Rebecca publicly humiliated even a little bit for the nonsense they pulled over season one, but there’s never been any sort of scene like that. (the nearest we get is Ted’s dressing down of Jamie in the locker room, but you could argue that was necessary from a story-telling perspective to show Jamie’s hold over the locker room breaking)

which is why I'm not suuuure whether the prediction of ‘Rebecca finds out and destroys Nate entirely’ is going to follow through, because just having Rebecca (or Roy, or the team as a whole) absolutely blitzing Nate will be, in an odd way, too satisfying for the audience. I think not only would it be not super emotionally consistent with how other characters’ failings have been treated, but if we go through all the pain of Ted (and by extension, us) being so betrayed, having that mitigated by a smack-down the next season would make it feel too cheap and fixable. Given that where the show’s strengths seem to lie is in its small and painful and vulnerable moments, I can’t help but think we’re going to see anger, yes - but a lot less Awesome Showdowns and a lot more Angst and Hurt.

[carelessannie]

maybe it goes like this: tony courts peter (part 9)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Epilogue

Read on A03

Read the Stuckony backstory

Read the Dating OneShots

Word count: 6.8K

PeterxBuckyxOFC, WinterSpider, Winterhawk, Stucky, Winteriron

Bucky's POV -> no one is ready for Peter’s heat to start, much less Bucky, and now he’s gotta struggle through his own emotions. Damn these hormones.

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, explicit d/s abo smut, sex toys, anal/vaginal/oral sex, Steve likes cleaning up Bucky with his tongue, kinda gross cum sharing *shrug*, Tony tries to take Bucky in public at one point

---

Maybe it goes like this:

“Steve! Fuck, Alpha! Help!”

Bucky tears through the house carrying Peter in his arms, screaming for his Alpha. He found Peter collapsed in the hall moments ago, and his instincts are chanting Alpha, Alpha, Alpha will know what to do.

“Buck, what the—” Steve sprints into view, but comes to a stop abruptly, as if running into a wall. He takes a slow step backwards, straightening his posture and covering his nose with one hand— feeling around the wall with the other, “Buck. Bucky. Code Papa-Niner.”

Papa-Niner? Nesting protocol?

The look in Steve’s eyes says he’s definitely not joking, and Bucky doesn’t hesitate, immediately setting a course for the downstairs nest.

Once he reaches the nesting hallway, it’s quick work to prepare the room for lockdown— pulling down the steel temporary barriers that Tony installed recently, locking the front doors to the den and pressing the emergency button. With the temporary security measures in place, Bucky goes through their previously agreed upon nesting procedures: he gathers scent-marked linens, food, liquids, knotting toys, restraints, and Omegas— of which they are one short. After he checks on their resources and lays out the other materials, it’s time to wait.

“Hey, Bucky? You in there?”

It’s Clint, and Bucky heaves a sigh of relief. He lays Peter back down in the sheets, swaddling him gently, before crawling out to meet Clint beyond the barriers.

It’s Clint, and Bucky heaves a sigh of relief. He lays Peter back down in the sheets, swaddling him gently, before crawling out to meet Clint beyond the barriers.

“Where’s Annie?” Bucky demands, positioning his body to make sure the Beta can’t see into the room.

Clint stumbles back, covering his nose, “O— on her way, Bucky. Fuck, is that Peter? What is that smell—”

A growl rips through his chest and Bucky slams Clint against the wall, using the full weight of his  five-foot-seven-hundred-fifty-pound body to pin the taller Beta with a snarl, “Get the fuck outta here, Barton.” He throws Clint down the hall, “And don’t even think of letting Tony or Steve down here. On your life, Barton, swear to me.”

“I swear, Omega, I swear. Holy shit.”

Bucky doesn’t stay long enough to hear the rest, content to retreat into his nest with the promise from his Beta. All he has to do now is wait for Annie.

Peter has barely stirred. Bucky watches as he squirms around, pained whimpers falling from his lips. When he pulls Peter back into his arms, Bucky notices that his clothes are soaked with sweat.

“Hush, darlin’ it’s okay. Gonna take such good care of you,” he whispers into Peter’s hair, holding him tight and pressing the Omega’s nose into his neck.

Five minutes later, there’s a light knock on the barrier. Bucky can’t help the growl he lets out before he hears Annie announce herself.

“It’s me, Bucky. Clint told me you were in here already— how bad is it?” she asks, approaching the nest slowly, and only entering when Bucky invites her in.

He leaves Peter with her, moving around the room to work on the final shut down procedures.

“He’s unconscious. I’m not sure why, and he seems uncomfortable.”

“Okay, uh. Take care of the room, I’ll try to get him up.”

He unlocks the den, checking the surrounding area for possible threats. The barrier gets closed next— completely blocking the hallway from the nesting room and sealing them inside. He checks each of the windows and the adjoining suite bathroom, content with the locks, and makes his way back to his packmates.

When he climbs back into the nest, Peter immediately reaches out for him with a trill. Both him and Annie are undressed, pressed skin to skin, and Bucky realizes it’s his first time seeing them like this, naked and vulnerable.

His breathing picks up, and he sits up straighter on his knees, pulling off his shirt and shimmying out of his pants. Seated in just his briefs, Bucky crawls closer and takes Peter’s waiting hand. He lets the small Omega pull him closer, but hesitates before falling into a kiss. He looks over at Annie, expectantly—

“‘m okay, Jamie. ‘t just took me by su’prise is’all,” Peter slurs, giving him a dopey smile.

“Okay, Pete. What do you need? You should probably drink some water—”

Peter lets out a shrill whine, triggering something primal in Bucky’s hindbrain, and he’s moving Peter to lay face down before he can stop himself. He helps the Omega— supporting his chest with a pillow and pulling his hips up until he’s presenting— and groans at the sight in front of him.

Annie isn’t any less affected, and she silently takes Bucky’s hand, guiding him to touch the silky skin on display in front of them. Peter arches his back further and makes a series of grunting noises followed by one cry of empty.

“Shit,” Bucky curses, feeling his own hole clench in sympathy, “grab one of the toys, please?” and Annie is quick to hand him one of the smaller dildos with an inflatable knot as he admires the trail of slick glistening on Peter’s taint.

“Perfect,” he praises, and slides a finger into Peter’s body without a warning. Annie kneels behind Bucky, kissing lightly at his neck and playing with his boxers as he works Peter open with his fingers.

After Annie undresses Bucky, she moves Peter and settles underneath him, humming encouragements into sweet kisses and reaches up, behind him, to pull his cheeks apart. And god do they make a pretty picture. Needy, desperate Omega in heat on top of the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, grinding together and exchanging wet kisses.

Bucky focuses back on his task, checking the slick from Peter’s hole, and using a large amount of it to coat the toy in his hand. He rests the blunt end against Peter’s rim, pressing lightly, and both of them groan when the cock is basically swallowed up to the hilt.

“Fuck. So greedy, Peter. So good. How’s it feel, pretty Omega?”

He doesn’t get a verbal response, just a loud keening noise, and takes that as permission— thankful that they negotiated this beforehand. The dildo fits easily in his hand, and each thrust is deep, slow, and brings his fingertips in contact with Peter’s dripping entrance, over and over.

Annie reaches underneath Peter’s body, pulling on his tiny cock and wringing desperate sobs from his lips. She uses her other hand to pull Peter in for a kiss, tangling their tongues and swallowing his moans as Bucky picks up the pace.

“Harder, Bucky, I think he’s close,” Annie begs, breathless, and Bucky obeys— meeting Peter’s hips with each thrust as the Omega tries to push back into them.

“Ah ah, Jay, please, ah,” Peter pants, curling his fingers into the sheets and burying his face in Annie’s shoulder, “Need’a, huh ah ah, knot please.”

Bucky keeps his pace, pushing deep into the Omega, and grabs the pump for the knot, pulsing the air pump once with each thrust until there’s a noticeable bulge at the base of the cock.

“M’gonna do it, baby, hold on. Come for me, Peter. Come on my knot, come for me,” he pleads with the Omega.

When the knot is inflated half-way, he slows the thrusts and focuses on grinding down, shallow, into Peter’s prostate. He earns a wail and a string of muffled curses from his mate, and shoves the full knot into his hole with an audible pop!

“Oh fuck, Bucky, keep going,” Annie breaths, both hands at work under Peter’s body to bring him over the edge.

Peter’s legs buckle. Annie grabs him on his way down, keeping his thighs spread as he comes apart in their hands, sighing and humming in pleasure. Bucky reaches underneath him to feel his cock, and has to close his eyes as the pulsing, clear cum pools in his hand.

He continues pumping the knot, inflating it until it no longer threatens to slip past Peter’s swollen rim. With his hand full of Omega cum, he begins to rub it into his own cock and balls— intimately scent marking himself to satisfy his overwhelming instinct to mate and claim his Omegas.

When he looks up, Annie is doing the same— rubbing Peter’s cum into her skin with her head thrown back— and Bucky can’t take it anymore.

With Peter’s heat satisfied for the time being, the two of them work to move him to the side, curling him around a pillow.

Bucky sees her eyes on him, dark and wanting, “Feelin’ horny, Omega?” he purrs, settling over her body and leaning down for a kiss.

She moans into his mouth, nibbling on his lower lip, “Mmm, yeah Bucky. What do you have in mind?”

“Well. I’ll be honest with you, baby, I’ve never been with a girl before.”

“Oh,” she pulls back, pushing him with one hand, “I mean— it’s not too different from a guy who’s an Omega, I don’t think.”

Now he’s definitely blushing, “Well, I— I’ve never really topped anyone either.”

Annie gives him a look, pushing her fingers through his hair, before leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, “Neither of us have to swing for this, Bucky. If you don’t feel comfortable topping, we can share one of those long, floppy dildos that Tony bought for us,” she smiles, then, and frames his face with both of her hands, “but honestly, I’d be honored to be your first.”

He smiles down at her, grinding his cock in between her legs, “What’re we doin’ talkin’ then, sugar?”

Her laugh is swallowed up by his mouth, and they both groan into the suddenly heady, desperate kiss. Annie spreads her legs, locking her ankles behind his back, and rolls her hips into his.

“Fuck, Annie,” he curses. Her core feels so different against his cock, so soft and wet, and he can’t help reaching down to feel, gasping, “tell me— tell me what feels good, baby.”

She mewls into his mouth, clutching hard onto his shoulders, “Like this, Bucky,” and one of her hands joins his between her legs, guiding his fingers through her folds, until he feels a small bump that causes her to cry out.

“That, oh shit, right there, Bucky— s’my clit, baby, feels good.”

He looks down in wonder, following her fingers as they move in small, firm circles. After a minute or so of discovering what makes her twitch and moan, she releases his hands and grasps his cock, stroking it slowly from root to tip. He knows he’s not big— damn his Omega biology— but he’s gotta be big enough to satisfy this girl. At least, that’s what Stevie told him the other night.

Annie must sense his hesitation, because she’s pulling him down into a deep kiss, grabbing his hair, and whispering, “Come on, Bucky. Fuck me. Please, come on, Bucky.”

“Okay, okay. Uh, hold on,” he pulls back, lifting her hips, and feels around for the source of wetness pouring out of her. Once he finds it— and what a fuckin’ marvel, having two holes, damn— he watches her face and pushes two fingers in, feeling around her inner walls as her eyes goes wide in pleasure.

He tries to stretch her out a bit, but after a minute she’s laughing, “Bucky, I don’t need that much work. Just fuck me already.”

Pulling his fingers out, he uses her slick to coat his cock, and lines up, searching her face for any discomfort. He pushes forward, inch by inch, until he’s buried deep inside. She looks so beautiful like this— eyes rolled back, skin flushed, and body open in submission.

As he pulls out and thrusts back in, he has to concentrate on not coming immediately inside of her. He leans down to suck on her nipples, biting and flicking each one until he eases back from the edge.

When she gives him an impatient groan, he sits back on his heels and picks up his pace, watching his cock disappear stroke by stroke, and lets himself get lost in the hot and wet of her body.

It’s not long— and almost embarrassingly so— that he’s back on the edge, feeling his orgasm build, and pounding harder into Annie, sighing, “So sweet, Omega, so pretty. Gonna come for me, darlin’? M’so close, Annie, m’so— god, fuck, I’m gonna come, Annie.”

“Yeah, Bucky, c’mon. Touch me, make me come on your cock, baby.”

The words almost send him over, and he reaches down, frantically, to thumb at her clit, desperate to have her come first.

When he starts feeling her clench around him, rhythmically milking his cock, he loses it— gasping into her skin and shaking as his orgasm rips through his body, thrusting deep and emptying himself inside of her.

“Hot damn, Jamie.”

Still breathing into each other’s mouths, trying to come down from their shared orgasms, both Annie and Bucky look over to see Peter watching them with hooded eyes, hand reaching back to absently fuck himself with the still inflated dildo.

Neither of them respond as Bucky pulls out, fascinated to watch his cum slowly leak out of her passage, and Peter continues to whine, “Why don’t I get that, Jamie? I wanna be fulla cum.”

Annie just laughs, rolling out from under him to snuggle with Peter. She reaches around his back and grabs the pump, releasing the knot, and he groans, shifting closer to her.

“Ready to go again, bunny?” she teases, running her fingers through his hair as he nods his head.

“Always, kitty.”

Bucky laughs, enamored by their nicknames, “Uh, small animals?”

Peter rolls over, pulling Bucky closer, “We use ‘em during scenes. They help us establish who’s in charge.”

“Oh god,” he sits up, and a thought occurs to him, “wait— what do you guys call Clint?”

Both Omegas give him a shit-eating grin, “Baby bird.”

“Holy shit.”

All three of them try to keep a straight face— and then fall apart laughing, holding onto each other as they giggle hysterically and try to breathe through it.

Bucky lays on his back, listening as his mates pull themselves together as laughter turns into labored breathing, the two Omegas succumbing again to Peter’s heat.

Well, Bucky thinks, can’t beat ‘em, might as well join ‘em.

---

Four days later, when all three of them are finally in heat together, all Bucky can feel is rolling waves of pain. There’s a distant memory of sharing this with his Ado-Pack in high school, but now he’s just thankful that neither of his packmates had tried to fuck him through it.

Because as sexy as it sounds— three Omegas, desperate for a knot, grinding on each other— Bucky curses their doctor again for forcing them to do this together. Without an Alpha.

It had taken until the end of the second day for Annie to enter her heat, and the beginning of the fourth for Bucky to start his. Peter is nearing the end, they think, but it’s hard to tell when the three of them are delirious for a knot, unable to think straight.

The last few days are torture. None of them are conscious enough to work the knotting dildo, so they pass most of the time tangled together, writhing around. Their few lucid moments are spent scrambling for water and food.

At one point someone tries to get through the barrier from the outside. Bucky doesn’t remember much after that, but knows that whoever it was got an earful of screaming profanities for their trouble.

Peter’s heat breaks on the fifth day, and Bucky barely notices him pulling them into the large, pack-sized bathtub, taking care to clean all three of them before returning to the nest. There’s another moment where Bucky feels himself being fucked and knotted. He comes so hard that he blacks out.

Their Omega feeds them and keeps them hydrated, and Annie’s heat thankfully ends the next afternoon.

For the last day, both Omegas hold Bucky close, keeping him filled and speaking sweet things into his ear. They read to him in the quiet moments, and Peter actually fucks him a few times, pumping a load of Omega cum deep inside him.

Five days after his heat started— nine days total in the nest— Bucky wakes up with a clear head, and the aching need for an Alpha knot has passed.

He looks around, sitting up fully in the nest, and groans at how sore his entire body is.

“Bucky? How are you feeling?”

Annie’s voice is raspy, and her and Peter are sitting towards the back of the nest, drinking applesauce packets. They are both naked, still, and Annie has her head on Peter’s chest. Bucky almost falls over— both of them are decorated, head to toe, in small bruises and bites. He looks down at himself and huffs, satisfied to see similar marks across his body.

“M’fine, Annie, fuck,” he voice sounds like gravel, and he smiles, thankful it’s over, “can we, shit,” he clears his throat, “are we done?”

Peter tosses him a bottle of water, and it feels like ice hitting his empty stomach when he drinks it.

“They know we’re done, just waiting on you, Jamie.” Peter explains, pulling out his phone, “Do you want me to—”

“Steve, please. I’m sorry, please, I need Steve.” He doesn’t care that he’s begging, the need to see his Alpha is suddenly overwhelming.

“Okay, here I’ll call him.”

Bucky jumps out of the nest, stumbling as his feet bear his weight for the first time in days, and unlocks the barriers, throwing open the locked steel doors, and running to throw open the windows. Damn, the fresh air is nice.

He hears Peter say something, but barely has time to register it when he hears footsteps running down the hallway, heading for the nest. He shuts the entrance, hiding Peter and Annie from sight, as Steve barrels into view.

“Alpha,” Bucky whimpers, opening his arms for his mate to hold him, and Steve doesn’t stop. He runs straight into Bucky’s arms, lifting the Omega, and hauling him back down the hallway towards their den.

Steve is growling, a prolonged rumble that immediately soothes Bucky’s anxious instincts.

Everything’s okay now. Alpha’s here.

The door is slammed shut. Bucky’s back hits the bed. He’s bracketed in by familiar arms— surrounded by fresh Coffee and cleansing Rain.

“What do you need, Buck.” it’s barely a question, and Bucky has no idea of the answer, so he just makes a confused noise.

At his whimper, Steve leans down to scent him, lightly ghosting his hands up and down Bucky’s trembling and bruised body. His Alpha licks down his chest, across his navel, and stops near his poorly chafed cock— and his growl deepens. Bucky’s breath picks up as Steve lifts his legs over his head and grunts, “Hold them.”

With a surge of strength, Bucky hooks his arms around his knees, holding himself open for the Alpha to inspect. In this position, he can only listen and feel as Steve starts to mouth at his opening, filling the room with obscene slurping noises as he coaxes every last drop out of Bucky’s abused hole.

“Alpha, what’re you, oh fuck, Alpha, please,”

After several torturous moments, Steve finally pulls off, face covered in a layer of combined Omega spend, and helps Bucky lower his legs back down.

“M’gonna clean you up, Buck. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Bucky has to blink to keep himself awake as Steve picks him up again, this time moving into the bathroom and setting Bucky in the bathtub. The two of them settle together in the tub, and Steve pulls out his phone to make a few calls— first to Clint, making sure both of the other Omegas are safe and fed, and second to Tony, letting him know it’s fine for him to return to the house.

“You kicked ‘im out?” Bucky hums, wiggling closer to his Alpha in the warm bathwater.

Steve just holds him tight, “Didn’t want him reacting to Peter’s scent, s’all. He wanted to be here for you, Buck, but I didn’t want him around until Peter got to take a shower or something.”

“Damn, I bet it was agony for him not to be with Peter durin’ it. Did… was it him? Bangin’ on the barriers like that?”

“Uh,” Steve clears his throat, “no, that… that was me.”

“Shit, Stevie. You really wanted him that bad? I guess I wouldn’t know— you know Omegas aren’t really affected by that heat smell and stuff—”

“No, you jerk,” Steve interrupts, poking him in the side, “the barriers weren’t scent proof, ya know? It wasn’t bad until I smelled you— your fuckin’ perfect Chocolate and Orange scent. I went ballistic, Buck. My Alpha hasn’t been calm for days since you started your heat.”

“Stevie, fuck. All I wanted was your knot. Never been that desperate before— not even during my first one.”

“I know, Bucky, I know,” Steve soothes him, stroking up and down his legs and gently cupping his soft cock and balls, “wanna put you on my knot so bad, Omega.”

“M’so sore, Alpha,” he complains, still pushing back into his Alpha’s touch.

“Such a good Omega, Bucky. Perfect for me— just relax.”

The two of them rock gently together, exchanging slow kisses, until Steve slides into Bucky’s still stretched hole, filling him perfectly in one thrust. His Alpha is exceedingly tender— moving in a calming, rocking motion until Bucky can feel his knot swell in between them.

Bucky keens as Steve’s knot slips into him, stretching him even further and rubbing up against his over-sensitive prostate. Steve tries shushing him, but Bucky can’t help crying out as the Alpha’s knot blows wide, popping into place, and shooting deep into his belly.

It hurts— it hurts so bad— but Bucky relaxes into it, letting his head fall to the side to give Steve access to his bonding glands. He feels his body shake through a dry orgasm as his Alpha ruts up into his hole. His muscles clench to milk every drop from Steve’s cock and knot them together, one body.

They stay like that, locked and intimate, until the water runs cold. Steve is careful to pull out when the knot goes down, and rinses them off gently in the shower.

At some point he makes another call. When they leave the bathroom there’s a tray of sandwiches waiting next to the bed. His Alpha situates them on the bed before feeding Bucky by hand— alternating between sips of cold water and bites of the sandwich— until both of them are satisfied.

“How’re the other ‘megas?” Bucky asks, chugging the gatorade Steve handed him.

Steve shakes his head fondly, “You’re gonna choke, ya idiot. They’re fine; Clint helped get them showered and I think the four of them are taking a nap in the living room. Or up in their bedroom. Tony brought back food,” he waves at the sandwiches, “so they should be all taken care of.”

“Mmm, Stevie?”

“Yeah, Buck.”

“I can’t believe we have to do that again.”

The dumb Alpha laughs, pulling Bucky close, “Only one or two more, Buck, and then all of us spend it together.”

Bucky hums again, turning onto his side to let his mate snuggle up behind him. As they start to fall asleep together, warm and sated, Bucky whispers, “As long as I get you in the end, Stevie, it’ll all be worth it.”

---

Two weeks later, Annie and Clint are walking for graduation and Peter is finishing up the last of his exams. Their lease is over at the end of the week, so later this evening the whole pack will be driving into the city to help them move out of their apartment and into the pack-house permanently.

Bucky sits shotgun on the drive over— with Steve in the backseat and Tony behind the wheel, complaining the whole time about helicopters and professional moving services.

“It’s symbolic, Tony,” Steve says, for the fifth time.

“Then let’s buy them a fucking bottle of champagne. Why are we doing work that I could just hire someone else to do? You know I’m good for it.”

“Shut up, Tony,” Bucky groans, “We’ve already compromised— we take the smaller boxes, movers take the big stuff.”

Tony grumbles, “We shouldn’t have to move anything.”

At this, Steve grabs his shoulder, startling Tony into swerving the car and barely missing a nearby minivan, “What the hell, Steve—”

“You are going to shut it about this, Beta—”

“Or what?” Tony challenges, eyes glued on Steve in the rearview mirror.

Steve holds up his phone, Peter’s contact pulled up and thumb dangerously close to the call button, “You know I’ll do it.”

“Aw, Steve. Cap. Alpha— you know I’m just joking around,”

“Then stop it, Tony,” Bucky adds, “it’s been a rough semester for him already. He doesn’t need your bullshit on top of it.”

GuiltyBeta scent floods the car, and Bucky almost chokes on it. Steve puts a hand on both of their shoulders, giving them each a comforting squeeze, “Hey, everything’s okay. I know all of our emotions are runnin’ wild without suppressants, and it’s gonna be good for us to all move in together before the second heat hits, okay? Just chill out and enjoy the day.”

There’s a heavy silence after Steve sits back in his seat, and Bucky makes a point to roll his window down, clearing out the last of Tony’s scent and making sure neither of his packmates scent SadOmega from him. The last thing either of them need is a Bucky pity party today.

For all the complaining beforehand, moving day actually goes off without a hitch. Tony’s mood brightens significantly when he gets to see his sweet mate, and Bucky makes a point to hang out with Annie and Clint for the most part— avoiding Steve and Tony while they move boxes and blankets out to the waiting truck.

What he didn’t count on, though, was Clint ambushing him in the stairwell.

“Hey, man,” Bucky mutters, trying to squeeze past Clint on the way back up the stairs, but Clint just moves to stand in his way. He tries to laugh it off and move the other direction, but Clint blocks him there too. “What the hell, Barton.”

“You’ve been pissy all day. What’s going on?”

“Nothin’,” he growls, “just movin’ boxes.”

Clint grabs him by the shoulder, pushing him up against the wall and leaning into his space, “What, Barnes? Need someone to take you down? Put you in your place?”

The look in Clint’s eyes says he’s serious, and Bucky slumps in his hold, defeated, “No, I— I’m sorry Clint.”

“Don’t do that, Bucky.” Clint backs off, holding him by the shoulder, “you nervous about move-in? Jealous of the other Omegas?”

“Stop—”

“Don’t tell me— you hate me, don’t you?”

Bucky’s laughing now, pushing Clint away, “Stop it, Clint, it’s none of that,” he let’s the taller Beta pull him in for a hug, snuggling into his warmth and tucking securely under his chin. Clint holds him like this for a few minutes until he finally whispers, “I think I’ve been feelin’ kinda replaceable in our pack, especially since our heat together.”

Clint leans back, searching his eyes, “Why, though? I know Steve was crazy to get to you the whole time. He’s your soulmate.”

Feeling tears prick his eyes, Bucky tries to look away.

“Why, babe?” Clint turns his face back and wipes at a tear with his thumb.

“... I can’t, Clint. Not here.”

Maybe Clint can see the struggle in his eyes, or maybe he’s just a stubborn ass, but he doesn’t listen to Bucky’s plea. He pushes closer, holding Bucky’s face tenderly in his hands, and drops a kiss on his forehead.

“Okay, Bucky, I’ll drop it until later. But you gotta know— you’re not replaceable in this pack. Damn, I already love you a ton, babe. No one in this pack would wanna bond without you, I swear it.”

“Clint—” Bucky whines, trying to stop his tears.

“Hey, don’t cry, baby, come ‘ere.”

He feels safer in his mate’s arms. Clint doesn’t judge him as he shakes apart, as he soaks his shirt, as he probably bruises his lower back. The Beta just holds him tight and strokes through his hair, letting him cry.

As the sobs die down, Bucky wipes his face on Clint’s shirt sleeve and tries to compose himself. What the hell, he thinks to himself. He’s so fuckin’ weak for breaking down like this, no wonder he’s in this position. He can almost see the pity in Clint’s gaze, and hates it.

“Bucky?”

All he can do is make an inquisitive humming noise.

“I think… you should talk to Steve and Tony about this. I know we’ve all been dating each other, and... I can tell it’s hurting you that they’ve been seeing you less because of it. Promise me that? Promise you’ll talk to them?”

“Y— yeah, Clint. I’ll do it.”

The kiss takes him by surprise, and it tastes like saltwater. He chases Clint’s lips, pulling on his hair, drinking him in. Clint pulls away with a gasp, and Bucky leans back against the wall, smiling to himself. The two of them trade a few more kisses until they’re both breathless and giddy with laughter.

They hear the stairwell door open and quickly grab the forgotten boxes, making their way back downstairs together.

When they approach the truck, all of their pack is waiting for them, arms crossed and expectant. Tony and Annie both trade a salacious look, calling out suggestive things, but Steve and Peter just look concerned and disappointed— a strange combination that both of them pull off rather well.

Clint pushes Bucky towards where Steve and Peter are standing and goes to join the others, giving him a last encouraging nod.

Bucky sees the moment where Steve’s expression changes to just concern. Before he can say anything, Bucky grabs his arm and murmurs, “Could we ride together, Stevie?”

Peter shifts awkwardly, “I can… go?”

“No, no— can it be the three of us?” Bucky suggests, looking into his Alpha’s eyes, and trying to communicate with him through his stare. It doesn’t seem to be working, because Steve just tilts his head in confusion.

“Sure, Buck. We’re all done here— I’ll have Tony pick up some dinner and we can head back home.”

As Steve goes to talk to the other three, Peter and Bucky both pile into the truck. They take the backseat— Peter wordlessly holding him close and playing with his hair. God, he loves this pretty Omega. They watch Steve walk back to the truck, sparing them a protective look as he jumps in the front seat and starts the engine.

They drive in silence for a few minutes before Peter nudges him, looking up expectantly into Bucky’s eyes.

“Alright, pushy Omega,” he teases, speaking a little louder for Steve to hear, “I, uh. Clint cornered me in the stairwell. Told me I was being pissy. I guess I didn’t notice it until now, but I’ve been feeling left out of the bonding stuff, especially since our heat together. Just feels like I’m less important, or something.”

“Oh, Jamie,” Peter laces their fingers together, kissing his hand.

“Is it... is it something I did, Buck?” Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head, “No— I don’t know, Stevie. Everything you’ve done has been for the pack. And you were really great after my heat. It’s been like five weeks since I’ve been down, it could be that. It’s also been like a month since I’ve even talked to Tony.”

“Bucky, sweetheart—”

“I know it’s gonna get better when we bond. I know that. Right now is just hard, is all.”

“Can I,” Peter hesitates and looks down at their hands, “can I hold you, Jamie? Just until we’re home?”

“Yeah, darlin’, whatever you’d like.”

Peter shifts them around so that they’re laying half across the backseat, and wraps all of his limbs around Bucky, effectively stopping all of his movement. It feels nice to be held. It’s been awhile since he’s been held like this.

Steve looks like he’s trying to solve the issue in his head. He’s making a really cute, distressed face.

“Stevie?” he says, hearing Peter giggle slightly beneath him.

“... yeah?”

“Stevie, what are you thinking?”

A snort, “I can’t believe… Bucky, I can’t believe how much I’ve failed you.”

“Alpha.”

Steve's grip tightens on the steering wheel, “You’ve needed me, and I haven’t been there for you, Buck.”

“Yeah, but Alpha—”

“I’m just so sorry Bucky, I love you so much. I had no idea, and that makes me feel like absolute shit—”

“Steve! Alpha! Holy shit, would you shut up for like one second?” Bucky bursts, jerking forward a little bit in Peter’s hold until he can rest a hand on Steve’s arm, “that’s your issue, Stevie. You always think it’s on you, that it’s all about you. Heads up— it’s not. It’s about us. And, I hate to say it, sometimes you can’t fix everything.”

Peter rubs his back as he continues, “Do I need a scene? To submit? Probably— it’s been a long fucking minute. Do I need to sit down with Tony? Yeah. A hundred percent. Is this all related to you and something you’ve done? No. Absolutely not. So get over it, Steve, and just… help me out.”

There’s a long silence as Steve stares out at the road— most likely fighting his urge to pick a fight— until Bucky starts to smell AmusedHornyOmega coming from his smaller mate.

When he faces Peter, the Omega has a deep red blush coloring his cheeks that makes Bucky laugh, “Really?”

“I’m so sorry, Jamie. I know you so don’t want to swing dominant, but your tone is really doing it for me right now. I’m sorry,” he whines, burying his face in his hands.

Thankfully, the distraction has loosened Steve’s death grip on the steering wheel, and he lets out a dramatic sigh, “Bucky. You’re right. I’m sorry, I really am.”

“I know. I love you, Stevie. Can we just… can we scene sometime after I talk to Tony?”

Peter lets out an embarrassed squeak as Steve responds,

“Yeah, Bucky. I love you, too— God, I wish I could touch you.”

“Ahem,” Peter clears his throat, pulling back Bucky’s hands from where they’re wandering towards his Alpha, “I’m glad you can’t.”

Both of them laugh at the flustered Omega, exchanging a heated glance in the mirror. Suddenly, Bucky has an idea—

“Steve. Fuck, Stevie? Oh my god, I have an idea.”

“What is it, baby?”

“Can Peter scene with us?”

At the question, Peter gasps, hitting Bucky on the arm.

“James Barnes!” he squawks, “I will not scene with Tony until that Beta has officially proposed—”

“No, no— wait, Tony hasn’t proposed? Damn. No, I meant just the three of us. And maybe Clint.”

“Oh.”

Bucky sits back, content, as he watches the idea go through both of their minds. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes it. Steve and Peter are going to need to learn each other in the bedroom, and who better to guide the process than Bucky? Or one of Peter’s packmates?

“Steve already proposed. You and I are committed. What about it?”

“I’ll… I’ll consider it,” Peter stammers.

Steve just looks awkward in the mirror. He clears his throat before responding, “Let’s wait until after your next heat, okay? We can try it then.”

Both Omegas agree. It sounds like a plan Bucky can get on board with.

---

As it turns out, they don’t have to wait long.

Four days later, Bucky gets a call at work on his emergency line. From Tony.

“Tony? What is it? Aren’t you at work?”

“Bucky?” Tony sounds panicked, “Bucky, where are you? Peter just collapsed at work. He smells like fucking heaven, holy fuck.”

“Tony. Where are you right now?”

“My fucking building, James. I’m in my fucking building holding my— holy shit— my mate who’s unconscious and smells— Bucky. I need you—”

“Dammit,” Bucky curses, jumping up and grabbing his wallet, running to the door, “I’m on my way, Beta. Keep him safe, understand? I’m six blocks away and running, okay?”

All he hears is growling before the line disconnects, and he’s sprinting out into the city, the Stark tower in sight. His heart is pounding in his ears as he runs, each step taking him closer to his mates in distress.

As he tears into the tower, he runs through security yelling, “I’m Tony Stark’s mate, James Barnes,” and somehow gets immediate clearance, jumping in an elevator.

“Jarv, take me to Tony,” he says, barely registering the confirmation as the elevator shoots up towards the R&D floors.

He stumbles out as the elevator opens, and hustles down the hallway, trying to scent his packmates. After a third turn, he spots a crowd looking into a glass-enclosed space. That’s them.

“Clear out!” he commands, “this floor is now on heat lockdown, all staff should proceed to the nearest floor until further notice.”

The crowd moves quickly away from the glass, most of them giving Bucky a clear space as he approaches the lab. Peering inside, he sees both of his packmates curled together on the lounge sofa— thank god they’re both clothed.

“Jarvis, open up for me.”

“I’m afraid I can’t—“

“Override code for James Buchanan Barnes, 32557038.”

Without a word, the doors slide open with an audible hiss. He can hear whimpers and hushed reassurances coming from his packmates and decides to call Steve for backup.

“Bucky, this is the emergency number,” Steve answers, sounding irritated.

Best to cut to the chase, “Peter went into heat at work. Tony put the whole floor on lockdown. I’m here with them now, situation normal.”

“Okay, I need you to keep them lucid until I arrive. When I call you next, bring Peter out to the car. I will leave it running for you and drive home in Tony’s car, separately. Understood? I will call Clint and Annie as well.”

“Understood, Alpha.”

Steve hangs up, and Bucky is immediately approaching the pair, doing his best to project his scent and warn Tony of his approach.

“C’mon Tony, let me in. Two of your Omegas are here now, please protect us?”

Tony turns on him, expression close to feral, and growls low. Bucky stops moving forward and bares his throat, dropping his gaze and submitting to the Beta.

“Kneel, Omega,”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Bucky can’t help it. The words vibrate through him and he slides to the floor with a high pitched whine, spreading his legs in an obvious display for his displeased Beta.

Dammit, Bucky.

Stay up, you gotta stay up for Peter.

He lets Tony grip his neck, forcing him to bend forward, resting his chest against the couch and giving Tony easy access.

Tony hums in pleasure— of course he does— because even though it’s highly inappropriate, Bucky is not unaffected by his Beta’s dominance and arousal. He can feel the slick starting to leak out of him.

“Please, Beta.” He begs, unsure what he’s asking for at this point.

Ring, ring, ring.

His phone. Steve. “Alpha,” he chokes out, grasping for the phone before Tony can stop him.

“Alpha, help. Need help, Stevie.”

He can hear Steve yelling through the phone, Tony snarling at the muffled voice, and then the connection is lost. He expects Tony’s touch on his body— craves it at this point— but hears a deep rumble instead.

Alpha.

Tony stands up, guarding them from Steve’s view as the Alpha stalks closer. Both of them stare, unblinkingly, and puff out their chests, asserting dominance.

It’s Tony’s growl that does it. One moment he’s crouching over the Omegas, growling in warning, and the next Steve has him by the scruff, snarling—

“Stand down, Beta.”

Bucky has never heard his Alpha voice before. It has all three of them melting into small, submissive puddles at his feet. And Bucky’s pretty sure he just came, untouched.

Steve hauls him up by the armpits, searching his eyes, and obviously seeing an uncomprehending, submissive Omega in his arms. Steve offers his neck. The simple act of submission, especially after such a bold display of dominance, has Bucky reeling and biting down, hard, into his Alpha’s throat, desperate to swing dominant.

“Buck. Shit, Bucky are you okay?” Steve is asking him, and Bucky pulls away, wiping his mouth.

“I— I think so. Damn, Alpha.”

“Save it. Remember the plan— get Peter back to the house. I’ll deal with Tony.”

“And Clint?”

Steve pauses, shaking his head, “He’s with Annie, back at the house. Bucky— she’s in heat too.”

Dammit.

[itcameuponamidnightqueer]

fake dating 10, any pairing you want

damie + “please just hold my hand, that person’s basically undressing me with their eyes.”

trope prompts

//

It’s not that Jamie doesn’t want to be at this school function, it’s just that—

No, that’s a lie. She definitely doesn’t want to be here, and wouldn’t if she weren’t part of the staff. Wouldn’t be here if Dani hadn’t tricked her, really, because Jamie’s usually pretty good about saying no even at work. 

“Rebecca’s back from traveling,” Dani had tried, and Jamie said no because who knows how long that’ll last. 

“Owen said he’s gonna ask Hannah out,” she’d tried next, and Jamie had actually laughed in her face. 

“Someone is actually going to have to physically force those two together,” she’d replied, and Dani’s eyes lit up, prompting her with a quirk of an eyebrow.

In no world does Jamie want to be that person.

Dani had sighed. “Free booze,” she’d grumbled, desperate. Jamie had rolled her eyes and opened the door to her well-stocked liquor cabinet.

Dani had pursed her lips together and turned her face away, almost quick enough for Jamie to miss the grin she was failing to suppress. 

If Jamie weren’t constantly on the lookout for that smile, she might have succeeded.

Dani had sighed again, raked a hand through her fluffy, perfect hair, and flopped back on the couch.

“Okay, fine,” she huffed. “You win, don’t come, we’ll hang out over the weekend and I’ll just tell you all about how lonely I was at the party—my first party without Eddie, which everyone will probably be asking me about and I’ll have to field awkward questions all night—”

Jamie scoffed. “And you think I’m going to magically make them not be awkward?”

“No,” Dani answered, a little too quickly. “I think you’d glare at them so hard they wouldn’t even ask me in the first place.”

“I think I’ve just been insulted!”

“No,” Dani laughed, “you just have that whole—” She scrunched her eyebrows together and set her shoulders, curled her lip upwards into an unmistakable hint of a sneer. Her voice, when she spoke, was half an octave lower and at least six countries away from Jamie’s accent. “—’Don’t fuck wiv’ me’ vibe going on,” she finished.

Jamie had taken a few long moments to blink away the urge to kiss her. 

“You’ve gotten worse,” she’d finally said. “Almost a year and a half working together and you’ve gotten worse.”

“Come to the party and you can spend the whole time teaching me.”

“Dani.”

“Jamie.”

Her eyes weren’t wide anymore; they’d shrunk back to being shy and vulnerable, the stormy kind of blue that Jamie didn’t ever see unless they were alone. Jamie had spent the better part of a year not acknowledging her feelings for Dani, and she was good at it. Not always good enough to escape Hannah’s shrewd gaze, but enough to where it was a genuine friendship, and she only felt the roar of devotion flare up in the quietest, most private of moments.

Jamie was excellent at controlling her emotions. She’d spent an entire lifetime honing that skill, protecting herself from the surprisingly large amount of people who seemed destined to hurt her. 

Jamie had nothing on Dani Clayton.

Dani could suppress any negative feeling until it almost ceased to exist; she had an incredible way of just...willing things not to happen. It had taken months for her to reveal the cracks in her relationship with Eddie, and even then Jamie sat by and watched, completely blown away, by how quickly and how sincerely Dani put the mask back up around people who only wanted to see silk and porcelain. The crazy thing about it was that Dani meant it; Dani gave all of her attention to everyone who asked for it. She didn’t have an insincere bone in her body.

But, god—Jamie’s life had been shit before, and still nothing made her sadder than watching Dani perform.

If all it took for her not to do that was one party, well, she could table the rest of it for later.

She’d picked up her phone and opened up the group chat they had with Hannah, Owen, and Rebecca.

“Right,” she’d groaned, “guess we’ve gotta coordinate who’s driving because the only way I’m getting through this is if I’m very, very drunk.”

.

And so Jamie finds herself at the not-yet-Christmas, ambiguously-winter end-of-semester party, sticking to Rebecca like a leech while she regales groups of coworkers with the same six stories of her very impulsive, wildly successful trip around the world. Dani, meanwhile, hasn’t been answering any awkward questions, from what Jamie’s heard, and is instead relaxed and popular as she chats with all of their friends.

Jamie almost turned around ten minutes in, once it became clear what the tone of the night would be. But there was no sense in bailing when she was already there and hadn’t driven herself, and—

Who would be there for Dani to look at, every twenty minutes or so, just for reassurance or to check in or whatever kind of comfort she might be seeking. (Jamie doesn’t know for sure what it is. She knows what she hopes it is. But that’s something else for the ‘later’ bag.)

She stays. Jamie stays and drinks and laughs and eventually gets sucked into the party of it all, which is why she’s five minutes into her best story of youthful shenanigans that didn’t end in a visit from the cops, and absolutely doesn’t notice the anxious blonde rushing at her from across the room. 

 “Hold my hand, hold my hand, hold my hand,” Dani urges, arm outstretched as she speeds closer. She hits Jamie’s elbow when she gets close enough and finally manages to wrestle Jamie’s hand into an iron grip.

Jamie, sufficiently interrupted, stops talking and looks down. “What’s going on here, then?”

Dani takes a deep breath and plasters on the worst attempt at a smile Jamie’s ever seen, which is still pretty good by most peoples’ standards. “Remember all those awkward questions I thought I’d get about Eddie?” she says through clenched teeth.

“Yep.”

“Thought they’d be full of pity, not flirting.”

Jamie’s head shoots up, trying to pick out the offenders, but Dani slaps her elbow again.

“Don’t look!” she hisses. “We have to make this convincing.”

“Make what convincing?” Jamie narrows her eyes and takes a long sip of her drink. “You’re pulling me into some kind of scheme, Poppins, and I know I’ve told you what happened the last time somebody did that…”

Dani laughs, high and fluttery and nervous in the back of her throat. “Please just hold my hand,” she implores. “Nathan is basically undressing me with his eyes but I think you can scare him off if he sees us together.”

“Nathan?” Jamie starts to scan the room again, a little less obviously this time. “Nathan Ford, the school’s sluttiest social studies teacher?”

“Mhm.”

“The same Nathan Ford who’s walking over right now?”

“What!” Dani straightens up, rigid and spooked like a deer in the road. “I can’t believe—I was so careful; is he stalking me?”

The anxiety is short-lived and replaced very quickly with anger once Jamie can no longer hold in her laughter. 

“You,” Dani says, prying Jamie’s drink from her other hand, “tricked me.”

“You tricked me first,” Jamie winks.

“I don’t even think he’s in here anymore.”

Jamie shrugs. “Probably not.”

“You made me think I was in so much trouble…”

“You’re always safe with me, Poppins.”

Dani finishes the drink.

.

The funny thing is, neither of them lets go. 

Nathan Ford isn’t the only slutty teacher and it doesn’t take Jamie long to get a glimpse of what Dani’s been dealing with, the men—single and married—who look at her just a little too long, a little too presumptuously. Dani, of course, handles it with grace and charm, and Jamie thinks that maybe she didn’t need her grumpy buffer after all.

She holds tight anyway, just in case.

It’s a dangerous thing to do, parade a fake relationship in front of all of their coworkers, but it doesn’t feel wrong or forced. They’re going on a break soon, Jamie rationalizes. School is going on a two-week break and everyone is drunk and no one is going to remember the scandal of the fourth grade teacher clinging all night to the newest member of the art department. If they do...well, everything can be laughed off or pushed down or forgotten eventually.

So they cling and they talk and Jamie expertly lets every too-interested man know, with absolute certainty, that their efforts should be directed elsewhere. She tickles her fingers against Dani’s, throws in a few isn’t that right, love’s every once in a while, rubs a hand on her back when the moment feels right. And Dani—

Dani invades her space—presses their shoulders together, scratches at the inside of Jamie’s wrist, wipes a stray bit of liquor from the side of her mouth after an untidy sip. Jamie feels all of this and lets it wash over her, lets it sink under her skin and warm her body until she feels like she could start a fire with her hands.

The night winds down and people filter out and eventually there isn’t anyone left to fool. But Dani’s hand is still in hers and Jamie is more than happy to be slow and soft with her. She stays, for the tenth and fifteenth and hundredth time.

It’s just the five of them left, eventually, and they migrate to the bar when the party room in the back seems too large for such a small group. They situate themselves on stools in the corner, and the conversation flows without a hitch. It always has with this group—Owen, Hannah, and Rebecca first, then Dani, then Jamie. She’d tell them all how much it really means to know them if anyone got enough drink in her.

Until then, she’ll scoff at group texts and drag her feet to parties and settle into the fact that they all know it’s for show anyway.

She props her head on her hand and listens, quickly approaching the sleepy part of drinking. She tries not to watch Dani too much while they all talk but it’s difficult—Dani is noticeable at a distance and absolutely striking up close. The curl of her lips as she smiles, the way they overtake her entire face if she means it enough (and she usually does); the laughter that pours out of her and directly into the hearts of anyone lucky enough to be listening; the way her ears look bigger when she hooks her hair behind them, how she only does that when she’s in very comfortable company.

After about thirty minutes, Jamie gets up to retrieve their coats before she does something stupid, like playfully tug at Dani’s earlobe or reach in to straighten the collar on her shirt.

She returns shortly, holding her leather jacket and Dani’s very puffy winter coat, and sits down without a word, content to wait for a natural break in the conversation. She folds the coats over her lap and fiddles with a coaster on the counter.

Dani absently reaches back to still her fingers after about a minute. A simple gesture—resting her hand atop Jamie’s, perhaps swiping her thumb across the back of her hand. Nothing like the displays they’d been putting on earlier. So unlike them, in fact, that Jamie doesn’t notice it at all.

Owen, Hannah, and Rebecca can’t take their eyes off it.

“So, what, were you waiting to tell me until I got back?”

Jamie nurses the dregs of her beer. “Tell you what?”

“This, what is this!” Rebecca exclaims, fluttering her fingers in the direction of Jamie and Dani’s still-clasped hands. “I go gallivanting around the world for an entire year and neither of you mention that you’ve shacked up?”

Jamie and Dani look at their hands, look at each other, and start speaking at the same time.

“We’re not dating, it was just a stupid thing for tonight—”

“Jamie’s doing me a favor since Eddie’s gone and men are creepy—”

“Right, sure.” Rebecca squints and fixes both of them with a sly glance. “It’s just for tonight, to ward off creepy men, which is why you’re still doing it since there are so many of them around now.”

“Must have just gotten used to it,” Dani offers weakly.

“Of course, which is why you still haven’t let go.”

Jamie lets go and tries not to telegraph how much she misses the weight of Dani’s hand.

“You’re definitely not dating,” Rebecca continues, “which is why Jamie got up and got her coat and Dani’s, and left the rest of us hanging.”

Dani looks down and finally notices the coat in Jamie’s lap. “You got my coat?” she asks, furrowing her brow.

“Yeah,” Jamie shrugs. “Seemed like you were ready to go.”

“Yeah, but I was—I was still talking.”

Jamie waves a hand. “You were telling the piano lesson story; you always tell that when you want the night to wind down.”

“No, I—” Dani frowns and retrieves her purse from where it’s hooked around the stool; she rummages through it frantically, her movements loose and messy. “How did you get my coat check ticket?”

“Took that from ya ages ago, Poppins,” Jamie answers. “You were so nervous you were gonna rub the number right off it, and then we’d both be shit outta luck.”

Jamie watches as the expression on Dani’s face morphs, unfurls from stern, puzzled ridges and relaxes into fondness, into twinkling eyes and soft cheeks, a mischievous affection that floors Jamie every time she sees it. Every time, she wonders how many people have been lucky enough to have been on the receiving end of this look, and hopes that the answer is ‘very few’.

“We should, um, probably go,” Dani whispers.

Jamie smiles. “We all drove here together,” she reminds Dani, just as quietly.

Dani slumps back. She reaches for her coat but instead of grabbing it, simply rests her hand on top, like she’s waiting.

Jamie breathes deeply and avoids looking at Rebecca.

“Owen, mate,” she says, daring him to tease her, “maybe you could drop off Dani and me first.”

[ohsnapcracklepopfriends]

Don't know if my England carraville mutuals are still awake but if you are (or when you wake up) please enjoy part two of the t-swift fic to hopefully cheer you up❤

Here's part one if you haven't read it

Jamie wanted to cry when he heard the blaring alarm he’d set the night before. Gary was tucked in his arms perfectly with his nose pressed against Jamie’s chest. Jamie would rather do anything than move and disrupt his gorgeous manc, but the alarm started to wake up Gary. Jamie reluctantly moved Gary’s arm from his waist and got up to turn off the alarm.

Jamie looked back at Gary on the bed who had started to stir. He looked breathtaking. His hair was perfectly scruffed up just the way Jamie liked it. The sheets were rumpled artfully around his low back, showing off those back muscles he’d worked so hard for back in the day. Gary’s sides were softer than they were back in the day but Jamie loved them more. He ached to rub his fingers there again. He could so easily too. Just reach out and caress them as Gary comes back to life in the morning sun. Jamie doesn’t though. He’s not sure he’s allowed such a vulnerable pleasure anymore. Instead, he sat next to Gary and petted his hair. He smoothed out the hair in the way he knew Gary liked. Then, selfishly, ruffles it up again in the way that makes him look hot and endearing at the same time. Gary’s eyes fluttered open softly. He looked up at Jamie with a bittersweet smile.

“Morning, love,” Jamie said.

“I love you, James,” Gary replied instinctively like it was the simplest thing in the world. Gary’s lips curled up contentedly and he let his eyes slip closed again, basking in the moment. Jamie blinked a few times. It was partly from shock and partly from the wetness he could feel in the corners of his eyes.

“Still?” Jamie asked. He dared to let himself dream for a second of a universe where Gary was still in love with him, where they could live happily ever after and retire and get a dog. But a second after Jamie spoke, Gary’s eyes shot open and he jumped out of the bed. Jamie felt his heart break.

“Do you want some eggs?” Gary said. It wasn’t a question but Jamie didn’t know what it was. Gary was clearly distressed but Jamie, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why. He stared at Jamie like he had just appeared out of thin air or turned blue--Jamie checked, he hadn’t.

“...What?” Gary’s hands flew up to hold his head as he started pacing around Jamie’s small bedroom (Jamie preferred the term “cosy”).

“Every day,” Gary said, “every single day it’s: ‘morning, love’ ‘I love you, James’ ‘do you want some eggs?’ ‘I’ll have whatever you’re having’.” Jamie felt he was getting more and more confused by the second.

“What?” Jamie said again.

“Every day I have the same dream. I wake up in your bed. You say, ‘morning, love’. I say, ‘I love you, James’... But you didn’t say it,” Gary started walking faster, “you said ‘still’ which means this isn’t a dream and you’re going to sock me any second.” Jamie shook his head slightly trying to digest all of Gary’s information just spat at him with frankly incredible speed. Gary always had been a good talker if nothing else.

“I’m not going to hit you, Gary.” Jamie walked over to him slowly. He felt like he was approaching a wild animal, stepping and moving carefully so he wouldn’t startle him. He cautiously and gently grabbed Gary’s shoulders and pulled him back into his chest where he belonged.

“What are you doing?”

“I love you, too.” He said those words, plain and simple, to Gary for the second time in their relationship. No nicknames, no teasing tone, no mind-melting orgasm to blame it on, nothing to hide Jamie’s feelings. It was what Gary needed, Jamie knew that. Just like the first time, all those years ago at a random hotel in Birmingham.

Unlike that time, though, Gary didn’t say it back. He didn’t look into Jamie’s eyes like he just told him all of the most magical secrets of the universe. Gary just smushed his face into Jamie’s armpit and let out some muffled sniffles. Jamie’s hand moved to cup Gary’s neck with a mind of its own, though it’s not like Jamie would have done it any differently.

After a few minutes, Gary’s breathing returned to normal. Gary was clinging back to Jamie, his hands holding onto the back of Jamie’s shirt like a lifeline. Jamie tipped his face forward slightly and buried his nose in Gary’s hair. He smiled at the smell of the same old apple shampoo Jamie used to love so much on him.

“What about Tom?” Gary asked. “You can’t seriously choose me over him.”

“Oh can’t I?” Jamie smirked and gave Gary’s ear a playful flick. “I’m pretty sure I did when I broke up with him last night.”

“You can’t, James. You deserve someone like him. Someone who will make you smile after a long day. Someone kind and sweet. Someone who will take you out to dinner at fancy restaurants. You deserve so much more than I can offer you, James.”

“I know I should want him. I mean everything about him is nice and perfect, but that’s what I hate about him. Spending time with him makes me want to rip out my hair and smash my nose against a wall.” Gary looked like Jamie was speaking Spanish. “I should want him, you’re right. That’s what I keep telling myself: sunshine, rainbows, and sweet dreams. But I’ve never been like that. I’ve never been pristine or calm or sweet. I don’t want pristine or calm or sweet, Gary. I want you.” He wants Gary and every single thing he loves to hate about him. He wants Gary to wake him up at five am twice a week and insist they watch the sunrise over the London skyline. He wants Gary to whine when Jamie picks up the wrong kind of milk for Gary’s morning Weetabix. He wants Gary to complain about his late-night football watching habits and then bring down his pillow to rest on Jamie’s lap of their couch. He wants Gary to argue with him about an MLS game, impassioned yet half-asleep in the way only Gary can.

“As for what I deserve,” Jamie started, “I think we miserable bastards deserve each other. Let Tom have a sunshine, carefree, happy-fun-time partner. I’m not that and I never would be. I couldn’t make him happy and he couldn’t make me happy. Only you can do that.” Jamie took Gary’s hand into his own. Gary took the liberty of lacing their fingers together.

“Alright, I get it, you sappy bastard,” Gary’s voice filled with a practised faux annoyance that was entirely betrayed by the dopey grin on his face. His beautiful eyes lit up happily in the morning light. “I’m not as good with words as you are--you’re practically a poet, James. But, you’re it for me too. You make me so, ridiculously happy and... I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice was strained and tight as he choked out his last sentence. Jamie searched his face only to meet the steely gates in his eyes he’d have to break down for a second time.

“Stop,” Jamie said, pulling his manc closer by their joined hand, “I know. God, Gaz, I’m sorry too. I’m so sorry. We both said shit we didn’t mean--being fucking scared out of your mind does that to you--but I started it, and I’m sorry.”

“You were fucking outed, Jamie!” Gary screamed with all of the pent up rage in his body. The frantic energy between the two of them came to a screeching halt. It was clear to Jamie that Gary had been seething about the situation almost as much as he had. “Come here, James.” Gary yanked Jamie into his arms and squeezed him so hard Jamie was sure he’d burst any second.

“I want to come out,” Gary whispered the words softly into Jamie’s ear. Jamie thought he was hearing things until he noticed Gary was holding his breath, waiting for him to answer.

“Are you sure?” It was all he could say. Coming out was scary if it was just your family and friends. Coming out to the whole world was beyond bloody terrifying. It wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly. Gary took Jamie’s face into his hands. He placed seven kisses on his face: one on each cheek, one over each brow, one on his forehead, one on his nose, and finally one, perfect, soft kiss on his lips. When Gary pulls back his eyes are sparkling with the beginnings of tears: happy tears.

“I’m sure.”

[bad-bitch-beauchamp]

Songs About Me: Chapter Six

Yay! Thanks for your patience while I was away! Without further ado, the first (official) date!

READ ON AO3

Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Boston

“How’d you do that?” Claire was fumbling with her keys, trying to get the lock to work on her black front door while Jamie waited just below on the sidewalk.

“Do what?”

“How did you get here so fast? Because one minute, you said you were leaving your place and the next, you were on my front porch. The way I see it is you’re either Superman or you’re a stalker.”

He chuckled. “Just another twist of fate for us, lass.” Claire turned to face him. He stood for a moment watching her and if it had been any longer, she might’ve started to feel self-conscious from his gaze. He shook his head and looked up at her through long, red lashes. His hand stretched upward and outward toward her, and her soft smile made his heart soar. Claire took a deep breath, took his large hand in hers, and descended the brick stairs toward the night’s adventure.

There were only three things Jamie confirmed with Claire before their date that night: her address, what time he should pick her up, and if she liked Italian food. Claire was never one to turn down a bowl of noodles and, with a glance up at her rather large walking partner, ventured Jamie was never one to say no to carbs. He had declined to tell her exactly where they were to have dinner that night over text, and Claire’s curiosity was kicking in as they strolled through Boston Commons.

‘Ye said ye enjoyed Italian food, so just trust me that ye’ll like where we’re headed.”

“That’s hardly an answer.”

“It’s a good enough answer. Patience isn’t really a virtue of yer’s, is it?”

The pair continued to walk down through the Commons, wandering along pathways and strolling past monuments. Their conversation flowed easily and Claire found herself wondering how she could have only met this man, this kind and funny and compassionate and loving and enthralling man, mere hours before. Claire had grabbed a cashmere wrap before she ran down the stairs in case of chilly fall weather, and was glad for it. She started out her walk with Jamie by holding her wrap around her upper arms, secured by her hands held at her chest. As their walk continued, she caught herself letting go to touch Jamie’s arm, to lead him around a pond by the hand, to swat at him when he made a joke. She was comfortable. Their banter and laughter and talks were natural and easy.

“You have to tell me where we’re going! First, you show up at my home with a very thin explanation, and now you’re leading me through the city with no direction! I happen to think my stalker theory is holding more traction with every moment, Mr. Fraser.”

“Alright, a few things, Sassenach,” he said. Their arms were linked together as they made their way over the intersection of Charles and Beacon streets. “First off, my explanation was solid. It was fate I got to yer place so quickly.” He ushered her across the busy street and onto a smaller side street lined with trees and old facades. “Second, I’m no’ a stalker. If I was, I would have found as soon I could have after last night. Yer all I thought about today. Had I known how to find ye, I would have,” he said. He moved his hand to her lower back as he moved them down the sidewalk. Claire simply smiled down at the ground at his honest admission. “Third,” he slowed their pace, “did ye consider I jes’ wanted to spend a little extra time with ye?” He paused to open the door to the restaurant. A whisper brushed along her ear as she slid past him in the entrance, bushing against his chest. “The time I get doesna seem to be enough.” She turned to face him then. He only smiled softly, urging her forward through the doors.

Jamie pulled out a worn leather chair for her before seating himself across the small square table draped with a crisp white tablecloth and topped with two brass candlestick holders and a myriad of glassware. Claire smirked at the fanciness of it all -- they’d met in a dark bar in the middle of the night and talked over dusty bookshelves and now, she was pretending she belonged in a place like this. When Jamie had asked if she liked Italian, she figured they’d end up at a mom and pop place eating spaghetti and drinking too much wine, not acting on their best behavior at one of the finest restaurants in Beacon Hill.

“Are ye alright, Claire?”

Her head popped up to find Jamie studying her. His head cocked like a puppy who watches something new with a mix of awe and confusion in his eyes. He leaned forward as if to reach for her hand, and drew back.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about that, I must’ve zoned out a bit there,” she fibbed. She fidgeted with her napkin on her lap, folding and unfolding it.

“Ye know, I--” Jamie was interrupted by the waiter. He sighed and requested two bottles of wine, a red and a white, and two whiskeys. Claire stifled a giggle at the waiter’s outfit while Jamie was acting the role of adult: the teen wore clean black slacks, a pressed white shirt, a black vest, and a white cloth on his forearm completed the look. The waiter looked at her with confusion.

“Sorry, just thinking about something that happened earlier,” she muttered. The waiter walked away, with a parting glance at Jamie.

“Care tae share what’s so funny, lass?” She expected a look of disdain. The same look Frank would’ve given her, she realized, if she acted this way at a dinner with him. There was never to be any fun, never any giggles, never any banter. She straightened in her chair and attempted to put her feelings about the absurdity of the night behind her.

“Oh, it’s nothing!” Quickly shifting the subject, she moved on. “Did I hear you order four separate alcohol drinks?”

“I wasna sure what ye liked, besides the whisky, so I thought I’d get one of everything to be safe.” It was Jamie’s turn to shift in his seat now. “Shit,” he muttered. “I forgot to ask for ice water.” Motioning back toward the waiter’s station he stopped to add, “Wait, did ye even want ice water? Mebbe ice tea? A coffee? I should’ve asked what ye wanted instead of assuming, Claire, and I’m sorry for it…”

“Jamie. It’s fine.” It was Claire’s turn to reach across the table and take his hand. His eyes moved from the waiter across the room instantly down to their hands. He marveled in the way her fingers intertwined with his, how she traced the bones and knuckles, drawing maps to nowhere in particular. He thumbed over the soft skin of her palms and looked up at her through long lashes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Ye can ask me anything ye want,” he answered quickly.

“What are we doing here?”

That got his attention. His gaze hardened, his spine stiffened. “What do ye mean?” She didn’t immediately answer, so he continued on. “I asked ye here tonight, because I couldn’t stop thinking about ye all night. And then today, to see ye, to be healed by ye… Christ, I couldn’t wait to see ye or talk to ye or to hold yer hand or merely to be near ye again. If ye’d rather not see me after tonight, I understand and I respect yer wishes. If that’s the case though, I think I’d rather ye let me know that now instead of having me sit here knowing I can’t have ye. I have enough alcohol to get me through the night, I think…” A giggle erupted from the opposite side of the small square table.

“You certainly do have enough alcohol, but I’d rather like to enjoy it with you, if you don’t mind.” One hand held his, and the other held her chin in her palm, elbow propped up on the table.

“Ye’d let me see ye again?”

“Without a doubt.”

Tension flowed out of his muscles and his eyes shimmered in the candlelight. “Why’d ye ask what we were doing here then?”

“I just mean that you don’t have to go through so much trouble for us to spend time together. I know we just met but I’d wager that fancy restaurants with wine lists bigger than the menu aren’t your usual hangout. I’m a simple woman who enjoys simple pleasures, Jamie. Please don’t make this anything more than the perfect night it could be if you just relax.”

He studied her. The curls flowing down around her face, curling at her collarbones. The eyes the same color of his favorite whisky sitting in the crystal decanter on the sideboard back home. Her delicate features that reminded him of the stories of the faeries from back home. She wiggled in her seat under his gaze. He sighed. “I just wanted to honor ye, Sassenach. Do ye right,” she smirked at that. “Och, ye know what I mean,” he said and playfully squeezed her hand in his. “I wanted to treat ye the way I think ye should be treated.”

Would he ever cease to stop being so honest and vulnerable? She hoped not. This confession, his honest assessment of her, made her eyes shimmer with a thin line of unshed tears.

“Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if I overstepped…”

“You didn’t.” She looked up from her hand in his and marveled at the way she cared for him already, so soon. “Just… thank you, Jamie.”

The waiter reappeared to take their dinner orders and the two were left to talk under their meals arrived. He talked about his favorite book, Song of Myself by Walt Whitman (“Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged. Missing me one place, search another. I stop somewhere waiting for you.” he brought her knuckles to her lips. She shivered. He blushed.) ; she told him about the tropical plant she’d grown from a start for the last five years, the pride and joy radiating from her words and beaming smile (“I couldna ever grow something that took that much work,” “It just takes the right touch,” “Aye, that ye have.”) . The waiter arrived back at their table with plates and bowls galore. Soon, the small tabletop was brimming with large flat bowls of pasta and salad plates layered with leafy greens; all four glasses in front of Claire were full, wine and whisky and water warming her core.

Claire didn’t immediately reach for her food, and Jamie smirked. “Tell me what yer thinkin’ about, right now. Don’t think, just answer!”

“I’m thinking that I don’t know which of these fancy forks to kill myself with.” Silence, then roarous laughter.

“I’m no’ sure what I expected ye to say, but for what it’s worth, I did consider the same the question. This is a hell of a spread!”

Vaguely, Claire thought she should eat a little more food and drink a little less liquids, but the notion rolled passed her with another twirl of whisky in her mouth. Dinner continued to pass with much less fanfare and much more excitement and laughter and banter and all the things Claire thought a date should be. It wasn’t until she went to take another sip of her whisky that she noticed it was entirely empty. About to call for another, Jamie shushed her and brought a finger to his lips to stay quiet. She giggled, then remembering to stay quiet, brought her hands up to cover her mouth. Jamie looked around them conspiratorily and pulled a hip flask from his pocket. He poured a generous amount of what she presumed to be whisky back into her glass, and topped off his own. They continued this way, with mouthfuls of noodles and laugher and soft touches that grew more bold with each sip.

“You know, the drunker you get, the more obvious you’re becoming with your thermos.” The waiter was standing before them, hands on his hips.

“ Thermose? Thermasse? I'm sorry, I don't understand. What's a thermousse?” Jamie was trying his best to put on a serious front, but Claire’s giggles made his mouth spread from a smirk all the way to an honest to God grin.

“That one. Right there in your hand.”

“Oh, the thermas-eh?” Jamie patted the spot where the now-empty flask sat in his pocket. “For yer information, it’s a hipflask and it’s actually quite stylish.”

“Sir, I can’t have you in here, drinking liquor you bought from home.”

“Och well if yer selection wasna grossly overpriced, that wouldna be an issue. But alas, I suppose it’s time for me to take my most lovely date and be on our way. To the next adventure!” The waiter looked as if he wanted to throw Jamie out of the restaurant himself but since they were apparently ready to be off into the night, he asked for his payment politely and returned in record time to usher them out the door. Jamie lent out a hand to Claire and twirled her into his side when she stood, her laughter filling the cozy space.

“Sassenach, they’re all watchin’ us. Let’s get out of here, aye?” He whispered into her hair and he focused on not bumping into tables on their way out. The other patrons watched half in annoyance and half in good-natured smiles cast their way.

“Ayeeeee!” Claire rolled her r’s as best she could and Jamie laughed so hard she could feel his chest reverberate against her back as she led him outside.

Back in the park, Claire led him down brick paths and through lines of tall trees, and he followed her every move. She knew they were only minutes from her townhouse but reveled in the magic of the gardens at night alone with him. With Jamie.

“I wrote it for you, you know,” she said quietly as she walked along the low brick wall lining the gardens. Jamie, down on the sidewalk, looked up confused.

“Ye wrote what, lass?”

“The french song you heard today. I wrote that, last night. I couldn’t sleep.”

Jamie stopped walking. When he turned to face Claire head-on, she came up a few inches above his head from standing on the low wall but felt incredibly small under his gaze. She fumbled with her dress and tried to take a step forward along the wall, but two strong hands held in place by the waist.”

“Will ye tell me what ye wrote? What the words mean?”

“I thought you said you spoke french.”

“Aye, I did. But I was so entranced by ye when I saw ye in the shop, so surprised, that I forgot to actually listen and translate,” he smirked. “Please tell me?”

She watched him for a moment. Not yet. It’s too soon for that. She leaned in close, close enough to smell his cologne and see peak of ruddy stubble on his cheeks. He closed his eyes and his mouth fell open just a bit, and she whispered, “Not a chance.”

She jumped down from the wall past his grasp, strolling back down the brick path. Jamie stood stunned, shook his head, brushed back a few rogue curls, and jogged to catch up with her pace.

---

They arrived back at Louisburg Square not more than ten minutes later. The night was getting late. Claire fidgeted with the hem of her dress, Jamie kept shrugging his shoulders in the black leather jacket, and they walked slower with each step. When it couldn’t be delayed any longer, they arrived at the brick steps to Claire’s porch.

“So, this is me.” She turns to face him, to prolong this moment, this night.

He smirked. “Aye, Sassenach. I remember.”

“Why do you call me that?” He cocked his head at her. “A sassenach, I mean.”

“Och, I mean no offense by it and can stop if ye’d like. It just means outlander, someone not from here.”

“Here? It seems that here is Boston, and you’re not from here either!” She crossed her arms in mock admonishment.

“That mebbe so, but I can’t help that being with you makes me feel like home,” he said as he took a step toward her. Her arms fell to her sides then, and Jamie reached for them in his.

“Was that jus’ the most foolish thing to say? Shit, I jus’ keep making a right fool of myself around ye it seems. First the voicemails and now…”

“I understand… exactly, how you feel.” She couldn’t look at him. It should be too soon to feel this way. He was a practically a stranger, and yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling something was different. As if he could read her mind, he replied with questions of his own.

“Is it usual? What it is between us?” He watched her with such intensity, such revere, such awe. She met his eyes, and softened.

“It’s often something like this, I think.” He nodded in agreement. “But no. This isn’t usual. It’s different.” He nodded again, seeming to memorize the pattern of the bricks on the sidewalk under their feet. “I guess that’s my queue… Thank you for a truly wonderful night, Jamie,” she dropped his hands and began to walk up the steps to her door when a strong arm pulled her back into a familiar warm embrace.

“Claire, I--” he swallowed and took a step back from her. She noticed that in the distance he created, his hand still held onto her waist. His fingertips pressed into her flesh and goosebumps erupted under the fabric. She met his eyes and sank into their ocean depths.

“I’d very much like to kiss ye. May I?”

---

It's HAPPENING!!! These sweet babies went on their first date! I figured based on what we know about them, they're both too down to earth for some fancy restaurant acting formal. The flask/thermos scene is based on Jess and Nick's date in New Girl where they get absolutely trashed in a very similar situation. Plus, it just seems like Jamie would be the kind of guy to have a flask on him, right? How are we feeling about these two? About the date? I'm so excited to get to the angsty part of this! I promise it's coming up soon. (Like, next chapter, soon). Thanks for being so patient with me while I was away enjoying post-deployment bliss with my husband! Writing wasn't on the top of my list, but it's good to be back! As always, thanks for reading. Your comments and kudos here and interactions on Tumblr really do mean so much to me and I really appreciate your support for this story and for me. Stay safe and healthy out there! <3

[comic-book-jawns]

Right Above The Borin’ Little Pub

“Hey, what can I do?”

Dani had waited five minutes, not wanting to be pushy, but she simply couldn’t “make herself at home” with Jamie in this state.

Since they’d entered her flat after having dinner at the pub, after moving Dani out of the manor, Jamie’s anxiety had come out in full force — multiple apologies for “the mess” and curses under her breath, frenetic dashes to the kitchen to put a kettle on, then to her bedroom area to shove strewn-about clothes into her dresser, back to the kitchen to give Dani a blanket for her lap in case she was cold as she sat at the small kitchen table, over to her windows to check on her plants, and so on.

Finally, the kettle had rung, sending Jamie sprinting back to the kitchen, and Dani had stood up, placing a hand on her shoulder, which she felt even more assured was the right move when she realized Jamie was trembling slightly.

“Thank ya. But I’m - ”

“Jamie.”

It wasn’t a harsh tone, never would be. But it was firm. And it worked. Jamie turned around to face her, doe-eyed. Dani gave her a small smile.

“I - I need something to do... please.”

Jamie’s face fell.

“Right... ” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Dani. Didn’t mean to - ”

“It’s okay.”

Jamie looked down, shaking her head. Dani put her other hand on Jamie’s other shoulder and began rubbing both shoulders gently.

“You were just trying to be a good host.”

Jamie laughed awkwardly.

“Failed before I even got to make ya a cup ah tea.”

“I don’t know. Finally got me up here, to your li-uhl flat... ” Dani smiled as Jamie blushed. “Right ’bove the borin’ li-uhl pub.”

Jamie laughed softly and looked back up.

“Guess I’m gonna stick out ’cross the pond, huh?”

Dani’s smile widened. She brought her arms in closer, draping them around Jamie’s neck.

“You... would stick out anywhere... far too cute.”

Jamie’s face reddened further, but she smiled shyly. Dani leaned forward to kiss one of her burning cheeks.

“You get the tea. And I’ll put the rest of your clothes away, okay?”

She could see Jamie considering.

“I’m really good at folding, and... you don’t want me to make the tea.”

Jamie smirked, then nodded.

“Thank you, Poppins.”

Dani smiled, not unaware that it was a big step for Jamie to be letting someone help her.

“Thank you.”

Obviously, Dani would’ve preferred for Jamie’s sake that she hadn’t gotten stressed out. But, if Dani were honest, helping Jamie was making her feel more like herself than she had in days.

*****

“Elizabeth?”

After having tea, she and Jamie had settled on the bed since it was the only other place to sit aside from the kitchen table. Jamie had once again apologized — this time for not having a TV. Dani had assured her it was perfectly fine and asked what she normally did before bed. Jamie had said she read.

“Oh... right.”

Dani had laughed awkwardly, feeling foolish as she realized just how many books Jamie had lying around. They outnumbered even her plants. She’d turned back to Jamie.

“What are reading now?”

“Uh... ” Jamie had reached over to the nightstand beside her, then handed Dani a book. “Just started this again.”

“Oh, I love Pride & Prejudice!”

“Yeah?”

Jamie had smiled as Dani nodded eagerly.

“You, uh... ” Dani had blushed. “You actually remind me of... ”

That’s when Jamie had chimed in. Dani was smirking now at her guess.

“Well, you certainly have her wit.”

Jamie smirked herself.

“But, uh, no... you’re - you’re Jane.”

Dani smiled shyly. Jamie felt her smirk falter.

She would’ve blushed. After all, Dani had just compared her to the character whose beauty Austen notoriously went out of her way to emphasize. But she knew that wasn’t why Dani had said it. Dani was many things but shallow wasn’t one of them.

And while Jamie was still not nearly conceited enough to own that she identified most with Jane... she did. Rougher around the edges than Jane? Quite. But deep down, that longing for companionship yet reluctance to truly put herself out there, that caring far more about people than she cared to admit, that feeling of abandonment and anguish over what she must’ve done wrong — well, that certainly hit home.

In a Pride & Prejudice-like twist, though, most people only ever saw the one side of her: the Elizabeth side that seemed confident, cocky even. And she liked that she gave off that vibe. But it had also been quite lonely, not letting herself be vulnerable enough for people to see her other side.

Granted, she’d had good reason considering the only people she had ever shown it to had run away. But Dani... Dani had kissed her.

As Dani became a blur now, Jamie closed her eyes, leaned over and kissed her. She chuckled as she pulled back a few moments later, wiping her face.

“You’re Bingley then?”

Grinning, Dani raised an eyebrow.

“You have to ask?”

Jamie laughed, then cleared her throat.

“So do you... ” She gestured to the book. “I can find somethin’ else.”

“No, no, we, uh... ” Now it was Dani’s turn to clear her throat. “What if I... read it... to you?”

Dani was blushing again, but Jamie felt herself doing the same.

“I would really like that.”

Dani beamed.

A few minutes later, they were both back in bed after getting washed up and changed — Dani into one her nightgowns and Jamie into shorts and the least ratty T-shirt she could find. As she watched Dani open the book to the page she’d earmarked, Jamie cleared her throat once more.

“Uh, can I... ”

She felt her cheeks scorch as Dani looked over. Wringing her hands, she nodded toward Dani’s shoulder, and Dani’s face lit up.

“Of course!”

Smiling shyly, Jamie slouched and leaned over, resting her head on Dani’s shoulder as they sat against the headboard. She teared up again as she felt Dani gently kiss the top of head, then heard her breathe in.

“No accents, though. Can’t have ya ruinin’ Austen for me.”

Dani giggled.

“Fine.”

“And when ya... if ya get tired - ”

“I will, I promise.”

[margueritehall]

CAN YOU SEE RIGHT THROUGH ME? - YMCULC

all the king's horses, all the king's men, couldn’t put me together again

( the archer ; taylor swift )

marguerite ( maggie ) brynn hall, the gentle bad-ass 

“ show me a hero and i’ll write you a tragedy. ” 

― f. scott fitzgerald

– BASIC INFORMATION – 

» full name: marguerite brynn hall

» nicknames: maggie, mags, margie

» age: twenty seven ( at time of snap ), thirty two ( at time of blip )

» birthday: january eighth, nineteen-ninety-one, ten fifty-five in the morning 

» birthplace: philadelphia, pennsylvania

» zodiac sign: capricorn sun, libra moon, aries ascendent 

» current residence: new york, new york

» gender: cis female

» occupation: social worker for the stark relief foundation displaced children division, later avenger trainee

– HEALTH – 

» physical health: overall, maggie is in excellent health. she works out most weekday mornings and tends to eat a balanced diet. she doesn’t drink too often or smoke at all. she knows that her health conscious habits stem from her need to control everything that she is able to but that doesn’t stop her from being set in her ways.

» scars: she has several small scars from various bumps and scrapes but there is a sizeable scar on the front of her left shoulder from a car accident while she was a freshman in college. a driver t-boned her small sedan in an intersection when she was on her way home from a final exam. when she woke up in the hospital, with both of her parents at her bedside, she had stitches stretching approximately three inches from her clavicle towards her upper arm. 

» broken (any) bones: surprisingly, despite being quite active, maggie hasn’t ever broken a bone. she’s quite graceful from taking dance classes since she could walk until she graduated high school.

– MENTAL HEALTH – 

» extrovert or introvert: since getting older, maggie has become comfortable with the knowledge that she is a relatively private person. when she was younger, she enjoyed being in crowds however, she now tends to retract into her shell when surrounded by too many people. 

» logical or creative: maggie is incredibly logical; she is very formulaic in her thought patterns. when it comes to problem solving, maggie has all but got it down to a science which can be effective but she’d be incorrect to say it was without fault. 

» optimist or pessimist: neither term seems to describe the woman very well; she feels as though she’d call herself a realist. the world has let her down more times than she can count so she makes an effort to always adjust her expectations towards the most-likely event.

» phobias / fears: 

» problems: maggie was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive personality disorder and generalized anxiety disorder when she was sixteen. she goes through occasional bouts of depression but she doesn’t find it to be chronic. though undiagnosed, following the death of her parents, she experiences the effects of post-traumatic stress. 

– PERSONALITY – 

» goals / dreams: maggie has always wanted to improve the world around her. when she was a little girl, she told her parents that she wanted to be the first doctor to go to space. when she found out that she’d have to be in space for months at a time, she quickly changed her plans. the brain always fascinated her and so she dove headfirst into her newfound passion. following the deaths of her parents, maggie wanted to help others like she wished that she had been and so she, once more, switched gears and went into social work. 

» quirks / habits: maggie is a creature of habit. each morning, she wakes up and opens the curtains around the house before pouring herself a cup of cold brew coffee with cinnamon syrup and oat milk. she makes her bed and begins her day. when she gets home from work, she turns on her fairy lights and fans before removing her makeup and changing in to cozy clothes. as for quirks, maggie wouldn’t say she has any but her friends would be quick to point out her concentration face-- whenever she gets deep in to a hard task, her eyebrows screw up tightly and her lips purse. she doesn’t like to look in mirrors when the room is dark, she only gets out of bed on the left side, and she habitually sings in the shower even when she isn’t home alone.

» likes: precipitative weather like rain storms or snow ( especially thunderstorms ), vinyl records, lighting candles and allowing them to light the room, cooking or baking anything from scratch, old books with notes in the margin from an owner long forgotten, astronomy and any associated phenomena ( especially eclipses and meteor showers ), fleetwood mac and other classic rock icons, acts of service from loved ones, dogs with smushed faces, taylor swift, watching films (or rewatching films, whether new or old), freshly brewed tea, watching the sun set and staying awake to see it rise again, wisteria vines twisting around a fence, ‘casablanca’, f. scott fitzgerald novels, anything that is a dusty shade of sage green, tom hanks, vanilla bean ice cream (not french vanilla), using a polaroid camera to capture a moment, iced coffee with cinnamon, the beach during winter when the northern shores get a little bit icy, long drives at night with the windows down, sitting on the roof in a companionable silence with a loved one,  the color of deep maroon rust, cozy throw blankets and an unnecessary amount of pillows on the couch and bed

» dislikes: too much physical touch, indifference or apathy in the face of injustice, the deafening sound of crickets and cicadas at night, showing any signs of vulnerability, open-toed shoes, powdery or floral scents, olives, thin pillows, overhead lighting (lamps only, thank you very much), lack of a routine, being unable to read situations and prepare adequately, not feeling in control of any situation, harlequin novels, ladybugs and any other insects, disorganization (physically or emotionally.)

» flaws: she feels the need to always be the strong one that she often doesn’t allow herself the freedom to feel without pushing it down. she has a habit of not letting people in, especially people who are new to her, and even when she does, she is always terrified that she’ll lose them like she’s lost most other people that she loved. she is a control freak and can sometimes be a little boss.

– FAMILY – 

» parents:       ; phillip hugh hall ( father / pierce brosnan )      ; allison marie hall née clark ( mother / jamie lee curtis )    

» maternal grandparents:      ; richard ernest clark ( grandfather / tony curtis )      ; virginia ruth clark née franklin ( grandmother / janet leigh )

» paternal grandparents:      ; hugh alexander hall ( grandfather / kris kristofferson )      ; marguerite joan hall née green ( grandmother / ellen burstyn )

» sibling(s): n/a

» children: n/a

– APPEARANCE – 

» height: five feet, two inches

» weight: one hundred fifteen pounds

» eyes: maggie’s eyes are one of her most striking features. the espresso brown orbs are speckled with golden flecks; they’re a rounded, almost almond shape.

» hair: her hair is chestnut brown and it has a tendency to gleam copper and slightly golden when the light reflects off of it. for the majority of her life, she had a tendency of keeping the gentle waves cropped into a side-parted, blunt bob that rested just above her shoulders. she typically wore her hair straight or blown out. following the snap, she allowed it to grow out beyond its typical length. she keeps it trimmed to just below her shoulder blades with a set of wispy curtain bangs to compliment the natural waves that she now maintains.

» face and complexion: maggie has a light skin tone that tans in the sun. she has no freckles on her face but has quite a few down her chest and arms; none of them are very dark. she has a round face which can almost be cherubic but as she’s gotten older, she has developed a sharp jawline that makes her look more mature despite her stature. her rounded almond eyes are lined with thick, dark lashes. she has a small button nose that pinches minutely at its tip as it turns slightly upwards. her brows are full and straight with only a slight arch. she has full cheeks with small dimples that frame her smile. maggie’s lips are typically tinted a red berry shade; her bottom lip is slightly more voluminous than its top counterpart which is home to a sharp cupid’s bow. 

» build: maggie is petite, to say the least. she stands just slightly over five feet tall and weighs just over one hundred pounds. though slim, her figure is a narrow hourglass. despite her size, she’s quite agile and strong. years of channeling all of her emotions in to ballet as a child caused a habit that has yet to die. when she feels the need to get rid of excess emotion, she runs or attends a fitness class to channel that away.  

» defining marks: when she was eighteen, maggie and her best friend poppy got matching tattoos. on the inside of her left wrist, there is a small crescent moon to match a sun on poppy’s. following her parents death, she got a second tattoo and on the inside of her upper arm, close to the crook of her elbow, there is one of two ravens perched on a branch. several months after the blip, she got another tattoo. on her right side, on her ribs under her bra-line, there’s a small star housed within four concentric circles. 

» dress style: maggie’s fashion sense is on the border between classic and trendy. she doesn’t stray too far away from her comfort zone or wear too many patterns. she tends to stick to jewel tones and neutrals. for her work, her style tends to be business casual-- typically a blouse with a skirt or wide legged trousers and a heel. when she’s at home, an oversized sweater and leggings or pajama shorts are her go-to uniform. if she’s out running errands, she loves a flowy skirt or a pair of mom jeans with one of her dad’s old, classic band tees. her shoes are typically a revolving door of plain keds or converse, ankle boots, or a small heel.

» faceclaim: jenna louise coleman

– ROMANTIC & SEXUAL – 

» marital status: she is unmarried.

» sexual preference: although maggie is primarily heterosexual, she’s never been closed off to the idea of dating anyone of the same gender if she found that she was attracted to them.

» ever had sex: she had sex for the first time when she was a freshman in college; it was with her boyfriend at the time, nicholas gray. as she’s gotten older, she has had a variety of companions-- some were romantic partners, several one-night-stands, and two attempted friends-with-benefits arrangements. 

» opinion on sex: maggie isn’t ashamed to say that she enjoys sex and the freeing feeling that comes with it. 

» opinion on relationships: although she likes the idea of a relationship, maggie’s fear of not being in control makes it difficult to maintain one. before the snap, she had only been in one long-term relationship which she abruptly ended after the death of her parents. she found that it was easier to try and turn off her feelings than to deal with them as everything in her life changed. since graduating with her second degree, maggie has been trying to open herself back up to dating and the possibility of a relationship.

» turn ons: the feeling of someone brushing her hair off of her face, being praised, bravery, kindness, interlacing fingers when holding hands, a genuine smile, sincerity, strong hands, bright eyes, taller men, a strong jawline, delicate kisses that gradually deepen into something more, kisses down the neck, deep conversations and debates, cologne that isn’t overpowering

» turn offs: sleazy behavior, apathy towards important issues, party-scene demeanor, bragging, lying, being late, ill-fitting clothes, lacking ambition or drive for moving forward

» past relationships:       ; nicholas gray ( first love / ben barnes )

» current relationship:      ; n/a 

» future relationship:       ; steve rogers ( tbd / chris evans )      ; bucky barnes ( tbd / sebastian stan )

– FRIENDSHIP – 

» big group of friends or several close friends: maggie would rather have a smaller quantity of people in her life with better quality relationships than to have a large group of friends that she feels as though she doesn’t know. 

» best friend: maggie was a relatively lonely child; she spent a lot of her time reading and imagining her life in other worlds. she had some friends but none that ever ventured further than the occasional hangout. when she was a freshman in highschool, she sat next to poppy stewart on their first day of orientation and the two have been inseparable ever since.  

» ever lied to a friend: she’s told white lies when necessary but she’s never lied about something earth-shattering.

» the most horrible thing they did to a friend: when maggie broke up with nicholas, she left him a letter on his pillow before she left his apartment one morning. she avoided his calls afterwards and didn’t speak to him for several weeks until he came to her apartment to try and work things out. later in her life, maggie felt extremely guilty that she wasn’t able to confide in poppy about steve’s plan until after he had already left.

» list of friends -      ; poppy stewart ( best friend / annie murphy / @petalsofpoppys )      ; pepper potts ( boss, friend / gwenyth paltrow )      ; tony stark ( boss, family friend / robert downey jr )      ; natasha romanoff ( co-worker, close friend / scarlett johansson )      ; steve rogers ( co-worker, friend, boyfriend / chris evans )      ; bucky barnes ( friend, lover, boyfriend / sebastian stan )      ; sam wilson ( friend / anthony mackie )      ; wanda maximoff ( future friend / elizabeth olsen )      ; monica rambeau ( future friend / teyonah parris )

– MORALITY – 

» ever been drunk: the first time that maggie got drunk was her senior year of high school; she was at a house party with poppy and she since vowed to never touch any drink with ‘punch’ in the name, ever again.

» lied to a significant other: following the death of her parents, maggie never disclosed her tumultuous emotions to nicholas and so he was blindsided when she left him on one random morning. with an apologetic  note of a goodbye, maggie made sure no trace was left behind when she slipped from the apartment in to the warm summer breeze.

» cheated on significant other: maggie would never cheat on a partner. she would rather end things than break someone’s trust in her.

» gotten into a fight: she’s never gotten in to a physical altercation but following her move in to the avenger’s compound, natasha and steve helped to train her tactically. after she moved back to the city, bucky takes up the position of being her trainer. 

» deepest regret: not telling her parents how much she looked up to both of them before they died. 

» religion: maggie was not raised to be religious. her parents always emphasized the importance of trying to be morally good whenever you could. she identifies as an atheist.

– MISCELLANEOUS – 

» playlist: https://rb.gy/kxqfbu

» instagram:

» gifboard:

» character inspiration: leia organa (star wars trilogy), alex parrish (quantico), emma swan (once upon a time), amy pond (doctor who), buffy summers (buffy the vampire slayer), emily prentiss (criminal minds), lily evans (harry potter)

[wrestlingisfake]

All Out preview

Here we go with AEW's annual Labor Day weekend show in Hoffman Estates, just like the original All In show three years ago. I have been going to wrestling shows for days, and it all comes down to this!

The show starts at 8pm EDT, streaming on Bleacher Report (in the US and Canada) and Fite.tv for $49.99. A free pre-show will be available at 7pm EDT.

CM Punk vs. Darby Allin - This is CM Punk's first pro wrestling match since January 26, 2014, when he spent 49 minutes in the Royal Rumble working with a staph infection and a possible concussion. The following night he walked out of WWE, leading to seven and a half years of debate about what is next move would/should be. Two weeks ago he debuted with AEW and declared that he wanted to help the younger talent, starting with a match against Allin. Allin, for his part, took some exception to being the first opponent, as if he's just a stepping stone to bigger matches.

The big issue here is seeing how well Punk, 42, has held up after seven years away. I've seen reports that he's looking good in training, but you just don't know until the bell rings. Regardless, I expect the hometown crowd to be very forgiving to Punk, and Allin is good enough to carry the match if he really has to.

I feel like I ought to have more to say about this, but it also feels like everything's been said. I can't believe Punk would lose his first match in. But I can believe that if Punk insisted on doing the job, AEW would let him do that. It'd be unusual for the returning guy to come up short, but New Japan does that sometimes and it can work as a longer build to the first win. Still, it is Chicago (sort of), so my gut says Punk wins to let us feel special.

Kenny Omega vs. Christian Cage - Omega is defending the AEW men's world title. For months, Omega held four different belts, representing championships in AEW, AAA, and Impact Wrestling. But on August 13 Christian defeated Omega for the Impact/TNA world title (and later retired the TNA belt), leaving Kenny more vulnerable than ever. The AAA and Impact titles aren't at stake in this match, so no matter who what happens the winner will be a double champion.

Cage is a great wrestler, but not a great challenger for this match. For months the storytelling pointed towards Hangman Page in this spot, but Page was abruptly written off television so he could take paternity leave. I don't think anybody resents Christian for filling in, but nobody really expects the 47-year-old, recently returned from a seven-year retirement, to win the big one. It's also a rematch of something we already saw a few weeks ago, which isn't a big deal but it's a bit of a talking point when everyone is always dogging WWE for excessive rematches.

The big go-home angle on September 1 was that Omega, the Young Bucks, and their buddies destroyed Christian, the Lucha Bros., and their buddies. After the show went off the air Tony Khan promised that this kind of bullshit interference wouldn't happen in the Bucks-Lucha Bros. cage match. Well, okay, but this match doesn't have a steel cage, so I have a feeling there will be plenty of bullshit interference. And I'm willing to bet that interference gives Omega the win while somewhat protecting Christian.

Matt Jackson & Nick Jackson vs. Penta El 0M & Rey Fenix - The Young Bucks (Matt and Nick) are defending the AEW tag team title. The Lucha Bros. won a four-team tournament to earn this shot. The Bucks have relied on a lot of outside interference from their entourage lately, so to counter that this match will be held inside a steel cage. In AEW, the only way to win a cage match is by pinfall or submission.

I was at All Out 2019 when these teams last met in a crazy ladder match (which feels like a million years ago). Everyone raved about it, and also worried that the Bucks damn near killed themselves. Personally I had a really shitty view of the ring, which made it hard to follow the match. This time I've got a much better view, so I'm looking forward to some good karma.

In theory the Bucks have sworn off doing the dangerous shit from the ladder match, but technically this is a cage match so maybe they'll just do different dangerous shit. Personally I'm more intrigued by seeing them change their game to fit in the confines of the cage, which doesn't lend itself to springboard flips off the ropes. But the cage has places to stand at the top, which will encourage the idea of setting up crazy highspots.

I feel like a title change is possible, but I could just as easily see the Bucks hold the belts for another six months. Santana and Ortiz seem to be next in line for a shot, and honestly I think that would work with either of these teams. But I guess I'll lean towards the Bucks retaining.

Chris Jericho vs. MJF - MJF defeated Jericho on November 7, 2020, to earn entry into Jericho's stable, the Inner Circle. MJF inevitably betrayed Jericho and formed his own stable, the Pinnacle, which beat the Inner Circle on May 5, 2021. Jericho was so determined to get revenge that he accepted MJF's terms to perform five "labors" to earn a rematch, but MJF beat Jericho once again on August 18, 2021. So now MJF is 3-0 against Jericho. (For some reason we're counting the ten-man match on May 5 but not the other one on May 30, which Jericho's team won, but whatever.) To get this final rematch, Jericho has put his career on the line.

Suddenly everything else in this storyline has taken a back seat to the idea that this may really be the end of Chris Jericho's 30-year in-ring career. There are plenty of fans who think Jericho, 50, should hang it up, but now that it might actually happen I think people aren't so sure they're ready for it all to end. The timing for Jericho to tease this is perfect, because he could easily just win and go another couple of years, or he could easily just finish today.

Part of what makes this work so well is MJF. I think everyone recognizes that MJF is going to be a top name in the 2020s, and that Jericho wants to make this guy. So it's like, if Jericho can get retired by anyone he wants, why wouldn't he pick MJF? I think the match will feel a little flat if Jericho comes up short yet again, but if it's the end of his career it suddenly doesn't matter if he's lost too many times, y'know?

Still, something tells me this isn't the end. Something tells me Jericho has more he wants to do. And something tells me, in a few years, we may be wondering if it would have been better if he retired on this show.

Britt Baker vs. Kris Statlander - Baker is defending the AEW women's world title. I expect to like this match but there's not really much to it. Baker was feuding with Red Velvet a while back and then Statlander made the save for Velvet. Baker and her crony Rebel have brought in Jamie Hayter to stack the deck against Statlander and Velvet. I think it's way too soon for Baker to drop the title, and I don't expect Kris to be the one to take it from her. So this is kind of a formality to kill time until Baker vs. Thunder Rosa down the road.

Miro vs. Eddie Kingston - Miro's AEW TNT championship is on the line. Somehow in the past year Miro has gone from Kip Sabian's gamer buddy to a monster heel who thinks God has anointed him to beat the shit out of people. Kingston has gone from a gutless heel to the most beloved guy in AEW. Wrestling is great.

Anyway, I love both of these guys, but I can't just bet that all the wrestlers have a good time. If Eddie's going to win a championship, it really ought to be in New York. I realize Chicago is AEW's favorite and we get all the good shit, but I've had my CM Punk ice cream and I'm maaaaaybeee going to get the Bryan Danielson debut too, so I'm willing to let New York have this one thing. Just this one time.

Jon Moxley vs. Satoshi Kojima - Moxley is the new GCW world champion following a surprise appearance at last night's GCW show; I assume that does not turn this into a title match. Moxley told top contender Nick Gage "you know where to find me," and it's anyone's guess if Gage will show up here to accept that invitation.

Mox is a busy boy making friends everywhere he goes. For a few weeks he was angling for a match with a top New Japan Pro Wrestling star on this show. The leading candidate was Hiroshi Tanahashi, but several other interesting names were discussed by fans and pundits alike. After that buzz, Kojima is a bit of a letdown.

Don't get me wrong, it's cool to get a guy who's held the IWGP heavyweight title, the All Japan Triple Crown, and the NWA world title. Kojima's a legend. But at this stage of his career, he's the guy New Japan sends when the real stars aren't available. Besides which, my cup runneth over when it comes to 50-year-old guys showing up to prove they can wrestle like they're 40. And I don't think anybody really believes Kojima can beat Moxley.

Ideally, this match should end with a video message from a bigger New Japan name calling out Moxley. I'm not confident that will happen. Then again, at this point I wouldn't be surprised if Moxley showed up in NXT UK to pick a fight with WALTER.

Paul Wight vs. QT Marshall - Formerly the Giant in WCW and the Big Show in WWE, Wight debuted with AEW earlier this year as a color commentator. QT and his goons were picking on Wight's broadcast partner Tony Schiavone when Wight intervened, setting up this match.

I was actually kind of into the idea of this until Marshall showed photos of Wight's recent hip surgery. Up to that point, they'd managed to keep me from noticing if Wight could move okay, and I was willing to accept he could do a basic squash match without a problem. But now I just assume he's broken down and he'll need a lot of smoke and mirrors to do even a simple match. Maybe that's the plan, to get me to lower my expectations and be pleasantly surprised. I sure hope it works out.

I'm about 95% sure Wight clobbers QT and just wins handily. There's a chance QT's squad pulls enough shenanigans to get a bullshit win, but I'm not sure what the point would be.

21-woman Casino Battle Royale - This is AEW's funky concept for a gauntlet battle royale. Five women start the match, and then every five minutes another wave of five enters; the 21st entrant gets to come out alone. Eliminations can occur at any time, by exiting the ring over the top rope to the floor. The last woman left after the others have been eliminated is declared the winner, and receives a future title match against the AEW women's champion.

AEW has announced 20 participants: Abadon, Anna Jay, Big Swole, Diamante, Emi Sakura, Hikaru Shida, Jade Cargill, Jamie Hayter, Kiera Hogan, KiLynn King, Leyla Hirsch, Nyla Rose, Penelope Ford, Rebel, Red Velvet, Riho, Skye Blue (a late substitution for Julia Hart), Tay Conti, The Bunny, Thunder Rosa.

The 21st spot has been left open for a surprise. Ruby Soho (formerly Ruby Riott in WWE) is widely expected to join AEW, and this would be a sensible spot for that to happen. But there are other women who could potentially debut here as a swerve.

I always want to pick the surprise entrant to win these things, but they really haven't done all that well in AEW battle royales. I could see them giving the win to, say, Big Swole, and just having Britt Baker beat her a few weeks later on Dynamite. Or Thunder Rosa could win to set up a major program for the next pay-per-view. They have a lot of options, which makes it hard to predict but fun to watch.

Orange Cassidy & Chuck Taylor & Wheeler YUTA & Luchasaurus & Jungle Boy vs. Matt Hardy & Marq Quen & Isiah Kassidy & Jack Evans & Angelico - This is booked for the pre-show. Hardy's heel group has been feuding with most of the midcard babyfaces for months. I don't expect this match will blow off the feud, but it'd be nice if it did so we could move on to something else. Orange's team should probably win.

[polin-erospsyche]

My Angel, Please Let Me Down Slowly - a Jordelia fanfic

Sidenote: I don’t really know what to say apart for that I had this idea for a fanfiction and for some reason I decided to write it and then I decided to share it. Like we say: if nothing is ventured, nothing is gained right? I have never felt so vulnerable on this hellsite before because fanfic is not what I really do and I certainly have never shared my writing before. I tried to make this as close to the character as I could, I’m sure you’ll find that there are mistakes here and there. It also ended up being much longer than I thought it would be, I ramble a lot who is suprised?  I hope you’ll read it and that you’ll enjoy, I certainly had fun writing it. 

“So? How do you feel?” Lucie asked excitedly. James stared at the thin silver band Grace was holding in front of him, seemingly lost in a daze. They stood in the drawing room of the London Institute with Lucie, Will and Tessa hovering, eagerly looking at James to look for any changes after the bracelet had come off.

None of them really knew the exact reason for which Grace had gone against Tatiana Blackthorn and accepted Lucie’s offer to join the London Institute and fight against Belial. Lucie had assured everyone that it was much better if they didn’t know the reason as, in truth, she wanted to keep their plans to bring Jesse back a secret just a little longer. Once on their side, Grace had quickly although reluctantly admitted that James was in fact not genuinely in love with her but was under the spell of the bracelet he wore since he was thirteen. Once she had explained Tatiana’s and Belial’s plan and the bracelet’s function, Will had exclaimed that this was completely unacceptable and that it had to be taken off at once. Everyone had agreed. However, due to the late hour of the night and because James wanted to do it privately, they had all been sent home with the promise that they would be able to come and check on James the following morning. All at the exception of Cordelia who had insisted on staying behind and was currently waiting in the library with Matthew who had decided to keep Cordelia company and wanted to show her an essay written by Oscar Wilde. Being responsible for the bracelet’s charm, Grace was the only who could take it off easily, and so, here there were with the bracelet removed.

“He’s not going to feel very different right away as once the bracelet is off there is still a remnant of the bond.” Grace replied for James. James disagreed, he felt as if he had woken up from a long slumber, and were finally able to breathe normally. He saw the world not through the veiled eyes of a passive body bound to an invisible force but as if he could experience everything around him for himself again. Grace had also lost this ethereal beauty he had found so fascinating. She remained stunning with her angel soft blond hair closing to silver, her frail complexion and her big grey eyes but her beauty suddenly did not make him want to follow her to the end of the world or throw himself in the river Thames. He realized with a sudden jolt that she was talking, to him more specifically, and that he had missed most of it.

“… you’ll be all right and I’m … you … you must know…” she paused, looking unsure. He looked at her with a look between resentment and expectation and wondered what she could possibly want him to know. Was she going to apologize? And if she did, what would he be able to say? “Never mind, we’ll talk soon. When you’ll be feeling more like yourself.”  

“Yes soon, just not right away. I need some time to think and to reflect.” to get away from you James thought. He would not let her know how much he could not stand being in her presence right now, he would be civil. After all she couldn’t really be blamed, she had had no choice but to obey the witch.

“James?” asked Tessa gently “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I assure you.” Looking towards his father he quickly added “Don’t look at me like that papa, you’re making me anxious.”

Will looked as if this was the first time he’d ever truly seen his son and wondered whether to make him stay in bed the next day with ten blankets, a hot cup of tea and the curtains drawn so as not to risk James developing a weird sort of illness.

“I’m sorry Jamie bach, it’s just” he walked closer to James “we are your parents, our job is to worry for you. Are you sure you’re alright? I can call Jem right now if you want me to, I don’t mind.”

“Will!” Tessa chastised.

“It’s not necessary to call Uncle Jem. I just feel a little weird and lighter than usual, which is not so different from the first time Grace took off the bracelet.” James glanced at Grace who intensely stared at the ground as if the cracks in the floorboard was the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

“Well if he’s alright I think we should go and tell Cordelia. I promised her I’d let her know as soon as the whole ordeal was passed. I’m sure she must worry.” Lucie chirped in.

Cordelia. Daisy. Angel. Images came rushing to James, her soft and warm embrace, her tenacity, the smiles she would only reserve for him, and his irrepressible need at times to run his fingers through her auburn hair. And how, at each of these times, he had to force himself not to do it as he would never have let himself cross that line. He owed Cordelia, who had given her reputation to save him, not to lead her on. And although they had eventually, after five months of pretence, reached a place where they were comfortable around each other and started to share inside jokes, their engagement was still a sham and he would not pretend that there was something there when there wasn’t. But was that true? Hadn’t he told her that he had never wanted anything more than to kiss her when they were in the Whispering Room? And, unknown to Cordelia, that desire had never really went away even after Grace had put the bracelet back onto his wrist. He didn’t know exactly how he felt about Cordelia but he knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had never loved Grace.

He had to see Cordelia. He had to explain to her and hope that she would understand and give him a chance. And maybe with just a bit of luck she would not feel indifferent to him and she had and still did share the same desire as him when they shared their first kiss. And they would then be able to figure out their feelings together. He had to go to the library, see her, talk to her.

“I appreciate everyone’s worry, really, and I will let you fuss around me at your heart’s content tomorrow. But Lucie is right, Daisy has been waiting.”

“Great! Let’s go.” Lucie started to walk towards the door but was stopped as James grabbed her elbow.

“No Lucie. Alone. I need to see her alone, please?”

Lucie pouted, feeling as if she was going to miss all the fun, but gestured for him to go. James who needed no more encouragements hastened out of the drawing room and ran down the halls of the Institute.

When he arrived in front of the library doors, he took a moment to steel himself and tried to get a hold of his muddled thoughts. After tonight he might not have to pretend anymore. He might be able to reach for her hand or play with her hair or take her in his arms and kiss her whenever he wished to. Not because he had to go along with a lie but simply because they both wanted to. He took a breath in, reached for the library door, slowly opened it and for the second time that night he froze.

The room was dimly lit by an oil lamp placed on the fireplace mantel but in the far corner he could discern two figures leaned against a bookshelf, clinging to each other, with an open book discarded at their feet. Probably the book Matthew wanted to show Cordelia. The smaller figure let out a soft moan and James shut his eyes. Suddenly the floor under his feet seemed no longer stable. His head and heart were pounding as if he had breathed in to quickly and yet there suddenly seemed like there would never bee enough air for him to breath normally. The energy that had made him almost run to the library was sapped and for a minute his world had lost its direction and a part of him wished he could still be under Grace’s influence.

“Matthew” whispered Cordelia.

James opened his eyes, already adjusting to the darkness of the room, only to see Cordelia staring back at him. Matthew still had his head bend, kissing her neck the way James had done not so long ago, the way he still wanted to do now.

“Matthew, stop.” James wasn’t sure which of them had said it but to his short-lived relief Matthew lifted his head but only to follow Cordelia’s gaze and lend his eyes onto James.

Matthew immediately scrambled into an upright position trying to smooth his hair and clothes out.

“James! Here you are, we were worried. I was just reading a passage from The Decay of Lying.” Said Matthew biting his lower lip, his hair dishevelled, the first few buttons on his waistcoat undone. He was pointing at the book Cordelia had now picked up and clutched in one hand, her other hand hovering at her lips.

“Listen to this and tell me what you think, “What is interesting about people in good Society is the mask that each one of them wears, not the reality that lies behind the mask”.’ Matthew recited, because of course he would have learned by heart Wilde’s writing. How fitting as well that out of all of Wilde’s quotes he had picked one about masks, James thought.

“Riveting.” James let out through a forced smile. “I’m sorry for interrupting your passionate reading, I should have knocked. I just wanted to let you know that Grace took the bracelet off and I knew you were both waiting.”

Matthew’s expression hardened “I told you, didn’t I, that she was not as angelic as she was trying to make you believe. At least now I won’t have to try and prove it and hopefully she will be on her way once we win against Belial and Tatiana.” James didn’t know the reasons but it seemed that recently over the past five months or so Matthew had developed an even more pronounced dislike of Grace. “Anyway,” Matthew’s expression softened “how are you feeling?”

“Everyone has been asking me that.” James sighed. He threw a glance at Cordelia, everyone had been asking except her, she hadn’t said a thing. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning when my head is less foggy. I’ll leave you to whatever it is that you were doing.” And with that James closed the door and left.

He was halfway down the hallway when he heard quick, light footsteps “Wait! James, please, wait. I can explain.” The way she was almost begging him to stop was like shards of glass in his heart, but he kept walking faster.

“It’s not what you think.”

“No?” James stopped abruptly. “It seemed really clear to me what was going on in that room. I assure you I do not need any further explanations.” He was now facing her.

“We were reading …” started Cordelia.

“Reading doesn’t usually include kissing. At least from what I’ve experienced, it doesn’t.” James said with finality.  

Cordelia stared at James not knowing what to say. He was angry and she wasn’t sure he would listen to anything she had to say right now. Then she ventured carefully “Would it make a difference if I told you it wasn’t supposed to happen? You weren’t supposed to see it. We both feel bad, we’re both sorry.” She could barely meet his eyes when she finished.

James slightly shook his head and exhaled “You don’t have to, neither of you owes me an explanation. You’re not bound to me in any way just like I am not bound to you. We’re both free of pursuing any relationships we want. I just never thought of all the men you could possibly have in London you’d go with my parabatai, my Matthew. I feel foolish, I should have known. I’ve seen the way you started to look at Math, the way you act around each other and the way you started to look at each other when you thought no one was watching. Just tell me something, and please answer me honestly, for Matthew’s sake, do you love him?”  

“I don’t know.” She murmured, looking down at her clasped hands, her knuckles almost white.

Her answer knocked the air out of James. He thought that might have been the case, of course he did. He hadn’t lied when he said that he saw Cordelia and Matthew, their relationship had changed ever so gradually. While James was busy trying not to act on his false feelings for Grace and to comprehend why his heart seemed to beat just a little quicker when Cordelia entered a room, she had been busy keeping up a false engagement and falling for his best friend. He just never thought she would admit to it or that he would have to hear it.

Cordelia lifted her head, hoping to erase what she had said, hoping to bring the conversation back to them and not linger on her unclear feelings for Matthew “But the bracelet is off and …”

“And nothing has changed.” Except that everything had, but she didn’t have to know this. More than anything he wanted to see Cordelia happy even if her happiness costed him his. He would rather have cut out his own heart than take away Cordelia’s chance at being in love, so he continued “Daisy, I truly am sorry. I don’t think that either of us were ready for this turn of event but I do think we still need to get married, just to keep your reputation intact. But once this year is up if Matthew makes you happy then I will be happy for you.”

“So you’re not angry? I thought that … I don’t know what I thought. I just thought you would care.” I thought you would be jealous. Cordelia hadn’t kissed Matthew to make James jealous, of course not, but her treacherous heart still hoped he would return her feelings and so, in effect, would be showing signs of jealousy.

“Of course I care! You have become such a dear friend to me. I care for you immensely; you should know that by now. And no, I’m not angry, I’m just surprised. I saw it coming, I just never though it would actually happen.”  

So there it was, she thought, he wasn’t angry or jealous just caught off guard. She had hoped that tonight would turn out so differently. That without the bracelet on he would tell her he loved her. That they would decide that the marriage wouldn’t be a sham but a real one based on love, understanding and trust. Yet, she never felt further from James than at this moment. He hadn’t loved her then; he didn’t love her now. And worst of all she wasn’t even sure how she felt about Matthew. When had things between them started to go so wrong?

“It’s late, I think we both need some rest after every that has happened today. I’ll see you in the morning Cordelia.”

As he started to slowly walk away, she reached for his hand and intertwined her fingers with his.

“I’m so sorry, I wish it could have gone another way.���

“Me too.” Maybe things would have been different if I had told you when we were younger, I just didn’t know it until I saw you with him my angel. James gently pried his fingers away and returning to the silence and darkness of his bedroom.

That night he promised himself that he would stand by Matthew and Cordelia, would smile at their happiness and in time would be able to mend his broken heart. He would not and could not stand in the middle of their happiness because he loved them both beyond words. He came to the resolution that if he could see them both happy with each other than he would have to be content with that.  

[theageoftheunderstatement]

Far Out Magazine: Arctic Monkeys’ ‘Live at the Royal Albert Hall’ is pandemic perfection

Joe Taysom December 5, 2020

When live music has faded to a distant memory as the months continue to drift by, the longing for that infectious energy that can only be created within the confines of a sweaty venue is only getting greater with each passing day. Musicians have tried their hardest to recreate that magic since March but, despite the best efforts of everyone involved, nothing comes close to the real thing.

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to forge that authentic atmosphere on Zoom but, after nine months of no live music, Arctic Monkeys have delivered the best replica you could possibly find right now. Live at the Royal Albert Hall captures Sheffield’s favourite sons taking to the stage at London’s world-famous Royal Albert Hall in 2018 around the release of Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino and performed in front of a more intimate crowd than they had done in years.

The show, held in 2018, was in aid of War Child UK, a specialist charity for children affected by conflict. They aim to reach children as early as possible when conflict breaks out and stay to support them through their recovery — keeping them safe, helping them learn and cope with their experiences, and equipping them with skills for the future. They also offer counselling and psycho-social support for vulnerable children through specialist helplines, and campaign for changes to policies and practices to support children in conflict, working with children and young people themselves to demand their rights.

The June evening was a historic one for Arctic Monkeys in a number of ways. They not only performed tracks from the recently released Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino for the very first time, but it also marked their first show in the UK since Leeds Festival in 2014. Most importantly, however, their career-spanning set is a timely reminder as to why they are still the most important band of the 21st Century.

The show starts in triumphant style with a gorgeous opening rendition of ‘Four Starts Out Of Five’ which gets the Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino era truly up and running. They then turned the clock back a decade and burst through thunderous performances of ‘Brianstorm‘ and ‘Crying Lighting’ before shifting the gears into fifth album gear for ‘Do I Wanna Know?’.

Over the course of the 20 song set, there’s not one single dud and it makes for a thrilling listening experience. The new songs are met with great excitement and are given the same kind of ovation as classics such ‘Pretty Visitors’, a number which always gets the fans out of their seats. Arctic Monkeys have grown up simultaneously with a large chunk of their audience, a fanbase which has traversed through their own long-haired Humbug phase or greaseball AM period themselves. It is that connection with their fans that other bands lack. Live at the Royal Albert Hall is a whirlwind 90-minute experience that captures the first 15-years of their story.

The encore saw the band play the magnificent ‘Star Treatment’ for the first time before stepping things up a few thousand notches and delivering a pounding performance of ‘The View From The Afternoon’. Alex Turner, Matt Helders, Jamie Cook and Nick O’Malley then left the 5,000-strong crowd on their knees pining for more after ending on a riotous rendition of ‘R U Mine’.

The record is as close as you’re going to get to a greatest hits album from Arctic Monkeys and the live element gives it that extra special something. You can feel the tangible energy that’s created from their fans which makes its way on to the album make it one of the all-time definitive live albums and momentarily makes you feel like you’re there at the Royal Albert Hall.

Live at the Royal Albert Hall will quite rightly earn its place in folklore as the years go on and people remember Arctic Monkeys for being one of Britain’s greatest. There’s something about the intimate experience of listening to a live album with your headphones in that reigns supreme from half-gazing at a live stream on YouTube and Arctic Monkeys have just answered everyone’s prayers with this beautiful antidote for 2020.