#Jamie writes stuff

[samsheughan]

Sam Heughan ↳ Gold Derby | Hublander -> February 27, 2024

[heretodestroyou]

i would like to point out the RATTLE OF COINS in jamie’s pocket when he gets to roy’s party. he knew he was going to swear, and my man came PREPARED for phoebe. i just know he pays his taxes ON TIME

[autism-swagger]

Since the identity of the Sweet Sixteen Killer is known in Timeline 2, I don't think it would be as big of a part of the town's identity as it in Timeline 1. So I propose that the big unsolved mystery the town builds itself around in Timeline 2 isn't the killings.

It's Jamie.

The supposed exchange student who was only in town for five days, who knew things she shouldn't (couldn't) have, who disappeared without a trace and, when looked into, never even existed to begin with.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

The afterparty’s loud and buzzing and of course there’s Jamie, smack-dab in the middle of it, burning bright and with glitter all around him; in his smile and on his clothes and in the adoration of the onlookers.

He’s blinding, Roy thinks, and then he thinks sappy, and has a stronger drink.

Jamie finds him, though, under the neon lights.

”Hey, Coach,” he half-shouts over the music, “can I have another beer?”

And what is Roy to say? Who is he to deny him? On this night, he doesn’t even want to. He grins, indulgently. ”You’re fucking player of the year, you can have anything you want!”

And for a moment, much too short and lasting a lifetime, Jamie just looks at him, and then he asks, head cocked to the side, “Yeah? Anything? Can I kiss you then?”

There’s something new in his eyes; or something old, that Roy has only just allowed himself to see. It leaves him untethered; unsure, at the edge of everything that is to come, and everything that might be.

“Are you taking the piss?” he demands, and there’s a part of him – a craven, cowering part – that wants Jamie to say yes. Wants Jamie to laugh it off, and dance away into the night, leaving Roy safe in the shadows.

Jamie does not. Jamie has always been far too honest at inopportune moments. “No,” he says, sounding affronted at the suggestion. “I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, yeah? ‘Course not. But like… can I?”

And Roy is only a man, isn’t he, and Jamie is… Jamie, and shining so very bright. “All right,” Roy says, and his voice is hoarse, but it isn’t unsure. “Go on then.”

The way Jamie’s face lights up… “Yeah?” And he’s already stepping closer and his hand is already reaching for the side of Roy’s neck and even if Roy had wanted to tell him no it’s much, much too late for that.

“Yeah,” Roy says.

And Jamie kisses him. And Jamie kisses him. And the world is made anew.

[blank-house]

Alright silly ask but how does the cast hold my purse in the club while I run to the restroom?

Deja and Reynah are clutching it casually, but their hands are over the zip lining. They laugh and joke but their eyes are incredibly attentive over everything that’s happening. If someone tries something, they’re immediately holding that purse tighter— whole demeanor doing a 180 lol

Cameron’s got it in front of them the whole time, squished between both hands. They’re fiddling with the strap but they’re keeping it close to their chest.

Elio has it swung over his neck and dangling in front of his chest. It’s easy for him to hold it that way AND keep an eye on.

Jamie would either have it on his lap, or he’s just lightly holding it in front of him while leaning on a wall/counter. In either scenario, both of his hands are folded over the top, keeping it close but not so seriously.

And then Percy’s *wearing* it. Strap on his shoulder or between his fingers. He’s always got one hand on it while it’s hanging off his side just so that he knows it’s not going anywhere.

[findafight]

really want a social media fic where the internet tries to decipher what the heck is going on between royjamiekeeley post s3. Like what is going on with them. Roy and Jamie's public distaste for each other becoming their funky little friendship, Keeley and Jamie being exes who are still friendly, Roy and Keeley also exes that also seem friendly, actually very close. Possible reconciliation ? but it's also like. There are pap shots where it's not clear if they're kissing or not. Between all three of them. The internet sleuthing of discovering Jamie's old Roy Kent stan account. That was also a Keeley jones thirst account (to be fair it was only thinly veiled by stan status because lbr it was a Roy Kent thirst account too.) The pictures of the three of them arm-in-arm and laughing going out and about. The wild speculation about which one of the boys Keeley is fucking without even the barest hint and thinking it could be both. Jamie making veiled references to living something even better than his teen fantasy but it's always in a tone that suggests it's not just football he's talking about with a smug grin. Roy getting caught looking fond in public far more often in the past year than he ever did in the rest of his career. Keeley deflecting questions in a way that doesn't seem like a deflection. The constant presence the other two have on each other's social media (even Roy, who posts something other than a game update or official statements etc more often, but gets into public twitter fights less). All of them so crazy about each other and so boldly in love they're honestly surprised most people haven't figured it out.

Am I going to have to write this? Am I going to have to figure out how to format tweets or whatever on ao3 for this? Fuck.

[someplace-darker]

In The Static | Ted Lasso

Pairing: Ted Lasso x reader (no y/n) Wordcount: 2.1k Warnings: panic attack/talks of panic attacks, vague mentions of trauma. That's about it I think, it's a touch angst and hurt/comfort I suppose. Fluff. Summary: Ted thought he was past his panic attacks until he encounters another, and you follow him to make sure he's okay. A/N: "now jay" you might be saying "wasn't the last thing you posted smut almost a year ago?" and the answer is yes. But i've recently become insanely attached to Ted Lasso, and I dipped my toe into writing more than a wip. SO here's my middle aged white man of the month. Enjoy :)

“REFEREE!!!” Keeley stands with a force that causes her to latch onto your arm to keep from falling forward. It continues to astound you that for such a tiny lady, she really contains an insane amount of spunk. One of the opposing team’s men had just slid Sam’s legs out from under himself, causing him to land hard on his shoulder. The game had been a rough one so far, more aggressive and bitter than most. Richmond had been respectful at first (as per usual) but the second their opponents had started playing violent and dirty, that changed.

Roy and Beard were obviously shouting and pointing angrily, though you couldn’t make out what they were saying from your seat in the box. Ted, however, was standing stiffly with his balled fists shoved into the pockets of his Richmond zip-up. You can feel that something is off. Even if you can’t see his face, you know him well enough to read his body language. There’s mere minutes left in the game and the teams are tied.

Rebecca is already standing and gathering her belongings to head back in, gesturing for the lot of you to follow. That’s exactly what you begin to do before the crowd goes ape-shit, jumping from their seats and screaming so loud it makes your head thrum. 

“ROJAS INTERCEPTS THE KICK AND PASSES TO TARTT AND JUST LIKE THAT-”

You turn just in time to watch Jamie kick the ball into the net, the stadium erupting in cheers that shake the ground.

“AFC RICHMOND TAKES ANOTHER VICTORY 2-1 IN A SHOCKING LAST SECOND SCORE”

Keeley, Higgins, and Rebecca rejoice, grabbing at each other in shock. Placing your fingers between your lips you let out a piercing whistle, jumping up and down as thousands of chants echo. You look down to your coaches, expecting to see all three soaking in the sweet relief of not gaining another loss. Instead, you see Ted darting for the locker room, head down with his phone held two inches from his face. It was obvious to you that he was trying to use it as a cover. 

“I’ll meet back with you guys later, I’ve gotta check something real quick.” 

They smile and wave you off, relishing in the buzzing excitement clearly felt throughout the facility. As much as you wish you could join them in celebration, you were pretty sure Ted needed you more. So you slip through the small crowds with ease, having much practice during your time with Richmond, taking the back staircase to the locker room hallway. 

At first you check his office, finding only his jacket laying on the floor. The second spot you search is the right one, opening the door to darkness. You almost turn and leave but a staggered breath gives him away. 

“Ted?” you whisper, stepping into the boot room and closing the door gently. He sniffles almost silently and hums in response, curling in on himself when the lights flicker on at your touch.. You’ve never seen him look so small before, his entire body condensed into half of his height in the corner of the room, the sight moving you to shut the lights back off for his sake.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, walking over to kneel in front of him. He has his head placed between his knees, hands on the back of head with his fingers intertwined tightly. As much as you know of his panic attacks, you’ve never been present for one. Something tells you he tends to keep it that way with everyone around him. 

However, you’re well versed with them yourself.

“I’m gonna sit beside you, but I won’t touch you unless you say it’s okay.”

You lower yourself onto the ground, the floor cold beneath your already freezing ass. England's weather was not kind to the warm blooded. Ted doesn’t lift his head all the way, simply angles it towards you just enough for an eye to peek out from behind his arm. He looks at you with the gaze of a wounded puppy, eyes red and wet, smeared with warm tears.

The silence that follows is deafening, a faint ringing the only thing you hear. Ted looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. It’s not like you can blame him. The last time he opened up to someone he considered close about his panic attacks, it ended up plastered on every magazine and tabloid across the country. Trust within himself and others had been fractured- not broken. No one could ever betray Coach Lasso enough to break that within him, it was fundamental to who he was as a person.

After a few more minutes of silence his foot slides over to yours, just barely nudging it. He lifts his head and sniffles, using his sleeve to wipe the mix of tears and snot off his face.

“I want to tell you about it, I do. I’m just… stuck. Feels like if I tell you, it’ll be too much,” he murmurs, keeping his foot pressed to yours.

“I understand, Ted,” you whisper. “I started having panic attacks before I was even a teenager. I’d been through things- rough things -and they plagued me for years.” He begins to unfurl himself, listening intently to every word you say, the blatant honesty and vulnerability easing his anxiety. “It took me a while to open up to anyone about them, let alone a therapist. I spent so long trying to hide them, that when I finally did get help I felt like a fake.” 

Ted adjusts himself to sit up straighter, shimmying closer so your shoulders touch. You can tell he’s trying to be inconspicuous about it, but the man is known to be anything but subtle.  Outside you can hear the boys begin filing into the hallway, headed for the locker room surely for some type of victory activity. Their shadows dance across the wall in the darkened boot room, slashed into segments by the blinds slanted slightly open. Both of you seemed to have held your breaths as they passed, because as soon as they’re gone there’s a simultaneous exhale of relief.

An amused breath comes from Ted, palm pressing from the corner of his eye to the tip of his cheekbone to wipe away the stray tears. He knocks his knee against yours and dares to glance at you, opening up enough to make eye contact. Here in this room, he looks more human than you think you’ve ever seen him. For the most part he keeps his mood insanely optimistic, tending to care more about others happiness than his own. It gave him an almost otherworldly bounce to his step and light to his eyes. 

But now that he’s sat no more than two inches in front of you with puffy eyes and a chewed lip, Ted is just… a broken man. 

“You’ll never be too much, Ted. It’s normal to feel stuck, and it’s okay to not be able to talk about it yet.” His eyes flick to your hand when you lift it towards him, a lifeline of trust, openness in the form of warm skin and an upward facing palm. Internal conflict tugs at his lungs, his breath hitching as he weighs his options for all of five seconds before taking your hand. You are someone Ted knows he can always find solace in. 

Someone who he could spot in a crowd of thousands, someone who he will always seek out. 

His other hand reaches to pat the top of yours, rubbing his thumb against your skin in soothing circles. A shuddered breath begins to pass his lips, but he smothers it to ashes with the cool press of a kiss to your wrist. 

Humming amusedly at the feeling of his mustache tickling your skin, you lean your head on his shoulder, moving slightly as they lift with the intake of air into his lungs. “I suppose you’re right. I just feel bad that I haven’t spoken to you ‘bout it,” he tsk’s softly to himself, carefully navigating his brain for the right words. 

“I was fine out there, y’know? I’ve been doin’ better, Sharon’s helped a lot. But it just got so loud, and everything felt out of my control- out of any of our boys’ control and I- I just couldn’t breathe. Tunnel vision, boom, just like that.”

You whisper encouragements softly under your breath, murmurs of ‘it’s okay’ and ‘you can keep going’ pushing him gently in the right direction. Voices can be heard from the locker room, loud cheering and chanting from the team acting as muffled background noise for Ted’s moment of vulnerability. 

“After everything that happened with Nate, I learned to mask it a bit better I guess. That’s the fancy word Doc told me about,” the corner of his lips quirks up “I figured I’d be okay in here for a bit anyway, then you walked in.” Your brows furrow and you pull away from his shoulder, opening your mouth to apologize for intruding but he beats you to it.

“No, no, that sounded different than I meant. I am very glad that you found me here. I needed you even if I didn’t know it,” he traces the details of your face with his eyes, not stopping you when you move your head back down to his shoulder. 

“I think you’ve worked on it so much quicker than you realize, Ted. It wasn’t that long ago, yeah? Healing and improving takes time, and it’s okay that it takes time. I certainly took my time,” you muse, channeling your own therapist’s word. “But I think it’s right on par with who you are, who I know you to be, that you got on it as fast as you did. Even if it was begrudgingly at first.”

“Yeah, Doc definitely had her work cut out.”

You laugh, normally at first but then Ted snorts and you both lose it, bodies bumping against each other with the shakes that come with post-meltdown laughs. Soon enough you’re both wiping away tears of a different variety, the air in the room much lighter than before. You take that moment to push yourself up and off the floor, lending a hand to Ted to pull him up.

“I am immensely proud of you, Coach Lasso. So is the team. You have a very large family backing you up, as unorthodox as said family is.” You take one step closer, hand still holding onto his, pressed between your bodies. Taking your free hand, you hold the side of his face and lean in to kiss his cheek, thumb stroking his jaw. 

Ted presses into your lips, chasing your touch even when you turn to the door. Twisting the knob open you find Will standing there, boots tied by their laces hanging over his shoulder, hand outreached to grab the now absent handle. 

He blinks at the two of you for a second, gaze one of vague shock, before curling his lips in an embarrassed smile and stepping out of the way.

“Not a word, Will,” you sing-song when he opens his mouth, pulling Ted down the hall to stand outside of the locker room door. 

You can hear Roy in the middle of a somehow happy/angry sounding congratulation speech that only he is capable of, grinning and turning to face your Coach once more. “Now, get your butt in there and relish in the sweet taste of winning.”

“I mean, relish is pretty tasty-”

“Ted.”

“Yep,” Ted takes a deep breath and nods, squeezing your hand “you coming in with me?” 

“I don’t want to intrude on your moment, Coach.”

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and pushes the door open, dragging you with him. The boys’ faces light up, immediately rushing to storm him, all reaching to touch him and jumping up and down. Their team song buzzing and bouncing along with them.

“WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE, WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE, WE KNOW WE ARE, WE’RE SURE WE ARE, WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE”

You slide past the group, safely reaching Roy and Beard without your feet being stomped on. The smile on your face is one of pure joy and contentment, not faltering when Beard slides to your side, bumping your elbow. 

“Thanks,” he speaks, nodding towards Ted. It’s easy to know what he means immediately, always one to be of few words. 

“No need to thank me,” you reply easily, watching your family bond even more “it’s what we do.”

[kat-rose-griffith]

Something that I really appreciate about The Rookie is the very realistic way that they portray abusive/neglectful/or just generally shitty parents. Like they don’t ever magically change them for the purpose of wrapping up an episode, they don’t suddenly choose to be better, most of the time they stay shitty. Lucy’s parents are highly critical of her especially for being a cop, one even going as far as disowning her, and even though they do seem to still be in her life, they don’t magically change their treatment or stance on that no matter how great she does. Tim’s alcoholic abusive father is still an abuser even on his death bed and isn’t remorseful for any of it. Nolan’s mother is a lying con artist that pops in and out of his life as she pleases and directly causes him problems every time, even after her death, with no particular care for him only how she can use him.

The best part of these storylines for me is also that they don’t make the characters forgive their shitty parents, especially when they choose not to change. Nolan’s mother dies and even being the ultimate good guy of the show he doesn’t suddenly act like she was a different person just because she died, even in the face of other characters trying to do so, and that’s completely fine. Tims sister had different experiences with their father because Tim shielded her from a lot of it so they approach their father dying differently and even with her pushing him to act differently about it, he doesn’t ever forgive him or visit him for her sake. The only reason he sees him is because of a murder his father was involved in and to tell him off one last time. Tim walks away from that room not forgiving his abusive father but instead choosing to let go of the resentment he had been harboring for himself and for his sister. He didn’t want to be so angry anymore, he didn’t want to be like him, so he chose to work at being better and that is a far more worthy story to tell.

There’s no forgiving of the abuser in their storylines and I really appreciate that. I like it for its realism but I also like it because in a way it takes the power back from their terrible parents because the story is not about them, at its core it’s about the people that they hurt and how that affects them. It’s so much more compelling seeing the characters constantly working to overcome that to be the people they want to be than the parents magically becoming better because their kids had character development

I don’t want to make this post any longer so I won’t get into it but they also approach forgiveness and change, when it’s appropriate, really well too. The best example is with Tim’s ex wife Isabel. She’s kind of a combination of the stuff I described in this post and how well they do forgiveness on this show.

[transmimir]

Hello fellow selfshippers, a question for the community:

Would anyone be interested if I took the time to write a resource to help people write better gender neutral, male, and trans+nonbinary readers in general? I know i'm not the only non-fem and non-cis person in the community whose felt frustration over the lack of representation for us in reader insert fanfiction, and the disappointment when finding some, but it's clearly written without any research into how to portray those different perspectives from yourself. I've honestly reached such a stage of frustration because, even having f/os from massive fandoms, I've still been scrolling through mountains of f!reader fics with either zero or just a handful of m!readers that it's made me retreat heavily from the community as a whole because I just don't feel included or cared about. Does anyone think that this would actually help the community as a whole? Are there any authors who do want to make this kind of content, but are too scared because they don't know how to write from this perspective? I want to gauge interest before I attempt investing the time in it or if it'll just be something that ends up lost to the ether. I'd appreciate rbs to get some more eyes on this <3

[mj-iza-writer]

Sp Special Containment part 21

The group got in after a little while of playing in the snow.

"Let's get them changed into some dry clothes so they can get warmed up", the Director looked at the shivering weapons, "I'll have to see if we can get them anything warmer to wear."

"I love the sweater", Jaimie commented, "can I keep it."

"Yes Jaimie", the Director smiled, as he looked at the sweater. It had the facilities emblem on the front.

"Do you think we will get to do that again", Caretaker almost laughed.

"Possibly", the Director nodded, "but we definitely need warmer clothes if it gets any colder. Jaimie, you can definitely keep the sweater. How about I pass along a catalog to your caregivers. You can each pick out a sweater to have as registered clothing in your rooms."

"A sweater would be nice", Aramais nodded, "I'm so cold right now."

"I'll get that to you guys. Go get warmed up", the Director smiled.

Aramais shivered, "I think my slippers are wet."

"That's alright", Andy chuckled, "I actually have a surprise. It just got here this morning. Mcgee brought them in."

"No more surprises please.... wait... are they my slippers?", Aramais tried to see Mcgee.

"Yes, we had to order them online to get them thick enough. Ironically by the time we receive them, it is now cold outside, and we could find them in stores", Andy sighed.

"Shipping was so slow on these, and I don't know why. I do not exactly live in a major city, but I dont normally have that hard of a time getting things", Mcgee explained, "hopefully they were well worth the wait."

"I left them with the guards to get documented. I know it's been a while since you've done it. But please, I beg of you, do not throw them at my head. They are definitely heavier than your containment issued slippers."

Aramais laughed loudly.

"I'm excited about getting a sweater. That was so much fun outside Mcgee", Jaimie bounced in their chair.

"Do you have anything to be excited about Whumpee?", Aramais called, "Whumpee?"

"Warmth", Whumpee yawned, "and sleep."

"They still need to get to feeling better", Caretaker smiled, "they'll be napping in no time. This was a big adventure for all of you and I'm so happy we got to do it."

Aramais nodded, "I've missed being outside so much. It actually feels like a relief to have been able to go out."

Cass worked to help Jaimie and Mcgee.

"Nope, nope... this one", Jaimie pulled a shirt out from their closet.

"How does she have so many clothes. They can't all be containment issued", Cass stared at Jaimie's closet.

"Jaimie requested that clothes not be part of the five item rule. The Director listened to her. Shoes and slippers are still considered counted items because of Aramais mostly", Mcgee grinned, "we both have a bad habit of ordering clothes from my shopping accounts."

Cass nodded.

"She has also asked another petition for the five item rule to be lifted to ten", Mcgee laughed, "it's on the Director's desk right now."

"A little privacy please", Jaimie turned away.

Mcgee turned away and motioned for Cass to do the same.

"Jaimie has an entire female team, you've said you were nonbinary. She okayed you helping out for today once it was explained to her what they meant", Mcgee explained, "she wasn't sure what that meant at first", Mcgee pointed at the cameras, "all of the cameras point downward so she can get changed, and when she uses the bathroom."

"Aramais and Whumpee are not as shy about it", Cass commented.

"Jaimie is a little different. So, she gets treated differently. Some bad things were done to her while at the weapons organization. The Director is allowing her to have these private moments so she can have some body autonomy back. We are working on her finding her voice", Mcgee explained farther, "she gets five minutes to change. She can ask for more time, but the camera has to make one move around the room, then it gets aimed down again. She also gets a two minute warning before anything happens, and they tell her when the camera is moving."

Cass was really interested in this.

"What stops a male guard or someone like Andy stepping into the monitor room?"

"The monitors are facing in a different direction. There is a sign outside that says males have to make their presence known to the female guards or to Jaimie while they are in here. If they do make any inappropriate remarks towards Jaimie, they deal with me, then the Director."

"I honestly didn't know all of this. I guess I haven't payed attention either", Cass frowned, "I'm glad Jaimie is able to get this type of treatment here."

"Well it's her home. She deserves it", Mcgee nodded.

"Jaimie this is your two minute warning", one of the guards spoke into the radio.

"I'm done", Jaimie giggled.

Mcgee turned, "oh I like that. This is from the newest haul."

"Yes, I like it too", Jaimie twirled excitedly.

"It looks really comfortable", Cass commented.

"Well it's about lunch time. I know you have Mitch to take care of", Mcgee stood.

Cass nodded.

"I'll be right back with some food Jaimie", Mcgee smiled.

"Okay", Jaimie looked up as they wrapped herself in a blanket.

"Hey Mitch, I'm getting your lunch. Would you like a bag of chips again", Cass watched as Mitch paced back and forth.

"N... yes... please", Mitch continued to pace with irritation.

"Okay", Cass reached and turned the mic off, "has he been doing that for long?"

"Pacing like a caged animal... yes", the guard commented.

"He hasn't sat down since last night", another guard commented.

"I might sit in there with him for a while. I'll let Mcgee know that Mitch needs me for a little while. He must be lonely or something."

"You need to be careful. He is clearly agitated", both guards turned, "I'm really having a hard time letting you go in there."

Cass sat at the table in Mitch's room. They were working on a few notes for Mitch's care.

Mitch leaned against the bars and ate from the bag of chips. He leaned out and the bag seemed to slip from his fingers.

"Oops", Mitch gasped as the bag spilled over the floor.

"I got it", Cass rolled away from the desk and went to pick up the bag and mess.

As they stood up to hand Mitch the bag, Mitch reached out and grabbed Cass's throat.

Cass grabbed Mitch's wrist, "please don't", Cass begged with widened eyes.

"Mitch release Cass now", a guard ordered quickly.

"If you don't come in here and free me.... I'll crush their windpipe", Mitch ordered, "nice and easy, like breaking a toothpick."

"Okay... just... just hold on. Don't hurt Cass."

"I wouldn't dream of it, but I'm not in a very good mood", Mitch grinned evilly at Cass.

Cass clenched their teeth as they gripped Mitch's wrist.

A few moments later a guard came in, they eyed Cass sadly as they unlocked the bars.

Mitch released Cass's throat and went to the now open door.

The guard backed away, but was pushed into the wall. They slid down with a groan.

Cass gasped as they crawled away.

Mitch reached down and grabbed Cass by the collar of his shirt.

Cass held onto Mitch's wrist again as he was lifted off the ground and carried out of the room.

"Let's go find Aramais, hmm", Mitch laughed as he walked nonchalantly down the hall, "let's see what my old friend is up to."

Sp Special Containment tag

@written-by-jayy @snakebites-and-ink

@makemake22 @gr33nhour

Every story taglist is posted in comments now. I ran out of room for mentions. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

[strangementalitycrown]

A poem writing in inspiration of Rocketman (2019):

You’re choosing a life of being alone forever, Where echoes linger, bonds sever, The walls you build, a fortress high, Shielding a heart that won’t defy.

“You’ll never be loved properly,” they said, Words like chains that filled your head, A melody lost, a broken song, Trying to be someone else for so long.

The mirror reflects a stranger’s face, A soul misplaced, out of place, But deep within, a spark ignites, A truth emerging from endless nights.

For love is not what others bestow, It’s the fire within that learns to glow, And though shadows whisper, loud and wrong, You’ve been you, just hidden, all along.

[jamiesfootball]

🌹🌹🌹

This is from one of the (belated) augusnippets that I'm working on, in which Jamie's boot room breakdown starts in a hotel room with Dani a week prior:

"I haven't washed it in a few days," he admits, a sinkhole opening up in his chest at the way Dani's brow crinkles in concern. "It's all greasy and disgusting."

Dani leans in close. He pinches the dank strands of Jamie's hair between his fingers, inspecting it in the lamp light like he expects to find an oil slick, and Jamie has to look away. A hot, aching feeling fills his throat. Lately, it was like he had a dam inside him, ready to spring a leak the moment he let his guard down. Stupid.

Instead of dropping the lock of hair in disgust and wiping his hands off on his shirt, Dani tucks it back behind Jamie’s ear.

"It doesn’t look bad to me," whispers Dani. Experimentally, he brushes the fringe back from his forehead, watching it fall back into place. Jamie isn’t strong enough to tell him to stop twice.. "Is it bothering you?"

His throat jumps. He screws his eyes shut, fighting against the sudden wave of heat cresting behind his eyes. He's always been an ugly crier, just the worst, and he can't–

Is it bothering him.

Jamie nods. His face feels dirty against the pillow. He’d forgotten to shave before they went out, and his stubble bristles against the nice sheets, loud and scratchy like nails on a chalkboard. He should’ve changed when they got back to the room; he’s pretty sure the jeans he’s wearing haven’t been washed in two weeks, and his shirt clings to his chest with the sort of humid grossness that comes with being squished into a cheap karaoke booth all night. He’d spilled part of his drink on Colin, he’d butchered their group’s turn at “Bohemian Rhapsody” by singing the wrong verse out of order, and while his name was getting bandied about for Player of the Month, the only goal he’d had tonight was a mistimed pass that happen to go in.

He’s great. He’s shit. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

But Dani doesn't stop stroking his hair. He shifts closer, his hands guiding Jamie forward until his forehead comes to rest against the warmth of Dani’s chest. 

Jamie can’t help the bile that rises in his throat at the thought that his own unclean, sweaty grime might seep through the thin fabric. He needs to pull away.

As if reading his mind, Dani asks, “Is this not all right?” He shakes his head.

[pedroscurls]

this scene in turning red came on and my partner literally turned to me and started laughing because, in his defense, he said this is exactly how i look when i write lmao (especially that second screencap)

and so now, whenever i write - especially a spicy one - i imagine that this is the look on my face lmao

[bebx]

[thetarttfuldickhead]

It would never have happened if not for Dr. Fieldstone. Now, Leslie’s delighted about her joining the Richmond team on a more permanent basis – she works wonders with the lads (and one head coach who shall remain unnamed, if only because he’s still a little sensitive about seeing a therapist) – but it does mean that Leslie’s once more out of an office. Just for the moment, of course, until he can find a suitable space without kicking anyone else out of their room. It’s really no hassle. He’s doing fine on the bench just behind the recyling bins outside of the copy room.

Or he was, until Roy Kent stops by just on the other side of said bins and, seemingly entirely unaware of Leslie’s presence, starts fiddling with his phone in what can only be described as an angry way.

It’s Roy, so that’s nothing out of the ordinary, and Leslie’s just about to offer a friendly greeting when he hears the hollow rings of an outgoing call and ah, it’d be terribly rude interrupt, wouldn’t it? 

For a long moment there’s nothing but beep after beep and Roy’s muttered pick the fuck up you fucking prick and then—

“What the fuck do you want?” 

Jamie’s not on speaker, but the sound’s loud enough for Higgins to not only recognize the voice but to hear every word, and the jagged, slightly petulant edge to them. 

“Where the fuck are you?” Roy growls. 

“How’s that any of your business? Training’s fucking over for the day, Coach.” Spat, more or less.

“Don’t be a fucking— “ Roy cuts himself off. “I need to see you.”

“Why?” 

“Fucking hell! I wanted to… I want to fucking apologize, all right!” Roy sounds very, very annoyed about it.

“You can do that over phone. Or in a text.” Jamie sounds slightly less annoyed, but not by much.

Leslie dares crane his neck just so to sneak a peek at Roy’s face. Roy has closed his eyes, looking pained as he grits out a simple, strained: “No. I can’t.” 

“Why the fuck not?” 

Roy looks to the ceiling. Looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. Still he plods on, and Leslie feels a small surge of pity, small surge of pride. 

“Because you’ll want to hug me afterwards,” Roy says, “and you can’t fucking do that over phone, can you?” 

There’s a long pause. Leslie finds himself holding his breath, and not only because he’s halfway terrified he’ll start nervously gagging if this goes on for much longer. 

“Fine,” Jamie says eventually. “You can meet me back at my place in twenty.”

“Yeah, okay. Cheers.” 

A snort, somewhere between derisive and exasperated. “You better fucking hug me back.”

With that, Jamie hangs up. Roy takes a few deep breaths before stomping off and leaving Leslie to carefully consider what he’s overheard. Obviously something must have happened at training and if their head coach and star player have a proper falling out and Ted’s not there to talk some sense in them—

Eh. They’ll sort it out. Leslie returns to his e-mails.

[leaentries]

slutweekend has arrived, my babies!

send in your nastiest, toe-curling thoughts about any player of your choice and i’ll write a small blurb! 😚