#i miss having drive and energy. i miss not hating every second of the day im not laying in bed wasting away.

[cloudd-nyne]

.

[obxsummer]

Lean on Me // JJ Maybank

pairing: jj maybank x neutral!reader

summary: as much as you love being the go-to person for your friends, it's not all sunshine and rainbows. all it takes is a shitty week and an argument with your boyfriend for your strong exterior to break.

warnings: angst, arguments, brief wound description

a/n: i lowkey hate this bc it didn’t turn out how i intended but whatever. enjoy!

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--

The Outer Banks was lucky to have you. That’s what JJ would say within a heartbeat. He knew there were a lot of deserving people amongst his friends, but man, you were way too good for the Pogue life. He owed you so much in the year and a half that the two of you had been dating. You were his rock against all odds, between his shitty dad and the raising anxiety in his chest after almost losing John B, you kept him grounded.

JJ loved watching you interact with your friends at the current kegger on the beach. You were so gentle and weaved your way along them them like it was second nature. The smile on your face was addicting, you seemed so carefree under the glow of the bonfire. The summer air, warm on your bare skin.

“Hey there, handsome.” You plopped on the log next to JJ, elbow nudging him gently as you made yourself comfortable. “You okay?”

JJ could really only force a nod and pushed a smile onto his face. He leaned close to press a kiss on your temple and let his arm fall around you shoulders. “Just love you, a lot.”

You were a little shocked at his outward affection but smiled nonetheless. “Love you too. A lot.”

--

You fell into a caregiver role naturally. Growing up, you had to learn how to take care of yourself first and foremost and when you did enough of that, you went for those around you. The broken bits of your upbringing reinforced your selflessness but increased a lot of anxiety and stress at a young age. You tried to never let it get to you, and if it ever did, you handled it in private.

Your friends adored you in every way possible. You were always there when they needed you - a reassuring rock to lean on at any moment. You were the best listener and always gave such great advice and the best hugs. Your overall presence could comfort a room without any words. They were internally grateful for everything you did.

It was very rare the Pogues saw you lose your cool, but in all honesty, this week was creeping up on you. Tensions were on the rise with the investigation of the Cross of Santo Domingo, and as much as you loved your friends, you were growing exhausted. You missed the way life was before the gold, when you would all just mess around without any worry while doing stupid teenager things. Your anxiety was growing and it felt like you would break at any sudden noise. You knew you needed some space, maybe a good cry if it came to it, but there was a lot going on right now.

“Y/N, hey!” John B came barrelling through the door with a burst of energy. You winced at the loud noise but forced a smile regardless.  “Are you able to make a quick grocery run really quick? You can take the Twinkie. We just need some basics.”

You had just settled down on the couch and wanted nothing more than to lay there in silence. “Yeah, yeah sure!” Pushing yourself off the couch, you grabbed your own keys from the table, opting to just drive yourself in hopes that it would lessen your stress. “Just text me a list!”

The day didn’t seem to ease up as the grocery store was packed, not to mention one of the bags ripped and spilled chips and yogurt across the parking lot. You managed to keep it cool until you were back in the safety of your car, letting a few tears slip before taking a deep breath and moving on.

After loading everything into John B’s kitchen, you set to work prepping dinner knowing everyone could use a home cooked meal and some quality time together. Shoving a pack of beers and a few wine coolers into the fridge for later, you decided spaghetti and meatballs sounded entertaining enough. Putting a pot of water on for the noodles, you managed to find some garlic bread in the freezer to heat up too.

The chaotic noise of your friends soon filled the room, lots of laughing and conversation filling the suffocating silence. “There you are!” JJ’s voice overtook the others as he came sliding towards you. You smiled at the motion, letting him wrap his arms around you as you stirred the noodles ahead of you.

“Hi,” You murmured, leaning back against him in comfort for a second to press a kiss on his lips before he disappeared right after. The beer was soon discovered, Sarah grabbing a seltzer and kissing your cheek in thanks before joining the rest of the crew on the patio. 

Normally, you didn’t mind them having fun while you busied yourself with something for them. It just felt like the pressure in your chest was building and you didn’t know how to slow it down.

Opting for a cup of water in hopes that it would help, you started grabbing dishes from the cabinets. One of the glass cups slipped past your fingers, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as it shattered against the worn hardwood floor. You stepped back in shock and managed to land right on a shard of broken glass, slicing through the skin of your foot in a second.

“Shit!” Being a bit more cautious, you avoided as much glass as possible and grabbed a wet paper towel to handle your foot. Admitting defeat, you sat on the ground and tried to slow the bleeding.

“Hey, babe? Food ready?” JJ slammed the screen shut behind him as he entered the room. Eyes scanned the room for a moment before he realized you weren’t in the kitchen. “Babe?”

You winced at the harsh cut in your skin and put pressure on it. “Down here.” JJ’s face came into view seconds later, taking in the scene of you on the floor.

“Hi, hey.” He carefully avoided the glass, although his boots could withstand some damage, and made his way over to you. “Let me grab something.” He returned shortly after with a hodgepodge of supplies from John B’s cabinet in hopes that some of it would work.

You took some peroxide and gauze from him before cleaning the scrape. “Thanks, J.”

JJ busied himself with cleaning up the broken glass while you did your best to stop the bleeding. He watched you for a moment, concerned about your lack of reaction. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, refusing to look at him because you knew you were holding on by a thread. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault and you felt bad for making them think that - if they even did. Grabbing some gauze, you laid it across the scrape before wrapping your foot and taping it off as a temporary fix. “Dinner’s almost ready if you want to get everyone.”

Everything seemed to move smoothly. Dinner was great, all of you laughing and joking around with some delicious food. The summer air was warm and the sound of crickets chirping was calming. You had hopes that this was just a momentary flicker of weakness and you’d be fine before bed tonight.

Sarah joined you in the kitchen to tackle cleaning dishes. “So, Y/N… are you joining Kie and I for our vacation weekend whenever life blows over?”

A question you’d heard many times before. Kie and Sarah had been joking for a while now about a getaway weekend since all the three of you did was spend time with your significant others. Of course, it was always pushed back for the chaos of your lives and would probably never happen, but it was a comforting question nonetheless.

You laughed in response, nudging her gently as soap splashed from the sink. “You know I’d be there in a heartbeat, Miss Cameron.”

“What trip?”

You turned to glance at JJ, the smile not leaving your face as you stacked the plate in the strainer. “Nothing. We’re just joking.”

JJ obviously had lost his fun mood and stared at you with an incredulous face. “You’re going on a trip out of OBX? When?”

Tossing the towel on the counter, you moved to fully face JJ. “J, I’m serious, we’re just-” You didn’t get a chance to explain before someone interrupted you.

“You’re leaving?” John B’s voice came in next, looking at his girlfriend with a goofy smile. “Do I finally get a weekend to myself?”

You shook your head aggressively, not suspecting the sudden third degree. “No, we’re not leaving and no, you don’t get a weekend to yourself. JJ, what’s going on?”

You didn’t know what had been set off in him, but this was not the same JJ that pulled you into his side five minutes ago and held you like no other. JJ aggressively ran his hands through his hair. “I just don’t understand why you’re hiding things from me.”

“Excuse me?” Your shoulders tensed at the tone of his voice, knowing this wasn’t going to end well. “I’m not hiding anything!”

JJ tossed his hand out. “First, you won’t tell me what’s wrong and now you’re jumping on vacation when we have some serious shit going on here? What the hell, Y/N.”

“JJ, nothing’s wrong! And we aren’t going right now, John B and Sarah literally just got back and we have the cross to look for.” You put your hands on your hips. “Why are you starting an argument with me over a joke? That’s so unlike you.”

“Yeah, well maybe you don’t know me!” His voice rattled around you. Your friends were quick to seclude to the pullout and create their own conversation to give you space. “You’re so busy fucking taking care of everyone else that I barely see you anymore, and when I do, you barely talk to me!”

Shaking your head you didn’t break eye contact with him. You had no idea where this change of heart was coming from, but you were already on a thin sheet of ice today and knew you couldn’t argue with him all night. “JJ, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here literally-”

“I’m talking about the fact that you’re not here for me. If you’re going to leave me, Y/N, just fucking do it. Rip the bandaid off. I don’t need you to linger and make it hurt worse.”

“You know what JJ… you’re right.” You folded your arms across your chest as tears burned in your eyes. You weren’t fighting over this, not with him. “You’re right. Don’t know why I even bothered. Sorry for trying.”

You left the words in the air and brushed past him, trying your best to walk on your injury. A heavy sob broke rattled through you as soon as you made it out of the Chateau. Your chest burned with pressure, unable to let enough emotions out at one time. You needed to stop doing this.

Climbing in the car, you slammed the door shut and immediately curled into yourself. You tried so hard to keep everyone happy. You did everything you could to keep your friends, your family together as much as possible. Always putting everyone first, never saying no if you could help it. Everything you did was for everyone else and it still wasn’t enough. You wouldn’t ever be enough.

Back in the Chateau, JJ knew he fucked up. When the screen door slammed shut behind you, he let out a loud groan and slammed his head against the counter. “Okay,” Kie was up in a second and pulled him away from the possibility of sharp objects. “Let’s not give yourself a concussion now.”

“I fucked up,” JJ whispered as he dropped to the floor and covered his face with his hands. “I fucked up so bad.”

Pope let out a scoff. “Really? I didn’t think so,” He answered sarcastically. “Seemed like such a loving conversation.”

JJ didn’t have the energy to glare at his friend. “I just… Dad got in my head earlier and I totally just reacted instead of talking it out.” He knew he shouldn’t have stopped at the house, but he knew even more to never listen to what his dad had to say about him.

“You don’t need to tell us,” Sarah tried to guide him as best as possible. “I’ve never seen Y/N that close to tears, in all honesty.”

JJ pulled himself off the ground and peeked out the window to see your headlights still shining across the grass. He surprisingly avoided eating shit on the rug and took off outside, scrambling to talk to you.

Your vision was blurry as you tried to blink tears from your eyes. You couldn’t even bring yourself to drive home, knowing it would be too difficult with everything going on right now. The whole argument was more dramatic than you intended for it to be, and maybe if you weren’t already upset, you would’ve just walked away instead of yelling back.

Your car door was suddenly ripped open as you flinched away in shock. JJ’s form appeared a second later, his heart dropping at the sight of you so upset. He took a moment, observing the rapid movement of your chest and your tear-stained cheeks. He could curse himself a million times over for doing this to you.

“Babe, you gotta breathe,” JJ’s voice was gentle as he moved your seat back so he could get closer. He knew the telltale signs of a panic attack a little too well.

You let your head relax against the headrest and forced yourself to take a deep breath. It was shaky, but it was enough to start calming your racing head down. When you were young, you were taught to never show weakness in front of anyone, no matter how bad it got. You hated that JJ was seeing you like this…vulnerable, weak.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tears of his own were building in his eyes. He hated to see you in any pain, but knowing he was the cause of it was even worse. He rarely ever saw you cry. “I saw my dad earlier a-and I took it out on you what he said… Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Your voice cracked as you looked away from him in an attempt to break eye-contact.

JJ’s fingers were gentle as they turned your gaze back on him. “No, it’s not. What I said in there, it’s not true. You do so much. For me, for our friends. We don’t deserve you, not one bit. You never expect a thank you, never ask for anything. I am so grateful, I’m so so lucky, to have you in my life. Don’t ever think differently, please. Even if it comes out of my own mouth. We all know I can be pretty dumb every now and then.”

“Don’t say that,” You whispered. You hated when he talked down on himself like that.

“See, proving my point. I hurt your feelings and you’re still being nice to me even if I don’t deserve it,” He countered. JJ reached over to turn your car off and took your hand to guide you out. “Come on, let’s get some ice cream and I’ll make it up to you.”

Sniffling, you climbed out with his help and let him close the door behind you before wrapping you into a hug. Another shaky breath escaped your lips as you clung to him, letting him hold you tightly until you could catch your breath and calm down fully. You were so grateful for JJ and his bubbly energy. Sometimes, it was hard to keep up with their busy lifestyle but you wouldn’t change it for the world. As long as you had your chaotic boyfriend with you at the end of the day, everything would be fine.

--

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[ivystoryweaver]

The Only One

Episode 6

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Summary: Elia's background starts to be revealed. Leia explains the energy flow. Poe is missing and panic ensues. We catch up to the events of The Force Awakens (but don't worry, I'm not retelling the films)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x female original character. Fic is written in second person, but the female "you" has a name (It reads basically the same as any other xreader)

Word Count: 1.8k

Content: angst-ish, self-worth probs, not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on "The Only One"...

"Ells!" He called after you, "You kissed me."

"Bye, Poe!" You repeated, scurrying toward base.

Laughter bubbled up and erupted from his chest as he said goodbye back to you.

He let you go. For now.

Something was wrong.

Poe had yet to return from his top secret mission, and everything inside of you was screaming that something was dreadfully, terribly not okay.

So you mustered the courage to approach to Leia, actually desperate enough to chance her discovering the things you could sense.

"I know he's on a mission. Something's wrong."

Leia confirmed that they'd lost all contact with Commander Dameron and his X-wing had been destroyed.

Your heart thundered inside your chest.

"The First Order has him."

Five words sent you spiraling.

Despite Leia's orders to stand down, you flourished into well more than a nuisance for hours upon end - hovering around comms, all but demanding updates, making a beeline for the hangar to convince anyone might fly you anywhere (They all said no).

You talked Perrha's ear off several times over, obsessively hypothesizing about every single thing that could have awry and why and how it could have gotten this bad for Poe.

Perrha was your best friend besides Poe, but even they started to reach their limit. Grasping your shoulders, Perrha commanded you to just stop talking for two seconds.

"You have to sleep. You have to trust everyone to do their jobs. Poe is strong - he can make it through this," they pleaded with you. "You're going to drive yourself crazy, obsessing like this."

You realized exactly what Perrha meant in that moment. You were driving them crazy.

Which made you start to cry. You stormed off without another word, despite Perrha calling after you.

Which brought you back to Leia.

She invited you into her private office with the promise of something warm to drink. You complied, fully aware her invitation was not exactly a request.

Presenting you with a small cup of tea, she smiled warmly, but the gesture didn't reach her eyes - troubled dark orbs pooling with the anxiety you felt inside.

"How are you feeling, Elia? I'm worried about you."

The smell of the tea bothered you. The temperature was all wrong. You set the beverage on the nearest table and shoved it away.

"Have you heard anything from Poe? Or anyone?" You pleaded.

With a long sigh, Leia sat down across from you and leaned forward.

"I haven't yet. But I'm here to ask about you. How are you?"

Yanking on your backpack straps, you shook your head rapidly. "It doesn't matter." With that deflection, you closed yourself off from the energy flow, despite how strongly it pulsed here in the room with Leia.

Nodding slowly, Leia leaned back, observing you quietly.

Which you took as staring.

Which you hated.

Couldn't anyone understand?

"The Force is strong with you," Leia soothingly, yet boldly remarked. "I noticed it the first day you arrived here."

You physically shuddered as she practically called out your secret.

But... "The Force? What is that?" You forlornly questioned, your eyes fixed on your shoes - the intensity of her gaze feeling as if it possessed the power to unearth all your secrets.

You’d heard fables about the Force - myths when you were a little girl - an orphan drifting from planet to planet. One time you heard that the Force was wielded by the religious warriors known as Jedi, but those were just legends...right?

When you discovered your lineage - it explained your malformed back. Your kind were a type of demon. Humanoid in most respects, but with wings. Well, the start of wings anyway. Yours remained dormant - undeveloped because you had kept them hidden your entire life.

Your species also tended to live long lives, so you were relatively young and your wings wouldn’t have developed in years prior. For that to happen, you would have to stop hiding them, let them out of your backpack and allow them to start strengthening.

You would need to open yourself to the energy flow and exercise your budding wings for them to ever fully form. And you had no idea how long that would take.

Besides, you didn't want to be demonkind. You wanted to contain your wings and never let them grow. And you certainly never wanted to give into your species' dark past.

"You've never heard of the Force? Or the Jedi?" Leia gently questioned.

"A little," you confessed, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. "I thought they were fables."

This was the day you learned about the truth of the Force - the dark, the light and the Jedi. The short version, anyway. Leia even confessed to you that Poe was on a mission to recover a map that would lead to the last Jedi Master - her twin brother, Luke Skywalker.

The tale fascinated you, especially the part about the Force surrounding and binding all things.

But if your heritage was that of dark powers and magic, that made you....dangerous. The darkness must be what Leia called the Dark Side.

A part of you. It had to be. Why else would your ancestors have annihilated themselves with darkness and curses?

Your heart sank as you realized what this meant - that you were an enemy of the Resistance - of Leia, and of Poe.

At this realization, you completely shut down. You said nothing more, even as Leia tried to speak with you further, going so far as to explain that you could stretch out with your feelings - that perhaps you had done as much when you helped to partially heal Poe on your last mission together.

"We'll speak again soon," she relented, clearly noting your distress.

You had almost managed to scamper away when you heard your name.

"Elia? Don't lose hope," she softly encouraged.

Sniffling, you nodded. "I have hope...for Poe."

But none for yourself.

Poe returned the next day.

News rippled through base like a current electrifying everyone who heard it. Poe Dameron was alive - he had survived and somehow escaped capture by the First Order.

Apparently a stormtrooper defected and helped him escape. They crash landed and Poe scrambled his way back to D’Qar. But the map to Luke Skywalker was housed inside the memory systems of BB-8, who got separated from Poe on Jakku.

As the day went on, the entire base was getting ready for a rescue mission to Takodana - where BB-8 and this defective stormtrooper apparently fled.

Your job and skillsets kept you as busy as anyone, but your longing to see Poe again was consuming your thoughts. Keeping your mind focused on computers was as natural as breathing, but the disturbance you had felt in...the Force was so powerful.

Yes, what you had been feeling all your life had to be the Force. The stories really were true.

You were driving yourself crazy, needing to see with your own eyes that Poe was okay, but fearing the darkness you were apparently born to - and how it would ruin your friendship in the long run.

Maybe Leia could teach you how to overcome it. Maybe there really was hope.

If you could only see Poe, just for a moment…

But it was no use. The mission to Takodana commenced and he was gone again.

From there, the intensity of the looming First Order threat escalated exponentially.

When Poe returned to base, you finally laid eyes on him. He bolted by in his flight suit, with another man following closely behind him. You barely got a glance. You didn’t even have time to call his name, but you did see the cuts on his face.

Then the biggest news of all: the First Order’s super weapon was a planet killer - a system killer, actually. And this system was their next target.

Everyone scrambled and even your racing, obsessive thoughts zeroed in on this looming threat.

As quickly as the latest intel could be analyzed, the system-saving, critical mission was launched: the plan to destroy Starkiller base.

As Poe rushed to head out on the most important mission of his life, he could only wish he had time to see your face - just one more time, in case he didn’t make it back.

In case this mission failed, and you didn’t survive. But everything was happening so fast and you were as busy and as important as he was in this moment. He didn’t know where to find you and he didn’t have time to look.

Then there you were.

And time stood still for a moment.

Your chest heaved with emotion. Your eyes shone with moisture, the corners pulled down by worry. Your fingers twisted hopelessly in the frayed ends of your backpack straps. One of your twin hair buns had worked its way loose.

Poe had the thought that he’d never seen your hair down. He had no idea how long your hair actually was. He might never know.

“Poe?” Your voice was a choked whisper - the two of you suspended for a brief eternity - unmoving.

“Elia,” he breathed, hesitating only a second longer before rushing toward you, somehow restraining himself from scooping you up into his arms. Instead, he grasped both your hands and pulled them to his chest - although the act was less intimate in actuality, with him in full flight gear.

Still, his forehead dropped to yours and before he could say anything more, your hands squeezed his own before you pushed your fingers up over his throat to trace his jawline.

Fingertips danced tenderly around cuts and scrapes, until the pad of your thumb caressed his bottom lip - carefully avoiding the angry split marring his beautiful mouth.

“You’re hurt,” you gasped, smoothing your fingers over his cheeks as your eyes locked onto his.

“Nah, I’m okay. Still in one piece,” he almost chuckled, but the sound was a touch hollow. Tired.

Your eyes shone with sympathy as you reached to touch his temple. “They hurt you. Here.”

He didn’t quite know how to respond to that, except with what Leia had been known to say, on occasion. ‘We have no time for our sorrows.’

“I’m so sorry,” you uttered, with heartfelt conviction, before he could deflect, and insist he was fine.

“Thanks,” he decided the simple, direct reply was best. Besides, there was no time. His eyes cut over to the hangar and you knew then that your time was up.

“Gotta go blow up a big ass weapon,” he boyishly reported, shrugging one shoulder and mustering a tired grin.

“Yeah,” you agreed, releasing him and stepping back. “Don’t miss, okay?”

That earned you a real smile. “I won’t.” He reached out to squeeze your arms, hoping like hell he would see you again, that another war wouldn’t take someone else he…loved.

Without warning, he pressed a fierce kiss to your mouth then bolted away, leaving you stunned, thrilled and terrified.

He turned around one more time, granting you another sweet smile. “Wait for me, Ells. I’ll be right back.”

Somehow his humor and good nature gave you hope. Poe always gave you hope.

“May the Force be with you,” you whispered to no one really. Or, to all of them.

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[februaryflowers]

letters from park seonghwa

with seonghwa abroad, he leaves a series of letters with just what you need to hear to feel better in his absence. but the last one he writes, the last letter is everything you want to hear

check out the playlist for letters from park seonghwa here ! 

warnings: some parts imply the reader overworks themself, mutual pining, reader is pretty sad without him, language, kissing, poorly proofread sorry ;-;

mostly hurt/comfort but i promise the ending is fluff, 6317 words, best friend!seonghwa x reader | uni au

a/n: this one is kinda more rushed than my last ateez fics but im impulsive and i love seonghwa heh so my apologies if it’s eh😭

Sliding your arms around Seonghwa’s neck and down his chest, you peer around his head. “What’re you doing?”

At your voice, his shoulders jolt up before quickly relaxing once more. “I dunno,” he hums, shrugging. “Just tryna pass time. I’m bored,” he whines. 

Running a hand through his hair, you sigh. “I know. I’ll be done soon, I promise, sorry. God, I hate essays.”

He pouts as you untangle yourself from him and head back to your bed, brows instantly furrowing as your fingers start to clack against the laptop keys once more. With a sigh, he returns to his idling. He always worries about you, about how you manage your mountainous workload. Will everything be okay when he’s gone?

Even as he tries to focus his attention on the pages in front of him, he can’t seem to shake you from his thoughts. Folding the paper, he glances to you once more, frowning as he watches the tension in your slouched shoulders. He hasn’t had the heart to tell you about his departure, and time is ticking down until he has to go. Of course, you knew that he had to get an internship for his graduation requirements, but did it have to be so soon? 

So one paper craft turns to five, to ten, and soon enough, as the hours tick by, he probably has over a hundred. Before he knows it, he’s stuffing them into his bag, looking up to see your head lolling to the side, your body tilting so much he’s surprised you haven’t fallen over.

He chuckles softly, shuffling over to you and prying the laptop from your grasp.

“I-I’m almost…done…” your murmur, your eyes drooping more and more with every second that passes. 

“You can finish in the morning,” he coos. “You need rest.”

With your chest now rising and falling in slow breaths, Seonghwa pulls the blankets up to your chin, brushing the side of your face with his finger. “Sleep well,” he murmurs, smiling at the little quirk of your lips that appears at the sound of his voice. “Dream of me.”

You apparently have enough energy to lift your hand, only for it to fall back down in what he guesses is supposed to be a playful swat before sleep comes to you. With one last look at you as he turns off the lights, he sighs and pads to his room.

Tomorrow, tomorrow he will tell you.

You try to keep the drive as lighthearted as possible. With your shared car playlist blasting in the background and the two of you bobbing your heads along to the beat, you can almost pretend that today isn’t going to crush you. 

But as the minutes tick down and the traffic builds with your approach towards the airport, the weight on your chest grows and grows, your out-of-tune singing growing quieter and quieter. Ever knowing, Seonghwa reaches for one of your hands, prying your fingers from the wheel and into his grasp.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you croak, your voice finally breaking. “I’m gonna miss you so much, Seonghwa.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, baby,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. 

His words don’t help the heaviness in your heart. You don’t even remember when he started calling you baby. He’d said it was because he was just so fond of you and wanted to take care of you whenever he began using that term of endearment. He’d given you the brightest smile and pinched your warming cheeks that day, and every day since, he has given you the biggest swarm of butterflies.

Maybe you’re dreaming, but it feels different than it used to. And that definitely makes your heart clench, wishing that it was. In another universe, another lifetime, another plane, Seonghwa loves you like that. But it’s not here.

Here, Seonghwa is simply your best friend, your beloved roommate. Perhaps he’ll find a lover abroad. And, even if it crushes you, you’ll still smile. Because, even more than you want him, you really want him to be happy, even if it’s not with you. 

His humming takes over, shuffle play bringing a slow song to the speakers, a soft love song, because of course your best friend is a sappy romantic at heart. While it provides some ease to your racing nerves, you’re still all too aware of how he plays with your fingers, tapping the rhythm against each tip. It’s as if he just knows you, your mind, so well, that he can make your knees weak and your brain jelly without as much as a second thought, without even knowing that he’s doing it to you. 

With the instruments finally coming to a quiet close, he pauses, turning to meet your profile and lowering your intertwined hands to his knee. “Can I ask you something?” he exhales.

“Anything, always.”

“It’s kind of selfish of me…” he whispers. 

“That’s okay.”

Biting his lip, he looks to the floor. “Could you…smile for me?”

You pause, the car simultaneously coming to a stop at the red light.

But he senses your hesitation as a soft no, one you don’t have the heart to say out right. “It’s okay,” he says, untangling your fingers and instead placing his hand over yours on his thigh. “It’s selfish, I know. You have every right to be sad. I just—” He sighs. “I’m not gonna be seeing the real thing for the next two months; I wanna remember your smile.” 

You forgot, if anything, your best friend is also cheesy as hell. A chuckle arises from your tight throat, causing a smile to bloom over your features. And it’s in that moment that a familiar quickened rhythm overtakes his heart. 

He grins, reaching his fingers up to brush your cheek. “There it is.”

And ease returns once more, your dramatic crooning returning. You can pretend. You can do it for him. You will yourself to do this one thing for him after all he’s done for you.

But it just can’t be contained when you make it to the parking lot and help take out his suitcases. 

“It’s okay,” you sniffle, brushing away streams of water that run down your face with a small smile. 

Despite that curve on your face, the heavy burden on your heart builds and builds as the moments tick down to when you and Seonghwa will be apart. You don’t think you can remember a time in your whole college career where you went so long without him. Every summer break or holiday recess, he’d be there, visiting you, teasing you about how lonely you were without him. And now, it’s too real. 

Taking you into his embrace, he rubs your back, leaning his head against you gently. “Baby, no,” he murmurs, a quiet shush to your tears. “It’s okay to be sad. If I could stay—”

“No,” you chuckle, shaking your head. Salty droplets continue to pour down your face, stinging your skin, but you pull back from Seonghwa, brushing his hair away from his face. “You’re gonna save the world or something,” you smile sadly. “I’ll be okay.”

Seonghwa wants to say that you’re the world to him, his world, but the words die on his tongue when he meets your glazed gaze that reflects the airport lights back to him. You just mean so much to him. What if he loses—

With one last squeeze, you finally detach yourself from your best friend, patting your cheeks with your sleeves and brushing off your jacket. If you don’t let go now, you don’t think you’ll be able to stop crying before he leaves. You might not be able to ever let him go. 

Exhaling, you force a smile on your face, past the swollen eyes and runny nose. “Now go make me proud, Park,” you tease. 

As he steps away, his luggage wheels squeaking against the tile as he pulls the handle, your lip begins to quiver once more. God, you just wanted to reassure him. He always worries so much about you, and here you are, holding him back when he has no choice but to go. And—

His movement pauses, before he turns around, blinking back at you.

“Seonghwa?” you call, taking steps towards him. “Did you forget something?”

“Hold on.”

He sinks to his knees, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and pulling out a glass jar.

“Hwa!?” you giggle. “You know you can’t bring that on the plane; What if it broke! You’re so silly, y’know. Good thing you remembered—”

Standing, he zips the bag shut once more and hands it to you wordlessly. Despite the words tumbling around in your brain, the butterflies swarming your stomach, you tell yourself that his pallor is from his nervousness about flying, his important internship for graduation. Seonghwa would never like you like that, right?

“Is…that for me?” you squeak, your voice unusually feeble. 

He nods, holding it out to you again. “Open them whenever you’re feeling sad, okay?”

“O-okay…” Taking the container in your hands, you dare to meet his gaze. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“How could I ever not think of you, y/n?” he asks, his eyes round and soft as he quirks his head. He then forces his lips into a small smile, wrapping his arms around you for the briefest second before he pulls away. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

It’ll feel like a lifetime, an eternity, instead of the actual two months it’ll be. But you can’t keep him here when he has to go, when he can change the world for the better. So instead, you take your free hand to squeeze his. 

“You’re gonna kick butt.”

Pushing him off then waving until he’s out of view, you wait until you return to your car to bury your face in your hands. Are the hundreds of other people here saying goodbye too? 

Even though there are probably many other teary partings and weary friends and lovers, it all feels irrelevant. Do they understand each other like you and Seonghwa do? Do they love each other like you and Seonghwa do? Do they need each other as much as you need Seonghwa? 

So, despite being in his arms less than five minutes ago, you take the jar from the passenger seat, unscrewing the silver lid to pull out the first of many objects that fill the rounded glass. Every last centimeter of the container has been crammed with paper, origami envelopes with a heart to open them. You don’t even know how he had this much time to finish all these, especially while he was preparing for his internship and departure. 

Running a finger under your eye and flicking away the droplets that don’t seem to stop, you let a small breath into your lungs, courage to pluck out the paper laying right on top finally coming. 

You can’t help the small, amused huff that comes through after you open it.

A letter. Of course. 

Dear y/n, Are you sitting in the parking lot crying right now? We just said goodbye right? I know I’m teasing you as I write from the past, when our departure doesn’t weigh as heavily on my mind, but that also means it hurts less right now. I guarantee that when I’m in the middle of check in I’ll start bawling. Sure, we’ll be time zones apart, an ocean away, but, really, call me whenever you need, whenever you want. Don’t even worry about it. I want to hear about your day, what you’re up to, how classes are, what San and Wooyoung are up to, anything, everything.  And I’ll be back before you know it. I promise. I miss you so much already. Love, Seonghwa

Your phone dings just as you read his name, tracing your fingers over his elegant signature. Fishing the screen out of the cup holder, you’re met with a photo from Seonghwa.

“‘I told you so,’” you read aloud.

Admittedly you chuckle at his silly antics, even if it does set off a pang in your chest to see him so teary eyed. He’s going to change the world and pretty much complete the last big push of his graduation requirements. He shouldn’t be feeling that sad. Is it your fault? 

But before your thoughts can settle and take root in your mind, another notification pops on the screen with another text from Seonghwa.

“‘Thank you for smiling for me. Text me when you get home safely. I’ll be here for a few hours,’” you repeat. 

It takes everything to turn on the ignition and put the car in drive, but with a slow exhale and Seonghwa’s words covering the worries running around your mind, you manage to pull out of your parking spot and onto the road. These next weeks will be impossibly long.

Even though you already sort of knew it, you quickly remember that life without Seonghwa is so gray and dull. The sky even agrees with you, the days following his departure filled with overcast skies and rain. 

Every morning you wake up to a quiet apartment, no Seonghwa waiting at the island with breakfast for you, no Seonghwa to keep you company on the walk to class, and no Seonghwa to come home to, greeting you with the best hug you’ve ever had (Yes it gets better every day. You don’t know how but it does.) Of course your friends all begin taking on extra care for you in his absence, meeting you for lunch or bringing dinner by, studying with you more often, hanging out more frequently. And you appreciate it, you really do. You really do have fun and enjoy the time with them. But there’s nothing like having Seonghwa in the flesh by your side. 

And it hits one late night, the moon high above you, the only light in a starless sky. It hasn’t even been a week since you said goodbye. Slumping down on the oddly empty sofa, you sigh, your fingers itching for the phone a foot away. 

Your friends have already gone home from your weekly Friday night shenanigans, which means that you should be putting on a funny movie with Seonghwa to conclude the evening. His cuddles are probably the best way to finish up a tiring week, reinvigorating you with excitement and energy for the next days to come.

With the weight building on your chest, you let a soft breath leave your lips before you give in to the nagging in your heart. Sure, you talked with him this morning, but you’d really like to hear his voice now for a moment, at least. 

y/n [ 12:06 am ] : are you busy?

Of course he doesn’t respond. It’s right in the middle of the workday for him. He has other things to do. But you can’t pick yourself up off the couch. You don’t know exactly what you’re waiting for. Fingers tapping mindlessly against the fabric, it isn’t until a soft ding echoes around the room that you shift. 

seonghwa [ 12:08 am ] : in a meeting :( i’ll be done in 20 though

seonghwa [ 12:08 am ] : is smthn wrong?  

y/n [ 12:09 am ] : nothing…just miss you…

Yeah, you should really head to bed. He’ll be busy even when the meeting ends. Waiting here will only make you more miserable. 

Pushing yourself off the sofa, you shuffle to the bathroom, brushing your teeth until you hear the quiet buzzing once more. As you rinse your mouth out, you find your eyes in the mirror. 

Seonghwa wouldn’t want you to be this sad, would he? He always loved, loves still, your smile, always pinching your cheeks when you have a wide grin or a matching one of his own growing on his face when you’re particularly happy. 

seonghwa [ 12:11 am ] : sorry baby :( i miss you too i’ll call you tn

seonghwa [ 12:12 am ] : why don’t you open a letter for me?

y/n [ 12:12 am ] : okay

y/n [ 12:13 am ] : gonna head to bed after though so dw gl with your meeting

seonghwa [ 12:13 am ] : sleep well baby :)

Unscrewing the jar, you carry it into your room and leave the glass on the nightstand before pulling out a small blue envelope. From the crooked creases, you’re guessing it must’ve been one of his first projects, which causes a small smile to force its way to your face as you imagine him redoing the same folds over and over until they were clean enough for his standards with furrowed brows. As you scoot into bed, you rest your back against the pillows and unfold the paper.

Brushing the smooth surface with your fingers, you finally let out a small breath and find his words. 

Dear y/n, Are you tucked into bed? I hope you are. I hope you’re getting enough rest, taking plenty of breaks, and still enjoying life without me. Did Jongho take you out for lunch today? Did you hang out with Yunho and Mingi? You can tell me all about it later; I’m sure it’s late now and you’re tired. 

That’s right. You have a lunch date with Jongho tomorrow. And you did study with Yunho and Mingi at the boba place near campus, even if you quickly devolved into laughter and anything but studying. 

You do miss Seonghwa. You wish he was with you here instead of being on the other side of an ocean. You really do. But there’s so much fun to be had with all your friends.

With a reluctant smile, you continue reading.

When you finish this note, I want you to close your eyes. I might be far from you physically, but you are never far from my thoughts. I’ll be thinking of you every day. I already do.  When I see the sun rise, you’re watching the same sun set, just on the other side of the planet. Two sides of the same coin. I’m still with you, baby.  So close your eyes. Smile for me? I’m never far so don’t miss me too much :) I’ll be home soon.  Sleep well and dream of me ;) Seonghwa

There’s a teary smile on your face as you finish his words. Flicking a stray droplet from your cheek, you sigh. 

What are you ever going to do with that man?

With a playful shake of your head, you attempt to fold the paper back into the shape it was given to you in, but you can’t seem to find the right combination of creases to turn the flat page into a beautiful letter once more. You’ll have to ask Seonghwa how to do it when he comes home. But for now, you start the pile of finished notes on your desk, smoothing out the lines so the page will lie flat next to your stacks of books. 

Perhaps Seonghwa’s letter is exactly what you needed to hear, the heavy allure of sleep beginning to take its toll on your drooping eyes and a yawn escaping from your lips. Crawling back to bed, you close your eyes. It might be your imagination—you know it is—but it’s as if you can feel him sitting next to your drowsy figure, watching over you protectively. 

On nights like this one, he’d normally tuck you in tightly under the blanket before busying himself with his homework at your desk until you fell asleep. Tonight is far from that, but, even half asleep, you know he’s still taking care of you from a world away. This isn’t what you’re used to, but today is okay. Sleep comes quickly. 

Today sucks. Today is the worst day you can remember in the last year. So you failed your exam. And your project team is driving you up the wall. It seems every inconvenience that can go wrong does go wrong, leaving you exasperated as you drop your keys at the front door after a long day. 

Shuffling into your room, your fingers fish out from the jar, unfolding the delicate page a little rougher than you should. With a huff, you collapse on the bed, holding the letter above you.

Dear y/n, How’s your final project going? You’re supposed to be doing one of those for your design class this semester, right? I know you must be stressed around now. I hope you’re remembering to take it easy. You’re doing so much work; you gotta take care of yourself, baby. Take a break. Go on a walk. Get boba with Hongjoong (lord knows he needs a break too). Even if you think you need to finish everything right now, you need to put yourself first. Your health matters. You matter. And you don’t want to burn out before the semester ends, do you? If you can’t do it for those things, could you do it for me?  Because, most of all, I hope you remember to be gentle with yourself. I know this degree is important to you, but above everything, you are the most important. You’re the most precious star, baby.  I’m proud of you already. Don’t worry too much, yeah? Love, Seonghwa

You think that’s what does you in, little streams beginning to flow down the mountains and valleys of your cheeks. It’s not even the frustration from your day. How does Seonghwa—past, present and future—just know exactly what you need to hear when you need to hear it? What ever did you do to be blessed by having a friend like him?

Placing the letter on the neat stack you’ve amassed, you return to your bed, not wanting to smudge his ink with your tears. Sunset prickles through the window shades, sneaking under your closed lids as you try to rest. While the still quiet is nice, in your heart you know Seonghwa is right. It’d be good to hang out with someone. 

So you open your eyes, retracing your steps through the apartment to find your phone on the kitchen counter. 

y/n [ 5:36 pm ] : do you wanna get boba maybe? 

hongjoong [ 5:37 pm ] : ofc???

 hongjoong [ 5:37 pm ] : ill come by we can walk together? 

Laughing with Hongjoong, you can feel every ounce of irritation that’d built up in you the whole day being replaced by the second. It’s almost a little annoying how well Seonghwa knows every corner of your mind. 

y/n [ 4:26 pm ] : SEONGHWA SEONGHWA

y/n [ 4:26 pm ] : SEONGHWA I GOT THE JOB

Checking the time, you let out a small sigh. He’s probably asleep. You know he’ll see your messages when he wakes up in the morning, but it’s not quite the same as celebrating with him in real time, still off the high of the email in your inbox.

It’s become a habit now, finding that glass jar whenever you wish he was with you instead. Yet again, you crawl on the bed, wrangling a piece of paper out from the container. The one you pull up is a little fancier than the ones you’ve picked previously, a pristine white page with small bunny and confetti stickers. It makes you pause, squinting at the folded envelope.

There’s no way Seonghwa would know, right?

Dear y/n, Congratulations! Maybe you guessed from the celebratory stickers I put on, but I wrote this one for a special occasion. I hope you’ll tell me all about it when we have a chance to talk again, but I hope this will suffice in the time being. Regardless, I want you to know that I’m so proud of you.  Even if you opened this on a different kind of day, I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of who you are and all you’ve accomplished any day of the week. My best friend is so kind and sweet but also smart and a badass.  But I just know that you’ll read this one on a good kind of day. So congratulations! I know, whatever it may be, that you deserve it. You are so capable, baby.  You’ll still tell me about it when you’re rich and successful though right? ;) Love, Seonghwa

Oh, curse him. He genuinely baffles you. What kind of guy can predict the future like that? (He knew. He always has faith in you.) And what kind of coincidence must there be for you to open the exact note today? 

And it just reaffirms the little thought in your mind that there is nobody in the world quite like Seonghwa. You don’t think there’ll be anyone as wonderful and gentle and caring as him. But to top it all off, he just understands you through and through. 

While you just clicked all those years ago, he also listened. He never stopped. He simply tries his best with you, and will never let you go so easily. He still does. What’s between you is more than an initial spark. 

It still burns. You’re more than content to keep fanning the gentle flame that keeps you both cozy. And Seonghwa and his warmth are the best company to sit around that fire with. It will always burn bright. 

Of course when he reads your messages in the morning, he celebrates and cheers with you, almost as loud as you know he would be if he was actually here.

You grow less dependent on Seonghwa’s little notes as time goes by. You’ll still take them out sometimes when you miss him particularly badly or for fun, but definitely less than the first weeks. Your texts and video chats are still as frequent as before, though. If you had to go two months without seeing his smile you aren’t sure what you’d both do. 

This weekend you find yourself at the farmer’s market with San and Wooyoung. As the former goes around trying to get free samples and the latter actually looks for groceries, you wander off to the lake. 

Families and pets are scattered along the shore, enjoying the spring breeze through the bright sky. Summer will come soon, an inkling of humidity sticking in the wind that blows past the shining sun.

The last time you came here was two years ago with Seonghwa. Another opportunity never really came up to return, but San and Wooyoung insisted you come today and you wanted to visit again anyway, agreeing to tag along. And next year, you’ll all graduate, making your way into the real world. It’s a little hard to believe. 

 But this is the kind of memory you’d like to savor, to revisit. 

Stepping out of the shade of the treeline, you let your eyes find a little family of ducklings. The babies tail behind their mother, and, almost as if they can sense your gaze, they turn and let out small quacks. With a chuckle, you give a small wave before they all head on their way once more, your heart growing in your chest at their flapping, splashing wings.

“Y/n!” San calls. 

“We got donuts. Do you want one?” Wooyoung asks. 

Turning to them you smile. “Sure. Just gimme a moment.”

This is the kind of thing Seonghwa would coo at, a simple, adorable moment. You’d probably be able to convince him to come here with you when he comes back with the promise of free samples alone. Everything else would just be another cherry on top.

Regardless, you want a picture, just for yourself, your own personal scrapbook in your mind. The animals, the weather, the scenery, it’s all a little too picturesque to not immortalize. 

But before you can even unlock the screen, your eyes find the date.

Your best friend is coming back in a week. 

You made it. 

While you certainly can survive without Seonghwa, there’s something about having him in the flesh that adds an extra sparkle and brightness to life. And he’ll be back before you know it. You survived months. You can make it another week. 

Snapping the photo, you hurry over to your friends and gladly take the glazed donut hole that Wooyoung hands you. Nothing has ever tasted so sweet. 

The night before Seonghwa’s return, the glass jar catches your eye. A lone page sits on the bottom, all its brethren now stacked neatly on your desk under a paperweight. 

Drying your face, you smile. What the hell. You might as well open it. 

Crawling into bed, you take the letter. Everything is as it should be. Seonghwa is on his plane home, back to you. You finished the semester with the best grades of your whole college career. You just had a fun night out with your seven other crazy friends. 

Unfolding the creases, a path you’ve memorized and can now do without a second thought, you swallow upon seeing the paragraphs in front of you.

You already know this is going to be different. 

With a shaky breath, you begin.

Dear y/n,  I hope things have been going according to plan and this is the last letter you open before I come home. I’ll be back soon and, even if I haven’t left yet as I write this, I know the first thing I’ll want to do when I land is fall into your arms and hold you until you complain about needing to pee or something. I already know I will miss you terribly. And maybe, my hope in writing this, in our distance, is to protect my fragile heart.  I know I’m being cowardly in not telling you this in person, but if you find you don’t see me in the way I see you, that’s okay. I will love you as a friend all the same and you can burn this letter and pretend the last 10 minutes never happened. But I love you. I love you in every way I have been taught to love and then some. I have fallen so deeply for you that a simple, ordinary life with you would be more meaningful and happy than any alternative, a timeline in which every other dream I have could come true. My heart is yours, has been shaped and nurtured and protected by you; I don’t think I know what it would be like if I’d never met you. Every day I wake up and see you in our kitchen before going to class, and I can’t help but feel lucky to know you. Yet, despite that, I can’t promise that I will be everything you need in a person, in the world. But I promise that I will try to protect your beautiful heart, your bright-eyed wonder, until you are so sure of them that nothing will shake you. And even then, I will still be in your corner, a shoulder to lean on. Just say the word.  I can't wait to come home.  Yours always,  Seonghwa

By the end, you can’t stop the waterfall of salty droplets falling from your face. You clutch the letter to your racing heart, trying to take a slow breath to calm all the nerves in your body that have been lit. 

Seonghwa…your Seonghwa…he loves you…

You always knew he loved you. You know he does now. 

It’s just…he loves you in one more way. 

You don’t think twice as you bring the page with you to your desk, already pulling out your own page and finding a pen. After all the letters he’s written you, you think it’s only fair that you write one back to him. Even if you can’t stop the few tears that soak your paper of your single note, you hope it’ll be enough to match the time and attention he put into his hundred.

Your little airport pickup sign has Seonghwa’s name in large, black sharpie on the front, but as you hold it up, the back of it is what causes a lump to form in your throat. The triangular paper flap that has since been taped down can change everything now. When Seonghwa opens it, nothing will be the same, and you won’t be able to go back. 

But you know it’ll all be for the better. 

Rocking on your heels, you scan the exit tunnel area once more. He’d texted you that he’d made it through customs a while ago, so it could be any minute now. But your impatience takes over, and you pull out your phone to check for new messages. 

With your foot tapping at the tile, you don’t even notice the footsteps towards you until their owner is wrapping his arms around you.

“Y/n,” he sighs, his breath falling to your skin. 

While you jolt at the surprise, you quickly relax into his familiar warmth, letting small pools form in the corners of your eyes. It doesn’t surprise you either when you feel similar drops landing on your shirt. 

“I missed you,” you cry. 

“I missed you too.”

He rocks you back and forth, the two of you eventually sinking to the ground to simply hold each other. Nothing can get in the way of you finally being together with him once more. 

“How was your internship?”

“Good, they gave me a glowing review to my advisor.” He snuggles his head further against you. “How’ve you been?”

“You say that like I haven’t spoken to you every day,” you chuckle, flicking away the wetness on your cheeks with your hands before they quickly return to their spot on his back. 

“I wanna hear about everything,” he says. “Even if you repeat it ten times over. I’m always gonna wanna hear what you have to say, y/n.”

Blinking, you find it in yourself to pull away, still in his arms, just at a further distance so you can meet his eyes. “There’s…there’s actually one thing I didn’t tell you.”

He swallows. Did you start seeing someone? You would’ve told him, right? Or maybe…you read his letter…and you thought telling him in person would soften the blow. “W-what is it?”

You hand him the envelope silently, staring at his smooth hands as he opens it and pulls out the piece of paper tucked neatly inside. It’s so simple, yet it holds your whole heart on it. 

He glances at you before his eyes find the words once more and he begins. 

Dear Seonghwa, It’s silly. You spent so much time writing me notes and letters, filling pages with heartfelt words that you just knew I needed to hear somehow always when I needed them most. You never ran out of the most perfect words. And yet, I can’t even figure out what to say in my first one. I don’t know if I can ever truly explain or understand how much I love you. You deserve to know, though, so I’ll try my best, but I can only hope that this is enough.  Your last letter to me was different in a few ways, no? If I’m reading things right, it was a confession, right? It was primarily for your feelings rather than mine.  And, most of all, it was everything I wanted to hear and then some.  The stars would be so proud to know they created you. I’m so honored that you feel I have shaped your wonderful heart in the way that I have, but I want you to know that you, your heart, yourself, you are stunning just as you are.   I don’t really know what I’m saying here but I hope you will always be happy. And I’d love it if I could be that person to make you happy. I love you. I think I always have. It just grew and grew, and I hope it doesn’t stop. Because, Park Seonghwa, you’re the one I love most.  Your partner in everything (and hopefully one more way), y/n

You’ve stopped staring for a long while, just listening to the hustle around the little bubble you’ve made on the floor. You don’t think you have the heart to see his face as he reads everything you poured into that letter. 

“Y/n,” he murmurs. 

You hum, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Could you look at me?”

When you don’t budge, he lifts his fingers to your chin. Giving you a moment to look at him on your own, he turns your head from the ground.

“Have I told you…how much I love you?”

Finding his round orbs, you swallow. Of course his eyes always sparkle like that, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen them so bright. The soft blanket of his steady gaze is trained on you, a warm fondness and affection that causes your stomach to swoop. You’d never be able to describe how stunning his eyes are. Not even the most talented painter creating their finest masterpiece could match their beauty. And…it’s all for you…?

“Was it okay?” you squeak.

He smiles, brushing your cheek. “More than okay.” Tucking you into him, he rests his lips on your head. “It was perfect. You will always be more than enough.”

In the middle of your bubble, you give him a squeeze, resting your weight against him. He’s really here, with you, in your arms. And…

“Does that mean…you’re mine?”

He tests the waters, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you’re mine, baby.”

“I like that.”

Grinning, he begins rubbing long strokes down your back. “I like that too, angel.”

But as you spot some of the other strangers you’d been waiting with begin to shuffle towards the exit with their friends and family, you try to stand, only to be met with the resistance of Seonghwa’s grip.

“Hey! I’m not letting you go just yet,” he laughs, the tears collecting in his eyes finally dropping from his lashes and onto his cheeks. “I’m not letting go until you complain you need to pee or something.”

[nicky35]

UConn vs Ole Miss

imma just do a player breakdown cause i think that's the best way to break this one down. sorry but this is gonna be rambly.

paige: i mean i gotta address the obvious, pretty sure she tied her career high for turnovers, when i saw that stat i was hoping i would watch and see that maybe there were other things that led to them, but honestly all of them were her fault and just dumb errors, she did good with the physicality of old miss, but that wasn't surprising, she's still over-helping on defense too much. i also hate seeing her go from floor general to standing around any time she's on the floor with kkm but i think that might be a coaching thing.

azzi: oh how i loved this. firstly, big dawg az is basically averaging 1 block a game since her return, i know this is the boring part but i'm such a nerd for good defense and seeing how much she looks like her old defensive self from like hs has me geeking. i love seeing how smart she plays. in the past, she's gotten in her head when shots aren't falling and either just stopped shooting or kept settling for the three. seeing someone so notorious for that to be the one lifting them out of the 0-15 run just made me tear up. loved seeing her drive and cut, while also still taking a few 3's. i would love to see her take a few more middy's in the next game cause those are always beautiful.

sarah: strong first half, but they definitely targeted her in the second and she got clamped. however because of what she's shown, i am excited to see how she responds to that. also, the 3 ball... i like that she's not afraid to shoot, but i think after 4 misses, especially as a post-player, it's time to cut your losses. defensively she still looked solid, even when they were being aggressive.

jana: i mean with her size, just having her on the court helps this team, especially against aggressive teams like ole miss. you could really see her trying to stay disciplined on defense and not foul and it showed. one of the fouls she got called on was actually bs, but i'm glad she didn't get heated over it. i love her fiery energy on the court and i think it's a good compliment to a lot of the quieter people on the court. she only got 3 fga but she was 100%, which was her biggest problem last time. however, i need her shooting freethrows every day. especially as a center, it is so easy to get fouled and those need to be easy points.

ice: this was her best defensive game i've seen so far. she took to aggression from ole miss really well and was reacting a lot faster. what i've noticed so far from ice is that she is either doing well on offense or defense, but she hasn't had a game where she's contributing on both ends of the floor. i also think she could maybe work on her handle and be able to not be so stationary on offense. jana's taller and is still able to move with the ball more. i think she's lucky she never got double-teamed and stripped, because she won't move with the ball. also there is no world in which she needs to be attempting more than one 3 a game. overall glad to see her improving each game, even if it is incremental.

kaitlyn: gosh this one hurts me. it's harder watching her not score more, when we've seen all that she's got in her bag and she's typically on the floor with another pg. defensively i think she was great and i think both of her fouls were smart and not the typical dumb stuff. i would still take her over kk, just because of her level-headedness and leadership, but with azzi back in the mix and multiple players who can switch between guard and forward, she's not really making an argument for why she should be on the court over others.

ashlynn: liked to middy instead of the regular 3, but zero 3pta's for her is just dumb. at this point i would rather see lower efficiency and just take more shot attempts, but mixing it up between 3's, middy, and getting to the rim. on the postive, i did notice she went under less screens in this game. even though she's improved tremendously on defense, that was an old habit that came back last game and i was happy to see the adjustement.

kk: i'm sorry but i'm just not seeing it. she just has to have more to offer the team offensively than passing and layups, especially being so small. stronger defensive teams are gonna continue to block her shot. i thought we were finally seeing her experimenting with a little floater, but haven't seen that in a bit and the middy and 3 pt shot are still nonexistent. very reminiscent of nika, but at least nika had more of a leadership and aggressive quality to her that helped with the team's energy. i just really cannot see her running this team next year. also putting her on the court now just takes paige off the ball which is the last thing this team needs. i simply cannot see why she is over 10 minutes when morgan is a better defender and allie can shoot.

[the-lark-ascending69]

nancy wheeler is So whumpable ur Right!!!!!! Would you mind writing some more comfort for nance? can be canon or au or whatever, I just miss her lots!!!!

About this post i think

RIGHT this girl can take so much pain it's unreal 😭😭😭 i don't have the energy to write like a full one-shot rn (though i'd love to try at some point!) but I can offer you some headcanons if you want! For my Nancy whump AU:

When it becomes clear that the Wheelers are nowhere to be found, Joyce becomes Nancy's temporary legal guardian. She helps her go back to school. She had to take some tests and present some extra essays but due to her unique situation and her insane effort, whe managed to go straight into senior year alongside classmates her age. It's hard. Everyone looks at her weird and they spread rumors about her being kidnapped and abused in horrible ways for years. They're not fully wrong. Luckily, Robin is there for her, and Steve always drives her to and from school. She feels very protected. It's somewhere between feeling impossible grateful and horribly humillated.

Nancy is a huge dog person and she adores the Byers's dog. She takes him everywhere and talks to him all the time, treating him like a baby. It's surprisingly therapeutic. He helps a lot with panic attacks. Steve has begun to bring him along in his car whenever he picks up Nancy and Robin from school.

Nancy's hair had grown a lot during her imprisonment. It was messy and unhealthy and dirty, so Steve helps her develop a complex hair care routine to get her beautiful hair back. Robin helps her cut it a bit below shoulder length with kitchen scissors - that drove Steve's blood pressure through the roof (no, Robin, you cannot do that!). After a few months her curls are soft and healthy again, and she feels more like herself than she has in years.

Robin had a lot of books in russian, but she hid then when Nancy arrived. She didn't know how she'd feel seeing them around. Eventually, Nancy found one, and to Robin's surprise she asked her to read it to her. In russian. Robin was very unsure about it, but Nancy insisted, so she gave it a try, and it turned out to help a little. It helped Nancy process things. Plus, it was really nice to lay her head on Robin's lap and listen to her read until she fell asleep.

Nancy and Robin quickly become best friends. While Nancy stayed at the Buckley's house, they spent every second of the day together listening to music, studying or watching movies. It was a small house with only two bedrooms so Robin gave Nancy her bed while she took her parents', but after enough times waking up to Nancy's screams in the middle of the night, she decided it was better to sleep on the floor next to her bed. Cuddling seemed to help Nancy a lot, and in this way Robin could get to her faster. She was very hesitant when Nancy suggested they just slept together every night, but she eventually accepts. Nancy feels so safe in her arms.

Robin misses her a lot when she moves in with the Byers. Maybe that's when she realizes she fell in love. She hates herself for it.

[desinyschildrenjkjm]

I think Are You Sure? is reminding me how much I love them, and trying to enjoy it with social media is really driving home how much I hate over-analyzing things to death.

I do miss the days when I just watched bts content alone, with no connection to fandom on social media except for maybe some youtube comments. It sucks to have so much fun, love the content and want to get excited with other people but come up against a wall of ppl nitpicking each detail down to tone of voice or phrasing (in translation) that proves or disproves this or that or that...almost like they aren't watching it but are studying it for ideas for posts or are waiting with baited breath for something to be upset about and thus seeing it everywhere and blowing up every small thing. It just isn't enjoyable.

If I nitpick I want it to be for things to be happy about...and hey, lucky me to have it so so so easy to find the happy things when I'm into a group of people who give me so much joy every day. I really want to uncomplicatedly enjoy this show as much as I truthfully do, without running everything through a lens picking apart what I'm afraid haters will say or defending things or letting my feelings be clouded and influenced by everyone else.

I may post still, but if i don't really seem so conversational part of it is me just distancing a bit from other opinions and basking in the show until I won't be swayed...even still i don't really see a point of entertaining negativity. It just bores me to argue in circles, explain to people who don't care, or be angry all the time. I don't want to see everything with negative spin to get angry or upset about or be anxious to defend, especially vague things we don't have all of the context to or rumors or things random internet people who might be 12 are saying. It's just so much easier to let go of the things you can't control or don't know, ignore nonsense, and let myself enjoy what I enjoy and think what i think.

people who are upset can talk to each other about their upset but I won't pretend to be upset if I'm not and I won't entertain it either when I don't agree or don't care. it's really that simple in the end. being a jikook missionary isn't my thing either so idk i guess i just don't care too much about debates about phrasing or details or vibes or timelines...when it is no longer fun speculation and slips into anger it really just isn't worth it.

I don't see the point of overly identifying with particular details or theories to the point of emotional upset and anger or arguing all of the time just like I don't see the point in going in circles trying to explain what I think to people who won't ever understand or agree...other opinions aren't worth more to me than my own...people may make good points or sway me but ultimately I have all the power over my perception and I won't give it away or waste energy defending it.

some people are just stressed about everything and obsessed with being right or obsessed with being afraid to be wrong and look at every single thing like a piece of a puzzle and I don't want to get that deep into it. Whatever the truth is, it isn't something we are likely to know details of...that's fine, that's boundaries, that's their choice, also it's fine if I'm wrong, even if i'm wrong about everything my opinions don't sway reality...it matters very little if I'm right or wrong as long as I am not being hateful or too attached emotionally to my interpretations.

Fandom is meant to be fun, it's really that simple. The second fandom/social media/discourse starts making me loose the joy BTS bring me....I'm out. I'm protecting BTS for myself, BTS are way more important to me than fandom and I won't let strangers on the internet sour them for me.

[sunghoonnsupremacy]

ANTISOCIAL. - l.hs.

previous - now - next

- summary ; when the popular jock starts finding interest in the new girl, hell breaks lose. she eventually gives in and he shows her exactly why he's popular.

- warnings ; eventual smut, rough sex, bondage, degrading, mentions of drugs/alcohol, asshole heeseung.

READ UNDER THE CUT!

tuesday.

jia hates tuesdays. its an additional day to monday, plus she has a small but painful hangover from last nights events. she hardly remembers the hotheaded blondie going down on her, but theres glimpses of it in her memory.

putting on her school uniform, lara finishes her tea and walks down to where her car is waiting for her, only to see something else...

"sunghoon?" she asks herself and/or the person leaning against their car. "it's me." he winks at her, motioning for her to move forward. "what are you doing here?" jia hesitantly walks towards him in confusion.

"I didn't want you coming to school alone on your first day. " "second, sunghoon. second. " he dismisses his misinformation and opens his passengers seat door. "hop in. "

"are you sure? I have my own car I can just go by myself. " she worries about being a bother even though he's the one who asked first.

"im sure. now come on or we'll be late. " she finally sits down and admires the interior inside his car. he starts the car and starts driving.

"I wouldn't have expected someone like you to care about being late. " she laughs a little looking at him.

he glances at her, not wanting to crash and replies, "I only said that since you're new. wouldn't want a pretty girl like you getting in trouble. ", his flirting never ending.

"thank you, but im sure we have some time before class starts no? " she cheekily smiles at him. "what are you suggesting?"

- TIME SKIP -

" I'll have one matcha iced coffee. thank you." jia orders sitting down at a table with sunghoon.

"when you said we have some time left, I didn't expect you to bring me to a cafe. " he giggles leaning back on his chair.

"well, I need my energy. " she cracks her knuckles and leans back aswell.

silence is brought amongst them. It isn't awkward or anything, so the 2 continue sitting waiting for their coffee to come.

"hey, I gotta ask you something." he looks at her seriously. "what's up?" she furrows her eyebrows, not knowing what to expect. "did you and heeseung... do something last night?" she gulps and begans to laugh, "why are you asking?" .

"to protect you. heeseung may have said some nice stuff to you last night, but that's what he does. he plays around with girls and then leaves them the next day. I don't want the same to happen to you if you did do something."

worry starts to build up inside of her. "I guess we may have done something, but I don't think it was anything serious. "

he nods and decides to drop the subject before making her more uncomfortable than she already was..

the two continue sitting in silence, but after 2 minutes their coffee arrives and they get up to leave.

"thanks for paying, I appreciate it I'll treat you to coffee next time." she smiles at him and bows her head a little.

"there'll be a next time? " he smiles back at her. "if you want there to be. "

the 2 hop back into his car and drive to school, only having 5 minutes before the bell rings, they arrived 3 minutes later and hurry up into class. she drags him by hand, giggling like little kids, while people stare at them in the halls. it looks a bit corny, but they don't care in the moment.

they can see that their class doors closed, and both mentally prepare themselves to face the anger of their teacher.

they slowly knock and open the door, jia behind sunghoon. every student, including the teacher turns to look at them.

"where have you two been? class started 2 minutes ago. you're late!" she scolds them, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"we're sorry, miss, we lost track of time. " they both bow 90 degress and hurry into their seats.

jia notices heeseung sitting with his back turned to her, she furrows her eyebrows before tapping his shoulder. he doesn't turn around, so she taps it again.

he finally turns around and rolls his eyes at her, "do you need something?" he says in a harsh tone. she leans back into her chair and shakes her head, making him scoff and turn back around to the board.

"what the hell is up with him? was what sunghoon said true?" she thinks for the rest of the class.

after the bell rings, everybody stands up and heads for the door, but jia heads over to a sunghoon and taps him on the shoulder.

"I think what you said was true" he looks at her confused.

"heeseungs a dick. I don't understand what his problem is, he's literally the one who wanted me last night, yet now he's the one acting like this."

sunghoon shakes his head and lightly holds her arm. "im sorry he's doing that, but it's what he's known for, hey, let me take you out after school so you can forget about this. "

she frowns and also holds his hand, "thank you. "

[kkangkkangie]

Professor Headcanons

Albus Dumbledore

he’s very accomplished in terms of wizarding academics, having won nearly every accolade there is. but—but, he’s also not averse in using like “muggle” techniques. the reason he even matched up against Voldemort is (cause I guarantee you) this person pulled out some muggle warfare tactic that caught him off-guard.

✨weaponized ignorance✨ (like seriously everyone knows he’s a genius, but like gets away with saying stuff like “nitwit” and “blubber”) he feels like a Luna kinnie at times

he switched out the smart three piece suit when (1) he no longer needed to impress Grindewald & (2) realized wizard robes were like blanket hoodies

“to be a wizen is a right, but to use magic is a privilege” 

Minerva McGonagall

this lady has the wizen equivalent of a physics PhD & she did it all with grace and sophistication. do not mess with her—there’s a reason she was chosen to wrangle a bunch of kids who think rules are like glowsticks (i.e. meant to be broken).

this is that one professor who grades your exams in one day & posts grades immediately. Alternatively, she somehow never misses a question. either she has the world’s greatest spell for grading or she’s just that good. 

she’s the de-facto leader of the faculty (other than Dumbledore, but even he defers to her at times) + the stern parent that makes sure that the emo child (snape) gets social interactions or botany hyperfixater (sprout) doesn’t create a breed of plants that eats the students, etc. 

“words are meaningless if there is no willpower driving it—conversely, one should not speak unless one wants to will something to reality”

Severus Snape

that asocial genius trope. he hated eating at the faculty table in front of students so he didn’t. until came Celaena and Harry Co., then for the sake of keeping his sanity intact, he did (he even does a little headcount of his students & panics if one of them is missing)

he wears the same robes for a reason. they keep him cool in the heat of summer & somehow provides insulation for the cold dungeon winters. it works. he wears.

he learned that simply not requiring textbooks in his class (or at least one pertaining to brewing) was better than losing his shit everytime he saw the terrible instructions. in his first few years of teaching, he set 4 textbooks on fire. 

“there is nothing worse than incompetency masquerading as confidence” 

Pomona Sprout

acts like she’s on five coffees a day even though she doesn’t drink any. this lady has the strength and energy of a whole farm—she could plant all day & be the happiest person on the planet. she’s the strongest faculty member (stronger than Hooch, which allows for some fun challenges when inebriated) 

she experiments a lot! like she has several notebooks dedicated to recording the minute changes in the properties of plants—with the aid of Snape’s potion skills. the two singlehandedly came up with a new set of ingredients for seasonal potions for the Hospital Wing.

loves to talk with students outside of classes (oftentimes, dragging them to the greenhouses) & it really didn’t matter what house you were in. most students found her the easiest to approach from all houses and years.

“plants are like miniature humans! but I do think they listen much better than you lot”

Aurora Sinistra

she’s that one teacher that’s super hard at the beginning, but as you get used to her teaching methods—best teacher ever. the reason that students in arithmancy usually get a minimum of an A? it’s her. she taught them well.

best tea brewer ever. periodt. Snape’s a close close second, but there’s something about the infusion of moonlight that makes hers legendary. the two often share recipes together—a habit from their years at Hogwarts (although, back then, it was mostly recipes for their friends b/c wow were they bad at taking care of themselves)

she tries to keep homework as small as possible b/c it’s not possible to wait until the stars are out to do them sometimes, but it means that classes are more often. she’s the first teacher to adjust the schedule based on the seasons—less classes, more hw in winter & vice versa in summer season)

“every myths and legends can be ascribed to the beauty of outer universe—we must not forget”

Filius Flitwick

just to start, big aristotle kinnie. he has the aristotelian physics PhD equivalent in the wizarding world (definite big brain). he’s the only other person who can really get technical with McGonagall—both of them are menaces at faculty gatherings.

he has the best manners—not just like table manners, but like how to engage in socialite behavior expertise in multiple customs. he’s practically eligible to be a proper diplomat, but he chose to teach charms because he practically becomes like a little child again, wide-eyed and excited.

he has a very structured manner of teaching b/c he realized how often he’d go on tangents. his older students have the privilege to listen to his rabbit holes before descending down into their own rabbit holes too. 

“brilliance is subjective! every idea is brilliant if you are so enamored by it”

Cuthbert Binns

ghosty man who continued to teach even after death. he became a true icon of living history cause not only did he teach Riddle, McGonagall, Moriarty, and even Harry Potter—he lived through them & he did it all half-asleep. respect.

has no respect for wizen legend and myths—he’s much more rather interested in wizen fact that align with Muggle mythology and legends. there’s an element that he is able to prove and extrapolate—it gets too much with wizen technicalities. 

this man has two office hours. you can either go ask for help and gain a whole lecture on your topic or you can join a group sleepfest. some students with insomnia noticed being able to sleep with his voice as white noise. truly a cure for them.

“we [historians] are not seers; wizen merely have an unfortunate habit of making mistakes and forgetting about them”

[sortofanobsession]

For that prompt where Roy and Jamie sleep together in S1 and after Roy and Jamie lay themselves bare before each other and admit they are each other's best partner that they've ever had, I just had this dialogue idea for Jamie: " I hate bein' such a fuckin' prick, I fuckin' hate it bu' he... he h-hits meh less and don't get mad as much when I do." When Roy demands to know who, Jamie just says "Dad."

Author's Note: this one I have been working on for some time now. The anon that asked for it sent you a handful of asks. I know this is at least 2 of them.are in here but it kind of took on a life of its own after the first few scenes. It turned into a bit of a beast. And I enjoyed writing it.

Unbeta'd and posted on mobile because my new computer unfortunately has Windows 11 in S mode (hesitate to change that because of my second job).

Canon divergent Season 1 before Two Aces.

Content warnings: anger, violence, fighting, physical injury, abuse, hospitalization, broken bones, cursing/cussing/swearing, pain medication. (I'm sure I missed something)

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Ao3

Tired of Fighting

The fight in the locker room might have ended but Roy couldn't cool off. He just felt like a grenade without a pin. Lose grip in the slightest and he would go off.

Jamie normally feels like he has too much energy and he has to be moving, but this felt different. This felt like there was something in his chest that was driving him in a different way. It was persistent and didn't let up. It lasted days.

It all boiled over one morning. Both of them had gotten to Nelson Road early. Insanely early. Jamie needed something to do, something to focus on so he didn't just pace a hole in his carpet at home. Roy just needed to keep pushing himself to do more, be better.

Roy curses when he pulls into the car park and he isn't the first there. Jamie's stupid car is there. He is tempted to leave but he was already there. And he wasn't going to be a fucking coward that runs away just because of one person. Especially, fucking Jamie Tartt.

Jamie looks up as Roy walks in as he laces his boot.

"Morning," Jamie says, because he can't just say nothing. Roy just grunts and goes to his cubby. Jamie is annoyed but doesn't know what he was expecting so he just finishes getting ready. Roy brushes past him to get his boots and doesn't even look at Jamie and something in Jamie snaps. He knows he should just keep his mouth shut. But since when has Jamie ever done the smart thing? So he follows Roy into the boot room.

"The fuck did I do now?" Jamie asks. "Or is it that I exist and you hate it that much?"

"So you are a self aware prick," Roy says. "Fucking shock."

"At least fucking one of us is," Jamie snaps. "Because I never fucking asked to be here. I'm just doing my job, a job I'm good at. I'm sure you can remember those days, yeah? Back when you were a force on the pitch. When everyone chanted your fucking name. What's your excuse? Other than denial? An old man, past his fucking prime," Jamie spits. "A legend. Does me being better than you piss you off that much? Like an eclipsed fucking star, a dying one at that. You can't even-" Jamie is cut off when Roy's hand wraps around his throat.

"Who the fuck do you think you are talking to? This fucking attitude of yours. You didn't ask to be here?" Roy lets out a vicious laugh in Jamie's face. "You don't fucking get it do you? You're here because City is done dealing with your arrogant fucking arse. You are such a prick off pitch that you could win every game for them and they still wouldn't want you there. You being here gives them the benefit of having a fucking star in their program but doesn't have to fucking deal with you as a person." Roy sneers. "You might be hot shit on the pitch, but your attitude makes you a fucking liability. I might be a has been, but I'm the fucking captain for a reason you little shit. Unlike you I actually fucking care about these people. I'm here until the end. You're a fucking tourist. The worst kind of tourist too. One that doesn't fucking see that they are hated by everyone around them." His fingers flex slightly as he lets his statement hang there in the silent room.

Jamie's heart is pounding in his chest, but so is Roy's. The striker can feel the way Roy's pulse pounds where Jamie has his hands wrapped around the wrist of the hand Roy has wrapped around his throat. Jamie should be fighting back. He should be clawing at Roy's skin. But Jamie had long been conditioned not to. He hadn't expected Roy to go for his throat. He had expected a shove. A punch. But this was too familiar. As Roy speaks Jamie flinches. The internal panic starts. He feels the familiar feeling of waiting for pain.

Roy is fucking livid but something in his head is screaming that this feels off. Jamie usually meets his energy. He fights back, but he wasn't. He lets go of Jamie and steps back.

Jamie knows what is coming now that he is let go. He sinks to the ground and braces himself for a kick. He curls in on himself.

"What the fuck," Roy says because he had no intention of actually hurting Jamie.

Jamie cautiously looks up at Roy, shocked that he hadn't attacked him further. And the look on the striker's face has something twisting in his stomach.

"What the fuck?" Roy repeats. "I'm not going to fucking kick you."

"Oh," Jamie says. He feels exhausted and shifts to sit with his back against the wall. "Okay."

"What the hell was that?" Roy stares at him. "You weren't even going to fucking fight back."

Jamie stares at the floor and shrugs.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because I'm fucking tired," Jamie admits with a sniffle. He pulls his knees to his chest and puts his head on his knees. And Roy is stunned because he has never seen Jamie like this. He looked…small.

"Tired of fighting back?"

"A bit, yeah," Jamie says. "But everything else too."

"What?" Roy says. His anger is waning but he now feels like he's off keel and he hates it.

Jamie sniffles and it tugs at something in Roy again.

"I hate bein' such a fuckin' prick," Jamie says. "I fuckin' hate it bu' he... he h-hits me less and don't get mad as much when I do."

And that has alarms going off in Roy's head. And he thinks over what Jamie has just said and something in him boils over because it makes fucking sense. Without thinking he kneels in front of Jamie.

"Who, Jamie?" Roy says. "Who makes you act like that? Who-" and just thinking about it makes Roy want to shatter something, but he buries that anger because Jamie just said someone's anger made him this way. Someone fucking hits him. "Tell me who hits you?"

Jamie shakes his head.

“Jamie,” Roy says it like he would if he was dealing with his niece, a stern demand, but a less angry tone. “Tell me who it is.”

“Dad,” is all Jamie says before he buries his face in his knees, and Roy thinks he actually sees red for a moment. Jamie’s dad hits him. And Roy has a number of different things going through his mind at once. He has a thousand questions he needs to be answered. He wants to find Jamie’s dad and tear him to pieces. He had felt like he wanted to kill Jamie more than a few times since they met, but for once, he feels like he’d rather kill for him than actually kill him. And that is a fucking shock. But it makes sense because Jamie isn’t a prick because that’s who Jamie really is. Jamie acts like a prick because his dad beat him into submission and then made him this way. And that makes Roy fucking livid. It means everything he thought he knew about Jamie was essentially beaten into him or learned to prevent being punished. And Roy has been feeding into that cycle. It occurs to Roy that the fights Jamie picks are because it gets a reaction. It’s like a small child that repeats a bad word because it gets their parents' attention, good or bad, it’s attention. Jamie may not be a small child, but he is still young.

“How long has this been going on?” Roy asks.

Jamie doesn’t answer.

“Jamie,” Roy says, “Has he always been like that?” Jamie looks up at him. And that’s a start. So Roy waits. His knee is screaming at him to stand up, but he doesn’t. He has a feeling that if he doesn’t get the answer now, Jamie will shut him out or just shut down. And Roy doesn’t want that. He wants to know how long Jamie has had to live like this. “Jamie,” he repeats, one hand moving to Jamie’s knee. “Tell me.”

“Long as I can remember,” Jamie finally admits. His face was a mix of embarrassment and pain that would probably knock Roy back if he wasn’t kneeling. For over two decades, Jamie had been putting up with this shit. No wonder he acted the way he did.

“Fucking hell,” Roy says, and he moves to sit against the wall next to Jamie, stretching his knee out as he does. And an important question comes to mind. “Does your mum know?”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, ‘s why she left,” he adds.

“She just let him-”

“She didn’t want to,” Jamie says. “He gets drunk and- well, you get the picture.”

“She should have called the fucking police,” Roy grumbles.

“Lots of people did, but he’s a drunk. He’d sober up, make promises, they’d believe him, and he just got better at making sure no one knew. Tell everyone I was just a rowdy fucking prick. But tell me to quit being a pussy. Tell me that I’m weak. Or worse, I’m nothing. A fucking disgrace. He’s embarrassed to be my dad. Until I got called up by Man City, suddenly he was proud o’ me. But if I didn’t do well, he’d get mad. So I sorta figured it out.”

Roy has never hated anyone more in his life than he hated Jamie Tartt’s father at that moment. He didn’t think he could hate anyone more than Phoebe’s dad, but apparently, he was wrong. Phoebe’s dad might be a fucking waste of space and a fucking deadbeat, but he’d be a dead man if he ever lay a finger on Roy’s sister and niece. Roy’d have fucking murdered him. That was one thing you don’t fucking do. You never hit a woman or a kid. Unfucking acceptable behavior. And O’Sullivan hadn’t crossed that fucking line. But James Tartt had. And that was not something Roy could just live with, now that he knew. No fucking way.

“You’re not fucking weak, or anything he says, you’re not a disgrace,” Roy states. “But your old man is.” Jamie sniffles, looking anywhere but at Roy. Clearly, Jamie doesn’t seem to believe him. “Fucking hell, Jamie,” Roy squeezes his knee. “No fucking kid should have to live through that. But you fucking managed it. You survived and fucking thrived. Made it to the fucking premiere league while doing it. And you’re fucking good at it.”

“I’m fucking amazing,” Jamie grins. And Roy feels something loosen in his chest. He bumps Jamie’s shoulder with his.

“Don’t fucking push it,” Roy cautions, but there is no heat to it. “You’ve earned your way to it not because of him but in spite of him."

“Not the way he tells the lads at the pub over several pints,” Jamie huffs.

“He’ll be telling the lads fuck all when I find him,” Roy says. “Make him see how it feels to be the one on the other end. Make him pick up his own fucking teeth.”

“You can’t just fight my dad,” Jamie says.

“Like fucking hell I can’t,” Roy states. “Fucking see him pick on someone that’s not afraid to fight back.”

“You’ll only make it worse,” Jamie sighs.

“Can’t be worse if he can’t fucking get to you,” Roy points out.

“You going to guard me every moment of every day? Because he always-”

“If that’s what it takes, then fucking fine,” Roy agrees.

“You’re not a guard dog, Roy,” Jamie states. “You have shit to do. I have shit to do. You can’t-”

“Then I’ll find others who can,” Roy says as he gets up.

“Wait…what?” Jamie scrambles to get up, the cleats on his boots making it a little tougher. Roy is already opening the door and heading to the locker room. Jamie looks at the time and realizes how close to training it had gotten.

“Oi! You pricks,” Roy points to Colin and Isaac. Colin had just put his bag in his spot and Isaac hadn’t even made it to his cubby. They stare at him. Confused when Jamie, in full kit, rushes in behind him. Roy points at Jamie. “You see his fucking old man around, you fucking tell me, that fucking prick’s face is long due to meet the fucking pavement.”

“What’s all the commotion?” Ted asks as he and Beard walk through the door.

“Roy…” Jamie starts and everyone is surprised by how unsure he sounds. Not the usual brash and confident prick they usually deal with. “You can’t-”

“Can’t fucking what? Just let it go? When we play City, does he show up?”

Jamie hesitates but nods.

“Fucking won't, next time,” Roy says and he’s already out the door. “Higgins! Where the fuck is he?!” A woman points down the hall and Roy heads that way until he finds a confused and nervous Leslie Higgins. “Higgins.”

“Yes, how can I help you?” Higgins manages to say.

“Jamie Tartt’s father, you know him?” Roy demands.

“Of him, I know of him,” Higgins corrects, he has a feeling he should definitely point out the difference. “James Tartt.”

“Fucking ban him,” Roy states.

“What?” Higgins is shocked. He looks up to see a concerned Ted, an unsure Coach Beard and an anxious Jamie approaching. “I can’t just ban someone for no reason.”

“Hold your horses, Roy,” Ted says. “Whatever happened we can-”

“I will not fucking do that,” Roy glares at him. “If you don’t ban him, then I’m going to curb stomp his fucking head in the fucking car park!” Beard moves to partially get between the players in case Roy lashes out. Roy doesn't miss the movement and it just adds to the list of things that are pissing him off. He isn't going to actually hurt Jamie. If they would let him fucking talk he would tell them that. They just need to fucking listen to him. His focus is brought back to Jamie when Jamie tries to plead with him again. And part of him wants to appease Jamie, to not hurt him more. But the more rational part of Roy knows that he has to keep pushing for James Tartt to be banned. He cannot let this man hurt Jamie again. Even more he can not even let the bastard near him. He has to fucking try.

“Roy, I told you, you can’t just-” Jamie tries. “He’s my dad.”

“Fucking watch me,” Roy challenges and Beard moves to put a hand on Roy's shoulder because clearly something is distressing the captain. And it didn't seem to be what usually is distressing him because of how desperate he and Jamie are acting. Roy shocked them all as he continues, “No, he’s your fucking abuser, and that shit ends now.”

“He's what now?” Ted says, suddenly very concerned for the safety and sanity of not one, but two of his players. “Jamie,” he turns to look at Jamie. “Does your dad hit you?”

Jamie looks from Ted to Higgins, to Beard and then to Roy.

“Tell them what you told me,” Roy says as he shoves Beard's hand off his shoulder. Beard is too shocked by not only Roy's tone but the way he looks at Jamie. This is the closest to begging the coach has ever seen from Roy Kent.

Jamie looks between the four of them again. This was not how Jamie imagined his day would go. He looks at Roy again and Roy's eyes make him feel weird, because he has never seen Roy look at him like that. Like he really wants something from him. No anger, at least not him. What he mostly sees is concern. Concern for Jamie.

“What did you tell Roy, Jamie?” Ted asks. And there is even more concern on Ted's face. Everyone looks so worried. He considers lying or even running off, but then Roy might get angry at him again and Roy's going to tell them anyway. So he tells them.

“That dad hits me less and don't get mad as much when I act like a prick,” Jamie admits.

“Which is why he needs to be fucking banned!” Roy adds.

“Or you’ll curb stomp him?” Beard asks for clarification.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Roy admits without shame. “Because he’s apparently been doing it for fucking years to Jamie and his mum, so he’s overdue for a-”

“Does the Man City team management know about this?” Ted asks Jamie.

“No one does, except my mum and stepdad, and I didn’t exactly plan to tell Roy,” Jamie says. “Or anyone.”

“Well you fucking did, and I’m not about to just-” Roy says.

“Roy!” Ted shouts. “Why don’t you and Beard go make sure the team is getting ready for training, Jamie you can head back too. I will-”

“You’re fucking serious right now,” Roy glares at his coach but Beard is already forcing him back towards the locker room.

“I will make sure it’s taken care of,” Ted says.

Roy storms back into the locker room and everyone stays out of his way. He violently pulls away from Beard as he does. Jamie’s not far behind him through the door but goes to his own spot and for a lack of anything to really do, he sits down on the bench. He bunches his hands up in his kit.

“You good?”

Jamie looks up to see Colin moving to sit next to him on the bench as he gets his guards on.

Jamie shrugs. "Not exactly how I thought today would start," Jamie admits and Colin is surprised at how off Jamie seems.

"What happened?" Colin asks as he shifts to show Jamie he has his full attention. "Must be something big to have Roy Kent in a fit."

"Was just honest and more came out than expected," Jamie says.

"About your father?" Colin asks, remembering what Roy had told him and Isaac to do. "If he's really a right prick, we're with you, mate. All you have to do is let us know, we'll be there."

"Thanks, I know I'm a prick, and-"

"Oi! Knock that shit off," Roy says. "You act like one doesn't mean you are one. Said so your fucking self. You old man is a liar and fucking tosser. You don't have to listen to that shit anymore."

And Colin is stunned. Roy Kent is not only on Jamie's side he's pretty much defending Jamie from Jamie's own words. And this morning is giving them all whiplash.

"Fair point," Jamie admits. "But I've been a shit teammate, and that's not fair to you lot. Roy pointed out I'm more of a tourist than a teammate." Colin looked at Roy. "An annoying one," Jamie adds. "While crushing my windpipe." Everyone is now staring at Roy.

"In my fucking defence," Roy says, still focused on Jamie. He didn't really give a fuck about the others. They knew him well enough. "That was before you fucking told me your old man made you this way by kicking your fucking ribs."

Colin winces. Hearing it put so plainly by none other than Roy fucking Kent took away any doubt about what was happening.

"Well," Colin starts. "You don't have to put on an act for him here, and you don't have to do it for us, we're a team. Just be you, I'm sure that's more than enough."

"Too fucking right," Roy says.

"And if I don't actually know who I am without the act?" Jamie says in absolute honesty.

"Then we'll help you figure it out," Colin grins. "Right Roy?"

"Fucking right," Roy nods.

"Then that's settled," Colin grins.

"Good, now fucking get to the pitch for warm ups!" Roy shouts. And they do as they are told.

Everything starts to change over the next couple days at training. The team works as a more cohesive unit. Jamie Tartt starts to be more of a team player. And Roy can't believe how one little honest moment in the boot room could make such an insane difference. It was mad, in the best way possible. His team was happier than it ever had been. Roy smiled as Jamie and Sam work together and actually seem to get along like a fucking house on fire. It was like Jamie truly was a different person.

"Whatever you did the other morning," Ted says as he stands next to Roy as he takes the bottle Will offers him. "Has made him an even better player. You're a good captain, Roy."

"I pushed him until he broke, it may have ended well, but it wasn't a good thing," Roy admits. He glances back at where Jamie is laughing with Jeff.

"Sky divers and bungee jumpers sometimes need a push, but the end result is a life change adventure." Ted claps his shoulder. "And he's not the only one that changed at that moment. Embrace it." Ted walks away.

They win their next match and the team celebrates like they won a fucking cup. And Roy sees a new side of Jamie Tartt that has a warmth spread through him. And it's a jarring feeling knowing just days before he had wanted to punch the man in the face. Roy is getting ready for bed when he gets a call from his sister and that is worrying. She tells him a friend of hers at the hospital called her to give her a heads up since her brother played for Richmond as captain. A player had just been brought in. They couldn't say who or why but Roy had a bad feeling. He grabbed his keys and was out the door as fast as possible.

"Oh good, you're here," a nurse says as Roy gets to the hospital. "His mother gave us permission to talk to the management of the team, in addition to you and his other emergency contact, Mr. Kent."

"Who-" Roy starts to ask who the other contact is when he gets his answer.

"Roy!" Keeley Jones calls out to him and it feels like someone punched him in the stomach.

"No," Roy says and it comes out more as a breath.

"Mr. Kent?" The nurse asks.

"Thank you," Roy manages because his sister would kick his ass if he was rude to the nurse and goes to Keeley.

"It's Jamie," Keeley says and Roy feels like he might be fucking sick.

"What the fuck happened?" Roy asks.

"His neighbor called about a disturbance," Keeley tells him. "When the officers got there Jamie was barely conscious."

"Fuck," Roy says. He leans against the wall to stay upright. "Who was it?"

"Roy…" Keeley starts.

"Who the fuck was it?!"

"His father," Keeley says and Roy sees fucking red.

"I'll fucking kill him," Roy growls.

"He's in custody," Keeley says but Roy doesn't seem deterred. "Roy…" she puts a hand on his arm. "There isn't anything to be done now but waiting to see Jamie."

Roy lets out a litany of curses. He wants to scream. He wants to hit something. And he does not understand why this is making him not just angry but fucking terrified.

"Roy," Keeley tries to get his attention.

"FUCK!" Roy shouts and punches the wall. Keeley jumps.

"I'll handle him," Keeley turns to see a woman approach. She looks oddly familiar.

"Are you-" Keeley starts to ask.

"I called him, he's my brother," she tells Keeley.

"Oh, okay," Keeley nods.

"Come on, tough guy," his sister says. "Let's get you sorted out."

"I'll kill him," Roy tells her.

"You won't, but I get it," his sister says as she takes a look at his knuckles. He has bruises forming and a few scrapes. He winces as she tests his movement. "Flex 'em," she commands. He does but his fingers don't move right. She sighs. "Hey Hannah," she calls to a nurse. "My idiot brother needs x-rays of his right metacarpals." The nurse nods and goes to get things sorted out since Dr. O'Sullivan wasn't actually on duty. The doctor turns back to her brother. "You're an idiot." Roy just grunts. "Injuring yourself isn't going to help Jamie Tartt, you know that, Roy."

"I told him this wouldn't fucking happen again, that we'd protect him," Roy says through gritted teeth.

"You know you can't protect people every moment of every day. There are always gaps you can't fill."

His sister is worried he might break a tooth with how tight his jaw is clenched. "I don't know what happened between you and Jamie Tartt, but I do know you. And he clearly means a lot to you," his sister says.

Hannah the nurse returns with a tray. "Bit of a wait in radiology, so might as well get a start on cleaning the scrapes," Hannah says.

"Thanks Hannah, I can handle this," the doctor says.

"Yes, Doctor," Hannah says as she leaves.

By the time she has his knuckles mostly cleaned up he is taken back for x-rays. Keeley assures him from where she had been watching with amusement she'll stay there for Jamie. So Roy lets his sister guide him.

His sister sighs as they look at the x-rays.

"Congratulations, dear brother, you broke your hand. Normally a splint would be fine, but honestly, I don't trust you to not do anything stupid, so you are getting an actual cast."

"Fucking hell, I don't need-"

"You lost your temper and punched a wall, Roy. You're getting a cast. End of discussion."

"Fucking fine," Roy relents because he knows nothing will stop his sister when it came to medical issues.

"What did you do?" Ted asks when Roy, sporting a bright blue cast, joins them. Both Beard and Ted had gotten there while he was getting X-rays.

"Interesting color choice," Keeley grins. "Expected black or just plain old white."

"My sister didn't give me a choice," Roy states.

"This is better anyway, It will match most of your kits," Keeley remarks.

"And his sweats, since he will not be playing for at least a few weeks," Ted says.

"Fuck off," Roy says. "Already down Jamie. If we have any chance of staying in the league-"

"We still have a new striker coming in, Rojas," Ted says. "And it's not your responsibility."

"I'm the fucking captain, of course it is," Roy says. "And Tartt's going to think you fucking replaced him."

"Not for the next few weeks," Ted says. "And Jamie will understand. He knows the game enough to know-"

"You fucking signed this guy to get Jamie to be a team fucking player," Roy glares at him. He knew the tactic well enough. "A challenge to fuck with his head."

Ted glances at Keeley. "For the record, Rebecca signed him before we found out about Jamie's dad and he started getting on with the team."

"Fuck off, it's still going to fucking destroy him," Roy states.

Roy refuses to leave until he can see Jamie. Keeley and Beard leave once they find out Jamie is out of surgery and stable. Keeley has to help draft an announcement about Jamie's condition. Ted stays.

"What happened to your hand?" Jamie asked Roy. Roy just grunts. Ted shakes his head. Jamie looks back and forth between the two.

"He lost a fight with a wall," Ted tells him. "How you feeling, Jamie?"

"A wall?" Jamie asks, his heavily medicated brain not able to piece it all together. "Why you fighting walls, Roy?"

Roy huffs. "I didn't fight a fucking wall, I punched it because it was that or I hunt your fucking-"

"Roy," Ted stops him because they didn't need Jamie getting upset and one glance at the monitor showed the injured man's pulse already climbing.

"Me? You punched a wall because of me?" Jamie said and Ted glares at Roy.

"Fuck no," Roy is quick to say.

"No one is mad at you," Ted tells Jamie.

"My dad is," Jamie says and shakes his head. He can't make eye contact with either of them.

And an angry growl comes out of Roy.

"No one here is mad at you," Ted corrects himself. "And I am sure that whatever your father was mad about, he's-"

"The fucking bastard is a liar and a coward," Roy interjects. "And a fucking dead man when I find him."

"Helpful, Roy," Ted sighs. "Really helpful."

Roy grunts.

"Your father's anger does not, and let me repeat that because I need you to understand. His anger does not give him the right to do what he did. No one has the right to. Ever. You didn't deserve this, not now, not ever." Ted tells him. "You get that, right, Jamie?"

Jamie doesn't answer because the medication, pain, and emotions are all too much and it's making his head hurt and it's getting harder to breathe.

"Fucking breathe, Tartt," Roy says. His voice now much closer than it had been. Jamie looks to see that Roy's good arm is leaning against Jamie's hospital bed and he is glancing at the monitor every now and again. But once Roy's eyes lock on his they don't leave. And Jamie can't help but find comfort in it because Roy fucking Kent was here. Roy fucking Kent was here for him and was trying to help him. He should listen to him, right? What did he say again? What should Jamie be doing? "Fucking hell," Roy mutters and squeezes Jamie's hand with his good hand. "Take a fucking breath, Jamie." And Jamie does. He lets Roy talk him through it until he can breathe again. It leaves Jamie absolutely exhausted.

"It's okay Jamie," Ted tells him. "You're doing great. You can sleep now. You've earned a good rest."

Once Jamie falls asleep Roy leans back in his chair and scrubs his good hand over his face.

"Fucking hell," he mutters.

"You can go home," Ted starts to say. It was getting late and it had been a very long day.

"Fuck off," Roy tells him, his tone more quiet but still just as harsh. "Not fucking going anywhere."

"You're on pain meds, you should-"

"Stay the fuck right here, because I'm not allowed on the fucking pitch, and you still have a fucking job to do. So you fucking do it."

"A bit crude but fair," Ted nods.

"Fucking go. Will let you know if shit happens."

Jamie wakes up a second time and it's just Roy there in the dim room.

"You don't have to stay," Jamie tells him. Roy shrugs but doesn't show any signs of leaving.

"You probably have better things to do like-"

"Fucking hell, Tartt," Roy leans forward. "Not leaving you fucking alone, so go back to fucking sleep, you need the fucking rest."

And despite the hostile tone Jamie feels himself smile, because Roy fucking Kent was keeping watch which means Jamie doesn't have to worry about his dad's lackeys coming after him.

"Your mum should be here when you wake up," Roy tells him.

"My mum?" Jamie is a bit surprised. He rarely gets to see his mum. He misses her a lot.

"Of fucking course your mum," Roy looks at him. "Your old man just got locked up for nearly killing you and it's all over the fucking news. Ted has to do a fucking presser and Keeley already has a statement out that you'll be on the mend. City is sending someone down and your fucking agent has been a pain in the arse."

"Really?" Jamie is surprised at how much of a fuss his dad cracking a few of his ribs and giving him a concussion had caused. "Seems a bit much."

"Fuck off," Roy grunts. "You can't be fucking serious." Roy looks over the injured striker. "You were in surgery for fucking hours. I was fucking in and out with a goddamn cast before you even had fucking stitches. He nearly fucking killed you."

Jamie shouldn't be surprised that Roy sounded absolutely livid, but he is. No one has ever been so angry over what his dad did to him, his mum had always been upset but she always seemed more sad than angry. But Roy was so angry he broke his own hand.

"I'll heal," Jamie says.

"Fucking nightmare," Roy grumbles and he gets up and paces the room a few times. And Jamie finds it a bit amusing how untethered Roy seems and for once his anger isn't actually directed at Jamie. Not entirely at least.

"Sorry you'll have to miss a few matches because of me," Jamie says.

"Dammit, Jamie," Roy says. "A few weeks is nothing. But compared to how long you'll be out. City might even call you back so they can keep an eye on you themselves now that the truth is out there."

"The truth?" Jamie is suddenly unsure what all the press knows that Jamie never wanted anyone to know. What would people think about him? His dad told him everyone would see him as weak. As a fucking pussy.

Roy doesn't miss the way Jamie's heart monitor spikes. He rushes back to the side of Jamie's bed. "It's okay," Roy says, the anger gone from his tone. And Jamie hears the same tone Roy had used as he sat beside him in the boot room. One filled with caution and concern. "Keeley didn't say much, but metro did release a statement and they are still looking for your father's fucking thugs. The press is putting pieces together. That's why Ted and Keeley are going to get out in front of it."

"What…what are they going to say?" Jamie says.

Roy sighs and props himself on the edge of Jamie's hospital bed. "That your fucking old man was banned from both Richmond and Man City games. Pep agrees that he shouldn't be allowed at all. The safety of all players, including you, is a priority to both teams. And now James Tartt and his fucking cronies are looking at a full league ban. That the met are doing a full investigation of your attack, as well as a review of previous incidents. I guess knowing that your old man has a fucking history of this shit is a big deal now since he brought his shit to Richmond. GMP ain't looking too good now that Scotland Yard's looking into it."

Jamie's head is spinning. And Roy is close enough that Jamie could reach out and touch him. And Jamie wants to because he feels like shit and he's scared because his dad always told him this would end bad. It would ruin his career if anyone found out. His panic and pain killer addled brain must have missed the part where he wasn't actually going to reach out for Roy because his hand is reaching out as if it had a mind of its own. And to Jamie's fucking shock, Roy takes it with his good hand. Roy glances at the monitors and knows that Jamie is going to stress out his already healing body if he keeps on like this. So Roy makes a decision.

"Hey," Roy says. He sits on the edge of the bed and leans into Jamie's space. "Listen to me, Jamie." He only continues after Jamie's eyes snap to his. He squeezes Jamie's hand as he does. "This isn't your fault. This isn't on you. You didn't do anything wrong." Roy says with absolute confidence. "You have spent years fighting this shit on your own, but that's fucking over, yeah? You have Keeley, you have Lasso, you have the team. Right now you have me, and I'm not fucking going anywhere. So relax and take a fucking breath."

Jamie doesn't even think about it. He just does as Roy tells him.

"Good lad," Roy nods. "Now do it again." And just like before they go on like that until Jamie calmed down and the monitors are no longer flashing. "good lad," Roy repeats. "Now, don't you fucking worry about that shit. Let Keeley and the fucking police do their jobs. You just focus on getting better so that when you're back out there on the pitch you can show the world that you are stronger than anyone fucking knew. Going to hear that fucking stupid shark chant and you'll fucking bask in it. The good kind of fucking attention. And you'll kick fucking arse and prove everything your old man has ever said wrong. Because that's the real fucking Jamie Tartt. Not the fucking charade your fucking old man made. The real fucking you."

Jamie doesn't realize he is crying until Roy uses the back of their joined hands to brush them away. It's an awkward motion but with his other hand in a cast there wasn't much else for it. It earns a bit of a chuckle from Jamie.

"You'll do fucking fine," Roy insists. "Because we'll get you healed up and back on the pitch in no time, you just watch."

"You going to help me?" Jamie asks, hopeful and glad to have Roy Kent on his side.

"The fuck else am I going to do?" Roy states and holds up the cast. "And I'm the captain for a fucking reason."

And Jamie grins because that's not the first time Roy has said that. And Roy actually didn't have to do shit to help Jamie. He hadn't before their little spat in the boot room. But Jamie wasn't going to complain now. Not when Roy fucking Kent, Jamie's childhood hero, was sitting on the edge of his hospital bed telling him everything would be alright and they'd manage it together. And he didn't have to worry about his dad getting angry at him. Especially since he was laying there holding Roy's hand. And wow, Roy fucking Kent hadn't let go of Jamie's hand since he took it and that did things to Jamie. Jamie didn't know he could feel happy, especially while sitting in hospital with broken ribs, too many stitches, and a concussion. It felt like a dream.

"If your ribs are broken in your fucking dreams, then you need to get better fucking dreams."

"How much of that did I say out loud?" Jamie asks, mortified.

And Roy fucking smirks. "Enough." Roy squeezes his hand and laughs when Jamie's face turns red with embarrassment. Roy had thought Jamie Tartt to be fucking shameless in the past. Nothing fucking phased him. But seeing him now, fucking blushing because Roy got a glimpse at what actually goes on in his head was fucking priceless. "I already knew you had my fucking poster, Tartt," Roy says. "That you watched my games. The only new info here is that you want to fucking hold my hand." He felt Jamie try to pull away but Roy didn't let him. "Fuck off with that shit," Roy says. "If I didn't want to hold your fucking hand, I wouldn't have taken it in the first fucking place. So steady on and quit getting yourself worked up over nothing before the nurses catch on and boot me."

"They wouldn't," Jamie says. "You're Roy fucking Kent."

Roy laughs. "In here I'm Dr. O'Sullivan's brother. And they know I won't do shit to make her job harder. So settle back in and fucking sleep, I'm not fucking going anywhere." Roy lets go of Jamie's hand so he can pull a chair closer with his only good hand. He settles in and offers his hand back to Jamie without another word. And Jamie takes it. Roy goes back to watching the TV that Jamie hadn't even noticed was on because the volume was so low.

"Fucking sleep or your mum will probably blame it on me," Roy states. And Jamie laughs, ignoring the pain in his ribs as best he can.

"Seriously, Jamie," Roy says. And Jamie looks away from the TV to look at Roy.

"I know, I know. Sleep," Jamie says as he gets as comfortable as he can without letting Roy's hand go and after a few minutes he falls asleep. And he stayed asleep thanks to the painkillers in his system. And that was fine with Roy.

Keeley is shocked to find Jamie's hand curled around Roy Kent's when she and Jamie's mum quietly enter the room. Both men fast asleep.

"Been like that for a bit," Roy's sister says in a whisper, now on shift in her scrubs and white coat. "Probably for the best." She grins and starts to leave. She had already given Georgie a full rundown of her son's case. "But feel free to wake them. I'm sure they won't mind."

"I'll let you handle it," Keeley says. "I'll be out here, have to update Rebecca and Ted before the presser."

Georgie nods and makes her way into the room. Roy Kent snaps awake as she gets closer. She can tell his guard is up immediately.

"Didn't mean to wake you," she says. "We talked on the phone, I'm Georgie-"

"Jamie's mum," Roy manages to recall and goes to stand up and starts to let go of Jamie's hand. Even sleeping Jamie doesn't seem to want that to happen by the way Jamie starts to shift in his sleep. So Georgie stops Roy.

"You're fine," she insists and moves to stand on the other side of Jamie's bed. Brushing her son's unstyled hair off his face. "What has he done to you my sexy little baby," she laments and Roy just silently watches as Jamie leans towards his mother's touch. "I always worried I'd get this call," she says a bit louder so Roy can hear but not loud enough to wake Jamie. She glances over at Roy as she runs her fingers through Jamie's hair to fix it. She knew he hated when his hair wasn't just right. And with his ribs broken he probably couldn't do it himself. She'd have to get a brush and properly sort it out later. Might make him feel better. Roy shifts closer so that Jamie can lean into his mum's touch without letting go of Roy.

"I hoped him coming to Richmond would be enough distance that James would leave him be." Her tone is sad and Roy knows it must hurt to see Jamie like this. It hurt Roy to see Jamie like this.

"It never should have happened," Roy says, trying to keep his tone low despite how upsetting it all was. He didn't blame her, not really.

She looks at Roy with sad eyes. Her son's childhood hero.

"It was always bound to end one of two ways. Either Jamie would break, or James did. And sadly, it was my sweet little boy." Georgie says.

"Why did you leave him if you knew?" Roy asks.

"I didn't leave him. I just couldn't stay with James," she admits. "Jamie, he wasn't stupid. He knew what was happening, and he'd try and get to his father before he could get to me. I didn't want to make it worse. I wanted him with me, but I had to find somewhere safe first. We got him when we could, but James had already gotten to him. My sexy little baby," Georgie said with a sad smile. "Then he was brought into the academy, and I hoped that would be good for him. Keep him out of James' reach, but I should have known he would find a way to get to him. Then as an adult, Jamie just threw himself head-first into the game. I hadn't realized how twisted James had made it all."

Roy wanted to shout that all that was bullshit. She was his mum, and that it was her fucking job to protect her son. But he also thought about his sister. How different her life would have been if Roy hadn't been there. If Roy didn't step in when they needed him. Or if Phoebe's father hadn't walked away but taken his shit out on them, and it was an infuriating thought. Georgie didn't have anyone to step in. No one like Roy stepped in to help. No one to look out for them until it was too late. But Roy was there now.

"It probably sounds selfish," she admits. "That I saved myself-"

"It's a fucking nightmare," Roy says. "But you never asked for it. You didn't leave and not turn back. You couldn't save him if you couldn't save yourself first. He'd have fought you."

"And Jamie was too young to understand," she nods, as she brushes Jamie's cheek. The sleeping striker leans into the touch.

Roy hums because he gets that. Phoebe is almost lucky that her dad simply left when she was too young to miss him. And Roy made sure Phoebe never had to go without anything she truly needed. Roy would throw any amount of money at any problem his sister and niece faced. He loved them more than anything. Jamie hadn't had that luck. But Jamie did have talent. And that had been his saving grace.

"Not so young anymore," she laments. "But he's still my sexy little baby." She smiles. And Roy can see where Jamie gets much of his true nature. His easy smile, his expressive nature. He needs for touch.

"You might have missed a lot," Roy says. "But at least you came back. You're here now."

She nods. "Thank you for calling me."

"The hospital called you first," Roy says.

"Yes, but you actually made arrangements. You made sure Jamie wasn't alone, and someone was there to meet the train."

"It was easier for everyone that way," Roy says.

"But not something you had to do," she tells him. "so I appreciate it."

"Not much else I bloody could do," Roy says nodding at his cast covered hand.

"Was still more than I could have asked of you or anyone," she insists.

And Roy felt the corners of his mouth twitch because fucking hell, Jamie's mum was grateful that Roy was doing this all. And that was nice but he didn't need her appreciation and thank yous. He hadn't done it for her. He hadn't done it because he was bored and useless. He had done it because it would make Jamie happy. Because Jamie Tartt's happiness was important to him. He wanted Jamie to be happy and taken care of. And that was a fucking revelation. He looks at their joined hands. Fuck. He cared about Jamie's happiness because he cared about Jamie. More than he did the rest of the team. Maybe even more than his fucking own happiness at this rate. Because Jamie deserves the fucking best after all he has gone through. And Roy wants nothing more than to give that to him. He looks back over at Jamie's mum who is just looking at him. He has to say something.

"Yeah, well, I did it for him," Roy says. And that makes Georgie smile. Because her son's hero hadn't moved from his side since he got there. He hadn't let her son's hand go since before she got there.

"You're good for him," She says plainly. And that hit Roy in a way he didn't expect. It made Roy feel like he truly had done something right. Something good.

"I just listened when he needed someone to," Roy says.

"Maybe, but you also did something about it. You didn't just listen. You tried to make it better."

That has something twisting in Roy's stomach.

"He told me I'd only make it worse, and he was right," Roy says. "I should go."

"Wait," She says but he had already pulled away and was nearly out the door.

"I'll see him later," Roy says and leaves.

Georgie worries about what Roy had just said, but she can't focus on that. She has to focus on Jamie. She'd have to ask Keeley or even his sister when she came back.

Jamie wakes up to the sound of his mum talking.

"You just focus on your son," Jamie hears another voice say as he blinks his eyes open. "My brother can be a bit self destructive and a bit of a prick, but he's a good guy. If he said he'll be back. He'll be back."

And Jamie realizes that was Roy's sister. She'd been one of his doctors. Wait, Roy was gone? Jamie looks around. When did Roy leave? He said he wasn't going anywhere.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Tartt?" His doctor asks and yeah, that's Roy's sister. He knows that for sure now. He winces.

"Jamie, just call me Jamie," he says.

"Okay, Jamie," she says.

"Tired, sore," he admits.

"That's understandable," she assures him.

"That's okay, baby," his mum says.

"How long was I out this time?" He asks, glancing over at where Roy had been.

"A few hours, the medication in addition to your injuries, might make you feel more tired and that's normal. Your body heals best when it's resting."

"Okay," Jamie says. "How long do you think it will be before I can get back to the team?" He asks.

The doctor nods, obviously familiar with the question. "If all goes well you can hopefully make it back in a few months."

"So I'm going to miss most of the season, they're facing relegation. I can't-"

"I will tell you the same thing I tell my brother," she says. "You can't help the team if you can't stay on your feet. You can't stay on your feet if you don't listen to what your body is telling you or you'll push it too far or too fast. You're not a machine, and you aren't immortal. The team will go on with or without you, it's why they have reserve players. You killing yourself is just going to make everyone feel worse when push comes to shove. And no one wins in that scenario. Relegation might feel like a fate worse than death, but I assure you from a medical standpoint, it isn't. Is it worth risking your entire future for it? And as much as I support my brother's team, as your doctor, I cannot in good faith tell you anything but the truth. You might be back by season end. But there are no guarantees that you will. You're lucky you are alive to see the team continue. You can still cheer them on. They care what happens to you. I know my brother does. So get some rest, and leave the rest to the professionals."

Yeah, she was Roy's sister. He had told him the exact same thing. Let the professionals handle it.

"Yeah, okay," Jamie agrees.

It must have been the right thing to say since is mum is smiling and squeezing his hand.

It’s hours before Jamie can go home. Days before he is allowed to leave his house. Over a week before he’s allowed back at Nelson Road. The first time mostly for a meeting with physio and letting the press see him up and about. He’s barely allowed on the sideline. It didn’t really matter though. Traning had ground to a halt when he made his way out of the tunnel, much slower than usual. He finally gets to meet Dani Rojas. The one time Roy got close enough to talk to it was mainly to remind Jamie that Dani wasn’t his replacement. Jamie had so many questions and doubt, but didn’t know how to voice them. So he nodded.

Jamie hates having to just sit back and watch from the sidelines. He had a hard enough time facing the reality he wouldn't be able to finish the season and that Man City was considering recalling him. And Jamie hated the idea of leaving Richmond if they got relegated. He was back on his feet but he wasn't cleared to play. Somedays were still harder than others and he would get winded easily. But he was working on it. And Roy had been helping him as promised. And as he figured the team was still facing relegation. And of course Man City was the team that would decide it. What made it worse was Jamie could tell Roy was pushing it. Pushing himself too hard to pick up the slack. He could almost hear Roy's sister telling him he was pushing his body too hard and something had to give. And he agreed.

He was proved right when Roy went down after challenging City's offense. The captain went down and didn't get back up. And that fucking terrified Jamie. Roy had been working so hard to help Jamie. And Jamie couldn't do shit now to help him. The striker wasn’t sure when was the last time he’d been so worried about another person. It was maddening being stuck on the sideline. Will put a hand out to block him from running onto the pitch. He felt like he could breathe a bit better when Roy finally got to his feet but the way Roy was limping away didn't bode well and Jamie just knew this was the moment Roy's sister always warned them about.

Jamie follows Roy towards the locker room. He waits there while Roy deals with the physio team. Roy pointedly ignores him as he takes off his jersey, looking at his own name. He tosses it away and sits on the bench. Roy knows it's over. His career is over. He finally looks at Jamie when he sits beside him.

"Rough play," Jamie sighs. "How you feeling?"

"Like fucking shit," Roy says.

"I get that," Jamie nods.

"At least you'll have next season," Roy says.

"Thanks to you," Jamie says.

"That's not true, you'd make a comeback with or without me. Just like you will next season."

"Wouldn't feel right without you," Jamie admits.

"Fucking face it," Roy says. "There's no fucking coming back from it this time, Tartt."

"Maybe not, but it doesn't mean you can't be a part of it. Unless you're giving up on helping me now too."

"Fuck off," Roy says. "My career ends and you make it about yourself."

Jamie grins. "If it makes you mad at anyone but yourself, then yeah, gonna do it."

"I'm not mad, I'm just…"

"I know," Jamie bumps his shoulder but instead of pulling away he stays there. Pressed against Roy's shoulder hoping to ground him, offer comfort.

Roy grunts and doesn't push him away. He actually leans into it because Jamie was here offering a bit of hope in his future. Something to do with his time now that he was looking at nothing.

"On the bright side, you'll have a lot more time for Phoebe now," Jamie grins and Roy huffs. "She will love it." And Roy can at least agree with that as Jamie keeps going, "And if you think you're gonna get rid of me just because you're out of the game, I got news for you." Jamie grins. "I'm not going to make it easy."

"Fucking nightmare," Roy groans, but smiles.

"I'm a fucking dream," Jamie boasts. And for once Roy can't argue because he came into the locker room to be miserable by himself. But Jamie had got him to actually smile. Made him feel like this was not as daunting of a change. It was still fucking terrifying to not know what he was going to do now. Football had been his fucking life for so long. So much has happened along the way, but it was all framed around football. How was he supposed to just sit back and let go? Could he do that? He wasn't sure. But it all seemed more tolerable with Jamie sitting next to him.

Roy sighs.

"You'll figure it out," Jamie assures him. "You always do." And Roy can't ignore the feeling of how much Jamie's confidence in him made him feel better, happier.

"I hope so," Roy says.

"I know so, because you told me that everything was going to be fine, because we were going to get through it. And I may not have made it back this season, but you were right. And this time, I'm right."

"Okay," Roy lets him have it because he knows Jamie isn't going to actually let this go. Not now, not any time soon. Jamie has proved to have unparalleled determination.

"Okay," Jamie grins and holds out his hand. He expected Roy to just shake on it. He doesn't expect Roy to just take his hand and hold it. And Jamie fucking love it. Because his teenage crush had only gotten bigger since Roy had sat with him in hospital. Jamie laces their fingers together. They sit quietly until the rest of the team comes in and Jamie reluctantly pulls away.

They only avoided relegation by ending the match in a tie. And Jamie is glad that he won't be leaving the team in a relegated state if he gets recalled. But he really doesn't want to leave Richmond. And unfortunately he was right. Man City wanted him back so they could get him back on the pitch their way. And Jamie has no choice but to go. The night before he is set to leave he shows up at Roy's.

"I don't want to go," Jamie says. "Even if my dad isn't there I still don't want to go."

His sad and desperate tone makes something twist in Roy's chest. He lets Jamie in and as soon as the door is closed, Roy pulls him into a hug because he didn't want Jamie to leave either, especially if he was going to be upset. Because Jamie's happiness meant something to Roy. He knows it was the right thing to do when Jamie grips the side of his shirt with a white knuckled grip. Jamie sniffles. "I don't want to leave, all my friends are here, you're here. I don't-" his sniffles turn into a full on sob. "I can't-"

"Okay, Jamie," Roy says, gently shushing him because he knows that Jamie has healed up well, but he wasn't sure how it would go if he hyperventilated now. "Shh, you're not gone yet. I'm right here. You can always come visit. And I can come see you. Not like I have much else to do," and that earns a choked laugh from Jamie. "We'll figure it out," Roy assures him. Roy pulls back enough and tilts Jamie's head until he can actually see him and something inside Roy shatters into pieces. Jamie looks devastated. Roy isn't sure he looked this broken when he was in hospital. It is like for once Jamie can't see a light at the end of the tunnel. And Roy hates that. Hates it more than he hated watching Jamie curl up on the floor of the boot room. Only thing he could ever hate more right now was himself, for walking away from Jamie's hospital room when he had told him he would stay. Because not once, but twice, now Roy has wasted an opportunity to tell Jamie how he really feels. And looking at Jamie now he thinks about all the time he could have had with Jamie that he wasted. "Because we always do." He can't help but glance at Jamie's lips because fucking hell Roy is a glutton for goddamn punishment and despite how shitty his timing is and how this could fuck up Jamie's future he finds himself leaning in. He gives Jamie enough time to pull away if he wants but instead of that happening. Jamie jumps at the chance and meets him halfway in a brutal kiss that makes Roy's heart pound like wild and Jamie feels like his skin is on fire. Jamie wraps his arms tighter around Roy. Roy buries his fingers of one hand in Jamie's hair and the other splays out on his lower back to keep him impossibly close. Roy forces himself to pull away because Jamie had just been struggling for air and sobbing and a few months ago was fighting for breath through broken ribs. And it was a smart move based on the striker's ragged breathing now. But Jamie's tears are gone and replaced by a look of total awe. And Roy can't resist. He kisses him again. And again until they both end up making their way to Roy's bed. Roy has a brief moment where he thinks maybe this is too fast. Maybe Jamie isn't in the right mindset and he's taking advantage of him in a vulnerable moment. He freezes.

"What?" Jamie looks at him with confusion. "What's wrong?"

"You sure you want-" and Jamie's lips cut him off.

"I can honestly fucking say I never wanted anything more," Jamie goes to kiss him again but Roy stops him.

"I don't want to be the guy that takes advantage of -"

"Fucking hell, Roy. You think I haven't thought about this a million times?" Jamie laughs. "You think your poster is on my teenage wall for aesthetic reasons. I have literally thought about this exact moment since I was a fucking kid. So unless you don't want to then-" it's Roy's turn to cut him off by kissing him breathless. And Jamie damn near fucking swoons. Because he wasn't lying. This is the biggest fucking fantasy he ever had. And it ends up being so much more than he could have ever dreamt up because Roy might be a legend on the pitch but he is a fucking artist between the sheets. It's like he knows just how to take someone apart and completely ruin them. And Jamie fucking loved it. Only when they were both just laying there trying to recover did it actually register what it meant. It made Jamie even more desperate to find a way to stay in Richmond and it made Roy just want to fight anyone that would try to take Jamie away from him. But they both knew the morning would eventually come and Jamie would have to leave for Manchester. So Roy just pulled him close. Jamie tucked his head under Roy's chin and let himself take in the feeling of just being with the person he wants to be with. To listen to the way Roy's heartbeat slows to a resting pace and his breathing evens out. Jamie tries to commit every tiny detail to memory before he inevitably falls asleep in the warmest and safest place he has ever been. And a sense of home settles in him that threatens to break him. And that must show somehow because Roy cards his fingers through Jamie's hair. Roy had seen Jamie's mum do it when Jamie had started to shift in his sleep at the hospital. And he must have done it right because Jamie goes to putty in his hands. And Roy thinks he might hear a sniffle.

"Hey," Roy says, his tone softer than Jamie thinks he has ever heard. "I've got you," Roy says, the hand not in Jamie's hair is holding him tight.

"And you have me," Jamie says. "As long as you can stand to have me."

Roy grunts and shifts so he can actually kiss Jamie. "Don't tempt me," he states.

"Mean it," Jamie grins.

"Fucking hell," Roy groans. "Now we have to fucking figure this shit out."

"Too good an offer to resist?" Jamie teases.

"Something like that," Roy says before catching his lips again. "We'll come up with something."

"Always do," Jamie finishes for him.

Roy sees Jamie off at the station and Jamie keeps his sunglasses on and his hoodie pulled tight because it isn't actually his, it's Roy's and no one needed to know that but him and Roy. His sunglasses hide the puffy eyes and tears and let people think he is sleeping off a bender or something because he doesn't need them to ask why he is so quiet. Why isn't he on his phone? He just wants to think of a way to get back to Richmond without ruining his career. Because Roy would be pissed if Jamie threw everything away for him, especially right after losing it all himself. Roy was a bit lost as is. Jamie didn't want to make it worse. The only thing keeping him from worrying too much about Roy being alone was Phoebe. Phoebe would keep him busy. She was smart and would know Roy needed it. Keeley had said she would help them find a way to get Jamie back. And Jamie trusted Keeley more than almost anyone. Between her and Roy, they kept him from losing it completely. He just hopes they could do the same for each other.

As time goes on, Jamie is miserable and annoyed with the rehab team that is trying to get him back to pitch ready. On the phone, Roy reminds him they are just doing their jobs and as much as he hates being there it's for the best. He doesn't take his misery out on anyone, but he doesn't exactly do much to hide it.

Pep meets with him one day and asks him if he is okay and Jamie tells him the truth. He misses Richmond. He never had friends like that. City had put up with him when he was at his worst and he appreciated that, but it didn't feel like home anymore. He wasn't happy. And Pep understood. He would see what they might be able to do to help him and Jamie felt better.

He called Roy later and told him about it.

"That's fucking great," Roy says.

Jamie was practically buzzing with excitement as he waited for the train to get there. He had to remind himself that he couldn't just run up and kiss Roy no matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much he missed him. And Jamie lights up when he sees Roy. And Roy can't help but fucking grin. Jamie hugs him and Roy lets him, fuck anyone that would care. He missed Jamie and he hadn't seen him in weeks. But they can't stay there too long and they both know it.

"How's your mum?" Roy asks as they head to Jamie's car.

"She's good. Simon's good," Jamie grins. "How's your sister and Phoebe?"

"Already annoyed that I have nothing to do but bother them and Keeley has been bugging me about fucking Sky sports."

"Oh that'd be something," Jamie laughs. "You behind the desk with those pricks. I'd pay to see it."

"You fucking would," Roy shakes his head but grins because he knows Jamie is mostly just being a cheeky prick. "You just miss seeing my fucking face."

"That's true," Jamie admits. "That and it's funny when you yell at people that aren't me."

"Fuck off," Roy says, playfully shoving Jamie shoulder. Jamie laughs.

They didn't touch again until Roy's stuff was in the boot and they were in Jamie's car. And even then it isn't more than Jamie's hand finding Roy's when he can. It's like that until they are locked away in Jamie's flat that Roy pins Jamie against the door and gives Jamie a right and proper snog. Fucking kisses him like he'd wanted to since he saw him.

"Hi," Jamie grins when they finally separate for air.

Roy's grunts. "Fucking missed you."

"Fucking missed you too," Jamie parrots. "As much as I'd love for you to fuck me right here, I think your knee would never recover and can't have that, can we?"

"Fucking hell," Roy groans as Jamie moves just right underneath him and Roy considers testing that little idea of Jamie's. But Roy knows Jamie's right and it's been fucking weeks. And he was determined to do this the right way. So he pushes off the door and follows Jamie's lead until they find themselves in a familiar position. Absolutely lost in their own little world for a bit as they make it very clear just how much they really did miss each other. Jamie couldn't stop his hands from exploring if he had wanted and Roy wanted to know what every centimeter of Jamie tastes like. And neither were disappointed by what they discovered. The rest of the day they barely left Jamie's bed. Roy re-familiarizing himself with every tattoo, mark, and scar on Jamie Tartt. And Jamie Tartt listens to the most soothing sound in the world to him, the sound of Roy's heart beating in his chest as he holds Jamie close. It was a reminder that it was all very much real. And Jamie wasn't alone. And Roy didn't mind the fact Jamie just wanted an extra long cuddle. He knew Jamie spent most days trying to get back in shape before the new season. Get back to where Roy assures him he should be. What team didn't matter because they both knew it now. They'd be Richmond till they died because that was home now. That was where most of the important people in their lives were, but mostly they knew that Richmond would be the one place that wouldn't mind if Roy and Jamie were together. Because the team there actually knew them, cared for them. Sure, Pep seemed to care a lot about Jamie, but it wasn't the same. No team had a dynamic quite like Richmond. And it made it hard for Jamie to be back with City. He considered a few lads there his mates, but it wasn't like it was at Richmond. It just felt different. And Jamie missed them terribly.

"How's the team?" Jamie asks.

"Scattered as usual, postseason. Montlaur, Rojas, and the rest went home. Sam says to stay in touch. Jeff said he'd try and catch back up with you soon. Ted says 'don't be a stranger' in that stupid accent of his."

"I miss them too," Jamie says.

"I know," Roy says as he runs his fingers tips along Jamie's scalp. He tugs slightly at the striker's now longer hair, earning an unashamed moan from Jamie. "Growing it out I see."

"Good or bad?"

"It's you, you'd make it fucking work one way or another."

"Not exactly an answer, Kent."

"It's fucking fine. I don't give a shit as long as you like it."

"I do like it," Jamie admits.

"Then it's good," Roy says, giving the longer locks another tug.

"I think I fucking love you," Jamie blurts out before he can stop himself. Like his brain hasn't caught up with his heart or his mouth. The hand in his hair stills and he is pretty sure he hears the way Roy's heartbeat races. That was good right? It's a long and painful silence for Jamie as he waits for Roy to say anything. But the silence gets to him. "Roy…" and Roy tilts Jamie's head up and manages to catch his lips.

"I think you aren't the only one," Roy says. His words spoke against Jamie's lips. "I fucking love you too."

And Jamie could cry, because Roy fucking Kent just said he loved him back while they cuddle in Jamie's bed. "Now I really need to find a way back to Richmond."

"You really do," Roy agrees.

The team cheers when Jamie walks in and Jamie is stunned. It's not until Roy guides him over to his new cubby spot, that just so happens to be right by the door.

"Told you it would work out," Roy whispers in his ear. Jamie wants to keep Roy that close and fucking kiss him so bad his hands actually twitch. But before he can do anything, Roy grins. "Go celebrate," he insists as he pulls away from Jamie to head to the gaffer's office to talk to Beard. Jamie wanted to reach over and pull him back but the team swarmed him. Because not only is he healed up and ready to start the new season, he is back at Richmond.

"You tell him the rest of the deal?" Beard asks as Roy walks in.

"Nah, want to see the look on his face when it happens," Roy says. "Little prick has been a fucking nightmare the past few days."

"Your nightmare though," Beard states. Roy looks over at the desk that's officially his. Roy couldn't help but grin when a loud round of Richmond till we die is being shouted in the locker room. And he knows, he just knows this was the right call to make. For both their futures.

Ted and Beard manage to get the team out on the field. Jamie had been sad that he hadn't had the chance to say goodbye to Roy but he had training to do.

"You ready?" Keeley asks him.

Roy nods.

Roy spends half the morning in the press room fielding questions about not only being Richmond's newest coach, one that actually knows the game, and an openly non-straight one at that. And the press went wild on that. Questions about his preferences. How long he had known. He refused to answer most of them. And absolutely shut the whole thing down when they asked if he was seeing anyone. He was just getting up to leave when someone asked about the nature of his relationship with Jamie Tartt, since Roy had been seen spending time with in Manchester in the off season. That pissed Roy off. He wasn't going to say anything revealing. Because he hadn't actually talked any of this over with Jamie.

"He asked for my help to get him ready for the new season, after his recovery. Didn't need to train myself anymore. I was his fucking captain when he was hurt and I'm a fucking coach now. Is that so fucking hard to believe?" And he walked away.

Rebecca had told him he had done well.

The locker room went oddly quiet when he walked in after lunch. Roy had spent most of his day so far dealing with Keeley plotting over a dozen photos and event lineups for him. He didn't care about any of it. He knew by the time he got back to start actually coaching the team would already know.

"The fuck you lot staring at," Roy says. "Get the fuck back to work." He looked at Jamie but Jamie wouldn't look at him. Roy sighs and drags Jamie into the office. Both Ted and Beard take that as their cue to get the team moving. Ted gives Roy a thumbs up as he closes the door behind them.

"You didn't tell me you were going to do that," Jamie says.

"Are you mad?" Roy asks him, because Jamie didn't look happy at all.

"Why?" Jamie implores.

The new coach wasn’t sure what the striker meant. "Why did I do it or why didn't I tell you?"

"Both," Jamie says.

"It was part of the deal to get Welton to buy out your contract from Man City."

"So you outed yourself for me?" Jamie doesn’t know if he should be furious or feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

"I took the job as a coach for you, Keeley thought we might as well make the announcement memorable."

That twists something in Jamie’s gut. Keeley is easily his best friend, but that didn’t mean he agreed with her tactics. He hated the idea of Roy giving up anything for, let alone something this big. "But they made you…"

Roy can tell this isn’t going the way he figured it would. He probably should have figured that would happen. "No one fucking makes me do anything I don't fucking want to," Roy assures him. "You fucking know that."

"I know but-"

"I never actually hid my sexuality from anyone. But no one fucking asked. And no one…well, no one ever made me think I'd have a reason to make something of it. But you. That's different. You've always been different. Made me fucking think. Fucking be better. Even before that fucking morning in the boot room. You always rose to meet me. Challenged me. Fucking annoying but I love it."

"Why didn't you tell me, we could have-"

"Because you are just getting back on the fucking pitch. You are now fully contracted to AFC Richmond. People are going to already have questions. Like why would a Manchester lad, born and raised, trained by City want to be anywhere but with Man City or even fucking United. Or what could possibly interest you in staying with a team that is barely in the league. If you and me were to actually go public, right now, you know what they'd say. You were throwing it all away for me. Or that I made you fucking do it."

"And I'd fucking tell ‘em all that is bullshit. My dad ruined Manchester for me. My dad is why I didn't mind coming here in the first place. It pissed him off. And I'll tell ‘em no team has ever felt more like home than Richmond. That yeah, I'm from Manchester. My mum is still there with my stepdad. And I love them. But I'm Richmond till I fucking die if they'll have me. Because there are things I love here in Richmond too. This fucking team. And I fucking love you. So that's all there is to it. I fought like hell to get back here and I made that choice. Me. And like you said, I asked you to help me get back here. Not just in the game but to Nelson Road. To the fucking AFC Richmond Greyhounds. There is no place I'd rather be than right here with you."

"That was beautiful." Jamie and Roy turn to see Ted standing there with Colin and Dani. Dani having been the one to actually say it.

"Sorry, didn't mean to ruin the cinematic moment," Ted says. "Dani was worried that Jamie was worn out from training already and Colin wanted to talk to you, Coach."

"Fucking hell," Roy says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. This team was already getting on his nerves and it was his first day as a coach.

Ted takes that as his sign that maybe Roy needs a bit more time to talk to Jamie. "We'll give you fellas a minute. But for the record, you two are adorable. Like enemies to lovers is one of my favorite troupes. So happy for you gents."

"Fuck off," Roy glares at Ted.

"Right, yeah, we're going," Ted says. Colin and Dani are already halfway to the locker rooms and looking anywhere but at the pair in the office.

Ted closes the door behind him again.

"Well, I guess the team's gonna know," Jamie says. "That okay?"

"I don't give a shit what they say. They'd always be fucking fine with it. It's the rest of the fucking league and the fucking fans that will try to fucking ruin you. And I don't want to be-"

Jamie kisses him.

"You won't be. I'd have probably found a way to fuck things up on my own if you hadn't have fought me in the boot room that morning. You're the reason we're both still here."

"Well, let's just fucking see how my shit goes over before you go making it about you," Roy says. Jamie laughs.

"You are something else, Roy fucking Kent," Jamie laughs.

"And your a fucking prick, but I fucking love you too. Now get your arse out on that pitch. And don't expect me to go easy on you because I know you better than anyone and I'm going to-" Jamie kisses him again before heading towards the door with a cheeky, "Yes, Coach."

"Dani Rojas!" Jamie grins as he makes his way into the locker room. "I assure you amigo, I am better than I have ever been. And I was fucking fantastic before." He claps Dani on the back.

"I can see that, mi amigo. I am very happy for you and Coach Roy. And I am glad you are back."

"Me too, Dani Rojas. Me too." Jamie throws his arm over Dani's shoulders as the pair of strikers head out.

"I'll go with them," Ted says. "Take your time."

Roy looks at a nervous Colin. "Hughes?"

"Yeah?" Colin says.

"Fucking out with it," Roy demands.

"Sorry, maybe I should come back another time, it's your first day as coach and-"

"Hughes," Roy says. "What is it?"

Colin had no idea how to ask what he actually wanted to ask.

“Going to need more clues here, Hughes,” Roy says. He has a feeling he knows but he isn’t going to be a prick and just assume.

Colin hesitates but he realizes that Roy just made the biggest announcement anyone could make on this type of topic in the sport. So he might as well just say it. “I’m gay,” Colin says.

“Okay? And?”

“What?”

“And I’m your coach and I’m glad you feel like you can tell me this, but is that all you wanted to say?”

“I just…I didn’t know there was anyone else like me on the team,” Colin says. “I didn’t know you or even Jamie-”

Roy is quick to stop him. “Going to need to talk to Jamie about what Jamie is.”

“But aren’t you two…” Colin is confused. He’d just seen Roy and Jamie kiss, more than once. “But you’re together, Jamie clearly-”

“Again, you’re going to have to fucking talk to Jamie about Jamie. Jamie and I haven’t labeled shit,” Roy tells him. “I’m not going to put him in a fucking box. I know that I’m me. Not straight, not gay. It’s a fucking spectrum I never bothered to figure out. All I can say is it’s fucking fine you’re gay. Fucking great you know who you are. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him, don’t fucking say shit about it to the press yet. I can take the fucking heat. I’m not saying hide it any more than you were before. Opposite really. You can be who you are outside here. That’s fine. Fuck it, you can even tell the team, be all fucking sunshine and rainbows for them. They love any reason to celebrate. I’m out, Jamie might as well be now. You can do what you want. I’m just say be fucking careful if you aren’t ready to tell the world. For better or fucking worse, I just brought a fucking press shit show to the door.”

“Why’d you do it?” Colin asks.

“Because I may not like telling the press shit, but I know they’re going to look for a story and the story is that I’m fucking here because Jamie Tartt wanted to be and that was fucking deal. Could leak from our side, could leak from City.”

“Man City knows?”

“Pep Guardiola knows more than he lets on,” Roy states.

“I don’t doubt that,” Colin says with absolute honesty. Pep Guardiola was known for being a good gaffer.

“I wanted the fucking lens to be focused on me,” Roy tells him. “Jamie’s been through fucking hell to get here. Fucking earned it. Press don’t need to be fucking digging around on why he wants to be here.”

“And if they figure out about you and Jamie?” Colin asks. “Not that I would ever say anything. I wouldn’t, I swear.”

“Then I guess we go the way Jamie suggested, tell ‘em they’re fucking pricks and that they’re looking for a scandal between consenting fucking adults that keep their private lives fucking private as much as fucking possible, and that as long as Jamie does his fucking job, and I do my fucking job, what’s the fucking problem?”

“Well, guess it’s good you have a plan,” Colin says.

“When fucking don’t I?” Roy challenges.

“Fair play,” Colin admits.

“Is that all, Hughes?” Roy asks. “Or do you want to have a fucking tea party?”

Colin isn’t sure if he should answer yes or no, that was a very confusing but very Roy Kent sort of question. “I think that’s it,” Colin manages.

“Then get your fucking arse on the pitch with the rest of the fucking team,” Roy tells him.

“Yes, Coach,” Colin says in a rush as he goes through the door to the locker room. “Sorry, Coach.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Roy calls after him. “Be fucking faster.”

Once alone Roy takes a deep breathe and fucking groans. This was his fucking life now. And he didn’t hate it at fucking all. He smiled to himself. His players clearly trusted him, at least as far as he could tell. They seemed supportive enough. He had Jamie and he didn’t see Jamie going anywhere anytime soon. He still had to deal with Ted fucking Lasso, but that didn’t seem as fucking terrible as it had before. He was supportive and he helped get Jamie back. Roy’s family was in a good place and for once it seemed he might be. Something would go fucking sideways sooner or later, but for now, like Jamie, he’s Richmond till he dies. Which being in a relationship with fucking Jamie Tartt, might be sooner rather than later, but it’d be worth it.

“About bloody time,” Jamie says when Roy finally makes it to the pitch. “What took you so long?”

“None of your fucking business,” Roy says but there is no heat in it, because this is Jamie.

“Your business is my business,” Jamie counters.

“Nosy prick,” Roy grunts.

“But you fucking love me,” Jamie grins.

“Might fucking change if your arse isn’t back running fucking drills in the next ten fucking seconds.”

Jamie laughs, because he knows that’s a fucking lie. He also knows Roy isn’t going to show him any favoritism on the pitch. “You said the same thing to Phoebe when she got out of bed after you’d tucked her in the other night,” Jamie points out. “Might need to work on your motivational shit, coach.”

“How's this for motivational,” Roy gets right up in Jamie’s face. “Get your fucking arse back to drills now and maybe you can do that one thing I told you you could never fucking do at the dog track.”

“Wait…really? But you said I’d terrorized enough kitmen and didn’t need to traumatize him more,” Jamie says.

“Not going to fucking find out running that pretty little mouth of yours on the sidelines, Tartt.” And the look on Roy’s face tells him he’s fucking serious. On all of it. And Jamie might actually be more motivated than he ever has been in his life to run drills.

“Fucking hell,” Jamie mutters.

“Fucking move it, Tartt!” Roy shouts and Jamie does with a chipper, “Yes, Coach.”

[leonbastralle]

GAMES I PLAYED IN 2023 - FIRST HALF-ISH

i've been seeing a lot of this in gif form but i do not have the energy or video material and also i'm late but i rly wanted to make a post where i say a lil bit abt all the games i played and how i liked them!

pokemon platinum, soulsilver, white, white 2, y, sun, alpha sapphire & shield: i started a big mainline pokemon marathon in 2022 but most of it fell on 2023. it was a lovely time tbh and i miss it! platinum was a bit too grindy (but we love cynthia) and soulsilver traumatised me for glitch reasons. my favorites out of this lineup were definitely gen 5 in terms of storyline and pokemon selection, the later ones were a bit too handholdy and slow for my taste, and alpha sapphire could not compete w the og emerald which is my favorite pokemon game of all time. i did rly love shield though but that's bc i'm a) a football girl and b) i played it on my wife's sofa askfjhkasjf. anyway music is bangers all around and i do love The Concept of pokemon so i didn't hate any of them.

lonely people potion shop: this was an absolute surprise indie gem that i found on my wife's itch.io in 2022 but i replayed it for her in 2023 so it counts. this game is a rly short very fruity visual novel where you make potions for people and chat with them. it's one of the most heartwarming and gentle games i've played, every character is so lovely and caring towards each other and also to you the player! 100% would recommend i cried a bit several times.

validate: i really wanted to love this game because a dating sim/visual novel/narrative fiction type game w a super diverse cast (in terms of backgrounds, body types, gender, sexuality, and mental health struggles) and such a lovely art style? sounds perfect! and it would be if the characters weren't so...unlikeable sjfhaksjfa. it eventually got so difficult for me to root for them and also kind of frustrating bc the routes overlap in a way that even if you get good outcomes in one route, you can still mess up the relationship in a different route (because you have routes for each of the characters) so i ended up not finishing it.

neo cab: another one i never finished but was rly intrigued by! another visual novel but choices matter type deal where you play as a taxi driver in a dystopian world where you're being replaced by self driving taxis. the mechanics and cast are really cool and if the storyline didn't stress me out so much i would've finished it by now but i definitely will one day!

coffee talk 1/2: barista simulator meets visual novel in an urban fantasy setting where you also kinda save the world one drink at a time! i loved the first one so so much and finally played it last year in preparation for the second one coming out that i'd been anxiously awaiting, it's so vibey and the characters and their storylines are so interesting and i loved seeing their heartfelt interactions! also the first game was giving such strong queer vibes but they kinda dropped the ball w that in the second game trying to backtrack on that. ruined the experience for me a little bit but still a very solid game w cool additions to the already great cast of the first game!

skyrim: not much to say about that one. my favorite classic walking simulator that i keep coming back to, still very much playable and so pretty even on the switch! unfortunately also incredibly broken so i can't finish the solstheim questlines kjsfhkajsfas fuck you todd howard

calico: wonky little game where you explore the world and also bake and own a café that you can fill with all sorts of animals from cats to snow foxes to capybaras because why the fuck not! absolutely delightful, 10/10

later alligator: lovely little puzzle game w great old timey detective vibes and a banger soundtrack where everyone is alligators. these characters are such great fun, i loved the writing and i loved learning about all of them and doing tasks for them! the minigames got a bit frustrating at times bc i was lacking the coordination skills or just general strategy and there are some completionist things i could never do because of that and the main character (the main guy you're doing things for, not the player character) can get on your nerves pretty quickly but otherwise a lovely game w a great twist in my opinion

strange horticulture: this one made it into my all time favorites too. you play as the owner of a supernatural plant shop in a place where A Lot of strange things are going on. it has a bunch of really cool mechanics like plant identification and a lot of map related puzzles to find new plants, secrets etc. the overarching story that gets revealed bit by bit from an unknown person's pov outside of the gameplay while related events are also happening in real time was so interesting, and there are a lot of cool choices you can make that lead to various more or less unsettling outcomes. the spooky vibe is SO good but at the same time it has a very calming homey feel AND YOU CAN PET THE CAT 10000/10

penko park: another absolute indie banger. probably something like a pokemon snap but the beasties look fucking stupid and kinda creepy and the lore is cursed as hell. throughout the game you explore the remains of a park that was built upon the abuse of all sorts of cute little creatures (and big creatures) and while you mostly try to take pictures of every weird looking fella in their different emotional states that you bring upon them in various ways, maybe there's something you can do to right the wrongs of the park founders! who knows! (also special shoutout because these are german devs and as a german, i am especially demanding when it comes to german games and this one knocked it out of the park) (haha the park get it)

[scavengerssuccotash]

Hi! I love your clintasha stuff so much.

Do you have any headcanons for clintasha angst?! I’ve always imagined that with their age gap, nat’s closeness to Steve (in the MCU anyway), Clint’s insecurities and hidden anger streak (as seen in Endgame with Ronin), and the fact that they both have quite dominant personalities, conditions can sometimes be ripe for an argument.

And when they do fight, they fight! Like all the avengers/SHIELD are on edge for days because of the tension. And eventually one of them just gets so upset not having the other there that they will work up the courage to apologize.

Aww! Why thank you so much I’m glad you’re enjoying them!

I picture the fights between Clint and Nat to be a micro equivalent of the Cold War. Well, unlike the Cold War it does get hot! (Pun intended!) Picture the Cuban Missile crisis but make it between two very dominate and very opinionated and highly skilled individuals whose combined capabilities could level any building with a three block radius.

That my friend is what happens when Clint and Nat trade blows. Fortunately for New York and Avengers Tower they’ve managed to reserve their anger to sharp-tongued barbs and egg-shell tense silence. At least while in front of the team…until one or the other cracks and a dish gets thrown.

(Clint threw a coffee cup and missed Natasha obviously, Natasha predictably got offended that he missed on purpose. Steve had to cut in between them, which only redirected their anger onto him much to his supreme confusion.

“Oh wow look at Cap really putting your namesake to use huh? Do you have a list of thirteen points?!”

“Kindly fuck off old man, not every fight needs your fucking help!”

Clint and Nat promptly shared a look. Twenty minutes later everyone heard the ‘kiss and make-up’)

Clint definitely has an anger streak roughly six miles long but he hides it very very well. It took Phil a lot of blood (literally), sweat, and tears to help Clint get a handle on his shit when he first joined SHIELD. While his anger bursts are few and far in between, when they do explode out of him he has at least learned to redirect that anger onto his physical surroundings and be mindful that maybe punching a concrete wall wouldn’t do his shooting hand well. One of the first things Natasha ever gave him was a tennis ball. She picked it up on a whim during a mission because Clint was annoyingly restless, and figuratively bouncing off the walls with energy that he needed to expend but couldn’t because the mission was geared towards her skill set rather than his. He still has it to this day and whenever he feels the tell-tell hotness burning up his spine that comes with a burst of anger he’ll take out the tennis ball and start ricocheting it off the walls. (It drives Tony absolutely fucking nuts.)

Natasha’s anger is far more…precise. Like a surgeon’s scalpel compared to the mini nuke that is Clint’s. She specializes in using silence, passive aggression and careful word choice to express her anger, which inevitably triggers Clint’s mouth because he hates getting ignored. Especially by her. If by the fourth day neither of them crack Clint will start the truce with her favorite meal, a hot drawn bath and a list of apologies. Afterwards they’ll talk it out, between rounds of sex. (Clint’s of the mind that Natasha will just start some if the fights for the make up sex. Natasha only confirms this much later when physically backed into a corner. He really can’t blame her, he’s done it at least once or twice.)

Natasha’s apologies require a lot less forethought. Clint drops whatever argument they’re having at the sight of her bare breasts, along with his pants. This neat trick lasted for ohh about the second big blow out, when Clint afterwards rolled over and demanded that if she was gonna just fuck their problems away they might as well call it quits. “Don’t get me wrong you’ve got great tits and the sex is mind blowing but if great tits and mind blowing sex is all it takes we’ve got bigger problems, Tasha.” In the end they keep the sex, but Natasha makes an effort to truly truly talk it all out, which in returns Clint rewards. Quite enthusiastically.

For the more minor spats, they save those for the training mats, trading punches and ass pinches. By the time that’s all done they’re lying on their backs sweating through their clothes and laughing. They might be dating, but ultimately they’re competitive best friends through and through.

[aclosetfan]

Heyyyyy, how are you doing? I hope you are doing well and life gets better and better with each day for you. just saw your post with your H/Cs about the girls. I was wondering if you have some of the boys too?? Maybe something you haven't mentioned before, and/or would be unexpected to some fans.

Btw, you are probably my favourite writer in the fandom. I usually don't re-read fics but Until Do Us Apart has my heart, ksjdhhdgghj. You can't imagine how much I cried when I first read it 😭 When I find it, I will definitely read it again (when I have free time).

Bro ngl, forgot i wrote that (AGAIN), re-read it, and after i got past all the typos i missed and fell into the story, i was like WHAT!? I couldn't have written that! Like who?? Me?? That was too sad. too heartbreaking. I hate it. I want five more stories just like it. thnxs!!

here's the link so everyone can be sad too :) just ignore all the fucking typos

lmao anywayyy! Three h/cs for our fave boys. I've forgotten what i have and have not mentioned, so if these are just repeats, sorry in advance. Like with the girls, my headcanons don't vary often! Once I've characterized them, they're pretty much characterized lolol

Brick:

On paper, he's not a good leader. He's condescending, bossy, lazy, and the biggest asshole, but where Blossom needs a plan for everything, Brick is quick on his feet and doesn't mind Boomer and Butch straying from the plan. He doesn't direct every action, and because he's better at taking shit in stride, his brothers are also better at acting independently. By contrast, Bubbles and Buttercup are well-trained and don't act until directed, which drives Brick up a wall. He's definitely an "I told you what needs to be done, so figure it out already" macro-manager.

Boy band/girly pop junkie, but he'll go to the grave before anyone finds out, except everyone knows. He's bad at hiding it. He claims all the k-pop shirts he owns were bought as a joke, but his spotify is linked to Butch and Boomer's, and they know how big of a swiftie he is. (or like in-universe equivalent lol)

He's depression barbie all the way, which isn't a new h/c I just want to reiterate that mentally he's not doing well and is a gremlin about it. His brothers routinely remind him that he does, in fact, have to drink water.

Butch:

If not for him, his brothers would have killed each other by now. He's not any more responsible than the other two, but he is a grounding figure. He has, overall, earth-sign-middle-sibling energy. He's the one who remembers to take out the trash, not because he wants to take out the trash, but because the trash just needs to be taken out, and he's standing there anyway. This headcanon is actually hard for me to convey with words. Basically, he's the one keeping the trio together. Good second-in-command guy.

Sure, Brick broods and Boomer whines, but Butch is the brother staying up at night yearning for something a little bit more than the life they've got. I think he'd be the brother most easily persuaded to "go good," not Boomer like I've seen. He likes his reputation as the big tough monster of the trio, but a small part of him knows it's all just a front and that he'd like to be respected as a person. With that in mind, it's easy to see how he could be angry angry angry. He's stuck, he wants more, he's doing what he's made to do, he loves his brothers, he wants to leave them, he feels directionless, lost - - - might as well workout to distract himself, maybe start a fight.

planes, trains, and automobiles bbbyyyyyyyyy. Autism be damned, my boy can work an engine (both real and of the model variety)

Boomer:

i feel like i've already said everything I've got on this kid haha, but I don't think I've mentioned that, like Bubbles, he's good with small creatures, but where she focuses on the cute ones, he's obsessed with rabid raccoons and fucked up looking opossums. He has an opossum hidden in his bedroom named Trashcan. Also very interested in Bugs(tm).

Went through an "emo" phase, except he was a total poser about it, which caused considerable tension between him and Brick (goth boy extraordinaire), and wore bad eyeliner. Then, immediately after, went through a surfer boy phase, then a cowboy phase, and then a, well . . . basically, Boomer's always trying to find himself because he doesn't think Himself is good enough (he hasn't had his Kenough moment yet), and is desperately seeking other peoples approval.

Boomer may not know who he is quite yet, but to his brothers, he is crinkly-eyed smiles, breezy laughs, warm hugs, and cold hands with an innate ability to make them feel like they're people worth loving. He may not like it, but he's the baby brother through and through.

[andnatiabrosca]

I posted 331 times in 2022

That's 331 more posts than 2021!

49 posts created (15%)

282 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dungeons-and-dragon-age

@notebooks-and-laptops

@merrybandofmurderers

@bearsizedant

@thebimbobaggins

I tagged 139 of my posts in 2022

#birch speaks - 34 posts

#oc: natia brosca - 23 posts

#dao - 17 posts

#birch originals - 11 posts

#dai - 8 posts

#alistair - 7 posts

#dragon age - 7 posts

#natia 30 days - 7 posts

#da2 - 6 posts

#zevran - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#an early microsoft flight simulator? i think? i have no idea what it was called. i think it had a driving mode too. played that one a lot

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Zevran for the blorbo bingo? :]

aalkdjfsljs THANK YOU

(I'm gonna ramble a second, sorry: I just submitted a research proposal draft that was Terrible bc the prof clearly HATED my selection so I just did brief (250 word) proposals on 4 different topics and he gets to pick which, because crying over it is Not It, so ask to love on Zev is. 'Preciated!!!!)

(Also, today/tomorrow is my birthday [due to scheduling error, birthday is two days this year] so. not a good look on the birthday)

Okay: Completed, properly for once:

(I found a new pen I like for text on Krita so I've been using it on everything sue me)

Brief discussion:

He's feral and eats trash and is a bastard (affectionate). Of course. He's like my cat, Pirate Bastard.

Every character I like is now autistic. His SpIn is social interaction. Because it was useful. His secondary SpIn is probably leather tanning, but he hasn't had a good chance for it.

If someone says Zev doesn't need therapy, they need therapy. Likewise, Angst out the door; I relate to him TOO MUCH. Sorry.

I think it's funny if he's perpetually lost. I think it's funny that's all.

And yeah, chihuahua energy because he is Small and Vibrates and Nat carries him around in a purse (spiritually). I think he has Dachshund energy really, but that doesn't quite work. Small, says he's dangerous, but really he just wants to be held in front of the fire while you read a book

4 notes - Posted September 16, 2022

#4

I'm going to try streaming at different times this week! I'll ping here beforehand - I'm streaming on discord so that my computer doesn't explode

come by the server if interested:

I don't know how to run a server/use bot integration so PLEASE let me know if stuff is weird, thanks!

4 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

#3

Leliana for the character bingo? :]

Ended up doing this on my phone so I would Actually Do It so not the most legible lolol. (And I missed with one! It should be "I NEVER want to meet them" instead of "they've never done anything wrong"

I liked leli a whole lot the first time I played but it really has changed since. First time I played I was trying very hard to be Straight and Catholic so she was...illuminating to say the least

But frankly, while I adore her whole arc, I think it really plays best as a mirror to other arcs/as an illumination of her relationship with others & especially the chantry itself. I don't...find her particularly compelling standing alone. I think a huge part of that is her Super Religious shtick.

I generally just think of her as a contrast to Nat (Brosca) and Cassandra, actually

Basically, I am extremely queer and do love her whole thing, but she is just too earnest in her fantasy catholicism to be really important to me

5 notes - Posted August 8, 2022

#2

I keep dying trying to play the battle of denerim and it is really making it hard to finish the game TT

5 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ended up doing the ship template for Natia and her crew. my handwriting is Atrocious on tablet, I am Aware.

(Not solid on any of these. Idea from @/dungeons-and-dragon-age, unsure if they want tagged, so not doing so)

Template || picrew

7 notes - Posted May 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[yourlocalwitchthings-blog]

Went to horror con with my dad today. We had a good time, had some heavy conversations. I try not to think about it too much but... and I know there's a word for this, but I'm so used to being invisible, that it strikes me as obscenely profound when someone notices something about me. Like, I don't notice how disconnected I feel from my family until Dad says he wants to do something just for him and I... and then spent half the drive on the phone with my brother. And then Dad noticed me starting to limp before I've even begun to process the spike in my pain. I have a spinal condition and live my life with a base level of pain, I'm used to pushing through and ignoring it just to finish a day at work. It was fun to see dad geek out about all the actors signing autographs and stand to stare at Cassandra Peterson for a few slack-jawed minutes. I got to introduce him to the concept of dice towers while he teased that dnd used to be a thing you played with a few papers and a couple friends in your mom's basement bc you couldn't get a date. Then i stared at him for a minute, and pointed out that I live with him, in a partially converted garage, and don't date bc I have attachment and self esteem issues among other things.

He did the whole "I worry about what will happen to you when I'm gone" thing and I didn't have the heart to tell him I won't be around very long after he's gone, so it won't matter.

I miss when spending time with Dad didn't hurt so much. That's my favorite person on this miserable planet, and in the moment, I love every second of his time, but after... I feel raw, and drained, and a burden. I don't want to exist like this. I'm so tired of hurting and being so alone, and I hate that I don't have the drive, ambition or energy to go after what I want from life, or even just improve my standing. It takes everything I have just to get up and take care of my current obligations every day. I don't want a career, I want to live in a cozy cottage in the woods, grow old with a plethora of pets and children, and die holding someone's hand. Can't get a cottage in the woods without money. Can't raise kids without money, can't have kids without a partner, can't get a partner because dating has a whole slew of things that make the experience God-fucking-awful. And if I did have kids? What would that do to my pain? Two years of dog grooming took ten years of my prospective mobility. What would 18+ years of raising another human do? Hello, wheel chair, I'm sprinting towards you. I want to love and be loved but gods, that really doesn't seem to be in the cards this life. So, what? I'm supposed to dig up some ambition I simply don't have and apply myself to a career i don't want until I drive myself into the grave and hope that fills the pit in my soul?

I feel so hopeless. There's nothing for me in this life but pain and loneliness. But dad noticed my limp before i did.

I don't know where I was going with this, I think it's time for bed.

[danceordie1]

before sunrise 1995 review

i have had this downloaded and ready to go for a few weeks. but didn't get around to it until now. i keep coming back to this introduction because i really want to put this out right, even if it is letterboxd, because i live in a constant state of fear and want to write something even if it is really intense. i have a hard time being able to speak my point of view. which is the latest random epiphany i have that ends up not really changing my life in the long term.

i have the tendency to take these epiphanies as passing fancies that dont really mean anything about myself. i like to keep them locked down… but i keep being faced with chances to believe in things, which is the prerequisite for the capacity to experience potential love, and is also the force behind … then i start writing like a grad student, which is where i always invested that energy. needing to keep writing critically back upon myself in order to tear up every belief and make room for nothing. i feel things really dramatically, like how it would have been staged for the movies. i feel like i think in cartoon basics - i base my feelings-based decisions on 15-frame static cartoons that dance just over the pictured wave of my peripheral vision. and then i return to the grad student thing again, never able to really get at my feelings because i'm broken forever, i'm so doomed, i can never get anything good in life because i completely screwed myself over, i can't even think or write at all, can't really express anything that i want to say, when there actually did used to be a time when i could write whatever i wanted down on the page without any of this inane filter and hesitation when my writing really is just a two step unedited process where i mean the second part of those two steps is the editorial process, who is not me. who has to be the one who has the editorial mean streak, the inward facing streak that doesn't want to be seen, just wants to sit there and edit… make it so i can never make anything that i want to say sound how i want it to sound… i want to release the whole of this, with the unedited previous portions, showing the loop back around again… maybe the one that i miss is the angel that has landed on my shoulder all along. earlier tonight i was out in the dark praying for a guide to show me to someone i love, show me to someone who loves me… my intuition knows best but i left my body behind one day about 7 years ago and I am trying to get it back. on board all the time with the editor, the cynic… i try to beat it back… don't have it in me to try hard enough, because my muscles are all constantly perfectly tight and ready to run, leaving very little room for "my true self".

and yet because what formed me this way… it makes it impossible to try to write down… because i keep coming at it with this very inarticulate sense of what happened. it's a stone… and won't often speak again… the night ended up here because of the funny and amazing pharmacy cocktail that i came up with, but i hate myself when i sound whimsical because it feels like always my easiest point of attack… i feel like being whimsical is this completely degraded kind of thing that people hate.

thankfully, am now sort of falling asleep. was writing completely stream of consciousness there for a sec because i had wanted to say something about how it feels like the inner critic has a front row driving position in my life but is throwing me lifelines now and again as a reward for doing good… my shit is my own angel… trying to find a way to talk to her is so unrewarding so much of the time because it makes it harder for me to even begin to have a life. but i just hate every previous iteration of myself.

because i hate whatever came before, i love whatever i have jumped on next.

i feel like a body wrapped in wax canvas sent in the fog to the highest tower. i am always practicing rigor mortis, i typically have the whole lower part of my abdomen become alight with ennervation when i can byass the midline stiff blockage and breathe in full through my lower belly. it's pretty easy to trick yourself into thinking that its not like this, no you are not actually breathing anything other than like an animal being circled by teeth.

because i thi cartoon basics for argumentative logic

because i spent the day acting like a prey animal, like actually i was going deep into the woods.

the night before i had a dream about how i had a toddler out there, who i had given birth to when i was 17, who was coming into my custody, who was also a rodent-type fuzzy brown creature who lay flat in my palm belly-up like a pancake cockroach. it was also being investigated and studied by scientists who i kept at bay with my stories about the creatures. i kept waking up thru the dream and thinking "yes, you were raped, it's the only explanation…" then i woke up and remembered i am not raped. so i go around acting like i could be killed, amping up my nervous system to believe that i actually could just momentarily be killed. walking softly on the ground, head scanning for any movement. it just feels right. it makes you need to take the dreams as they are and to live them…

today i had been becoming a prey animal by mixing meds and going deep into the woods onto other people's properties.

I have had this downloaded and ready to go since a few weeks and I watched it because just previously I had spent the day becoming a prey animal by taking certain medications and going into the forest. this was because I had had a dream about how I had been raped, and given birth, when I was 17,

having been raped & birthed a baby when I was 17, but the premise of the dream was that I was "waking up to the reality" that I had given birth in the past, and that I had a living toddler out there, who through the dream appeared as a fuzzy brown rodent-cat hybrid that I held flat, belly up, in my hand, like in a cockroach shape.

just before watching this movie I had been outside in the dark forest praying for an guide to come to me and to lead me to someone I need. very grim. I have this downloaded for a few wks now, can't do it because i keep getting addicted to tiktok because I can't find a better input source to keep everything in me perfectly fine tuned and