#Jamie deserves good father figures

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

There Is Happiness

Roy Kent x Reader

0.8k words

Warnings: Language, mentions of an absent/crappy dad, Roy being lovely and violent at the same time

A/N: Inspired by that Jamie comfort fic I just wrote. I'm absolutely projecting here because the idea of Roy calling my father a wanker brings a smile to my face 😝

The slamming door caught Roy’s attention. You never slammed doors. He did, sure, but he was Roy. Something had to be truly wrong to have you entering the house so aggressively.

“Hey babe,” he greeted when he saw your noticeably crumpled expression. He set down his beer and patted the spot on the couch next to himself.  “All good?”

Instead of joining him on the couch, you folded your arms across your chest and let out a little huff. “I… I stopped to get some donuts. From that place you like, you know?” When Roy nodded, clearly unsure what was so wrong, you went on. “And when I went in, I saw… him.”

For a moment, Roy simply frowned and shook his head. “Who d’you-?” Then he saw the look in your wide eyes, a look full of sadness and disappointment- a particular look he knew well but hadn’t seen in a while. “Oh.” Roy cleared his throat. “The wanker.”

“Yeah.” You finally ambled to the couch and plopped down beside Roy, who immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “He was there with her and her kids,” you grumbled.

When you’d first met Roy, you already had a tense relationship with your father. He watched as it slowly deteriorated until it was nothing but a few texts exchanged on holidays and an awkward dinner every few months. But then, the too-young-for-him girlfriend and her kids came along, and he seemed more interested in having a second chance at fatherhood than in figuring things out with his own kid. Now, there was absolutely nothing between the two of you but a few shared facial features.

“So… are we ‘burn his fucking house down’ upset, or ‘eat the emergency ice cream’ upset?”

Despite the uncomfortable situation you’d found yourself in on your way home from work, you grinned at Roy. One of your favorite things about this man was his ability to make you smile, no matter how crappy you were feeling. He always had just the right thing to say to bring you out of a funk and make you forget how terrible the world could be.

“Ice cream upset,” you whispered. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Lots of ice cream.”

With a little hmmph, Roy kissed your forehead and stood. You could hear his heavy footsteps make their way to the kitchen, followed by the sound of the freezer and a couple of drawers opening and closing. When he returned, he was holding a giant carton of ice cream and two of the largest spoons you owned. He settled on the couch beside you, letting you nestle close, and offered you the carton so you could take the first bite.

Mouth now full of ice cream, you were ready to talk a little more. “He didn’t even look at me,” you grumbled. “The kids shouted hi when they saw me, she waved at me, but he kept his eyes glued to his phone.” You shook your head and shoveled another bite into your mouth. “And it’s like, I don’t want his attention, but it sucks, y’know? He’s the fucking parent, why can’t he act like it?”

Roy nodded thoughtfully as he battled your spoon for a bit of ice cream that was loaded with chocolate chips. “That wanker doesn’t deserve any space in your mind,” he declared as he let you take the spoonful. “Believe me.” He kissed your temple, leaving a little sticky spot you didn’t mind. After a moment, he opened his mouth again. “We can be our own family,” he murmured gently. His nose was nuzzling your cheek now. “You and me. Your mum. My sister and Pheebs. Anyone else that comes along. Our own little family.”

A lump formed in your throat, one filled with happiness and love. Roy had been talking like this a lot lately, hinting that he might be asking something big soon, something you knew you’d say yes to. Before Roy, you were unsure if you’d ever be ready for that question; witnessing your parents’ own marriage would be enough to have anyone balking at notions of rings and promises and forever. But the more you let Roy in, and the more he proved that he was sticking around, the more willing you were to admit that maybe, just maybe, forever could exist.

“Our own family,” you echoed. You took a spoonful of ice cream and held it up to Roy, who smiled and accepted the bite. “Does that include Jamie Tartt?”

A little chuckle escaped from Roy as he pressed another cold kiss to your forehead. “Anything you fucking want, babe. Whatever makes you happy.”

Before you could think, you blurted out, “You make me happy.”

There was that glowing smile, that kind Roy really only showed to you and Phoebe and sometimes his sister. He set down his spoon and tugged you close, wrapping you in his arms tightly. “You make me fucking happy too,” he murmured. The two of you sat like that for a bit, in a blissful silence as you alternated between taking bites of ice cream and bringing your spoon to Roy’s mouth. Finally, he spoke up again. “But I can still burn his fucking house down, y’know.”

[thebennettdiaries]

If you could invent/create Bonnie’s family(/family situation), keeping as much or none of what the show had to say about the Bennetts, how would you design things?

Ohh! Great question!

First of all, I like the set up of the Bennetts (both as the nuclear family for Bonnie and the mythology set up around them). I definitely think they should have played up the power of the Bennetts more. They set them up to be such a powerful line of witches, used Bonnie as their get out of jail free card when they wrote themselves in a corner (meaning only magic could solve it) but they never gave the Bennetts the in universe respect that they deserved. Other witches should have been a bit awestruck of the Bennetts. Vampires should have been wary of them more. They had the set up there but they dropped the ball (predictably because they were never really interested in Bonnie beyond the magic fix it role they put her in).

When it comes to her family, I like the idea that her mother had to leave after doing what she did to Mikael. We should have seen her father more --- right from the beginning. He was never around much even though he was the active parent. They should have built that bond and had him grapple with the fact that his daughter was a witch (which cost him his wife years before). I think in terms of death, Bonnie should have lost her Grams or her father but not both. It felt cheap to take both of those away from her especially since they killed her father when she was dead herself so she didn't even get to properly mourn him. I do think losing one of them is a good push in her story but two just feels like overkill, especially since they weren't going to invest in a proper fallout.

As for her mother, I like the idea of them reconnecting later in life but she should have stayed a part of Bonnie's life. She should have worked her ass off to be in Bonnie's life. The idea that she moved on, and became a mother figure to someone else was a bit of a slap to the face. Abby sacrificed a lot to keep Mystic Falls safe. I would have had her carrying that sacrifice with guilt, moving place to place trying to cope with missing out on Bonnie's life. If Grams was the one who died, then I would have had her come back then and try her best to make things right with her daughter.

Jamie would have never existed because the fact that Plec created a stepbrother just to have Bonnie make out with him was disgusting.

I would have had Lucy play a larger role. I would have shown other Bennetts. Bonnie needed witch support and family --- having both of those combined would have been nice.

Overall, I think the show had a nice set up but they obviously weren't willing to invest in the Bennetts or Bonnie really.

[lauranthalasah]

I think 3x09 was not about coming out, not entirely, it was about confronting one's fears. Colin's fear of rejection, even when he was almost completely sure the team would react well and be supportive, that knowledge didn't erase his fear, and that fear brought out some ugly aspects of what he was willing to do or say in order to protect his secret (previous episode as example). Then is Isaac's fear, in this case it was about himself, he could've gone immediately to Colin and asked him why he didn't trust HIM. But he didn't because he was scared of the answer, he was scared of what it was about him that Colind didn't trust. I think both Colin and Isaac's fears are tied to how they acted in season 1 and even season 2, the bullying so the most important player in the team will approve of them, they way they turned their back to Jamie the moment he was kind of "disgraced", we saw how Isaac struggled with finding himself as a captain, etc. And of course... Roy. I've said before (and so has the show) that Roy thinks that he doesn't deserve some things, that he isn't good enough for them, the root of his problem is his fear of FAILURE. He thinks he is going to fail in the pitch cause he is getting old so he leaves Arsenal. He thinks he is going to fail in his relationship with Keeley so he leaves her. He thinks he is going to suck at the press conference thing so he doesn't even try it. It comes back beautifuly to that little piece that Trent wrote about him when he was a teenager, he failed, he was judged, ridiculed even, and since then he has been trying to do things in a way that will never put him in that position again. Hell! We even have Nate confronting his fear of judgment and disappointment from a "father/authoritative" figure to do what he feels is the right thing to do. This episode was about how fears can stunt us, sabotage us even, how they can be insidious and quiet, and so easy to mask as "personality traits", even to ourselves, how confronting them is terrifying, but in doing it we grow as a person. As someone that struggles with some of these things (I'm identifying myself with Roy lately), I fucking adore this episode!

[paceypeternathanslawyer]

Sophia: This was the first season that James started directing on our show and he got so passionate about it. I remember he was starting to shadow the producers and starting to shadow Paul. When Nathan knocked on Brooke's door, I had this immediate sense memory moment. I had forgotten this until I saw the scene. James went and advocated to the writers that in all the connecting Nathan was doing with Quentin, we were missing the Nathan and Brooke being essentially the same characters in high school. We were missing them connect as grownups about their journey. He pitched that!

Joy: He did? I didn't know that!

Sophia: Yes, he pitched that. He was like, 'I think we're missing an opportunity and with this character having gone through this thing, this violence, I think it's weird that this man who's been in her life all this time who's the only person who knows her journey with toxic parents and whatever, isn't gonna talk to her about it.' And he was right.

Joy: So insightful.

Sophia: It was such a good scene. I remember now, he went and like argued... I mean, not argued, but had this great idea and they loved it and put it in the episode. He was directing before he was even directing. That's a cheat code. Having the confidence as an actor, 6 years into a job, to be like 'hey, if this was my real life with my real friends i've been working with for 6 years, I would immediately go check on this person. Why aren't we doing that on camera?' And they put it in the show! That boy deserves a writing credit.

Joy: Let's talk about that scene though because one of my notes is 'Everyone's acting like Brooke is acting normal' and it's really strange to me and I was so glad to see Nathan walk in and even though he didn't acknowledge flat out "Hey, you're being weird. This is beyond you just fell down the stairs" but he was preserving her pride and privacy and all those things she was clearly wanting to hold onto but also letting her know " Hey, i'm here for you" in a very real and important way beyond a suggestion of therapy, which was nice, but still not noticing what is really going on. Beyond "Here's your apartment key." He just dropped into a level of acknowledging that there was something deeper going on and I appreciated that.

Sophia: I did too and I liked that he was really gentle but he didn't-- like Nathan doesn't let Brooke get away with it. When she says "I'm fine. Really" his response is "That sounds like something i'd say" and then he goes into this whole thing "Yes, we've experienced a loss but it doesn't mean your problems are any less important" and then he reminds her like of their similar roads, their same cliques in high school, their parents who were like children. We were these bad versions of ourselves and look who we've become and I know how hard it is. I don't want you to isolate. I want you to come talk to me. I'm an ally here for you. I think there's something so important, interestingly because Brooke had this terrible relationship with her parents and they haven't been there for her and Nathan has had this terrible relationship with Dan but like Deb is finally showing up for him. He's able to show up for Brooke as the dad he is... Jamie's dad. I felt like he was being my father figure in this scene and it was so kind. Brooke's never had that.

💕💕 Drama Queens 💕💕

[grogusmum]

Seven Tears part 6

SELKIE!EZRA X F!READER

WORD COUNT: 2500ish

SERIES SUMMARY: Months after being abandoned, she does something rash and summons a selkie, who wishes to bring her comfort and maybe more.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Summer moves quickly on Roan Inish, Pearl and Cee grow close and the baby is born, but the fall brings the annulment at last, and with it there is retaliation and a choice is made.

WARNING: Olde Timey gender norms and sexism, though set in mid-20th century Ireland, and Ireland's predominantly white, Reader is physically undescribed, as are her blood relatives, her missing spouse, and his family are white, reader gives birth (not described), Cee in peril, ANGST, Colin and Jamie continue to be horrible people, Ezra is a selkie, yes, it deserves its own warning, excessive use of pet names, painful cliffhanger - its going to be okay, I promise! (as always see something say something. please let me know in my DMs if there is a warning I missed)

A/N: Welp, at 364 days since the last update- it hasn't been a literal year since the last chapter... After I finally got it down and started editing I realized why I had such a block. At least part of it anyway... This is a tough one. I understand why I kept diverting to writing side fics with sexytimes, new-fangled doodads, flashbacks of shenanigans, and so forth. While I was figuring out this chapter, and well into writing it, I spent most of the time saying to Ezra, can we just make breakfast and snuggle??? Of course, he's no help because he says yes let's. Like so many of my penultimate chapters, it's a cliffhanger and a painful one, and I am so very sorry. But I am not stopping and taking a break to do other fics. I will be writing part 7 this weekend.

Gaelic Translation (with a dash of history)

Móra dhuit ar maidin: good morning, is a twist on the traditional Dia dhuit ar maidin which means God (be) with you. Some believe this is where the infamous “Top of the Morning” Mor meaning big, Mora believed to be a “lost word”. However, it was discovered that in fact, this is one of the quite rare surviving pagan blessings. Mór was a significant goddess (note: attributes quite different to the Morrigan or Mór Ríon, even if sometimes mixed together) with many avatars. Of course, this all can be debated to the end of time, when one’s religion and language are made illegal so much is lost.

Gaeilge translation

A ghrá: love

Mo stór: Literally translating to “My treasure,” this phrase is often used to mean “my darling.”

Part 5

Series Masterlist

‘You would have to become a selkie yourself.’

Ezra stopped further conversation that night about it. “Today has been long and arduous, and not the hour for decisions of this magnitude, Moonbeam.” He had said, then unfairly distracted you as only he can.

Your time on the island was magical. You cleaned out the other cottages and your parents brought some basic furniture. The cottages were sparse but appointed with the necessaries to visit comfortably. The visits from your family and Tilda and Fergus were lovely. Because your relocation was for your safety and protection, no one knew beyond that circle. You knew you would miss your friends and cousins. But for now, you were distracted from missing them too badly because Cee came to visit, often. It was new to her, and she found it great fun. She would look at her human feet or hands and laugh with wonder, she would tell you later ‘wonder at their ridiculousness’. You noted fondly that she had a little bit of her father’s laugh.

The first time she came up out of the water you got to see the transformation firsthand. Her flippers felt for the seam under her snout, invisible to the eye. She then pulled it apart and a blonde teenager emerged. 

Blonde. You looked at Ezra, flabbergasted. To which he said-

 “There is a saying, my Pearl, all toads are frogs but not all frogs are indeed toads. Uncommon it may be, but one needs only look for the sea storm in her eyes to know.”

Cee came and went from the shoals, and Ezra reminded you not to worry, that as your belly rounded with every week that passed, he would be the worrier in the family.

Spending the morning fishing with your Da and Thomas, Ezra is gone when you wake. This is his way of thanking them as they usually have other supplies for you. Cee emerges from her bed which is curtained off in one corner of the great room, as you set out two bowls of porridge. 

“Móra dhuit ar maidin (MOR-uhg(w)itch air MA-jin), Cee”

“Móra dhuit ar ma–” Cee yawns openly, “jin. Where is me Da?” 

She, then, sniffs the oats hopefully.

“Fishing,” You tell her. “Why don' you cut some apples, dear.” 

“With hooks and a line?” Cee chuffs as she sets to the task. You can not help joining her mirth. 

You are with Cee on your own for the first time-

“You must have missed Ezr- your Da. I did not know I was keeping him from anyone- I would have encouraged him to visit. I am truly sorry, Cee.”

“‘tis the nature of things,” Cee says, mouth full of apples and oats, “besides if he were to slip back into his pelt and visit, he could not return to you for seven years. He has loved you a long time- everyone knows that!”

You are taken aback, you hardly register the sweet knowledge that she and others in his pod knew his love for you, thinking about the fact that if he goes in he can not return for seven years. Seeing her come and go, you assumed, with no small amount of relief, that bit was a myth, and you tell her so.

“Oh, I can come and go, because I am a natural-born selkie. Da was turned.”

“How was he turned?”

“Well,” Cee starts, “ehm, that is probably a story he ought tell you. Though he don' really like to tell that tale.”

By the time of Ezra return, Cee’s words were pushed out of your mind. For the pair of you had gathered seaweed and dug clams for luncheon, and you had felt your first real kick from the baby.

“Pearl! Come sit,” Ezra pulls you into the house. “You need to rest.”

Sitting you down by the fireplace, he settles on his knees, splaying a large warm hand on your lower belly, soft brown eyes on you, hoping to feel another kick. 

“How does everyone?”

“Very well, Moonbeam,” Ezra absently runs his hand over the expanse of your middle, then drops his head on your lap. “Patrick had some supplies for us as well.”

“Any news?”

“Well…”

“What, a ghrá (uh GHRAH)?”

“Colin and his brother are still ragin’. Dierdre is making progress with the annulment, tis not sitting too well, it seems.”

“Pity sake”

“He deserves none," Ezra's eyes darken and you see his selkie nature for just a moment.

On the longest day, your water breaks at 4 a.m. The gift of midsummer's day is that daylight is already breaking, and Ezra can take the currach out right away and fetch your mam. The whole of the family comes back with Ezra and waits outside the cottage as Deirdre and Felicia help you bring young Rory into the world, with Ezra attached to your side. 

When Rory's shoulder breaches its final barrier with your last mighty push, he slips like a seal into your mother’s waiting arms. 

Ezra kisses your glistening brow and with a whoop, he runs to the window to shout to kin both seal and man-

“Tis a boy! With a shock of red hair from who knows where!” To which everyone whooped and laughed hardily.

“It’s midsummer! That’d be the faeries doing!” Hugh calls.

“Someone tell that boy to hush,” Deirdre says to no one in particular, shaking her head and crossing herself. She hands off the swaddled babe to Felicia, who brings him to you. Your Mam goes to the fireplace takes up an iron poker and draws talismans into the ash, muttering about faeries, calling St. Bridget to protect the home and all dwelling within.

You, Ezra, Rory, and Cee grow more in love with every passing day. There is nothing Cee enjoys more than when Rory is in his boat cradle, being lulled in the shallows tethered to a rope you hold fast to. During his fussy times, it is the only thing that calms him. She swims round and round it, bobbing up to check on him. Ezra barks his laugh at Cee’s antics and in the evenings he holds his son close, nosing his cheek and murmuring in the old way. And of course, any chance he gets, he brings you closer to him than many would find humanly possible. Nights are spent worshipful, in one another's arms. When the babe is wakeful, Ezra brings him to you, and when Rory is fed and dozing he silently takes him back to his cradle.

Summer rushes past as it has a habit of doing and autumn comes. Plans are set for this morning to go to the mainland to sign papers for your annulment. 

“Tis finally here,” you sigh, kissing Ezra, the baby dressed and ready for a boat ride. “I’ll go to the church and get this settled at long last and meet you at the pub?”

“Agreed, mo stór (mu store)” Ezra says as he carries out a basket to the currach, he sets it in the boat and then helps you aboard, as you hold Rory. 

The tide is with you as is the wind, so your trip is uneventful and swift. Ezra kisses your cheek and takes the baby for Tilda and Fergus to see and you head up to St Bridget’s to finally wash your hands of Colin. You smile as you walk the familiar cobbled road, excited butterflies in your belly. You remember to be watchful, knowing Colin and Jamie, this day is sure to stir up a hornet's nest. All is quiet, but you start to feel as though it is too quiet.

Ezra brings Rory into the pub, head up, bursting with fatherly pride, and Tilda comes round the board, hand on her heart. She takes up the baby as she gives Ezra a peck on the cheek. 

“You may never get the wee one back,” Fergus laughs. 

“Look how big you’ve gotten!” She coos.

“He is but a weed of a thing, growing faster-” No sooner does Ezra sit to catch up with his friends, does Hugh run into the bar, holding a stitch in his side. Ezra stands, his nostrils flaring as his eyes go dark, as if the barometer just fell and he could feel a dangerous storm brewing.

“I was- I was down at the docks-” he gasps trying to catch his breath. “Cee was there, knew it was the- the big day. But Colin-” 

Ezra was on him, hands like vices on his shoulders. 

“Ezra!” Tilda commands. He let go but the huff of his breathing bristles his mustache.

“What about Colin,” Ezra’s voice is like nothing they have ever heard. Rory fusses.

“He’s got Cee in a net, started dragging her out. Da -.”

Ezra bellows. 

“Watch over Rory, Tilda. Hugh, does she know?”

“No, I came here first. Thomas has a boat- one with a motor-” 

“Good lad,” Ezra breathes and storms from the pub, Hugh following behind.

At the dock, Ezra prowles up and down, until Thomas comes into view.

“Over there!”

Ezra looks at the small vessel with an outboard motor, mildly distrustful. 

“Hugh stay at the dock and keep watch. We will get to the boa-”

“No. Go back to the island.”

“Wh-”

“I need my pelt.”

Cee twists and bites at the net, angry at herself for getting caught. Knowing this was to get to you and Ezra. Other seals surround her, trying to help.

She barks, nostrils flaring, pointing with her nose behind her. Two seals peel off and go in the direction she indicates, while one stays with Cee.

Soon enough two gray seals like torpedoes reach Ezra, flanking the port and starboard bows. Their heads come above the surface and one barks.

"Go on ahead to the island, in the hamper at the end of the big bed. Fast. Meet me back at this boat. Mind the propeller," Ezra shouts over the wind and motor.

The seals put out a burst of speed, porpoising in and out of the water. 

"What are you going to do?"

"You have to tell her," Ezra's voice breaks, eyes rimmed red. "Tell her,  I will return even if she can't bring herself to come to me. I will-"

"Ezra?"

"I promised," he wails, "I have never promised anyone anything- only she! But I can't let Cee-"

"She'll understand."

"I'm deserting her!"

"I will tell her."

"Is there anything to write with?"

Thomas rummages a bit and pulls from his pack, a small notebook with a pen tucked in its spine.

Ezra takes it and begins scribbling frantically.

Jamie’s boat speeds along, gulls scold them, and seals chase. Colin and Jamie jeer at them, determined to take their offense out on the young selkie. Heedless of the long-held taboo and the consequences that can befall entire villages, for harming a seal. Whether or not they know Cee was a selkie or a seal, they laughed in bad humor and wondered if one of them would make wife of her. They are both quite lucky Cee could not hear their base chatter. 

After chewing at the net for some time, Cee finally breaks through the net, barking a laugh of triumph. When she slips free, she rolls and tumbles with her companion in celebration. When she has had her fill, she bobs in the water watching as the craft continues east. Cee barks at the other seal and sets after the boat at top speed. Only after she chews the netting that held her captive to shreds, does she make way to the mainland. But it is not long before she is faced with her mistake. 

You arrive at the pub in good spirits, but your relaxed smile is wiped clean off at the sight of the faces within. Your face falls further seeing Tilda with Rory, and Ezra nowhere to be found.

"Where-"

For the second time today, Hugh bursts in like the devil is at his heels-

"C-cee-"

"Is she alright?" Tilda says standing.

"She is! She- she got away, but she's ragin' on the stand!"

The lot of you pour out of the pub. Fergus tosses out a lone customer and locks up behind. Hugh hastily explains what he knows, as your eyes become saucers. At the beach Cee is half out of her coat,  as she is covered with the blanket that Tilda had the forethought to bring, she seethes-

"Da went after 'em. He didn’ know I broke free on me own until after he’d done it! He's angrier than I have ever seen!"

"Are you alright? Are you hurt at all?" Your eyes search her.

"He's not mad at that- well he is bu' he's fit to be tied because-" Cee's words pull up short, she looks like she might cry. "He thought- he- put on his pelt. I- I'm sorry."

You look as though you've been struck in the face, but you rub her shoulder absently hoping she knows you do not blame her. 

"He's gone after the boat, he wi- he'll sink it," Cee finishes.

"Where's Thomas?" Asks Hugh.

"I'm here!" Thomas runs down the rocky steps, and hands you the note.

My shining Pearl,

I am loath to break my promise and beg your forgiveness.

Do I dare remind you that we spoke of you coming with me? 

Though I admit that conversation was far from over.

Do I presume to ask for this gift? 

Would you don a silken seal coat, mo ghrá? 

Would you do this for me though I hardly deserve it? 

Yours forever,

Ezra

When you finish reading, you find yourself turning a lost circle, pebbles shifting underfoot. 

"I- he-" You look down at the note again, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"He didn't want to!" Thomas says, beside himself.

"Of course, he didn't," Dierdre soothes. 

Trembling, you rush to Tilda grasping her hands. Blinded by the tears that refuse to fall, you don't see what everyone else can see plain, she knows your question and hates the answer.

"The Maiden and the Seal-lord! She- she was able to take her grandmother's pelt! You have one from yours, yes? Please yes!"

The waves crash, as though very ocean can not abide your tears.

"Darlin, my seal gran has too many greats in front of it to tell us, even if I could dig it up and give it to you," Tilda holds your panicked face in her worn hands. " Which I would, I most surely would. But it would not transform you- for no matter how close I hold you as kin, you must be a blood relation. Your way… if you wish it, it will be harder." 

Your wail breaks her heart, gulls echo your cry. 

You take Rory in your arms, the note crushed in your hand, and climb Widow’s Rock.

"Ez-ra!" 

Deirdre sends everyone back to the house and carefully climbs the rock. She wraps her arms around you and Rory. 

"For right or wrong, God forgive him. He will sink that boat and come back to you, even if he can't take off his coat."

You nod in response, eyes on the open water-

"I need to talk to Cee.”

Part 7

💚THANK YOU FOR READING💚REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED💚

If you care to read more of my stories you can find my masterlist here and if you would like to be tagged for any of my fics you can find my handy dandy taglist form here.

[lyrakanefanatic]

Congrats on the 100, well deserved. Good luck for all the wonderful things you will create!

☕️ phone girl and grayson (matches your whole blog)

THANK YOU SM, AND SURE!!

Now the name I put for phone girl is Lily, because I feel like that’s gonna be her name in the grandest game and also I’m not gonna call her “ms. Thomas” or just straight up “phone girl” 💀💀

Grayson was drunk. Out of his mind, ridiculously drunk. “The Game” had commenced months ago, and Jameson wanted to play with me, Xander, him, and Nash just for fun. Now, Grayson wasn’t one to turn down dares, but the rules were that if you were unable to carry out your dare, whether you attempted it or not, you still have to drink. And it seemed that Jameson was giving him near impossible dares just to spite him. It seemed they all were. His brothers watched, laughing as he took yet another shot. Something had happened when he took this shot, and his mind wandered off as he imagined a beautiful girl in his head. Lily. He could picture her laugh even now, quick and loud as her dark eyes would twinkle and she’d lean her head back. Since the day that she called him, there had always been something about her that intrigued Grayson. Her voice, for starters, was magnificent and addicting to listen to, and was what had made Grayson fall in love with her at first. He had never acknowledged it before, but now drunk he could see that he had truly started to fall for her. Her and her riddles. And maybe she wasn’t perfect. But neither was he.

“Lily.” I say, suddenly snapping out of my trance and looking up at my brothers. “Where is she?” Jameson raises a brow at me, but Nash is the one to answer. “She’s with Avery and the other contestants, Gray. Why?” He asks me. I struggle to focus, and in my mind I can see her again. Her loose dark curls flowing down her back. The sad smile when she would talk about her father. There were so many things that Grayson had yet to know about her. And so many things he wanted to know about her.

“I think I’m in love with her Nash. And god, I’m drunk.” I answer, leaning my head back against the wall and squeezing my eyes shut. I struggled to focus on what I was doing, and her. There were so many words to describe Lily, but none of them seemed as big and brilliant as her. I feel a hand slap down on my head and tilt it down. I open my eyes and see Xander staring at me, his eyes a bit wide but a smile on his face. “And what makes you think that, Gray?” He asks me. I’m 99.9% sure that I just end up saying whatever I’m thinking when I’m drunk, and that Xander knows this and is just trying to get information out of me, but my head hurts so bad I can’t control it.

“Everything, Xan, everything. The way she smiles, her voice, her laugh, I fall in love with every bit of her. I love the way her brows crinkle when she’s stuck on a clue, the way she hides her face when she’s trying not to laugh, and the way she always knows what to say to the right people. But love is too small of a word for her. It’s too simple when my love for her is so complicated and bold and too big for a dictionary or thesaurus to comprehend, so I don’t know what word to use. She’s everything to me. But she’s not perfect, and for once, when I’m with her, I feel I don’t have to be perfect either. And she’s unexpected. And brave. And loyal. And too smart for her own good. She’s a raging fire and I’m so in love with her I struggle to think about a time when I loved anybody else. And her eyes are so dark and secretive that I wish I could just stare into them for hours at a time and figure out every little thing behind them.” I finally finish. Jamie and Xan both look shocked at my sudden declaration, but Nash looks completely unsurprised.

“Well, that was gonna’ come out sooner or later. Let’s get you to your room.” He drawls, looping his arm around my back and pulling me up out of my chair. Suddenly, I push him off me and throw up on the carpet. Great. I can hear my brother’s groans as I turn around and stumble out of the kitchen, towards the living room. I barely keep myself from falling on my face, as I slump into the couch, not moving once I was laying there. I felt my eyes start to close as I drifted off, and my head sang a familiar tune, stopping me from sleeping. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. I could remember asking her what she would do with the money if she won. I could hear her listing the things that she’d get for her mother, and then one thing she would have gotten for herself. “But these are all just wants,” She said. “I would need to get a new house for my family, since our current one is old, and an upgrade on our furniture. That’s what I need.” She turned to me, her eyes sparkling as a small smile touched her lips. “Oh, right, you’re a billionaire. You don’t need anything, right?” She said. I stared at her then, just barely holding back the answer I wanted to give her. I don’t need anything other than you, Lily.

My head started thundering so loud that I was unable to stay awake a second longer, and I drifted into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

I GOT THIS IDEA FROM ONE OF MY HCS VIDEOS, AND HERE U GO! also, does anybody else think that her names gonna be lily? i also saw other people saying her name could be calla, which could work too

i’ve actually had this idea for a while and was just waiting for people to ask me for a phone girl and grayson fic sooo yeah thank you 🙏🙏😭

[vole-mon-amour]

3x11, part 5. RJK edition (and I just generally love Jamie).

"Wants me to be a good lad. Wants me to be happy."

Are we gonna ignore that his mom nudges him towards Roy and Keeley while saying, "Go home"? Are we gonna ignore that Roy, of all people, wanted to hug her? ROY??? Blowing kisses to her and saying he loves her??? While Jamie is watching and waiting?

Roy: We should go and have cocktails.

ALL THREE OF THEM. ARE WE GONNA IGNORE THIS????

That's it. Screw it. They're dating. They're Jamie's home, and his mom knows it. She knew her son is bisexual a very long time ago 'cause the posters said it all. She's ok with it 'cause she only wants him to be happy.

God, the way Jamie gets booed by the Manchester fans and it sounds like an entire stadium, and both Roy and Keeley are watching him with concern and hope. I'm stressed.

"from the unsinkable Jamie Tartt." I feel like a proud mom. I love him so. much.

Where is the judge and where is he watching???? That's fucking unfair.

The way Jamie scores the second goal, ohh my god. And then the INJURY. Remember how Roy injured himself? By winning? My goodness, i am SO stressed.

As a person that loves hurt/comfort and injuries and fav characters covered in blood, hell yeah. Great visuals and possibilities. As a person who doesn't want Jamie to suffer even more, I'm—

I'm a bit concerned on how much Ted wants Jamie on the pitch. If he pushes Jamie too hard, Jamie might also retire with an injury, and it's a VERY early retirement. He hasn't reached Roy's mental state just yet.

THAT'S what I'm saying. It fucked up Roy's body. They need Jamie healthy and not injured.

I just wanna scream. Jamie deserved and deserves so much better.

I know it's different topic, but you might want to tell that yourself, Ted, when it comes to dating women. Trent is right there.

Anyway, the way Jamie.

I'm on the fence about "Forgive him" after all the shit James did, and Jamie's hand is shaking as he lifts it up for Ted to help him up. But I can't help but Ted be his adoptive dad. Jamie deserves a good father figure. And the idea of giving this forgiveness to yourself so you could live and breathe more easily.... it does make sense, unfortunately.

I love this sunshine.

I am so fucking proud of Jamie.

[taylorkellyreporting]

fooling you by rachel platten is so jamie coded i’m gonna cry!!! “you know that i’ve done bad things in my didn’t-know-a thing-phase, i’m not sure sometimes that i’ve changed and you know all that, still you stay/i don’t know if i’m deserving of how unconditionally you just love me and accept me, you know all that still you stay/you saw my wild ways, stuck around through my ugly days, i know you mean everything you say so why do i feel like i’m fooling you?” pretty self explanatory, the team, ted, roy and beard all saw jamie when he was at his worst and i think some days he’d beat himself up more than usual about how he acted the first time he was at richmond as he grows closer to the team and they start including him and giving him genuine compliments, etc and i think they would recognize that and do their best to reassure him.

“any reasonable person would’ve left by now but you, you’re holding me after everything you found out.” this is reminding me so much of what jamie could’ve been thinking while roy hugs him after he punches his piece of shit father because of course he figures roy (and the rest of the team) would think he was the one in the wrong for punching james so he’s just like “??? why are you hugging me, shouldn’t you be reprimanding me? i’m the one in the wrong.”

“maybe it’s just hard for me to see all the good you say you see in me and i wish i, i wish i could believe it too but i feel like i’m fooling you.” i’m basically saying the same thing i did earlier but i truly feel like his past self would haunt him more than is usual sometimes and he’d struggle accepting that the team + ted, roy and beard forgive him and love him for who he is and actually want him around and he’d wonder if he’s really changed or if he’s just fooling everybody (he’s not, he’s just so hard on himself some days that he forgets that but it’s okay, the team is there to remind him. and i like to think that with dr sharon and the teams help, he’ll learn to forgive himself, too)

this is soooo much longer than i intended it to be lmao anyway who do i have to beg to write a jamie centered fic based on this song?

[kiss-my-freckle]

Elena would be so mad if she knew Damon slept with Rebekah twice. I feel bad how Rebekah shamed her for sleeping with him when she slept with him knowing Elena's feelings and slept with Stefan too.

Mystic Falls – The Most Important Very Small Bridge in the World –

Damon Salvatore: Hi Rebekah! You know how you’re mad at me and disgusted by Sage? Well I know what would help make you feel better! A threesome with both of us!

Rebekah: I'm unable to find a flaw in your logic.

– Abby’s Apartment of Angst –

Caroline Forbes: Hi Jamie! As you know, your adoptive mother is going through a very difficult time, and- oh hold on a sec, cell phone

Elena Gilbert (on the phone): Hi Caroline! I sure hope you’re done with Allie or whatever her name is, because I need you to drop everything and focus on my problems!

– The Gilbert House – A History of Violence –

Meredith Fell: Hi Alaric! I have all of your old police reports! Tee hee!

Alaric Saltzman: Yep, this was all me. The larceny, the delinquency, the violence, the wife beating, etc etc etc, all these terrible character flaws that haven’t even been hinted at before last week, it’s all true. I’m a terrible person, and the fans shouldn’t like me any more. In fact, it would be a service if Damon just killed me. Again.

– Castle Salvatore – Basement Bender –

Stefan Salvatore: Hi Damon! I’ve gone on another bender! But this one involves blood bags instead of buxom blonds!

Damon Salvatore: That’s nice. Anyway, I have an orgy planned, so why don’t you go watch Elena through the window or something?

– Abby’s Apartment of Angst –

Bonnie Bennet: Hi Jamie! Just checking, but we’re not actually related, right?

Jamie: Right!

Bonnie Bennet: So it’s totally cool for me to stare at your ass, right?

Jamie: Right!

Bonnie Bennet: And then mourn your loss when you reach the Three Episodes for a Black Character limit?

Jamie: Right! No, wait …

Bonnie Bennet: Hey, that’s some nice wood you got there!

Jamie: …

Bonnie Bennet: Fire wood. I’m totally not staring at your crotch right now. Much.

Abby Bennet Wilson: Hi Jamie!

Jamie: Hi Abby! I’m gonna make a-

Abby Bennet Wilson: Fangs! Fangs fangs fangs fangs fangs!

Bonnie Bennet: Stop! It hasn’t been three episodes yet!

– Castle Salvatore –

Rebekah: Hi Damon! Hi Sage! I’m totally self-confident and don’t need you to stroke my ego or give me a sense of belonging or love me like my father never did or anything, buteverything on TV is a rerun, so I figured I’d grab a bottle of priceless wine and hope on over here.

Damon Salvatore: Hi Rebekah! You look awfully uncomfortable! Why don’t you take your clothes off and relax?

Sage: Yesplease yesplease yesplease yesplease yesplease …

The Lady of the Manor: She’s really just going to sit over in the corner and rub one out, isn’t she?

Sage: Fap fap fap fap fap!

The Lady of the Manor: …Yep.

– Abby’s Apartment of Angst –

Abby Bennet Wilson: I almost killed my not son!

Bonnie Bennet: No, it’s cool. Caroline says you’ll probably murder three, four dozen people before you get the hang of it.

Abby Bennet Wilson: That … really didn’t help.

– The Gilbert House – Of Sound Mind and Body

Alaric Saltzman: Hi Elena! Here’s a list of my bank accounts, passwords, and my will, just in case my head goes all STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB again and Meredith has to shoot me in the face!

Elena Gilbert: You’re … leaving Jeremy your porn collection?

Alaric Saltzman: Well, he insists on using Bing. Every time he searches for “hot bitches nude” he gets a bunch of links to the Westminster Kennel Club. Kid deserves better.

Caroline Forbes (on the phone): Hi Elena! In a shocking and unprecedented twist, Bonnie found exactly the spell we need on a previously unread page in her Big Book of Magic!

Bonnie Bennet (on the phone): Hi Elena! I still kinda hate your guts, but if I cure Alaric he’ll have to let me pass history class, so I’m in!

Elena Gilbert: History? Class? What’s that? Whatever. Alaric, good news! Bonnie’s going to cure you!

Alaric Saltzman: …And this page explains what I want done with my ashes…

– Castle Salvatore – Sweet Dreams and Showers –

Damon Salvatore: Hello ladies! Sorry about the sheet. I wanted to let Little Damon out to play, but the director said something about “massive FCC fines.” And I was like “why yes it is massive,” but then she just shook her head and walked away.

Sage: Hi Damon! You remember that well-established power vampires have, where we can steal people’s memories by stroking their hair, and then we can swap memories by kissing in the shower?

Damon Salvatore: …No.

Sage: Oh you’re such a kidder! Of course you remember how this pivotal ability was set up a few episodes ago! I mean, it’s not like I’d just bust out an incredibly convenient power for the hell of it!

Damon Salvatore: I mean … I guess I gave Rose a nice dream. And Katherine did that whole “hahaha you thought you were having sex with me” thing to my brother. But … ah, whatever, let’s go look through the family logging journals!

The Lady of the Manor: Sage thinks with her tongue!

– Castle Salvatore – Library of Logging –

Jethro Salvatore’s Journal: Dear diary: trees trees trees trees trees trees trees, oh and I guess there’s a murderer or something running around, but more importantly, trees trees trees trees trees!

Damon Salvatore: Thank god my family has an obsessive compulsive need to write down every single goddamn thing we do! If it wasn’t for that odd quirk, we’d never know that the Great White Oak of Original Wasting Greatness was cut down and turned into … the very bridge we were rebuilding this morning!

– Saltzman Slums –

Stefan Salvatore: Hi Elena! Just dropped by to tell you nothing’s changed! Also Samantha Gilbert went crazy and slaughtered an entire village even after she took the ring off. I sure hope you didn’t leave Alaric alone with anyone! Tee hee!

– The Gilbert House of Disturbing Behavior –

Alaric Saltzman: Wow, what a great nap! I feel fresh, rested, and ready for murder! Tee hee!

Yes, Elena would be mad the second time. But tbh, she has no right to be. If she didn't want Damon sleeping with Rebekah the second time, she should've been open about her feelings. The problem isn't Damon or Elena, it's Stefan. He's hiding the truth from both of them so that Damon continues to lash out. Getting Damon to lash out gives Stefan time to try to patch things up with her. She's still mad at Damon in 3x18, but once he gets taken, she's ready to save him because being mad doesn't mean she wants him dead. She's still in love with him. That's when Stefan confronts Elena about her feelings for Damon and sends her to Denver. Once they hit Denver, Damon knows Stefan's deal but Elena doesn't. Stefan manipulates the situation until he can't manipulate it anymore.

[fantasy2739]

Prompt jamie and Ted father/son bonding please. 🥺🥺 Whether playing video games, watching a movie idk just wholesome lol

Ted Jamie father son??? Sign me up!!

Also I am currently emotionally wrecked after 2x08 so if anyone needs me I will be crying over hug and phone call (iykyk)

Anyway, enjoy!!

Jamie isn’t entirely sure what he’s doing at Ted’s. Only that he’s there. He feels like he missed a trick somewhere. Maybe he was lured here. Like by one of them mermaids. Wait no, sirens. Yeah like a siren call. Point is, he’s here. In Ted’s flat. On the fucking couch. Ted’s pottering around the kitchen.

“Tea?” He calls.

“Nah, that’s an old person drink.” Jamie says. “It’s gross.” He refrains from cracking a comment about how much Roy drinks it. Fucking senior citizen.

“Finally, someone who understands.” Ted says. “Garbage water. Coffee?”

“Yeah.” Jamie agrees and a steaming mug is placed in front of him. Ted sinks into the chair next to him with his own mug. He’s smiling at Jamie, like he’s waiting for him to start talking. Jamie thinks he’d rather not. Because he’s got no clue what to say.

“Now I know you didn’t come all this way to enjoy my coffee.” Ted says when it’s clear Jamie isn’t going to say anything. Jamie shrugs. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” Jamie admits.

“Should you talk about it?” Ted asks, which is oddly comforting. Jamie shakes his head in the negative.

“Can we just talk, do something else?” He asks, his voice coming out slightly cracked. Something in Ted’s face softens.

“Sure thing mr bling.” He says. He pulls a face. “Oh I do not like that. Hmmm. Thing. Thing. Sing? No that makes no sense. Ooh king, huh. Sugar king, little king?” Jamie snorts at that. Ted grins like it was his intention all along. Probably was the sly asshole. “Now let’s see, something to do, something to do. Hmmm ooo I have some board games. Y’all got Ludo over here?”

“With like the dice and meeple and shit?” Jamie asks. He realises that it might be a little vague given how many games include dice and shit. Ted’s understood though, and scarpered off to unearth the board. He places the board on his coffee table.

“Alright now we both know the rules?” He asks, all polite. Jamie just nods. “Good, but I should warn you I am a champ at this game. And I won’t go easy on you.” Jamie gives him a look that says ‘try it’ and it’s on.

Jamie’s always kind of sucked at board games. He never really played them, far too invested in sports, tv, dating. His mum had played a few with him, usually mercilessly wrecking him and telling him he was a sweetheart for letting an old gal like her win. It’s not that he doesn’t get the rules or anything, it’s just not something he’s invested a lot of time in. Or thought really. So sitting cross legged on Ted’s floor, eagerly leaning over the game of Jenga that Ted brought out, is a new kind of feeling. It’s a happy one. Ted had, as expected, beaten him at Ludo. He’d been super encouraging the whole time though.

“Uh I believe you touched that one.” Jamie points out, watching Ted like a hawk. “House rules.” Ted scrunches his nose but agrees and begins the task of trying to work out his best to pull the piece out. Ted closes one eye and manages, by some kind of miracle, to get the single piece neatly out of the Jenga tower.

“The laws of physics salute me.” Ted says with a grin. Jamie almost wants to grump but watching the tower drop neatly down was kind of fucking impressive. Jamie plays it safe. Taking a piece from a row that still has three.

“Go on then, dazzle us.” Jamie teases. Ted pulls of another insane move, leaving Jamie to feel the pressure. Unfortunately, he picks the wrong piece and the whole thing tumbles.

“Fuck!” Jamie yelps, more in surprise at the pieces flying everywhere than annoyance. Ted laughs a little.

“Alright, loser takes some punishment.” Ted says, still chortling. Jamie freezes slightly, because this was just meant to be fun. Fuck he hadn’t actually been bothered by losing. Fuck. “You ticklish Jamie?” Jamie stares at Ted like he just asked him streak around Richmond or something.

“What?” He asks.

“Ticklish.” Ted repeats. Jamie flushes slightly because he is. He’s just never really admitted to it because it’s embarrassing. Who the fuck wants to be ticklish? Ted raises his hands and waggles his fingers expectantly. Jamie’s off like a shot. They’re sprinting around Ted’s appartement, with Jamie at one point diving over the bed to escape. They’ve definitely pissed off Ted’s upstairs neighbour, Mrs Ship or whatever. They’re back in the living room and Jamie is leaning against the couch, moving side to side to avoid Ted like he’s got a fucking chainsaw.

“Can’t I just, do like a shot of cinnamon or something?” Jamie asks. Ted drops his hands, waggling fucks, and stares.

“No that’s disgusting. It’ll dry your mouth out faster than the Nevada desert.” He says.

“I could shot tea.” Jamie offers, raising one eyebrow and pointing at Ted. Ted thinks about it.

“Garbage water it is.” He agrees and Jamie sags in relief. He doesn’t hate tea and the cup Ted makes him is more sugar than tea.

“You trying to ruin my sexy body?” Jamie asks as he takes a sip.

“I figured it would taste better with more sugar.” Ted says. “Don’t all y’all kids like sugar.” Jamie shrugs like he doesn’t mind either way. Ted shrugs too, ambling off to tidy up the mess they made. Jamie sits back on the floor, sipping at his tea and grimacing. How the fuck Roy drinks this shit, he doesn’t know. Just as he sets the mug down a blanket appears at him. He flinches slightly but picks it up.

“What’s this for?” Jamie asks, like Ted’s handed him a fucking book again or some shit.

“It gets cold round this time.” Ted says simply. “C’mon now budge up, I’m thinking it’s time for a movie.” Jamie does as he’s told because when in Reno right? Ted’s moving back and forth between the kitchen and suddenly there’s popcorn, hula hoops and crisps. Ted grabs another blanket (fuck there’s a lot of blankets floating about) and settles down next to Jamie. Jamie tugs the blanket (Richmond fucking blue of course) and wraps it round himself. Ted’s talking and moving his hands, discussing the pros and cons of the movies on Netflix. Jamie settling his back against the couch and listens half heartedly. The control lands in his lap and he sort of stares at it. Ted’s smiling at him. Jamie has no clue what to watch.

So he sticks on fucking Toy Story.

At some point, he dozes. Maybe because he’s tired, or because he’s seen Toy Story a thousand times, or because he just feels like he can. He ends up smushed against Ted, eyes heavy, before his body just caves and he’s out. It’s warm and cosy, and there’s an arm reaching round him to cuddle. He’s almost missed cuddling. And most of the men he grew up around weren’t exactly… well they weren’t the cuddling type. Ted clearly is because he’s tugged Jamie close, soothingly rubbing his arm up and down.

He wakes up the next morning on the couch, wondering when the fuck that happened. He’s a light sleeper usually. He doesn’t have time to ponder it as Ted pops into view.

“Morning Jamie, cereal?” He asks, like this is the most normal thing in the world. Like players regularly crash on his couch.

As Jamie stretches and drags himself out of the makeshift bed he realises.

It feels right to him.

[troubatrain]

want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets. 

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you. 

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter. 

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x10 thoughts

GOOD GOD.

“No Weddings and a Funeral” is like being hungover but also coming out of a hangover. Having a terrible cold but also feeling better and appreciating every breath that comes through your nose. Embarking on an organizational project and accidentally falling into a photo album and crying about the pictures and organizing almost nothing tangible but making a few things more clear in your brain.

So much of this episode is about the AWFUL POINTLESSNESS OF DECORUM. How loud is too loud when you’re drinking stolen wine and shrieking about sex in a church right before your father’s funeral? How should you feel--thirty years later, as an accommodating, anger-averse person--about having been too angry to attend the funeral for your father who killed himself? What expression should you make when you show up really late to a different funeral? Why must you wear uncomfortable shoes just because someone died? What happens in your mind between standing up to give a eulogy for a man you’re still angry with and choosing to Rick Roll your mom and everyone else as an act of complicated love, humiliatingly incomplete until someone else starts to sing? Should you worry about your therapist seeing your normally tidy flat in a full-on state of depression mess? Is it okay to be offended that your boyfriend is so uncomfortable about death that he can’t stop making morbid jokes? Should you care about other people caring that you’re crunching an apple in church or squealing with joy to be reunited with a friend you’ve not seen in awhile? Are you obligated to explain your behavior if your kid doesn’t understand how you could stay with someone unfaithful? How far behind the counter should you sink when your [undefined relationship person]’s mother has just let you know she can see your dick through your underwear? Is a funeral reception an okay place to find a hookup? Is a funeral reception a decent spot for a break-up? Is a funeral reception a good time for a love confession when you know the person you’re confessing to is happy with someone else? And who do you make eye contact with when you can’t look directly at the person asking you if you’re okay when there’s so, so much about you she doesn’t know yet? Even if--for this tiny little moment within a vast swath of many okay and not-okay moments--you’re honest when you tell her that you are?

I fucking adored this episode because it answers all these questions very simply: Show up. Show up for yourself. Show up for your friends. Try not to harm yourself. Try not to harm your friends.

I love that this episode is about the messiness of adulthood and the things we bring with us from childhood and that it takes place partially in Rebecca’s childhood bedroom, and in Ted’s childhood memories. Dwelling in those places (whether physically or mentally) isn’t an automatic recipe for regression, but it does get everyone closer to the things that made them who they are, to the unresolved and half-buried parts of them that still make them tick today.

Forever obsessed with every single detail about Rebecca’s childhood bedroom.

Forever obsessed with Deborah’s decision to Rick Roll herself every single morning of her life.

Forever obsessed with Rebecca’s decision to Rick Roll her father’s funeral as a way to not have to make up a single word about her father and to do something very vulnerable and kind for herself and her mother and everyone.

Forever obsessed with Ted’s decision to Rick Roll Rebecca Rick Rolling her father’s funeral.

Forever obsessed with an entire found family backing it up.

I love that it is Isaac’s leadership that ensures every single member of the team attends the service for Paul.

I am very, very interested in Jamie’s love confession to Keeley because I do think it will spark some reflection in Keeley but I do not think it’ll go the cliched love triangle route.

Each scene with Rebecca and Sam struck (for me, a human being sharing a subjective perspective on the internet) the tender-awkward-beautiful-stressful chord I was hoping it would. I think it’s wonderful that Sam is honest with Rebecca about how difficult it is to keep their relationship a secret, and I love that Rebecca has a million mostly-unarticulated reasons for why she’d much prefer the secret to continue. I like that Sassy, Keeley, and Nora respond to the revelation as friends; they might be tempering their judgments in part because they’ve all gathered to bury Rebecca’s dad, but I don’t think their reactions would’ve been that different even on a happier occasion.

While there are a million and one different reasons why a continued relationship between Rebecca and Sam could cause serious ethical problems, I really love that when people share big news on this show, the people who care about them generally react by trying to see why the person is doing what they’re doing. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t also hold each other accountable, but in my book it’s OK that Keeley’s first reaction was to feel happy that her friend is having some fun.

Also everyone has been making weird judgment calls this season, and this episode felt like a moment of real breakthroughs in terms of people telling the truth about things that happened to them and leaving themselves open to honest responses from others.

September 13, 1991. It’s so tenderly, beautifully, overwhelmingly meaningful that there’s still so much Ted and Rebecca don’t know about the things they have in common in these parallel lives they’re leading. The scene between Sarah Niles and Jason Sudeikis is so beautifully acted, and so is the scene between Hannah Waddingham and Harriet Walter. The way they intertwine to communicate that Ted and Rebecca basically lost the ability to trust their fathers simultaneously, from an ocean away? In the hands of lesser storytellers, it would feel too perfect a mirroring, but here it feels heartbreakingly imperfect. All the things they still don’t know. All the questions they try to ask each other. All the things they don’t dare ask yet. And then the storytellers are holding a candle up to all of it and letting the audience bask in the glow of this connection even if Ted and Rebecca can’t fully understand it yet.

I am so proud that Rebecca and Deborah were able to embark on the beginnings of a conversation about the ways Deborah and Paul’s relationship might have resembled or not resembled Rebecca and Rupert’s. It feels possible that they could get to a point where Rebecca truly internalizes her mother’s pride that she broke a cycle by leaving Rupert, and could maybe even understand why her mother made the choices she made. I love that in the final scene, they’re still relying on their old mother-daughter conversational patterns—the frustrations, the snippy shorthand, the passive-aggression. Mothers and daughters!

I am also proud that Ted—albeit via a joke about Sharon charging him for the house call—indicates that he understands the value of Sharon’s work. He’s changed a lot, all in realistic ways for someone who loves learning and really does want to meet people where they are and appreciate them. I’m very moved that instead of putting himself in a real harmful situation by showing up to the funeral on time at any cost, he did what he needed to do to take care of himself and accept care from someone else. And then Sharon’s suggestion that he think about things he loved about his father? And the way he’s able to share a positive memory of Rebecca’s own father at a time when she really needed it? Gosh.

Awkward, undecorous transition from 1991 to present-day incoming...but SASSY! She’s just, like, a whirling dervish of loyal friendship and not giving a fuck and penis size discussions and being casually, delightfully cruel to Rupert, who so deserves it. Rebecca was going on a real face journey when Sassy goes off with Ted at the end, and I’m sort of *eyes emoji* about all of that, but I continue to feel like Sassy is the most imperfectly wonderful friend-from-the-past kind of person and I love everything she and Nora get to do in this episode.

Keeley saying “That baby is whack” might be my favorite line in the episode? Maybe the whole show? Not really but really.

FUCK YOU, RUPERT. Bex and Diane, y’all are fine. And I truly feel for Nate...whatever scheme he’s getting suckered into. Whatever insecurity Rupert is preying on. I want Nate to go to therapy, too.

I feel like it was an unpopular opinion at the time, but I loved Rebecca’s 2x1 revelation about vulnerability and fear of getting hurt and needing to let someone love her. Sassy doesn’t always word things in the most nuanced way, but I think there’s a real possibility that she did ask Rebecca to really consider what it means to feel either safe or unsafe with a person but to know that in either circumstance, that person could end up causing her pain. Standing in that closet with Sam, managing to make it clear that she’s not asking for a break because she knows he will hurt her but because she has to figure out how to be with a wonderful person who could cause her pain...the growth, man. Makes me emotional.

I emerged from this episode feeling, of course, stunned by all the amazing parallels and revelations and beautiful acting and Rick Rolls and just, everything. I also emerged feeling sad/raw/tender because messiness and decorum and growth and coping mechanisms and death and dramatic irony and not knowing things about people and not knowing what you don’t know...it’s a sad, raw, tender place to be.

To quote a guy who got a whole sitcom (lol) named after him, life is real hard.

[bansept]

ArthurxMarie

10. What do you want me to say ?

Angsty :')))

Ah I'm sorry for answering those so late, but here's your angst

---

She had sent him a letter.

Arthur wasn't sure what it was about, he never seemed to be with her. Whether it was a family business or a personal request, whether he'd help her or not, he was always weak enough to answer her pleas.

The women at the camp kept telling him he should stop talking to her, because of all the bad things he'd been through for her to ignore him, turn her precious little back on him and his love. He didn't want to argue with them. Even he had trouble finding her good reasons anymore. But he still couldn't get angry at her.

Mary had her own tragedies to deal with, and the kind-hearted girl he fell in love with remained the same over the years. So when that letter reached him, he also remained who he had always been for her: a fool.

The letter had been delicately placed on his table upstairs, near the window, the hot, moist air from the Bayou surrounding him wherever he was. Arthur sat down on his bed heavily, the weight of his double holster pulling down on his shirt, feeling oh so tight, not so right.

His rough hands carefully held the folded letter, and he flinched, unsure what to expect. Was it to say goodbye? Was it to beg him to renounce his outlaw life and try again with her? He frowned heavily, taking his hat off to place it on the bed next to him.

That won't happen. He told himself, dabbing a bit of sweat off his brows before sighing deeply.

She was asking for help. Again. Apparently, it wasn't about her brother, the poor Jamie. Good, he didn't want that boy to be in trouble again. He deserved to have a better life, away from his asswipe of a father.

He could hear the sound of Jack discussing with John, right next door. Something about playing with a stick. Arthur grunted, not having the heart to actually smile. In the last weeks, they had grown closer, John actually understanding that the kid needed a father figure.

That made Arthur think of all he could have had. With Isaac. With Mary too.

The day she decided to leave his life, leave the camp, Mary had tried her best to keep a well-kept face, not out of spite for him, or out of pride, like Abigail or Karen would have in her position. She was unwavering for him. Which only angered him more.

"What do you want me to say?" She had asked, her eyes open wide in search of an answer, a hint, a reason to stay. Arthur was standing still, avoiding her.

He couldn't say anything. Didn't want to. Hell, he couldn't even get mad at her, since the real culprit was her drunkard of a father. Arthur scrunched his bare face, letting the sun blind him like that damn woman did.

Mary didn't ask another question and silently packed her few belongings: two dresses, a few pins, and jewelry, even fewer precious items. Arthur noticed the small flower she daintily hid under a pile of clothes, the plant a gift he had given her a while ago, when being with him brought nothing but happiness.

Fumbling the letter close, the man rubbed his face with both his hands. Maybe the heat was getting to him. It felt like something was hammering his foolish head, regrets and uneasiness flooding into his veins faster than any liquor. Was it how John felt whenever anyone mentioned Abigail and the boy? Uncertainty and anger controlled by fear? But now, he had come to terms with those... And only Arthur was left with them, plagued by the desire to meet with her and knowing it would go down the drain.

Arthur picked a cigarette from his satchel, taking note he had to get some more, before lighting it. He took a long drag in silence, even the exotic birds of the swamps and the frogs falling quiet.

He'd go back to her. One last time. To say what? He never had a single idea. He was never good at thinking ahead, except for bank robberies. Maybe he'd regret all of it once again.

So be it, Arthur would always have her photograph by his side.

[thebrochtuarachs]

All That Was Good 

A/N: One of my many versions of "What if Jamie and Claire both passed through the stones before Culloden?" stories. This came about just this weekend and my brain would not stop until I wrote it down and shared it with you all. I know the 20-year separation of Jamie and Claire is one of the most used plots in the Outlander-verse (I, for one, am all for it) so here's my wee contribution to it! I'm bad at summaries but hope you like this wee one! As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

AO3

xxxxx

This cannot be it.

As their hands moved closer together to touch the stone, Claire’s heart was feeling a million emotions but her mind was clear with just one thing - Jamie.

This cannot be it.

In the three years they’ve been together, neither of them could’ve known just how much they’d mean to each other, depend on each other, care for each other, let alone, love each other - so deeply and passionately that they were willing to change history if it came to that.

This cannot be it.

“Goodbye, Claire” she felt his breath and lips in her temple as he pulled her closer to him by the waist, desperately trying to keep themselves together for as long as they could and engrain the memory of their bodies molded as one. And in the middle, was the miracle they prayed and hoped for who will never know his father and grow up with a family he deserved.

This cannot be it.

Her fingers can almost feel the roughness of the stone surface and the journey that will follow after. She wanted to turn her head and see his face one last time, beg him to release her from her promise and let her stay in this time. But time was running out. In the last seconds, Claire made her wish known again and again.

Me. Jamie. Our Baby. Our Family. Anywhere. Anytime. Together.

Me. Jamie. Our Baby. Our Family. Anywhere. Anytime. Together.

Me. Jamie. Our Baby. Our Family. Anywhere. Anytime. Together.

Claire expected the deafening buzz that usually came with the stones - but what was new was the blinding light that suddenly seemed to emit from it. She wondered if Jamie could see it since he couldn’t hear the buzz and she  got her confirmation when she heard Jamie exclaim a “What in the devil..?!” just before everything went black.

----

The journey to the stones is never easy. It feels like you're being taken apart and then weaved back together. It really takes a toll to the body.

Claire stirred to someone stroking her hair. Once her mind was a little bit more awake, she took a mental stock of herself. She felt whole, alive, and for some reason, she was sitting in some armchair with her head laid down on the table.

She slowly opened her eyes, cautious just in case she got affected somehow by the last light she saw and to prepare herself to know the aftermath of this trip.

“Thank Christ!” was the first sound she heard. “Are ye alright?"

Her mind raced, she needed to respond. In another effort to finally face her reality, she lifted her, fully opened her eyes and saw the two most worried ocean eyes boring straight into hers.

Her eyes widened at the sight before her. Impossible.

“Ja - Jamie?” she softly called out, a hand unsure to touch his face.

“Aye, tis me, Claire. Do ye remember me? I was afraid you wouldn’t recognize me” he replied.

“Jamie, oh my god!” her dizziness forgotten, she quickly stood up as Jamie did too and they held each other so tightly she was sure she couldn’t breath.

She pulled away and started inspecting every part of him she could. “Are you alright? What happened?!”

“I don’t know. All I remember was I brought ye to the stones, we we’re about to touch it when a light beamed through. Next thing I knew, I woke up leaning by that shelf, wearing this clothes, and saw you passed out here.”  Jamie shared.

“So you did see the light too! I haven’t experienced or seen that before so I thought it could’ve been just for me but...here you are.”

“Here I am” he said simply.

As their dizziness wore off and their mind became more rational, they needed to investigate fast on where and when they were.

Claire was wearing a white sleeveless shirtwaist dress, almost similar to the one she was wearing the first time she went through the stones, while Jamie was wearing a navy blue knitted shirt tucked in light brown fitted trousers.

They were definitely not in the 1740s anymore.

They were in an old scottish cottage, though obviously renovated and restored, with most of the items inside looking museum grade. A sign hanged up wrote “Old Leanach Cottage” and below it in smaller letters were the words “Culloden Moor” .

They were at Culloden.

Lastly, together they gravitated towards a notebook, a visitor log, and found that the year was 1948.

They were in Claire’s time.

Stunned and a little bit confused, Jamie and Claire looked at each other as the shock passed through them.

Impossible, indeed.

Claire and Jamie had more questions than answers and the place they currently were seemed different that what Claire was used to so both of them are pretty much out of place until they knew more about their present lives.

“Whatever this is, whatever has happened” Jamie’s firm voice broke the ice. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay.” Claire replied. The unknowns were endless but with the strength of having Jamie by her side, there was nothing much to fear. “Of course” Claire nodded surely and then leaned her face to Jamie’s for a single deep kiss.

There’s always something that stirs between them whenever they kiss and they both smile at the fact that that feeling hasn’t gone away. Whatever they need it to be, it will be that. And right now, this kiss was a kiss of love, gratitude, comfort, and security.

Just as they were to pull away, they heard voices outside the cottage call for them.

“Jamie, Clare, are you guys finished?” a man’s voice asked.

Surprised by the interaction, Jamie’s first action was to protect Claire. His hands automatically reached out to his side where his sgian dubh always reside but he grasped for nothing in the air. Another reminder that they were in a different time.

“Jamie, those voices…”

“D’ye know them, Sassenach?”

Claire shook her head. Her mind was swirling - the voices we’re so familiar, she was sure she knew them - but she couldn’t put a name or a face.

“Come on, you two! Chop, chop! We still have a 3-hour ride ahead of us.” a woman’s voice followed.

“Should we just head out and see?” she asked. Jamie shrugged in agreement, took Claire’s hand, and led them out of the cottage.

Nothing could’ve prepared either of them for what was to happen next. They were both frozen in place as a couple turned around and in front of them is Henry and Julia Beauchamp.

“There you are!” Julie exclaimed. “What took you so long? We thought you’re only signing the visitor’s log book”. She noticed their confused looks, and slowly reached out a hand. “Are you guys...okay?”

Without another thought, Claire gravitated towards her parents and pulled her mother to a tight embrace and cried.

“Mama” Claire said softly.

“You haven’t called me that in a long time” Julie replied, hugging her daughter back. She pulled her daughter back when she felt a wetness in her shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

Claire didn’t reply but went to her dad and hugged him just as tight.  “While I do love this,” Henry began, “I’m not sure what’s going on.” He patted her back, “Claire?”

“I’m sorry, I…” Claire started to think of an explanation while wiping her eyes and fixing herself up. “I just missed you so much”

There was so much more she wanted to say, just in case this was all a dream, but her last words summarized what was at the core of it all.

“I know, we missed you guys too. It’s been almost a month since we got together and this is a little overdue. Do you think you can make it back the car, though? I really don’t want to miss lunch.” Henry teased.

“Let’s go! I don’t want to be late. You know how strict Brian and Ellen are with the lunch schedule. Last time we missed it, there were hardly any food left.” Julia followed.

It was Jamie’s turn to feel more disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?” He didn’t know how we found his voice but, at the moment, his mind had  life of its on and the words came flying out.

“What do you mean ‘what’? We’re on our way to see your parents at Lallybroch, James.”

[kalinara]

Do you think there'll be someone in Ted Lasso that's redeemed, but not forgiven? It seems like it would be good as a reminder the two don't necessarily go hand-in-hand, and people don't have to forgive because someone makes a gesture (and that forgiveness probably shouldn't be the reason the person is trying to redeem themselves anyway.) Thanks for writing about the show!

Well, arguably, we did. Paul Welton was a good man, by most accounts, who really loved Rebecca and wanted to make her laugh. And when he died, Rebecca still hated him. She grieved at the funeral, but her eulogy was for her mother, not her father.

Nate clearly hasn't forgiven Jamie for what Jamie did to him. Or Colin, for that matter. And I think that may have fed into why Nate went as far as he did. He's got a lot of unresolved issues.

And Ted's inability to forgive his father is a major source of pain for him, and adds to the constant open wound that his father's suicide has made in his life.

In each of these cases, the victims have every right not to forgive. But I think the show also shows the pain that goes with that decision

It's interesting, actually, to look at Ted's forever unresolved anger, guilt, grief and pain over his father's suicide, in the context of Nate's anger at Ted himself.

It's clear that a lot of Nate's anger toward Ted is misplaced anger toward his father (who very much deserves it.) But some of it is real: the anger of a boy toward a father (figure) who is too lost in his own pain to give his son what he needs.

Doesn't that sound familiar?

The big difference, of course, is that Ted is alive. And Ted is a man who loves his son(s) unconditionally. So there is no doubt in my mind that if Nate wants Ted's forgiveness, he has only to ask. Nate just has to want it.

But I wonder if, maybe through resolving things with Nate, through addressing and moving past Nate's own very familiar anger, Ted may finally learn to deal with his own. Nate may be the answer that allows Ted to finally start healing.

[imagineyourworld]

All Grown Up

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (Both are adults now)

Warnings: References to trauma, bullying, war 

Summary: When Madame Pomfrey falls ill Draco Malfoy, who only just finished medical school, offers to help out. Little did he know that he’d meet the one girl he’s ever had a crush on again, the one girl he couldn’t have when he was younger. 

-------

Wandering the halls of Hogwarts again had to be one of the strangest sensations in Draco Malfoy’s short life. There were so many things, so many memories, connected to these hallowed halls, both good and bad. He had spent his childhood just a few floors down from the room he now occupied, some of his happiest hours have been on the field that was now right outside his window.  “I take it you found your way here with ease”, Professor McGonagall greeted Draco as he entered the infirmary. The blond nodded as he looked around. Though the room was now clean and empty except for him and the headmaster he could very well imagine what it might have looked right during and after the battle of Hogwarts. He didn’t like to think back to that day, though he was sure no one did, shame filling him every time he remembered what had lead to the final moments of the war.  “I’ll leave you to get settled then”, McGonagall said. She began to walk towards the door, but as she passed Draco she put a hand on his shoulder, both the touch and the look in her eyes much gentler than what he felt he deserved, especially from this woman who has been through so much, who he had opposed at every given chance when he was a boy.  “Welcome back, Mr Malfoy”, she said with a smile before she finally left the infirmary.  It was that smile that remained in his mind as he began to sort through the shelves and medical cabinets to familiarize himself with everything. After a quick inspection he came to the realization that Madame Pomfrey kept everything in perfect order and that he would have no problems finding whatever he may need. Just as he sat down, happy to have some time to himself for now, the door burst open and two girls,  first year twins by the looks of it, entered the room. Both were in uniform, one of them sporting Ravenclaw colours and the other Gryffindor, but that wasn’t what caught Draco’s attention. It was the one girl’s left leg, which she tried not to put any weight on as her sister escorted her to the nearest bed.  “Be careful now, Jamy”, another voice called out. A voice that was quite familiar to Draco, though he couldn’t quite place it. But for the time being he didn’t pay it any mind, instead focusing on the two girls.  “What happened?”,  he asked.  The girls didn’t hesitate to leap into an elaborate story of how the one with the broken leg had said something to someone, who had then hexed her. It took a lot of concentration for Draco to follow the story, but about halfway through it he gave up to have a closer look at the girl’s leg instead.  “Jamy, you can return to class now”, the same voice from earlier said.  Only when Draco finally looked away from the girl’s leg did he realize who exactly that voice belonged to.  “(Y/N)”, he whispered, hating how out of breath his voice suddenly sounded. But how was he supposed to keep his cool when you were right there in front of him? You, the only girl Draco has ever crushed on, the one he might have fallen for at some point, the one he always knew he could never have.  “Draco Malfoy? What are you doing here? Where is Madame Pomfrey?”, you asked in return. There was no malice in your voice, though Draco knew he would have deserved it.  “She’s ill, I’m here to help out until she feels better.”  Though Draco’s focus was once again on the girl he could see you nod out of the corner of his eye.  It wasn’t broken, the hex had merely caused a muscle to be twisted, nothing that couldn’t be helped with another spell, which he was quick to cast.  “Your leg should be fine now, but I’ll give you a lotion in case there’s any lingering pain, alright?”, he asked the girl, still crouching down to be at eye level with her. Her eyes flitted over to you before she nodded, which made Draco smile. You had always managed to make others feel safe, to make others trust you and your judgement, which is probably also why you have never shown any interest in Draco whatsoever, because you were a good judge of character and he just wasn’t good, not for anyone.  He tried not to look at you while he walked over to a cabinet to look for a small pint of pain relieving lotion. Thanks to Madame Pomfrey’s system it only took him a few moment to find it and with a smile he handed it to the girl.  “Be careful with that leg, though, don’t put your entire weight on it just yet.”  The girl just nodded before hurrying out of the infirmary, trying her best to do as Draco had told her.  “So you’re a doctor now?”  Your voice made Draco turn around. A gentle smile was on your lips, lips that were still as kissable as ever.  “Yes, I... I thought it might be time to heal and save people for a change”, he said, a sadness taking over his voice. Quickly he shook his head to rid himself of bad thoughts and memories, now was not the time for those. “And you’re a professor?”  You nodded, your smile having grown at his last words.  “I am. I never really wanted to leave Hogwarts anyway, so I decided to stay.”  Now Draco nodded, not really knowing what to say. What did one say to the girl of one’s dreams? Only then did he realize that it was still true, you had been the one for him then, and apparently you still were now. The only thing that has changed was that his father was no longer around to silence him the moment he mentioned the pretty muggleborn he had seen aboard the Hogwarts train for the first time, and then every day after. From the very beginning part of Draco knew that, if solely based on his upbringing, he should have been just as disgusted with your heritage as his father was, but he couldn’t help but be intrigued by you anyway. It went so far that he came to the realization that it didn’t matter who or what your parents were, maybe being a muggleborn was even part of the reason Draco was so interested in you, he grew to like you, was even beginning to love you, but he knew he could never tell you. Not only because of his father, but because of who he was and what he did on a daily basis. What he said and did to people who, in many aspects, were just like you. “Well, I should get back, I think I’ve left my class alone for too long as it is”, you told him, slowly turning towards the door. But before you could turn all the way Draco opened his mouth again, making you stop in your tracks.  “Maybe, after you’ve finished your classes for the day, we could spend some time together. I think there are a lot of things I should tell you”, Draco said. Though he wasn’t quite sure whether he meant to tell you about what had happened during the war and why he had acted to way he did or about his feelings for you, both of which he felt like you deserved to know. But that was a problem he’d deal with later, right now all he needed was a simple ‘yes’ from you.  “I’d like that”, you said. Though there was a smile on your face as you said it, Draco couldn’t figure out what you were actually thinking. Maybe it was for the best, he shouldn’t get his hopes up.  “I’ll come back here in two hours and then you can tell me everything that’s on your mind”, you said as you walked closer to Draco, closer than you had been before. Only when you were right in front of him did you stop, though you still leaned a bit closer until your lips finally connected with his cheek in a soft kiss. Before Draco knew it you had stepped back again, a sly smile on your lips.  “I’ll see you later, Doctor Malfoy”, you called out as the door closed behind you.  Draco sighed. Filling in for Madame Pomfrey might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

-------

I haven’t written for any Harry Potter characters in forever! But since it’s September 1st and therefore a new term starts at Hogwarts I wanted to take you to this magical school for a few moments. 

I hope you liked this short little fic of adult Draco.