#not to also mention it was sort of a last minute report on something I had months to do research on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

claraswritings · 1 year

Text

Conversation

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Reader

Warnings: spoilers for S1 and S2, miscommunication, (kind of) enemies to lovers, language, a few plot changes, mutual pining and one or two mentions of Jamie’s dad being a prick. Also I accidentally wrote something in this that is minorly similar to a scene in S3…but I wrote that bit AGES ago. Just signposting it as last time I didn’t someone got shitty with me

Notes: this is so much longer than I planned lmao so that explains why it took so long to post. Also not betad or spellchecked yet as it’s late here!

I don’t even know if I like this… I might delete this…

Title inspired by Conversation by Catfish and the Bottlemen

You’d been the player liaison officer at AFC Richmond for two years and for the most part, you loved your job. A lot of it involved what was referred to as “general life admin” for the players, as you sorted out everything from banks to home viewings to car collections to visas to schools for players with kids.

Most people would think looking out for a bunch of millionaire footballers would be a stressful job but you didn’t mind. The players had, for the most part, always been nice and you’d even started helping to show the new signings around, offering to recommend them restaurants or bars and you’d even become friendly with a few of them over the course of your time at the club.

Or at least until you encountered the clubs new loan signing. It had taken four weeks of his season long loan before you’d first spoken to him, and from the ten minutes he’d spent in your office, you’d gotten the same impression everyone did of him.

Jamie Tartt was undoubtedly the one of the biggest pricks you’d ever met .

Twenty minutes later than agreed, he’d sauntered in to your office, moaning about his teammates, discard the print offs of flats and houses you’d spent ages looking into for him, grabbed a card with the requested time and date of a collection of an Aston Martin you’d arranged for him without so much as a thank you, before asking if you could fix a modelling gig for him. With your arms folded across your chest, you’d firmly told him that was you were player liaison and not PR and that there was no way you’d be arranging his shirtless photoshoots or his latest perfume ad and he’d left with a comment about your job being “pointless” leaving your door wide open.

***

The next time you spoke to him was when he’d let a door swing in your face, as he stormed through the car park still furious after the loss to Crystal Palace. You held back from walking out as you could over hear him rant to the reporter from the Independent about…everything. An exclusive straight from the car park, Jamie Tartt was a journalists dream.

“Hey.” You caught up to him in the car park, “Talking to the press? Really?”

“Do I know you?” Jamie stared at you with a blank expression “Are you a fan? How did you get in here? You want a picture or something?”

“A fan? Of you? No. I work for the club. I’m the one that arranged your car, your flat, your VIP booth at the bar you’re off to. Most people say you’re welcome by the way.” You waved an arm in the direction of his sports car.

“Right.” Jamie continued to stare at you like you’d grown a second head before shrugging “Did you need something?”

Un-fucking-believable. In that moment, you’d never disliked him more.

You considered telling him how stupid it was to run his mouth off to the press, how much it would hurt his teammates, his manager, the fans to hear their star player dragging the club down but as you watched him chew his gum so casually, you realised he didn’t care and it was too late, and it was probably too late. Trent Crimm was already heading back to his car, statement no doubt being composed and ready for the morning papers but it was doubtful Jamie even registered anything other than himself and his massive ego. How could you possibly expect him to care about anyone else.

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Don’t think you’d understand it. Have a nice night.” You turned on your heel and were safe inside your own car before you finished the sentence “Prick.”

***

Ever since your little argument in the car park, you’d made it your absolute resolution to keep your contact with him to the bare minimum until the end of his loan when he’d become whatever poor player liaison officer Man City had.

You managed this pretty effectively being that he’d decided not to train until you’d received a call from your boss late into the evening one night asking you to come by the training ground. Usually a call in the evening was one of the new players wants a dinner reservation and didn’t know where to book or occasionally ordering a cab when one of the players had forgotten what hotel they were staying in the night before a game.

You absolutely not been expecting it to be ‘please can you swing by Colins and get his spare car keys…’ Nonetheless you’d agreed.

The scene unfolding before you when arrived the training ground was like something out of a fever dream. The players celebrating on the training pitch, a burning bin obviously a major part of whatever bonding exercise Coach Lasso had come up with. A scan of the field resulted no sign of Colin. You could see Dani Rojas, running around with Bumbercatch and Richard as if he hadn’t just been in the treatment room a mere 24 hours ago and Issac downing the last of a bottle of Mezcal back and forth with Richard whilst Ted and Beard watched on, laughing as Zoreaux choked on a swig of the liquor.

Nearest you and staring into the fire, beer bottle in hand, was the last person you wanted to see. Jamie Tartt. Of course it was. It would be so typical of your luck that it would be.

“Colin about?” You resolved yourself to asking him, wiggling your hand as the spare key jangled between your fingers. “Got to give him these.”

“Inside.” Jamie nodded “He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Humming in acknowledgment, your eyes fell to the flaming bin and curiosity got the better of you and you had to ask “Do I want to ask how he lost his keys?”

“Burnt them in that.” Jamie gestured at the flames he was staring at. When you didn’t reply, his eyes found their way to yours and he explained the whole process.

“Oh.” You were surprised. “I didn’t think team bonding would have been your thing.”

Jamie hesitated. He couldn’t argue. You were right, he hadn’t been much of a team player

“I wasn’t gonna but…thought maybe I should show my face” he shrugged, hoping you wouldn’t question his bravado. He pointed at the fire. “Do you wanna throw something in? Everyone else has.”

“I think it’s already worked…” you gestured with your arm at the field. “but yeah why not?”

You thought for a moment… you hadn’t brought anything except your phone and your own keys which… you didn’t fancy throwing in. Unlike Colin you’d have to walk home and get your spare set and walk back to the car park, which wasn’t particularly appealing in the dark.

Suddenly an idea struck you, you unclipped your necklace and extended out your hand, letting it slip, dangling in your fingertips for a few seconds before dropping it. “Hopefully this helps with the luck.”

“You don’t need luck if I’m playing.” Jame replied, a smirk on his lips. You held off rolling your eyes at his cockiness. Sometimes you really didn’t get him. Mere seconds before you’d been having a semblance of a civil conversation and then he was right back to arrogant arsehole.

“What is it?” He questioned. It had to be the first time he’d asked you anything about yourself.

“Necklace. It was my nan’s… she…died when I was 15.”

“Oh shit sorry.” It was probably the most sincere you’d ever heard him. If it had came out of anyone else’s mouth, you might have bought it as genuine. “Wasnt like anything bad, was it?”

“It was a long time ago, she was sick for a long time and…” you stopped yourself suddenly aware that this was Jamie Tartt you were talking to and any minute now, he’d probably resume his usual self centred personality. “Sorry, long story short, she passed away a while ago but… I don’t think she’d mind. Grandad was a Richmond fan.”

“What did you…put in?” you asked, swiftly changing the subject. You were half expecting the answer to be his little black book of desperate instagram girls or some signed picture of himself from one of his many magazine photoshoots. It would after all be completely on-brand for him.

“Erm…football boots, ones my mum got me. She got me into playing…” he said it trying to be casual and keep his cool. “She just wants me to enjoy playing yeah? So good motivation and that”

“I’m sure she’d be really happy for you, Jamie.” You looked over to where Colin was remerging back from the building looking extremely relived to see you. “I have to go give these to Colin. It’s why I was called out here in the first place. Have a good night.”

Truth be told, you were a little skeptical. Of both the ritual and of Jamie showing an interest in anyone else other than himself but you figured if the whole team had given the ritual a chance, maybe just maybe, Jamie Tartt had developed the capacity to care about other people.

You found out the next morning that he was on his way back to Man City when you’d received an email from his agent asking you to arrange termination of his house rental agreement

***short time skip***

When your doorbell had gone off late into Saturday afternoon a few weeks later, Jamie Tartt had been the last person you expected to see.

“Richmond said you had the stuff from my locker.” He said, leaning instantly on the door frame as soon as you answered without so much as a hello. “Said you was going to send it to the guy who does whatever it is you do at City but I called Issac, Jeff and Keeley and they’re all busy so thought come get it. Nothing better to do.”

A house visit hadn’t been on the agenda but you figured it was marginally less awkward than him swinging by the training ground so you’d taken it and had been talking to the player liaison officer at City making arrangements to send it up.

“Well I’m flattered to be your fourth choice. Coincidentally probably your first words to Pep.” You couldn’t resist the dig. Ever since he’d left, Richmond had struggled but being that he was now Man City’s problem you didn’t have to mince your words.

“Yeah well, I’ll be first choice soon. Scored today didn’t I…,” he clicked his tongue and gestured at himself. “Best goal of the match as well.”

“Wouldn’t know. I was watching Richmond.” You folded one arm over the other. A part of you enjoyed the flicker of surprise that crossed his face, but you gave him a tight smile as a somewhat attempt to be civil.

“Heard old man Roy scored yesterday. Must have taken it out of him.” Jamie rested back on the heels of his expensive trainers “Bet he’s gonna be in that ice bath for hours.”

You ignored the dig at the Richmond captain “Had the game of his life actually…like someone turned back the clock. Heard from Sam that Nate had some real words of wisdom.”

“Nate? Nathan? The kitman?” Jamie’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you in shock. “We thinking of the same guy? Him!?”

You laughed, knowing that the idea of Nate who always seemed so unassuming and quiet giving Roy Kent, footballing legend, a piece of his mind was crazy. If you’d heard it from anyone other than Sam, you’d probably have thought it was an elaborate joke.

“Apparently so.”

“Fucking hell.” His eyebrows shot up “Kinda wish I’d seen the old man’s reaction.”

“Yeah well…you weren’t…I’ll get your stuff. Probably a bit weird for you…being at a woman’s door when you haven’t slept with her.” You tapped on the door and grimaced. You knew the team would miss Jamie for his ability on the pitch.

Jamie shrugged, before he was distracted by his reflection in the window. He adjusted a stray hair then slowly turned back as of pulling his gaze away from himself was particularly tough “You would though wouldn’t you?”

A singular laugh left your throat coming out harshly. “No. Nothing personal…Zoolander” you paused as you realised that wasn’t completely honest. “Well its a little personal…but…I don’t date footballers. Went out with one once. Played for another club. Was at my friends for a weekend. He slept with six other women in two days.”

Jamie pursed his lips and let out a low whistle almost like he was impressed.

“What’s that…Rookie numbers for you?” You called over your shoulder as you stepped to the side of the door to pick up the box that had been sitting in your hallway for the past week and a half.

“Nah…even I’m not that bad” He clicked his tongue and winked “Most of the time.”

“How lovely.” You deadpanned turning back to him. “Suppose you slow down once you run out of every woman in SW16?”

Jamie looked you up and down “You always like this? All Cruella DeVille and that”

Ignoring his playground like insult, you moved one hand back to the door handle, the box balanced on your hip with the other. You were hoping you’d be able to close the door quickly and force him to go off elsewhere. “You left my club, I’m allowed to be a little mean to you.”

“Lasso sent me back. Said he didn’t need me but obviously he does though cause you were losing until today” A cocky smirk on his face, he pointed at himself “Could have used me in those other games.”

“What?” You frowned, eyebrows knotting in the centre. “What are you on about?… of course we needed you. You’re a fucking twat but you’re good. Why wouldn’t he want you in the team” You didn’t like paying him a compliment but you felt it was the only way to get a reasonable conversation out of him

Jamie almost rolled his eyes and you were unsure if it was because he thought you were stating the obvious or saying something stupid.

Noticing Jamie’s childish reaction, you called him out.

“Ted’s a really nice guy, you know. Maybe cut him a little slack?”

Ted had always been friendly to you. Giving you a good morning when he arrived and a good evening with a bright smile when he left and even talking to you about favourite books when he’d brought ones in for the team. If you offered help with setting things up, he would always tell you not to worry and he’d sort anything out himself… More often than not he was back at your office with 15minutes talking a lot about how different things were to Kansas and asking for help.

Despite being new to the sport, never mind the Premier League, Ted was at least trying. It somewhat bothered you that Jamie seemed so intent on being disrespectful.

“Knows fuck all about football though.”

“And you know fuck all about how to talk to people. Maybe you could have learnt from each other.” You snapped back before you could stop yourself. “Just an idea. It’s how adults talk.”

Feeling the exasperation levels rise and wondering how you’d even gotten this far into a conversation with him, you tossed the box of his stuff in to his arms and he managed to steady it despite being caught slightly off guard.

“Goodbye Jamie. See you next season”

And with that you slammed the door shut forcibly before he could reply.

*** time skip***

“I’m just going to get a drink, you want one?”

You offered to your friend and her boyfriend, as you slid out of your booth. Truth be told, you didn’t need another drink, you just wanted to escape for a few moments and work out if it had been this loud when you were a Uni student or if you’d just become accustomed to pubs over clubs in the years since you’d left.

With the team settled into the season, and the new signings all set up, you decided to take a week off to go visit some old friends in Manchester and against your better judgement you’d been dragged to a bar by your friend and her boyfriend.

In response your friend waved her half full, bright blue cocktail, letting you know she was good for now and you made your way across the dance floor and up to the bar, ordering the strongest cocktail on the menu not paying much attention to what was in it.

You’d only just picked up your drink when you heard it. The familiar voice causing you to whip around so quickly that you were impressed you didn’t spill anything.

“[Name]? That you?”

“Jamie Tartt.” You replied, as you took a long drink of the freshly replenished cocktail “Nice to see you.”

You were, of course, being sarcastic. You didn’t try to hide it this time. You didn’t have to. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been assisting in the game that sent Richmond down. Well… that and when your friends had sent you numerous clips of him making an arse out himself on Lust Conquers All and asking you if he really was that much of a twat in real life, to which you’d reply no, he was actually a bigger twat.

“How come you’re in Manchester?” He asked, catching you off guard. Jamie had never cared about seeing you, let alone it being ‘good to’ and now here he was making small talk like you were old friends.

“I’m visiting friends from when I lived here.” You told him keeping your answer short “Look if you want someone to sort out some private booth for you, firstly I’m on holiday and secondly I work for Richmond…you don’t…so…” you paused and gazed around the busy bar, looking for someone to pass Jamie on to “ask the barman.”

“You lived in Manchester?” Jamie tilted his head, genuine surprise crossed his features, as if you’d been withholding some crucial information. “I’m from here.”

“I know you are…“ you took another long drink, feeling like you’d need it if you were about to have another frustrating conversation as your patience was slowly slipping away. He’d completely ignored your previous statement and carried on with the small talk he’d never shown any need for before “What do you need Jamie?”

Jamie looked stunned. “I didn’t know you lived in Manchester. How come you never said?” He replied with a question in response.

“It’s a big city Jamie. You never asked me about myself, surprised you even remembered my name. You don’t need to feign interest in me. Just tell me what you want.” Patience now completely gone and just keen for him to get to the point, you downed the last of your drink and turned to place it back on the bar, only just missing the slight look of guilt he gave you.

“I just, um,” Jamie hesitated, unsure as to how to start, he bit his lip. There was no way he could just come out with it.

He’d tried Keeley but she’d told him to talk to Ted which… he really didn’t want to do. He knew he’d have to eventually but he didn’t want to have to ask especially after how they’d left things in person. Jamie knew from the tiny army man and note that Ted held no resentment but approaching him was a completely different ask so he’d headed back to his mums in Manchester first to weigh up his options.

He considered messaging one of the team but knew after his assist to send Richmond down, they likely would not want to speak to him…so he went through the staff- Kitman Will was a no go, Nate an even bigger no, he didn’t even think he had his number. Jamie went through a few of the back room staff before the thought of you crossed his mind and he felt like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner.

You fixed everything. Player needed a mechanic, you had one around within an hour, one of the coaches needed a caterer, you could arrange it, any player needed schools for their kids, you had uniforms by the end of the day. It was, at least to Jamie, like you could fix any problem…so hoping you could fix his big one, he looked you up on instagram and seeing that you’d posted only two hours ago, he clicked to view.

You were laughing and clinking glasses with another girl and a guy and had placed a tag in the corner indicating what bar you were in. Jamie could barely believe his luck when he clicked on it; as if by chance, as if this was confirmation that he had to talk to you, the tag showed as a bar only fifteen minutes away. He’d left within five. He didn’t know why you were here in his home city but to Jamie it felt like a sign so he’d threw on a coat and headed out to find you.

“It’s nice to see you Jamie but if you’ve got nothing to say, I really need to get back to my friend.” It was a small lie, you could not have cared less about running into him.

“Wait.” He protested, reaching for your arm before pulling back, barely grazing you. “Can we have a drink or something?”

“I’m not a waitress Jamie. If you want a drink, you’ll have to get one yourself like a big boy.”

From the vacant expression that had taken over, he clearly no idea what you were talking about and was waiting for you to fill in the blanks.

“It was a joke. At the charity event, you gave me twenty quid and told me to get you a drink. I told you I wasn’t a waitress and you said ‘same thing’… then I took the £20 and used it for my taxi home… you obviously don’t remember.”

Jamie felt discomfort twist in his chest as he averted his eyes to the ground for a few seconds. Had he really said that? You said it so casually like it was normal.

“Look…please can I just talk you? I’ll…pay for your drinks.” He attempted a peace offering, only for you to wince.

“I can get my own drinks.” You stated bluntly, with a half hearted smile. “I’ll see you later, I’d say good luck for this season but Caths a United fan”

“I’m sorry…uh, I fucked it alright? I don’t…City don’t want me back.” Jamie slid in front of you quickly to try slow your move to the table down. “And I didn’t win Lust Conquers All…”

“I’m sorry to hear you didn’t win your show. Maybe there’s another you can rate strippers on or something.”

“It’s all I’m actually any good at.” His voice was far more subdued, far more quiet than you’d heard him before so much so you would have missed it if it wasn’t said in a seconds pause between songs.

“Rating strippers?” You made a joke, lips twisting up as you raised an eyebrow. However Jamie in response still looked deadly serious, so much so that something inside made your resolve falter. It was not like Jamie Tartt to be remotely serious.

You sighed, eyes skimming over the room to your friend, who was trying to wave you over with a questioning look on her face. Holding up a few fingers, you indicated to her you’d only be two minutes. She shrugged and went back to whatever conversation she was having with her boyfriend.

“Please.” He asked once more and you knew would kick yourself if this turned out to be an act. “I swear down I��m being serious”

You glanced back at Jamie who looked so utterly defeated, in a way you’d never seen him. He looked a million miles away from that cocky, arrogant guy you’d seen last time.

“Fine. We can talk but… outside…” you threw your hand up and jerked your thumb at the door. “I’ll meet you out there. I need to let my friend know I’m leaving.”

The cold air hit you suddenly as you stepped out of the busy bar, squeezing by a hen do and heading down the stairs. Jamie was already waiting outside, shifting from one foot to the other, looking even more on edge that he had done inside. Having seen his adverts, you knew he was not that good of an actor, whatever was going on it had to be at least a little bit real.

“Alright. I’m all ears.” You stated as you reached the bottom.

Jamie found himself talking and talking to you as you walked through the city without any real direction. You asked the occasional question but besides that you were mostly just listening. He was stalling, putting off asking you for help by just relaying the drama between leaving City and being voted off the show. You could tell there was something else. There was no way he’d drag you, someone he barely knew, barely liked, out into the city streets to question the voting public for picking some guy called Danthony over him.

“They offered me a reality show…when I got kicked off but I’d have to do ecstasy and shit and…” Jamie trailed off, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his designer puffer jacket. “Didn’t want that.”

“Drugs too far?” You joked, not wanting to show that you were actually pleasantly surprised that he had a limit as to what he’d do for fame. His eyes caught yours and he shook his head.

There was a beat, a few seconds of only the city sounds, you spoke again, your voice and your eyes more sympathetic this time. “I’m glad you didn’t take it. It would be a waste of your actual talent if you did. You’re way too good at football to piss it all away for some shit show…Why did you leave City anyway? Thought you had it all worked out? And be honest with me, I’m not thick, I’ll know.”

Jamie caught your eye, your gaze on him was questioning, but not in the demanding, scrutinising way he was so used to. You were looking at him in such a way, If you didn’t hate him, Jamie could almost convince himself you were asking because you cared. The slight softening of your look on him made him drop what was remaining of his facade and tell you the truth. “I thought it’d piss off my dad.”

“Ah,” the sound was small, “Is your dad…?”

“A prick?” Jamie stated bluntly before you could finish “Yeah. On me all the time, over everything. Always has been. Always got something to fucking say. Got sick of it. I know it’s stupid but…”

“It’s not stupid…well it was a stupid thing to do…” you pulled your coat tighter against the wind. “but you’re not stupid. I understand. I think most people would. I’m sorry your dads an arsehole.”

“Thanks” He commented with a tight face as you rounded the corner. “But I’m used to it”

“You shouldn’t have to be.”

You stopped as he could see your hotel lit up ahead on the street you were now walking down and somehow you’d ended up back where you were staying and you felt a little bit sorry to leave him. A small, tiny part of you thought about inviting him up and offering to continue the conversation but this was Jamie and you had a feeling he would definitely get the wrong idea.

“Erm… this… this is me.” You tilted your head up ahead at the hotel door “Thank you for walking me back Jamie. Even if you didn’t mean to.”

“Do you think Richmond would have me back?” Jamie asked quickly, fearing he’d lose his chance at getting out what had been lingering on his mind since he’d walked out of the meeting with his agent. “I could really really use Richmond now. And I think Richmond need me?” He gave you a tweak of a smile, more hopeful than arrogant.

Ah of course. That was it. He did need something after all. Despite this, you didn’t feel any resentment, you actually felt a little bit bad for him. Jamie had been a first class twat but he also seemed to be genuinely trying to reach out.

You gave him an apologetic smile. “Look, I wish I could help but…you’ll have to talk to Ted. I don’t have any say it in. I can give him a heads up but at the end of the day, he’s the manager, Jamie.”

“Yeah. Keeley said the same thing.” He looked dejected, reluctant even. “Don’t know why I thought you’d say anything else.” He dragged one of his expensive trainers against the concrete pavement and you winced at thinking how they probably cost a substantial chunk of your wages.

“I’m not surprised. She’s smart, makes me wonder why she went out with you.” You took the opportunity to lightly tease him although kept your tone completely deadpan.

“Oi come on! I’m being nice!” Jamie’s head shot up, ready to protest until he could see you were smiling and his shoulders loosened.

“I know I’m messing with you.” You replied “but seriously Talk to Ted. He’s usually at The Crown and Anchor. He’s a nice guy, Jamie. Give him a chance.”

“Fine. Thanks.” Jamie shrugged, looking like he’d rather do anything else. “If it works, can I have my old house back?”

“I’ll sort something…Goodnight Jamie.”You reached over and squeezed his arm “and good luck.”

***

Jamie’s reintegration was not going as smoothly as he’d hoped. With the rest of the team being somewhat reluctant to forgive his attitude from his last spell in at the club, Jamie was now getting the cold shoulder.

“Shit!” You jumped when you walked into you office. “How long have you been here? How did you get in?”

“No one likes me.” Jamie muttered from the spare chair opposite your desk. He didn’t answer your question but from the lost look on his face you didn’t feel like pushing it. He was slouched so far over your desk, he was practically lying on it, training jacket pulled up over his face and his chin in his hand

“Can’t say I blame them. You were kind of an arsehole last time you were here.” You placed your bag on the spot on the desk not occupied by Jamie.

“But like I’m actually trying and they’re… are all being dickheads about it.” He sat up suddenly, throwing his arms back as he slumped back into the chair.

“Again I don’t blame them.”

“Colin said I was the worm now.”

You cocked your head confused “I’m not going to ask…but I probably don’t blame him”

“Even the new lads giving me stick”

“Yeah, word travels, you’re… kinda infamous here now”

“Yeah I know…” Jamie clicked his tongue as if you were stating the obvious “but why do they hate me… when I’m trying?” He held out his hands and looked over at you, waiting for your clarification.

“Jamie. You got us relegated, you were a bad team mate and a bit of a shit…”

“Alright, alright.” Jamie shrugged “just you’re the only one whose nice to me…except maybe Ted but he don’t count he’s nice to everyone and Keeley but she’s my ex ain’t she? How can I make them like me? Get them all something?”

“It’ll take time Jamie… you can’t just make it up to them with gifts…”

Deciding you had to do to something to distract him, you lifted your bag up from the desk again and gestured for him to stand up which he did so reluctantly.

“Right okay, get your keys…I’m not having you moping around my office…let’s go for a walk or a drive or whatever and talk. It’ll help. I promise”

It quickly became a regular, daily thing. Jamie would come to your office as soon as the on field training was done. The rest of the team would head into the gym and he’d come wait in your office or out for coffee until most of the others had left and then he’d slip down to the gym to train alone.

You’d were slowly softening to him. He’d even started opening up a bit more, slowly elaborating day by day until he was talking more openly to you than you’d ever thought. Underneath all the cocky bravado, Jamie was a sweet, funny, guy who’d just fallen into the trap of thinking arrogance was a shield against anything the world could throw at him. You liked this side of him far far more and you couldn’t help yourself but think if he’d always been like this, like he was now, you’d have been friends a long time ago.

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing when Jamie told you about Ted’s alter ego act. Even more so that he was completely straight faced when relaying how weird it was. You could guess what Ted was doing, but Jamie seemed so serious he had you in stitches.

“Oh and I, erm, I spoke to the, the therapist lady…Doctor Sharon.” Jamie slipped in quickly, before he could change his mind over telling you. His eyes quickly shot over your shoulder to the aerial photograph of Nelson Road that decorated the wall behind your desk and focused hard on it as he waited for your response.

Jamie had no reason to doubt you’d be supportive but still he could have sworn the few seconds it took for you to reply was actually an hour. He worried in those few seconds that he’d overstepped the mark and made you uncomfortable with an over share or that you’d kick him out.

You couldn’t believed Jamie had just spent fifteen minutes ranting about ‘Led Tasso’ and completely neglected to mention that he’d spoken to the new therapist.

“Jamie…why didn’t you tell me!” You exclaimed, nearly knocking over the Richmond mug on your desk over your laptop. “That’s great!”

“Dunno” Jamie managed to drop his stare from the wall to you and shrugged “I erm, didn’t think it was worth mentioning. Keeley dragged me up there and I thought might aswell. Nothing better do to.”

“Course its worth mentioning. Getting help is the best thing you can do… it’s hard to take that first step and reach out. I’m proud of you.”

“Really?” For a second Jamie wondered if he’d hallucinated. He hadn’t heard that. Not those words in that order from anyone in a long time and Jamie liked the thought of you, of all people, being proud of him.

“Yeah! Going…and actually talking to a professional? That’s amazing! Did it help?”

Jamie let your response sink in before he nodded “Uh yeah I think so, spoke to her about like my dad and stuff. She’s really good.” He scratched his cheek quickly before dropping his hands to the table.

“It’s great, everything you’re doing. It’ll take time… but I’m just so happy you’re reaching out.” You leant over the desk and placed your hand over his and gave it a squeeze “you know you’ve always got me but talking to a professional is the best thing for you.” The second you’d retracted Jamie missed the reassurance provided by the warm contact.

“Knock knock” a voice called from the doorframe interrupting and Jamie felt his heart drop as one of his teammates stuck his head around “Hello!”

“Jan! Hi!” You beamed at him, getting up from your desk as Jamie tried not to let his disappointment show at the interruption. “Come in!”

“You ready? You’re always packed up early and ready to go so I thought I would come see” Jan slipped around the door and raised his eyebrows staring at your desk which, as he’d guessed, was already pretty much clear for the day. “Usually in the last hour you don’t do any work.”

You rolled your eyes at his assessment but didn’t protest. You very rarely got anything done in the last hour so tended to scroll on your phone, clear up and wait until you could leave.

“Alright?” Jamie attempted to greet the other man “Is anyone down in the gym, mate?”

Jan shook his head no, not conversing with the other man any more than needed and waited for Jamie to stand up and make his way to the door, stepping aside to let him leave.

“Um, thanks [Name], I’ll see you later yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll come see you later.” You offered “We can go to that restaurant for dinner. The Indian one I was telling you about the other day?”

Jamie nodded and shut the door quickly suddenly all too aware of his teammate watching him.

***

“Why are you friends with him?” Jan asked pointedly as you left the room a few minutes later and made your way to the car park.

“Jamie’s really trying. Trust me last season he would not have even acknowledged me” you laughed and pointed at yourself.

“I don’t like him.” Jan said, looking like you’d posed some sort of serious question before he offered you a sweet from the bag he was holding out “Left you the red ones.” He glanced back into the bag “Well most of them!”

“Be nice!” You jokingly punched his arm before thanking him for leaving your favourites “Jamie’s trying not be a twat…but It’s hard for him. He’s had years of practice.”

Jamie watched you’d leave with the centre back from the open gym door. From your hushed voice, you were doing your best to keep quiet so he wouldn’t overhear but the ‘he wouldn’t have acknowledged me’ stung. Deep down he knew it was true, he hadn’t been nice to you, and you were understandably cold to him.

He’d find himself worried, wondering if you were with Jan, what if you no longer had time for him, what if he lost the one real friend he had. Although if Jamie was honest with himself, he’d liked you as more than a friend for a while.

A few days into his return to Richmond, he’d been unable to sleep. Worrying that the team hated him, would always hate him, was he this pathetic failure his dad said he was, would he ever be considered a talented footballer again or would he always just be a joke who put his ‘brand’ first.

He realised he’d didn’t want to call his anyone except you. He wanted to talk to you. You’d answered on the fourth ring and if you were annoyed at being woken at 1am, you didn’t sound it. You’d been concerned, asking if he was in trouble.

“No…I can’t sleep.” Jamie had said, almost ashamed to say anything more. He worried you’d think it was pathetic, a weak reasoning for calling, but at the same time hoped you’d pick up on the something left unsaid.

You did. “I know what you mean” you’d spoken, sleepily “you want a distraction? I can read to you if you like. My books so boring, you’ll fall asleep.”

Jamie had laughed and accepted your offer and settled in as you’d started to read some story.

When he woke the next morning, you were still on the other end of the phone. You were already awake but you must have stayed on the call with him.

‘Just in case’ you’d told him, the corner of your cheek twitching on one side.

It was the single most simple, caring gesture but it cemented it. In that moment he knew he was gone. You just knew him. When he needed to laugh, when he needed to talk and when he just wanted a distraction. (You’d never tell him how easy it was for you to tell).

The next time, hed offered to return the favour he’d read you the book Coach Lasso had bought him. He’d been reluctant at first but you’d persuaded him, encouraging him a little bit at a time and before you knew it, he’d read it cover to cover.

You were just a kind person, he told himself. You were like that with everyone. He’d see you excitedly trying some Nigerian food Sam brought in or attempt to speak Spanish to Dani, who would be thrilled and offer to teach you, he’d see you talk to Keeley, usually showing each other something on your phones and giggling.

Jamie would find himself analysing every conversation you’d had with him, where you like that with other people and for signs that maybe your feelings were mutual. He would run over everything in his head as he ran on the treadmill or worked on presses so much so that by the time he’d decided to just keep quiet, as he did every day, he’d have done several miles or lost count of the amount of presses he’d done.

Fuck it there was no way he could tell you. You were happy and you were his friend and he’d rather have you in his life as his friend than not at all.

***short time skip***

When Jamie had came into your office in a panic on Christmas Eve, asking you if you’d ever cooked a Christmas dinner and begging for you to help him cook one for his mum who would be visiting, you’d agreed against your better judgement. You’d cooked Christmas dinner twice. Once at University and once when your mum had a migraine and you had to finish off and now you were in Jamie’s house on Christmas Day making what he’d bought from M&S two days before into a Christmas dinner.

“I’m surprised you asked me. I thought you’d be inundated with offers.” You said, only half joking as you turned the parsnips in their tray. Jamie who was mulching the cranberries for the sauce like his life depended on it, just shrugged and muttered a ‘not really’. He wished he’d asked you to actually spend Christmas with him properly and not to do him a favour but doing so now would seem last minute and you’d already told him you were dropping in to the Higgins later.

As if on cue, your phone beeped from across the room and you swung the dish towel over your shoulder, not noticing Jamie staring as you flicked up to read Jan’s Whatsapp, watching your face for any signs. Trying to see if you’d added any little hearts next to his name or if you replied to him with twice as many X’s as you gave anyone else.

Ever since Jamie had realised he’d fallen for you, he’d became somewhat obsessed with trying to work out what was going on between you and his teammate. He’d never ask Jan directly. Having been on the receiving end of one of Jan’s blunt comments, Jamie didn’t want to risk hearing something he didn’t want to. With the team still giving him the cold shoulder more often than not, he considered asking Keeley. He’d seen you and her talking sometimes and wondered if it would be weird to ask his ex before realising if he did ask Keeley anything, there was the risk that Roy Kent would overhear and Jamie couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing.

“Richard brought a girl to the Higgins’ party.“ you laughed, letting Jamie know what was happening “Jan just told me.”

“Of course he did” Jamie laughed “Not surprised. He’d bring a girl to training if thought he’d get away with it.”

“Thought that would have been you?” You teased back only to get an eye roll and elbow nudge in response.

After a few minutes, you walked around his kitchen to check the table was set and were surprised to see he’d done a decent job of it.

“I think you’re all set. I promise you can take all the credit. You just need to take the turkey out when she gets here and put the Yorkshires in. They’ll be done quickly so don’t burn them. Desserts are in the fridge.”

Jamie looked a little reluctant and you had to admit the idea of a footballer who regularly played in front of thousands of people being nervous about presenting a Christmas dinner to his mum was a little funny.

“It’ll be good. Trust me…oh wait!” Your face lit up as you suddenly remembered “I have a present for you!” Before he had the chance to respond you’d dashed out into the hall, retrieved the gift from beside where you left your coat and returned back and pushed it into his hands.

After making a show of rattling it to try sense what was inside, Jamie unwrapped it carefully. Your eyes focused in on his face looking for any sign, hoping he liked the gift and you’d hadn’t made things weird.

In the box was a pair of his boots, the same brand his mum had got him, like his first pair. Jamie lifted them out carefully, and turned them over in his hand to see them.

“They’re obviously not the exact pair but they’re customs, I asked Sam what brand they were and they don’t do the exact ones anymore but I found some guy online and…they’re pretty much the same…If you can’t wear them for games because of sponsorships or whatever, you can maybe use them for training or you can return them, i won’t be offended, I just…”

“Thank you.” Jamie was quiet, staring down at the boots before his eyes turned on you “this is the nicest present anyone has ever given me. I, um… thank you.” He repeated finding himself rendered somewhat speechless at what thought you’d put in and how you were clearly worried he wouldn’t like it.

“It’s nothing. I just wanted to do something for you…”

“It’s not nothing, I actually do really like them and I’m definitely wearing them. Next game. Thank you.” Jamie paused, his head was only filled with thoughts of how much he wanted to kiss you here in his kitchen, how much he wanted to ask you to stay with him, to spend the rest of the day with him, eating Christmas dinner with his mum and sharing the big box of Roses chocolates and watching any Christmas special just because and then dancing to whatever Christmas song came on, late into the evening.

“Actually I… I got you something too.”

“You got me a present?” Your eyebrows raised in a playful manner “It’s not like a signed picture of you or anything is it? Because if it is, it’s going on eBay.”

“No. Uh…two minutes alright?” Jamie left the room and returned a few minutes later, a poorly wrapped present in his hands. “Sorry about the shit wrapping.”

You laughed and unwrapped it, your face breaking out into a big smile as you found the present “no way!”“This is the coolest thing ever!”

A quiet, comfortable silence had fallen between the two of you over your FaceTime call, you’d just finished laughing about Jamie telling you how he broke into his schools tuck shop as a kid and stole six packets of malteasers. It should have been just a funny childhood anecdote shared with a friend and yet the comments you’d made a while ago itched at the back of Jamie’s mind. “You never asked me about myself, surprised you even remembered my name.” He’d gotten to know you since of course but he wanted to know more, he wanted you to tell him everything, like he was making up for looking through you before.

“Tell me something funny you did when you was kid” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Oh.” You shifted putting your phone down, thinking for a moment. “Ah okay I’ve got it!” You grinned “don’t laugh!” You made him promise.

“When I was a little kid, like I’m talking pre-primary school age, I had this cream cardigan, big daisies and red roses stitched all over it and I would wear it everywhere. I’d put it on to walk to school and cry when Miss Neil made me take it off, when I came home and my mum had to wash it, I’d sit by the washing machine and then in the garden waiting for it to dry. I’d even wear it when it was summer and it was probably too warm, I wore it even when it didn’t go with my outfit. I was not a fashion forward kid”

Jamie started laughing and couldn’t suppress it even over your protests that he promised he wouldn’t.

“What happened to it? The cardigan? You still have it?”

You pouted half jokingly “It got left on a plane on the way back from Tenerife. I cried so much, my dad rang Gatwick and the airport in Tenerife but no one ever turned it in. I’d have outgrown it but I loved that cardigan so much” you said wistfully “I was so annoyed thinking of some random person with my cardigan… I’ve searched online but there’s nothing like it.”

“Understandable. It sounds peak nineties” Jamie remarked with a raised eyebrow

“Oi. It would be considered vintage now” you laughed “Teenagers on depop would pay mega money for that.”

You picked it up and held it against you before putting it straight on without checking for tags.

“Jamie…” You wrapped it tight and folded your arms around you “You remembered! I feel a bit bad for joking now”

“Don’t…don’t…you don’t need to say anything.” Seeing you happy hit him like a brick wall. All he wanted was you smiling at him like you were doing now. His voice was quiet and he could feel the tension, he needed to do something, anything to dissipate it, if he didn’t…Jamie feared he’d just come out with it. “You have the real deal anyway, you don’t need a photo” He settled for a joke.

“Thank you!” You beamed at him and got up to kiss his cheek. “This is the coolest present ever!”

How was it that he’d never been short on attention from women but a kiss on the cheek from you had the biggest effect on him like he was a teenage boy again the first time he fancied a girl.

“Thank you for mine. And for all this…You really sure you can’t stay? It’ll just be me and mum and she’ll fall asleep after Eastenders.”

“Call me when she does. If I’m up, we can FaceTime” you still had your cardigan on and slipped your coat on over the top. “Maybe we can watch one of the Home Alones or Elf together.”

“I love Elf. It’s like my favourite film after Ratatouille.” He grinned at you and you laughed as you reached up and hugged him.

“I know. Merry Christmas Jamie.” You kissed him on the cheek once more

“Merry Christmas, [Name],”

***short time skip***

The addition of Roy to the coaching staff had gone perfectly…except for the one pretty major hiccup of Jamie clashing with him daily and on one occasion, making his way to your place after training to ask if you thought he had bad hair prompting you to wonder what exactly was going on.

A few days later and you were anxiously waiting on the final whistle in the quarter final against Tottenham, Jamie had played incredibly. A goal from right outside the box and only a minute ago he’d scored what looked like it would be the winner. At the sound of the whistle, you were up on your feet and running down to the tunnel. The moment you saw Jamie you ran to him and pulled him into a hug, him lifting you up and holding you flush against him for a few moments.

“You were amazing!” You enthused, looking up at him as you separated. “That free kick in the first half was one of the best ever seen! And a last minute goal… that’s the best game I’ve ever seen you play.”

Jamie grinned on a high from the result, his performance and now you gushing about him, telling him so earnestly how good he was felt amazing. For a moment he could forget you were in the Nelson Road tunnel with a little over 25,000 people just outside and other players and staff milling around you.

“Thanks. My first goal was good wasn’t it?” He was standing so confidently. It had turned out being a prick worked for him…so long as he kept it to the pitch. You liked seeing him back to the player you knew he could be.

“That’s goal of month, maybe even the season!”You reached up and fixed his hair without even thinking “Go celebrate. you deserve this.”

“Come out with me… I mean come out with us, we’re going out, all of us, you should come” Jamie said all at once.

“Sure I’ll come for one!” You nodded.

Across the bar, you could see a girl who looked like she could have walked off the set of Keeping Up with the Kardashians lean over and talk to Richard who was responding by pouring her a glass of wine, no doubt feeding her some sort of cheesy chat up line.

Jamie slid into the booth beside you, and, with the slight contact your knee made against his, he felt himself relax.

“That’s probably the third girl I’ve seen him give his number to tonight” he commented and you laughed, pleased to see him join you in your people watching.

“Welcome to being on this side of the fence.” You leant in close to him so you could talk.

“She not your type?” You asked curiously. “She’s alive isn’t she?” You teased. Jamie hadnt dated since Keeley, or rather, since his stint on the show if you could call that dating. It did seem a little odd to you that he’d never once mentioned anyone despite your fast formed friendship and everything else he’d willingly shared with you.

Jamie shook his head. “Nah i’m…”. How could he tell you he didn’t want anyone else other than you. “I’m not…nah not really doing that kinda thing anymore.”

Even if he tried, Jamie doubted he could bring himself to show any enthusiasm for chatting up anyone else anymore. How could he consider anyone else when it felt like you were the only person in the room who saw him. You actually saw him for him in his worst moments and still wanted to be around him. How could he not want you?

Your heart was beating as you took in Jamie’s response. It was only a short response but it set the smallest of sparks in your stomach and you took a swig from the bottle of cider in your hand to distract yourself from running over what that meant. Was he not interested in anyone? Was there something he wasn’t saying?

Looking for something to change the subject before it became awkward, your eyes fell to your phone, flat against the table, and you started at the clock telling you it was 00:10. Somewhat grateful for the easy out, you picked it up and slipped it into your back.

“I’m going to head home, I have an early start tomorrow.”

“Can i walk you home?” Jamie felt a little dejected but wouldn’t pass up the chance to spend time with you just one on one. “I don’t mind leaving now?”

You were grateful and almost wished you could take him up on it. Maybe when you were alone you could ask him more about what he meant.

How badly you wanted to say yes. Yes to him walking you home and how you’d hope on the walk home you’d maybe have enough courage to invite him in and up to your bedroom. The experience with your ex still lingered and you never ever thought it would be Jamie Tartt of all people to make you want to throw your one rule out of the window.

But he wasn’t the Jamie of old. This Jamie was funny and caring, he’d bring you a tea every morning before training, he’d call you and he’d ask you to go do “intellectual stuff” with him when he was too self conscious to go himself. He’d run through ideas or tactics he had with you and even ask you to watch his highlight reels, not for vanity but because he wanted a fans opinion, he’d get you to come out to dinners with him when he was offered free food at restaurants and throughout all of this, you were just his friend, his loyal best friend, when you were internally screaming that you wanted him.

Realising you hadn’t said anything in a few seconds, you quickly found a response “you’re the best for offering but… Jan’s offered to drive me. He’s not been drinking so it’s fine. He’s dropping off Colin too if you need a lift, I can ask him? I’m sure he won’t mind?” You asked, hoping Jamie would accept and you’d just both get out at his or yours.

Jamie felt an uncomfortable twist in his stomach.

Of course. Jan. Were you going back to his? Did you talk to Jan the way you talked to him? What had happened to “I don’t date footballers” or was that just your way of telling him you’d never want him like he wanted you? There was a part of him screaming to retreat, make an excuse, go home, move on but Jamie didn’t want to do that. He wanted to ask you outright but he couldn’t push the words out. So he did neither and just sat there.

“It’s okay.” He said forcing a smile. “Someone has to look after Isaac. I’ll get a taxi”

“Are you sure? If you want we can-…”

“Hey. Are you ready?” the Dutch centre-back interrupted from the aisle between tables before Jamie could reply “Some of us need sleep.” He teased, pointing at Colin who was leaning to one side, almost asleep on Moe’s shoulder “and I don’t want him to sleep in my car. Last time I had to let him sleep on my sofa.”

You laughed and almost as if he heard his teammate Colin jolted awake muttering he was ready and reaching for his coat.

“Sure I’m ready.” You gave Jamie a hug as you stood up and he watched you go, wishing he’d gone with you the second you were gone.

Jamie had been on edge since it was confirmed that the semi final at Wembley would be against Man City. You knew it had to be related to his dad, to his old club, to how everything was building to such a point that he was wound so tight, you were surprised he hadn’t snapped like an elastic band.

In the fall out from the result to Man City and the altercation with his dad, Jamie had come to you before he’d boarded the bus. He hadn’t needed to say anything, it was all over his face. You could see it. Without even needing to ask, Ted had waved for you to get on the bus with the team. Usually the staff would travel separately if they went to games but in this moment, the coach didn’t question it.

You settled in beside Jamie and shifted so he could rest his head on your shoulder and carefully you reached around so you could put an arm around him too and used your other to take his hand and you would stay that way for the journey back to the training ground where the players had left their cars.

Even as you exited the coach, you could tell he was tense, and as you walked him to his car, you could barely hear him when he came out with it.

“Are you okay?” You asked him once he’d done explaining “I’m so sorry Jamie. Your dad really is a prick”

Before Jamie replied, he looked up and over you across the car park, his eyes caught those of his teammate.

“I, uh, I will be. Fresh air is doing me good. I think I need to go home and sleep.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Jamie. I’m not an idiot. You need to talk?”

He pushed a hand back through his hair and with one look in your eyes conceded with a nod

After driving back to his and getting into his house, Jamie dropped onto the sofa, not bothering to change out of the training kit he’d travelled in. You made him a decaf tea and took a spot next to him on his sofa and let him lean back on you as listened to him tell you everything

“Was that the first time you’d…”

“Hit him back?” Jamie’s eyes didn’t lift from the spot in the middle distance. “Yeah. Couldn’t really fight back as a kid.”

“I was going to say ‘seen him since you left…” you kept your arm around him, loosely tracing in a manner you hoped was soothing. “But I’d guess same answer.”

Jamie lifted his head off your shoulder for a second. “Erm…” His dad had contacted him a few times whilst he’d played for City. Mostly asking for free tickets, to meet the rest of the team and to get tours of the ground. Jamie had given in reluctantly on the first one and skirted around the final two. “Yeah… I guess he wasn’t arsed about me playing for Richmond. Cant brag about me if I’m in the Championship and he can’t be fucked getting the train down to London”

“Jamie.” You tried “you deserve so much better…He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.” You reassured him “you’ve been amazing these past few months Jamie. The best you’ve played. I know you probably wouldn’t want him at Richmond but still…his loss”

“Only got him the tickets to get him off my back and he didn’t even fucking support me. Went in the City end. Don’t know what I was expecting”

You imagined that must have stung for him. His dad feigning an interest just to turn around and support the team playing against his son. His old club, to add insult to injury.

“How do you feel now?” You asked cautiously. “Must have been hard for you to stand up to him…given how long he’s been…like that for?”

“I mean… shit because he’s my dad but he doesn’t act like he is, but like…I don’t regret it or anything…I just got fucking shit of it yknow…slagging me off, the club off…putting me down in front of everyone…and he’ll show up next time, if we get promoted he’ll be after tickets again…”

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t get near. You never have to deal with that again Jamie. You shouldn’t have had to take it back then and you don’t now”

“Thanks.” He added on “For… not just staying here but…for like always having time for me and that.”

“I’ll always have time for you Jamie.”

***a few weeks later***

The yearly charity gala had come around fast and unlike last year, you had actually looked forward to it this year. In the weeks leading up to it, you’d picked out a new outfit including new shoes.

Jamie had agreed to pick you up, asking you the second you’d said you were going and you’d agreed. Since you’d spent the night at his, completely platonically, Jamie’s already overwhelming feelings towards you had grown even more and you showing up to a charity gala with his teammate was the last thing he wanted and even though he’d spent the entire day telling himself this wasn’t a date, he still felt nervous as he rang your doorbell.

The second you opened it, he couldn’t help but break out into a big smile “You look… really good.” He nodded “this new?”

“Thank you” you accepted his compliment, nodding as you stepped aside to let him in “So do you. Not auctioning yourself off tonight?”

“Nah I’m not feeling up for it this year.”

Your eyes scanned his suit before realising his tie was slightly off “Can I?” You pointed at it.

You waited for him to nod before stepping in to fix his tie, before realising it needed a re-do.

“You know I’ve not had to wear a tie since school, but I reckon I could do a better job of it than this.” You joked, pulling the knot by his neck and re opening the fabric.

“You wore your tie? Don’t think I went a week without forgetting mine.” Jamie laughed.

“I was Deputy Head Girl.” You felt a little bit red, like suddenly you were back at school being paired with the popular boy for a project. “Kinda had to.” You looped it around before sliding it into place.

You shook the thought from your head. This was Jamie. Your friend. He could date anyone he wanted, why would he go out with someone normal and ordinary.

Jamie watched you in concentration for a few seconds before he couldn’t help himself.

“He’s punching going out with you, you know” the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He couldn’t help himself. Jamie didn’t mean it, at least, he didn’t mean it as it sounded. Jan was fine and of course he would be your exception to your rule. He seemed like he’d be your type. Still it stung. He wasn’t used to not getting the girls he liked…but maybe he should have expected it. You weren’t interested in the fame that attracted girls to athletes normally so of course you wouldn’t want him. You probably liked Jan because he was honest, funny and spoke three languages rather than the money and fame.

You stopped what you were doing, hands still on his tie, confused.

“What are you on about?”

“Yknow…Jan. You’re way too fit for him.”

“I’m not going out with Jan.”

You made sure it was centred before letting go of the fabric and suddenly aware of your close proximity, you stepped back.

“He takes you home and stuff…I figured you two were.”

“Shagging?” You came straight out with it, eyebrows raised

“Well…yeah?” He shrugged. “Ain’t you with him?”

Who’d have thought it. Jamie Tartt, who you’d considered the biggest arsehole you’d ever met a few months back, now being protective over you. It was weirdly quite sweet. Truth be told, you’d warmed to Jamie. A lot. If anyone had told you that last season you’d have thought they’d gone mad. When he’d left Richmond, you’d never even expected to see him in person again, let alone be friends with him.

“Jan’s just a friend…Didn’t realise anyone had noticed…also… surprised you remembered my…thing about footballers”

“I’m glad you’re not with him cause, yknow he’s…”

“Are you going to call someone else a prick?” Your head tilted to the side, hair falling with it. “Because if you are, that’s pretty fucking ironic.”

Jamie opened and closed his mouth, ready to reply when he saw you were half smiling.

“I’m messing with you...again” you teased and Jamie remembered the conversation he’d had with you outside the hotel in Manchester. Only this time you were looking at him differently. Back then you were looking at him like he was lost, now he’d swear you were… almost looking at him with affection.

“Nah, hes… he’s alright yknow just he’s not…” Jamie paused. He couldn’t say ‘not good enough’ because if Jan wasn’t the type of footballer you’d date, Jamie knew he definitely wouldn’t be. “Not who i picture you with.”

“Who do you picture me with?”

You were looking up at him, genuine interest on your face like you were waiting on a serious answer.

“I, uh, I don’t know.” The twisting in his stomach had been replaced and now the weight of relief, finding out you weren’t actually with Jan had lifted he didn’t know exactly what to say. With other girls he’d never had a problem asking them out but you? It was always different with you. “Just someone else.”

“Jamie…what’s going on?” you reached up and gently tilted his face so you could look at him. In spite of your confident action, your heart was hammering against your chest.

He let out a deep breath, eyes flickering over you for a moment, before he came out with it

“When I thought you were going out with Jan Maas. It was driving me mad.”

“Why?”

“I…I guess maybe I was jealous or something?”

“Thought you didn’t get jealous.” You’d heard all about his escapades with other women via the press and via various clips people had sent you of him on his TV show.

“I don’t not normally …” Jamie played with the cuff links absentmindedly. He sighed and looked down and then back up at you “I don’t wanna be like that anymore…I just,” he paused.

“Look” you said again “whatever you want to say… you can tell me…”

Jamie didn’t know what was holding him back. “I want to be the kind of guy you’d go out with, i don’t wanna disrespect you, and like I don’t want to ruin us being mates but…I really, really like you.”

“Jamie.” You laced your hand with his, feeling a swelling in your chest “I wish you’d told me sooner…You already are…you are the kind of guy I’d go out with.”

“What?”

“You are…the type of guy that I’d go out with.” You repeated with a reassurance in your voice “How could you not be? You’re sweet, you’re funny, you make me laugh…you listen…”

Jamie felt his heart hard against his chest, barely able to let your words sink in. “So if I asked you out? you’d go out with me?”

“Of course I will.” You squeezed his hand gently and as his shoulders relaxed and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as he dropped his forehead to yours.

“I can’t believe Jamie Tartt was worried about asking me out. You’ve been out with like models and stuff…and it’s me that you were worried about.”

He sighed “Yeah but that’s why I like you…cause you’re you.”

Come on. Let’s go to this auction.”

“Together yeah?”

“Of course. Good job your shirt matches my outfit…or you’d have to change” you teased.

Cue when you walked in hand in hand, Jamie was greeted by about half the team congratulating him on you two finally getting it together, including Jan who’d found it hilarious that Jamie had thought something was going on between you too.

***

Jamie had, with the best intentions, planned a perfect evening. A few days after you’d accepted him asking you out, he’d booked a reservation at restaurant he knew you’d like as a surprise knowing that it was one you’d always walked by and remarked it looked nice but never got around to trying it .

Things had not gone as planned.

After you’d arrived at the restaurant, you’d found out they’d closed due to a leak in the kitchen, you’d suggested going to a local bar and had lasted all of fifteen minutes before a drunk man in a too tight t shirt had knocked his pint over you and staggered off without apologising much to your ire. Jamie had wanted to go after the man and tell him to apologise but you’d just wanted to leave. Only ten minutes after leaving, Jamie had been approached by a group of kids looking for pictures and autographs and only a few seconds later, the skies opened and despite trying to huddle under a canopy of a nearby, closed cafe, you got soaked. Jamie, whilst taking photos with the young kids gave you a mouthed sorry but you told him to carry on knowing it would make the kids day.

Once he was done, he jogged back over to you, now shivering slightly and offered you his coat as you ran back to his

“You look really fit in my stuff. You should keep them.” Jamie remarked as you flopped down next to him on the sofa, now wearing a oversized tee and joggers that he’d pulled out for you to wear whilst your actual outfit was in his washing machine.

“Sorry the date was shit.” He added on as he ran a towel over his damp hair.

“Could have been worse” you shrugged with a smile as you dried off your own hair. “I’ve had worse dates.”

He let out a sigh and laid back on the sofa “I just wanted to take you out some place dead nice.”

“Jamie...that’s so sweet but you don’t have to. I just like being with you.” You shifted closer to him and scooted under his arm to rest on his chest. “I don’t care if it’s at a restaurant or like this…”

“I promise we’ll go out somewhere proper next time.” He leant down and kissed you softly. Dating you made Jamie felt like he’d finally got everything he’d ever wanted, and he was kicking himself for not asking you out the second he realised he had feelings for you.

“I could do that all day” You muttered against his lips as you separated briefly.

He placed a hand on your cheek and brushed your hair back before kissing you again. “Don’t think we could do this in the restaurant.”

You smiled against his mouth “well we could but probably wouldn’t be allowed back…”

“Maybe we can go back when they’ve fixed the leak and try?” Jamie made a joke and you playfully swatted him before kissing him again.

“Oh, Im holding you to that…”

***

Dating Jamie was so easy. Much easier than you’d thought. It was just like it was when you were friends but he’d always be taking your hand or wrapping an arm around you or kissing you…and of course you’d spend the night together rather than driving home after meeting up. When people had said date your best friend you’d never actually thought it could be possible.

Any fears or ghosts of your past that lingered over the bad experience with your ex were soon quashed by Jamie. Before you’d got together, you’d found it somewhat bittersweet that it was the former ladies man that you’d fallen for after swearing off dating footballers but now that you woke up to him every other morning and got to see him being the absolute perfect boyfriend to you, it just made sense.

So much so that eventually you’d caved and told him the name of the player you’d went out with before and Jamie had been thrilled to learn your ex was a goalkeeper and had made a promise to you he’d score against him.

You’d found it adorably sweet in the moment and incredibly hot when he followed through with his promise not once but twice, securing a brace and a win in the same game and making a big show of pointing at you and blowing a kiss into the stands. He’d almost been late in the next morning.

Jamie knew he loved you. Maybe it had started when you’d given him that chance in Manchester. You didn’t have to. If you’d told him to piss off, Jamie wouldn’t have blamed you but you hadn’t. You’d seen something in him, maybe believed in him deep down and now he was a better man, in part due to you.

The final game of the season was a whirlwind of emotions and knowing he’d be nervous for the game that could earn Richmond promotion back into the Premier League you’d snuck into the tunnel to see him just before he went out

“Good luck today babe.” You leant up and kissed him gently. “No matter what happens. I’m so proud of you, the player you are and the man you are.”

“Thanks” his eyes met yours “I, uh could have never done it without you.”

“Course you could. The talents all yours”

“I mean the…” Jamie paused, before looking at your shirt. He turned you around. “You’re wearing my shirt” he grinned at you and held up your arm so he could twirl you and see his name on your Richmond shirt. “Looks good on you”

“Course I am. Who else’s shirt would I wear.” You leant in and kissed him once more before the sound of the rest of the team approaching signalled it was time for you to go join the rest of the fans in the stands. “Smash it for me babe.”

Upon the final whistle, the coaching staff and bench descended on to the pitch to celebrate and you couldn’t help yourself.

You ran down to the barrier, dug into your bag to flash your work lanyard at a steward and ran on yourself, calling out to Jamie as you approached.

He caught you as you jumped into an embrace, quickly asking if he was okay after he was fouled in the lead up to Richmonds penalty. Jamie nodded.

“Yea yeah I’m fine babe. I’ve never been happier.” He looked breathless, a mixture of excitement, energy and adrenaline from the game.

“I love you Jamie.”

He kissed you deeply, passionately, caught up in the moment and not caring about the thousands of surrounding people, happy to be celebrating with you and the team.

“I love you. Next year I’m going to win you the whole thing”

#jamie tartt x reader #Jamie Tartt imagine #Ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfiction #Jamie Tartt #Jamie Tartt fanfic

894 notes · View notes

twstfanblog · 1 year

Text

*~Period Drama~* Saturday

A/N: So I sneezed, which is why this is out before the RSA series chapter lol. But I'm gonna have a lot of fun with this series I can feel it. Word Count: 4.7K (Wow, around the same as the last part) Warnings: Period mentions, Blood mentions (Drawing blood) She/They OC Pronouns Pairings: Azul/Reader (Poly), Jamil/Reader (Poly), Platonic relationships with Floyd, Jade, Ortho, and Crewel. Enjoy! Start, Part 2 (Here), Part 3 (Heartslabyul), Part 4 (Savanaclaw), Part 4.5 (Diasomnia pt.1), Part 5 (Diasomnia pt.2), Part 6 (Pomefiore)

Jamil, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Grim, Ace, and Deuce stood outside of ramshackle, some of them sitting on the wooden steps. Waiting as patiently as they could for Crewel to give them a final order. No more than twenty minutes had passed before Crewel opened the front door. He looked their group over, coming to some sort of choice before he smacked the palm of his hand with his crop, “Octavinelle pups, you stay. The rest of you go on with your day.” “Wait, what!?”

“Sensei!”

“Why does he-”

Crewel smacks his palm again. The crack somehow perfectly balanced with the harsh shush he gives them, quieting the protesting group instantly. His glare softens at seeing their crestfallen faces, “Yuu will be in contact. I need to gather up the needed potions and resource materials. But for now, They’re resting and it would be best to have someone in the house with them. Both to get them whatever they need and to keep unwanteds out. Ergo, the Octavinelle mutts.”

Jamil frowns but doesn’t speak up. He knew that he would probably have damage control to do in Scarabia. Najma most likely called Kalim in confusion from his call, not entertaining the thought of actually waiting on him to explain his bizarre question. Kalim would have only half the story and no context which was worrying enough, so he was clearly panicking and amassing the other Scarabia students for a witch hunt. He should stop at Scarbia before going back to basketball practice…

Deuce steps forward, imaginary puppy ears drooping as he mutters out, “Is Yuu at least okay? I didn’t see much, but it looked like a lot of blood…”

Sighing, Crewel walked down the stairs, gently patting Deuce on the head as he passed, “They’re fine, pup. I’m going to gather the Shroud boy and then prepare a proper medical report. As far as we should be concerned, this is completely natural for Yuu, if a bit painful.” He reached into his coat, pulled out his pipe kit and started to fill it as he walked away, “But for now, Azul, Floyd, and Jade are to look after them until I come back. You other pups are to return to your scheduled activities and tell no one about this.”

Ace looked to the side nervously, thankfully unseen by anyone before he nodded and started to make his way down the path behind Crewel. Deuce sighs but nods, calmed by the info that Yuu was okay at least. He jogs down the path after Ace, none of them are really surprised when muffled yelling could be heard a little down the way.

Azul looked out of the corner of his eye, catching Jamil giving him an intense glare. He knew Jamil was upset at the turn of events, the very fact Azul was picked over him would be enough to anger the Scarabian student. Let alone being picked by their lover’s pseudo-father figure as their keeper. He turns entirely to him, smiling and opening his mouth to pacify his lover-in-law before Jamil interrupts him.

Jamil turned his back on Azul, walking down the path to get back to campus. He quickly scooped Grim into his arms, ignoring the monster hissing and fighting his grip, “Just make sure they eat something high in iron.” That was all he said before he was also gone from view, walking past the row of trees acting as a fence of the property.

Silence passes the three students before Azul squeals, smiling wide and pumping his fist, “YES! He trusts me! You both saw that! He gave me his faith that I would tend to our lover. It’s only a matter of time before I can talk him into transferring!”

Floyd rolls his eyes, walking back into the house with a snickering Jade behind him, “Either you take care of my Shrimpy or they’ll kill you themselves…” he mutters under his breath, pout turning into a frown as the scent of blood hits him harder inside.

Jade’s own mirth decreases at the smell. He hums looking around the dorm. Yuu wouldn’t want the windows open, not to mention the smell would simply travel over the campus. The last thing they needed was Malleus smelling Yuu’s blood in the air. Seven could only think of the disaster that would bring. He looks up the stairs, only half listening as Azul enters the dorm to bicker with Floyd.

“-fact you would insinuate I wouldn’t take care of my pearl is insult enough, Floyd.”

“Ehe~? I just said Shrimpy wouldn’t let you slide with shitty service. You scared of a little blood Azul~?”

“I will dock your pay-”

“I’ll go sit with Yuu, keep them company.” Jade smiled over his shoulder, already walking up the stairs. He pauses halfway up the stairs, tilting his head at their stares, “Unless I’m allowed free range of their meal?”

Floyd instantly perked up, rushing to the kitchen whining with a glare at his brother, “No way! You’ll make some weird mushroom thing that’ll make Shrimpy even sicker!”

Azul stays for only a moment before he follows Floyd, giving Jade one last look, “Do make sure my pearl is in good condition. If you can wake them up, ask if they would like a bath.”

“Will do.”

Jade parts with Azul, walking onto the second floor and toward Yuu’s room. He rested his hand on the doorknob and breathed in deep. Yuu’s blood was interesting, he’s always found it to be since he first smelled that foreign flora that no one could place. But that didn’t mean he wanted to smell it so strongly. He took in another deep breath in hope if he smelled it thoroughly enough the tightness of worry would loosen in his chest. Once calm he creaked the door open, knocking on it gently as he peaked his head in, “Yuu, I’m coming in.”

A simple groan answers him. That was acceptance of entry enough for him. He closes the door behind him and walks to sit in the armchair, moving it just a foot or so closer to the bed. Yuu had rotated since he last saw them. Now lying on their front with the blanket uncovered to their calves, arms wrapped around a pillow and eyes closed. If it wasn’t for the brief moments of their eyebrows creasing in pain, Jade would think they were perfectly fine.

A few minutes pass before Yuu opens their eyes, vision slightly hazy from pain, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Jade smiles, leaning forward to poke their cheek in greeting, “I’m guessing whatever is going on is quite painful?”

“Very much, yes.” They groan, snuggling into their pillow, “Periods are a bitch.”

“Azul said something about that. ‘Period’. That’s what it’s called?” When Yuu confirms, he leans back into the chair, humming under his breath. Now that things had calmed down, Jade couldn't help but call the whole scenario interesting. Finding differences in biology was always a fascinating venture, “Tell me about it.”

“Are you sure? It’s kinda gross and like…as you saw, pretty bloody.”

Jade chuckles, raising a hand to cover his mouth coyly, “I already said I want to know! Please don’t tease me in such a way!” He preens, feeling a small wave of pride at hearing Yuu laugh.

“You’re so weird…Alright.” Yuu angled herself to look over to Jade, raising an eyebrow, “What do you wanna know?”

“Is the bleeding just the first step of it? Do you gain internal injuries to produce the blood? Is the pain a result of-”

“I’m gonna just…stop you right there…” Yuu took a moment, trying to not laugh again, not wanting to change their towels yet, “So…Periods are weird because I feel like I'm injured but it’s all natural because of hormones are whatever.”

“Your hormones make your internal organs stimulate injuring themselves?” he takes a moment to look around the room. Standing up to grab a notepad and pencil from Yuu’s desk before returning to the armchair, "We have basic health classes in middle school. But I've never heard of hormones causing internal bleeding."

“Eh…more like the hormones jumpstart a refreshing process? Not so much internal bleeding.”

Jade smiled wide, his pencil poised to write down every word they said, "Do tell.”

Azul texted Crewel to bring an iron supplement potion along with the pain potions. Yuu didn’t have any food besides snacks and her childish cereals, how Floyd managed to find enough items for a seafood alfredo was nothing short of a miracle by Azul’s standards. Sure it wasn’t high in iron like Yuu needed, but it would be warm and something for her to eat.

They were still worried. How could they not be? Their dear friend was a floor above them basically bleeding out from an intimate area that shouldn’t be bleeding. Crewel’s behavior had calmed most of their nerves, Yuu strangely wouldn’t lie to Crewel nearly as much as she would any other teacher. And Crewel wouldn’t be half as calm if something had actually happened. But as Floyd had said to him, ‘It still felt gross’. All of them forced to twiddle their thumbs and wait for Crewel or Yuu to give them all the facts instead of just dismissing their horrific theories.

Floyd scooped the pasta dish into a bowl, as Yuu preferred it, shoving a fork in it and walked past Azul. He didn’t bother to listen to Azul tell him to stop and wait for Yuu to get up from her nap or call for them. He didn’t want to. The only reason he cooked instead of Jade was because his brother couldn’t be trusted in a kitchen alone without shoving mushrooms into something. At least not while Azul was as distracted as he was. But he was just as worried as the others, Yuu was his Shrimpy. He’d share with his brother and Azul. But as far as he was concerned he was doing just that, sharing. Shrimpy was his to look after for as long as she hung around him. And he was already in a bad mood from earlier thinking he had failed her.

“Floyd, Yuu might still be sleeping, we shouldn’t bother them.” Azul scolded him, trying to keep his voice down while making sure it carried a harshness.

“Don’t care. I wanna check on Shrimpy…”

Azul kept quiet before he sighed. He pulled out his handkerchief, if Yuu was still sleeping he could cover the bowl so they could eat later. It would be lukewarm at best, but it’d be clean and ready for Yuu when they woke up, “Fine. Let’s go check on them…”

Floyd didn’t bother to knock, opening the door one-handed and ignoring Azul’s groan behind him, “Shrimpy~, you awake?”

Yuu rolled over, smiling with an edge of weariness, and waved, “Hi Floyd~.”

“Shrimpy!” Floyd nearly dropped the bowl onto the bed sheets, moving to hug and squeeze his best friend. The scent of blood was still strong but just knowing that his friend was okay was enough to keep him in a positive mood. Pulling away, he passes the bowl properly to them, “You doing alright?”

Yuu smiles as Azul moves quickly to place his handkerchief onto her lap, a small comment on the bowl being hot. She kept eye contact with the cecaelian until Azul turned away with a blush. But, she does place the bowl on her lower stomach, the heat helping more than the boys knew, “Thank you for the food. And no, I’m in pain.”

Floyd’s relaxed expression instantly changes, dropping into a frown and downward brows, “Why? What happened to make you bleed like this Shrimpy? If we were in the ocean you’d be a chum magnet…”

Jade looked up from his notes, “Muscle tension.”

“Huh?” Both Azul and Floyd turned to him in confusion.

Jade taps at the notepad, showing the lines of neat handwriting with various questions sprinkled around it, “Yuu’s body is physically pushing the blood out by contracting their pelvic muscles. The involuntary spasms are causing some intense muscle cramps.”

Azul frowns, his hand moving to press on their stomach, almost trying to feel the sensation, “When will it stop? Losing this much blood can’t be good for you…”

Jade looked over his notes, sighing at his findings, “Yuu says this lasts four days normally for them.”

“Four days?” Both Azul and Floyd exclaimed, worry evident in their voices.

Yuu smiled, leaning against their pillows, “Seven is the standard.”

Azul whips his head back to Yuu, eyes wide and glasses nearly falling off his face, “Seven!?”

“How do you stop it?” Floyd looked the most distressed out of all of them, simply looking at Yuu’s lap with poorly veiled concern.

“Oh, Azul, you’ll love this.” Jade beamed, eyes reading over his writing, “This is apparently happening because Yuu didn’t get pregnant.”

…

Floyd turned to look at Azul, voice deadpan, “Azul, hurry up and knock Shrimpy up so we don’t have to deal with this.”

The scandalized look on Azul’s face makes Yuu burst into laughter, blood be damned. The cecaelian stuttered out a rambled form of scolding and excuses on how he couldn't 'Knock Them Up' and how it was no one’s business what he and his lover did in the bedroom. He only grew more flustered seeing the smiles on the twins' faces, knowing they were internally mocking him and his distressed state.

He snaps his fingers, a golden contract appearing beside him. Gripping it fiercely, he points to the four names signed at the bottom, "In any case! Per our official ‘Quad Agreement’, only Draconia is allowed to impregnate Yuu and that's not even in effect until they’ve both graduated!" With another snap, the scroll was gone, leaving Azul huffing and crossing his arms.

Yuu quiets their laughter, reaching out a hand to hold Azul’s, " Aw~. Are you mad you can't give me an octo baby?"

"I'm mad because you're in pain and the one way to stop this is something we can't do for years!" Azul does loosen his arms, both hands coming to cradle their outstretched one, "You've been acting odd all week before this whole bleeding mess even started. We were worried…"

Floyd pouts, resting his head on Yuu's shoulder, uncaring of how far he had to bend, "You punched me for trying to give you a piggyback ride, Shrimpy. Really hurt my feelings."

"You had seemed quite lethargic the past few days." Jade gave a worried smile, tone clear in just how concerned the past events had made him.

Yuu looked at all of them in shock, looking at the slowly cooling bowl of pasta before they covered their mouth. The room was silent until Yuu closed their eyes and tried to fight back the whimper threatening to leave their throat.

"...Yuu-"

"You guys care so much about me…so much…" Yuu lets go of the bowl, both hands fanning at their face as their eyes well up with tears, "And I've been such a bitch to you." Their voice cracked and slid into a high-pitched wail as the tears started to fall.

Jade’s eyes widened, his mouth opening in a silent gasp as he quickly shared a panicked look with Azul, " O-oh, oh no."

The cecaelian babbled, stuttering under his breath and hovering his hands over Yuu’s body. He wasn’t sure if Yuu wanted to be physically comforted, or even touched, “Yuu? What’s wrong, are you in more pain? Do you need me to call Crewel!?”

Floyd hesitantly pats at Yuu’s head, not wanting a repeat of being sucker punched in the face the last time he touched an upset Yuu, “There, there Shrimpy. Just eat your food…”

Still crying, taking shaky breaths while gathering a collection of noodles and seafood on their fork, “You guys are so nice to me. And I’m a bad friend…”

Jade was subtly leaning away, pressing his back deeper into the chair as he eyed Yuu with mild suspension, “No…You’re a perfectly good friend to us, Yuu.” Hormonal changes would explain Floyd’s notice of Yuu’s scent being 'off'. He assumed the different levels had only affected their body as they had stated. But it seemed their emotions were also being affected. A moody Floyd is something he grew up with, he knew every tell Floyd could give. A hormonally moody Yuu was new and dangerous territory as far as Jade was concerned.

Even with their reassurance, Yuu’s tears wouldn’t stop. The three males grew more uneasy, simply watching their friend bleed on her bed and eat lukewarm pasta while she softly cried. They shared a look between the three of them before Azul stepped forward, a nervous smile on his face while he gently caressed her hair.

“It’s…it’s ok my pearl.”

Yuu looked up, sniffling pitifully before pressing her head into his hand, “I’m sorry I’m so mean to you…”

Azul chuckles, pressing a kiss to their cheek before pulling away, “It’s ok. I will admit, I do like when you’re a bitch.”

The sweet air was gone in a second. Yuu’s crying stopping as though a switch was flipped. They glared up at Azul, “Did you just call me a bitch!?”

“...” Azul looked to the side then back to her, pulling his hand back, “I-”

“So you think I’m a bitch!?”

“No?” The confusion in his voice was clear. He looked at the twins who were just as puzzled, the two eel-mers quickly shrugging at his silent question as to what he did.

They also had no clue how to proceed. Yuu would normally either let them in on, or at least make their goal clear when they toyed with Azul. But this sort of rapid-fire mood change was not in their MO. It was even more so than Floyd could keep up with.

Yuu turned back to their pasta, tears coming back full force as their anger disappeared, “You’re lying to me…”

“...Would you feel better if I thought you were a bitch?”

“What is that supposed to mean!?”

Hours later, Floyd opened the door, disheveled and pouting at Crewel and Ortho, “Knifejaw…Hurry up and fix Shrimpy. They’re really mean like this and I’m sick of it.”

Crewel raised an eyebrow, walking into the dorm and waving a hand to send Ortho up before him, “Are they? More so than normal?” He said it with a jovial air, teasing his student since his own moods were the things of nightmares.

“Yes. If I felt like it, I would beg. I can’t handle them like this…”

“...”

Well, that was concerning… Floyd followed Crewel back up the stairs. Opening Yuu’s bedroom he realized that Floyd wasn’t kidding. Next to a standing Ortho Yuu sat on the bed, now cocooned in one of their blankets in Azul’s lap. Tear tracks on their cheeks and angrily sniffling between hand-fed forkfuls of pasta. Azul was sweating, oozing a nervous energy as though he were defusing a bomb and not feeding his lover. Jade sat in the far corner, chair pressed against the wall as far back as it could be and furiously writing notes.

Ortho beeped, eyes showing he was smiling under his mask, “Body scan complete! No external injuries are to be found!” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Yuu and resting his head on them, “I’m so glad you’re ok, Prefect Yuu!”

Floyd huffs from the doorway, glaring at the display, “Oh, he can hug you but I get punched if I try?”

Yuu glares, eyes just peaking through Ortho’s flaming hair, “I could never hit Ortho, he’s baby.”

“Prefect Yuu is right, I am baby.” the smug tone was just barely heard through Ortho’s normal frequency of cheer. Looking up his bright yellow eyes meet Yuu’s, “Oh! Just so you know, Ace told the rest of us what was going on in our group chat. Though Crewel-Sensei told me that no one was supposed to know. In his defense though, the timestamps show Ace gave the information before Crewel-Sensei gave the order to not tell anyone.”

Yuu looks over to their phone on the nightstand, groaning at the wall of texts they’re sure is waiting for them, “God damn it.”

Sighing, Crewel waved his hand, “This is very cute, but Ortho you’re here for medical purposes. Let’s not get distracted.”

“Right!” Ortho stands up straight, holding out a hand as his other arm morphs to produce a syringe. “Prefect Yuu, may I have your arm to take a blood sample?”

Even though it looked like that was the last thing Yuu wanted to do, they managed to remove their arm from the blanket cocoon to place in Ortho’s waiting hand. Looking away while Ortho set to work finding a vein.

Crewel walked to the bed, grabbing a potion from his coat and uncorking it in one fluid movement, “How are you feeling, pup?”

“Like I’m in pain. The same as two hours ago. What kind of fucking question-” A fork full of pasta and sauce was shoved into their mouth, cutting them off from cussing out their teacher/father. Azul smiled timidly when Yuu’s glare snapped to him. Muttering through their food as they chewed, “Don’t you ever fucking try to silence me with pasta, again.”

Waiting until Yuu had swallowed and taken a breath, Crewel shoved the opening of the potion bottle to Yuu’s mouth and forcibly made them drink it, taking care to not justle their arm while Ortho drew blood. He adored his pup. But he was not going to sit idle and let them bark at him like they had the right, “That’s nice sweetie. Take your medicine, you’ll feel better.”

He only let up once the flask was empty, pulling away and placing the glass back into his coat. Yuu’s glare slowly softens, tense body finally relaxing in Azul’s nervous hold. They sigh, dropping their head into the crook of Azul’s neck, nosing into the flushed skin before pulling away to rest their cheek on his shoulder, “Sorry…about threatening your life and stuff. Forgot how bad cramps were…”

Azul, slowly wrapped his arms around them, nuzzling into their hair, “It’s…ok? So long as you’re feeling better now. Were you truly in that much pain?”

Floyd hums from the doorway, folding his arms, “I guess I can give you a pass then. I don’t like being in pain either, it’d make me just as crabby as you’ve been…”

Jade nodded from his corner, but made no move to come closer, “And it’s been nearly 6 hours since the supposed start of all of this. Does the pain really last the whole cycle?”

Yuu nods, “Yeah…I normally take pain meds when I realize it’s started so I don’t feel the worst of it. I take another dose either daily or just when I feel the first dose wearing off. But I didn’t have any potions in the house so I was gonna nap it off until Sam got my order.”

“All done!” Ortho spoke up, the vial of blood being placed in a secondary pouch for safety. Morphing his hand back, he placed his hands on Yuu’s lower stomach, tingles of something pulsing from Ortho’s fingers as he performed another scan, “In the most scientific phrasing you can, tell me what’s going on so I can add it to your file.”

Without missing a beat, Yuu answered, “My vagina is internally peeling and the liquidated lining is being pushed out.”

…

Ortho closed his eyes and stood up straight, arms resting at his sides. Turning around he walked out of the room, brushing past Floyd and closing the door behind him.

“...” Azul looked at Yuu, the horror from earlier that day returning to his face full force, “Your what is what now!?”

The sound of Jade’s pencil scratching at the notepad starts up again, muttering under his breath about needing more paper. Rushing to the desk and flipping through notebooks for a clean page.

Floyd simply looked sick by the door, the visual refusing to leave his mind.

“You know…” Crewel chuckled under his breath, more annoyed than mirthful, “That would have been a wonderful nugget of knowledge to have two hours ago.”

“I would have loved to not be in pain for half the day, but we don’t all get the raisin butter, do we?”

“Yuu.”

“It is really that different here?”

“Does blood come gushing out of female anatomy for a week? No, no it doesn’t. Yes, it’s different, puppy.”

Yuu sat quietly, looking down before raising their gaze back to Crewel, “I should probably learn more about the biology of this place…”

Crewel shook his head, annoyance clear in his expression while he pulled out folders from his bag, “Yeah you really should.” muttering under his breath about a ‘Dumb adorable dog’ as he slapped the papers on the bedspread, “So to start, there is a similar process-”

Floyd, opens the door, “Yeah, I’m leaving I’m bored and kinda freaked out.”

“Bye, Floyd! Sorry for punching you again.”

“Bye, Shrimpy~! Don’t bleed out!” He slammed the door behind him.

Jade sighed, standing from the armchair, “I should make sure he’s not doing anything too destructive. Best of luck to yourself, Yuu.”

Yuu waves to him while he leaves the room. They look to Azul, raising an eyebrow in question, “You wanna leave too?”

Azul mused for a moment. Female health classes weren’t something he was required to know, nor wanted to know. Anatomy in the Coral Sea was extensive enough, adding on surface world versions couldn’t be too different in hindsight. He might need the info later on in his life, maybe for a deal. Maybe to use it for a creative writing class, would Yuu find it distasteful if he wrote about their period in a horror setting?

“Azul?”

“I’ll stay.”

“Fine.” Crewel smacked his crop in his hand, twirling it to make the papers float and act as a PowerPoint, “Since you scared away the Shroud boy, I’ll have to do it this way.” Pointing toward a digraph of a uterus he spoke, “Luckily enough everything seems to be the same hardware-wise if your previous medical scans are anything to go by. Though, because you don’t have magic in your world, your bodies evolved a more… physical process.”

“Are you seriously telling me you bitches don’t get periods because you have magic?”

Azul slowly lifted a forkful of food to Yuu’s mouth, shakingly offering it like a sacrifice. He found that food was an easy way to calm their seemingly blind rage. He’d have to ask Jade for his notes later since he was too busy trying to keep Yuu and Floyd from fighting each other. He softly breathes a sigh of relief when Yuu lets him stuff the food into their mouth.

Crewel watched the exchange silently before continuing, “Yes…The process here is done normally after a day at most. The body’s natural magic will flare up and revitalize the uterus lining instead of…removing it.” He waved his crop, a photo of a body and various systems replacing the first example, “As I’ve told you before, everyone in Twisted Wonderland has magic naturally in their body’s cells simply from the magical byproduct of our world. So even if someone can not do magic, their body can still store magic to perform such cycles. It’s why scarring is so rare. Seeing how with modern medicine and the body’s cell restorative magic, healing has reached an almost perfect standard.”

Yuu was quiet, looking over the visual examples as Crewel continued his impromptu lecture. Leaning forward, they sighed out for so long it had morphed into a cry. They simply pushed away from Azul, ignoring him when he tried to comfort them. Turning away, they landed face first into the mattress and cried into their pillow. Through their sobs, muffled by the cushion they yelled, “This fucking sucks! I can’t even bitch with anyone else about how much this hurts!”

Azul looked at them in worry, barely noticing the red smears on his pants, “My pearl? Do you want pasta? Pasta makes it better right?”

“Azul, I’m getting real tired of you trying to feed me. I’m not a fucking wild horse you can soothe with delightful seafood pasta!”

…

Crewel raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the offered bowl in Azul’s shaking hands, “So do you not want the pasta-”

“Yes, I want the fucking pasta!”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #yuu oc #twst wonderland #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #twst floyd #floyd leech #twst jade #jade leech #octavinelle #papa crewel #twst crewel #divus crewel #twst ortho #ortho shroud

453 notes · View notes

thestarrynightslover · 1 year

Text

The Day You Finally Caught a Break

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 1,574

Warnings: FLUFF. Mentions of sex crimes and crimes involving special victims (all very slight).

Summary: After living in a boring routine, the detective (y/n) (y/l/n) catches a lucky break with her colleague Jay Halstead.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first fic in a while and I am aware that it is very cheesy but I just felt like writing something cheesy. Anyways, I hope you like it!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

The day started just like any other would: waking up earlier than necessary, going for a run, doing some yoga, reading, and finally getting ready to go to work. Sure, to a lot of people that might have been a great morning, having all that time to do all that stuff… The only thing was: you’d been running on nothing beyond routine — one that had become quite boring, to be honest — for a couple of years now. Which made you that weird cop who actually enjoyed the worst cases just because it gave you some sort of purpose, some sort of change. Holding that thought, you were supposed to feel lucky once you and your team got deeper into your current case. But, even with the most boring of lives, a person — a decent human being — couldn’t feel lucky for even knowing something like that happens in the world, much less for having to know every sick and twisted detail of a case that involved sex trafficking, pregnant women, all sorts of assault and child abduction.

After it was “over”, around midnight, all of Intelligence seemed to silently agree on staying as long as necessary to finish their reports. Everybody thinking the same way: finishing this today, I can get outta here, get drunk, and put it in a box in the back of my head — where it’ll stay forever. As soon as someone would finish the paperwork, they’d grab their coat, mutter something resembling a goodbye, and rush out of there like the room was on fire. Molly’s wouldn’t be open anymore and none of you really wanted to spend time with each other to risk having to talk out what had happened. And then something strange happened.

Instead of just leaving like your partner Kim and his partner Kevin before her, Ruzek just stood at the door frame, waiting. For Upton. What? He kept looking at her desk so it was pretty obvious but the confirmation came when the detective got up saying: “Hey, Jay, I’mma get going now. You okay if we do our thing some other day?”

By the time Halstead looked up, she was almost reaching Adam which shocked the shit out of you but didn’t seem to faze him much, who only answered: “Yeah. Sure. Night, guys.” And then there were two—the only two Intelligence members who never exchanged more than a couple of polite measures.

Nevertheless, your gossip-starved soul got the best of you, who ended up blurting out a “They’re together?” to no one less than Jay Halstead. For a minute or so the other detective just looked around the room, as if expecting someone to jump out of nowhere and answer your question. But, after your eyes eventually met, he decided on answering.

“Eh… I don’t really know”, he started, while scratching the back of his neck, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve asked, you know?”

“Ah…” Was all you found to say after he stopped for a moment, but he continued.

“That’s just not really how it works between us. But the other day he did show up at her place late at night, which was suspicious. To say the least.” The words just flew right out of his mouth, surprising both of you, who started chuckling awkwardly at the recognition, “this is the first actual conversation we’ve had after all this time working together, isn’t it?”, he asked, ultimately.

“Yeah, I think it is,” you said, now full-on laughing. “God, I can’t believe that the first time I worked up the courage to actually talk to you was to ask for gossip!” You exclaimed, knowing that your cheeks were probably burning up with embarrassment.

“To be honest, I kinda needed to share that with someone. Especially after this moment here.” He confessed, making you laugh and forcing himself to laugh a bit more to try and hide the fact that he couldn’t stop staring at you. It just went wrong when his mouth betrayed him by saying: “You look so damn cute right now!”

"Well, it isn't every day that one finds out that the detective Jay Halstead is a gossip. Which makes me wonder who the cute one really is…"

"Oh, so that's where you're going with this?" He asked with his eyes twinkling. "Because I can prove just how not cute I am…"

"Oh?" You replied simply wondering what kind of proof he could provide against that.

"In fact, I have just the perfect idea, but, for that, you'd have to agree on going out with me first." Jay himself couldn't believe he finally managed to invite you out.

"Ooh, as in a d- date?" Who were you? Stuttering? C'mon!

"A date, yes." He answered, making you feel relieved and nervous again all at the same time.

"Yeah, I, uh, I wouldn't mind that at all. We can try and think of a date that works for both of us…" You suggested.

"Well, on Wednesday I'll be off, how about you?" Jay asked quickly.

"Oh no, that day I have somethings Platt wanted me to do. How about next Monday?"

"That's a no for me, 'cause I'm pulling doubles next week.*

"Damn…"

“Maybe this is a crazy idea but have you finished your report yet?” He asked quizzically.

“Uh, hitting the send button right now. Why?

“Then what if we do it now?”

“The date thingy?” You asked shyly, afraid that had been just a momentaneous thought that came out of his mouth too fast.

At that, he looked at you in awe, mesmerized by how adorable you were. “Yes. The date thingy.”

A million thoughts crossed your mind, including the one that that was a lifetime opportunity and that you should be better dressed, but figuring that saying something like that would only make you miss the opportunity, you settled for asking: “But where would we go? Like, it’s past 1 a.m., Jay, I don’t think there are a lot of places open…”

“Well, I might have a few ideas… Do you trust me?” He asked, holding his hand out to you, who grabbed it at the same time as you grabbed your jacket and purse with your other hand.

“Do you really need to ask that?"

And, like that, some time later you found yourself pulling up to the address Jay had texted you, which was in Canaryville, and it turned out to be an old movie theater that apparently was doing a week of classics with sessions at all times of the day. How Jay knew about that, though, was a mystery to you.

"Hey!" You heard him calling as he crossed the street. "You made a better time getting here than I did!"

"Yeah, well, my car might be faster than your old one," you replied, shrugging innocently.

"Haha, very funny," he deadpanned.

"Hey, this is a cool idea but how did you know it is happening?" You asked, genuinely curious. "I mean, you just don't seem a lot like a movie nerd to me."

"Well, there are still many things you don't know about me. But this one specifically is because I grew up around here and the owner is a friend of my family, so he always lets Will and I know about what's going on with the place."

"Hmmm, that explains it!" You exclaimed with a tad of satisfaction for not being too far off about him.

"But I do enjoy movies, okay?" You made a face of disbelief at him. To which he replied with: "It's true, alright? I'll admit that these days I haven't had much time for it but when I was growing up around here, this place was practically my second home!"

"Oh, so you've brought many others here, I'll assume!" You teased, suddenly feeling more comfortable and consequently more confident.

"Don't! Don't assume that! Growing up I wasn't very successful with the ladies and after that changed I haven't come here often…"

"Ooh, so that means that I'm your first?" You mocked, putting your hand to your heart, "Wow, I'm truly touched now!"

"Yeah, sure, have your fun with me all you want! All I really care about is the fact that I finally managed to get you to go out with me, so I can only hope you'll enjoy yourself." Him saying that, while gazing so intently at you, was making you weak on your knees and got you blushing a bit as well. So you tried to get the attention off you.

"Okay! Then let's pick a movie and watch it already, 'cause tomorrow's probably not gonna be any shorter."

A couple of hours later you and Jay were walking down the street towards a Waffle House while chatting and laughing about the movie like two best friends, which felt really nice but also made you a little confused about the being a date of that date the two of you were on. But, after you both had cleaned your plates at the diner, Jay came onto your bench to clean the corner of your mouth with a napkin, and next thing you knew, you were kissing very passionately in public like a couple of teens, forgetting about the rest of the world altogether, which made you realized, once more, how dull and colorless your life was previous to that moment so you held on to it and you held on to the man behind it.

208 notes · View notes

stevenbasic · 9 months

Text

Growing into the Job, Post 371: Melissa, Evolution

That was a nice little nap, thought Melissa Monroe, Office Manager at what was still Far Horizons Medical Associates. Here at Evolution Pharmaceuticals, of course, she was Subject MM-1A. She’d woken unaware of the time after a full morning of physical testing, invasive blood work and a battery of interviews. Had she been out for an hour, maybe? However much time it was, she was a bit upset they’d kept her this long. They should know better. Didn’t they realize how much he needed her with him? He’d just had his apartment ransacked over the weekend, for real, and we still didn’t know who did it!

He got nervous so easily now, and even though she knew her girls were there to take care of him, she still really, really wanted to get back and make sure he was okay. So, though she’d do her best to put on a smile, she was a bit miffed at them. She was also strapped down to the exam table by her wrists, ankles, and around her waist.

She could understand why they did that, these days: they were getting afraid, a bit. There’d been times, recently, that she’d gotten a little out of control during these scans, even under sedation. So, the leather straps and restraints were just for everyone’s safety. The thought made her have to choke back a giggle. It’s like they don’t even know that, if I really wanted, I could tear through these things like tissue paper.

Turning her head, Melissa saw that two familiar technicians, young women in white lab coats, were in the corner of the big testing chamber, standing huddled together over their tablets in deep conversation. One was Marcia. She was nice, if a little boring. The other was the blonde. She was sweet, always brought Melissa water whenever she needed and she made really good protein shakes.Neither of them seemed to realize that Melissa was awake, and though the two were being careful to speak in hushed tones, Melissa could hear their conversation as clear as day. This super hearing is great.

They’d brought her in today, at the last minute, after getting reports of some new abilities she’d been exhibiting, some ‘unexpected developments’. It seemed to make them nervous. Specifically they’d asked her about the thunder-voice, the hurricane breath, anything else she’d noticed as changes. Some things she told them about, demonstrated for them; she hadn’t mentioned the hearing.

Maybe I’ll tell them about it later. Or haha maybe not.

But she heard the two lab girls currently talking about some of the strength testing they had put her through this morning, before they’d put her in the stasis from which she’d just awoke. Melissa always found it sort of fun, being able to show off how incredibly strong she’d been getting. She loved seeing the reactions of the technicians and doctors, which recently had been running the gamut between incredulous excitement and awestruck wonder at her frankly staggering physical power. There was, these days, hints of unmistakable nervousness, too, sometimes even a little alarm on their faces.

Haha good, she would sometimes think, a bit of fear is okay. Though of course they all tried to hide their little emotions, Melissa could feel it gathering in her, the amazement people felt when seeing what she could do, what she was becoming. Like, she was getting so fucking strong. Today she was finally able to basically max out their specialized weight equipment and the techs were - over in their little corner, with their little voices - discussing the need to get in something bigger, something even more industrial-grade. Melissa liked that idea. You can make it ten times bigger I’m just gonna get stronger.

Even though she’d hesitate to call what they’d put her through a real workout, Melissa’s muscles had been buzzing pleasantly after their little strength test. The blonde lab tech had given her her favorite chocolate protein drink while Marcia hit her with an injection that would knock out a horse. As usual, that had put her in an unconscious state so they could scan her. Melissa was used to it. They would watch as her body responded to the new challenges, the exercise. They liked to study how her muscle fibers repaired themselves, made Melissa even stronger. Maybe these scans would give a hint as to what the fuck was up with these new superp-…uh…developments.

“Well,” Marcia had said, as the scans were running and Melissa slept, “at least her IQ is still the same. Olivia will be happy about that.” Indeed, the results were showing up on their tablets as well as the larger monitors about the room. While her physical changes were again astonishing, the testing which tracked her intellectual capabilities however still had her squarely in the one-standard-deviation-below-the-mean category. Not quite classified as a “moron” on the old Goddard scale, but close enough.

The poor thing, the blonde tech had sometimes found herself thinking She knew about MM-1A’s life, origins and upbringing, and she couldn’t help but sympathize with her. Despite everything that had happened up until now, Melissa was really not designed to lead, originally, or think. She was designed as a weapon. But, recently, the blonde tech had felt the stirrings whenever Melissa came into the lab. She hadn’t mentionedanything to Marcia about it yet, but there was something about this enormous, overgrown girl with the muscles of steel and now the breath and the voice, whose very steps caused the earth to quake, that made her feel, well…funny. She felt like she should bow her head whenever Melissa approached. So, it hadn’t been pity that had been motivating the blonde tech to treat Melissa extra nice these days, bring her offerings of water and snacks. It had been awe, reverence, something like…well, yeah.

Earlier, when Melissa was asleep, both techs had watched MM-1A lay there in stasis as the scans ran and her body repaired itself. They each privately stared at her and were preoccupied with their own thoughts. While the blonde admired Melissa’s growing beauty, Marcia silently swore that she could almost see the superhuman blood rushing through the young woman’s veins, fueling her muscles.

What must it feel like? Marcia marveled, allowing herself a rare moment of reverie, to start each day stronger than the day before? Taller, bigger, more powerful? The girl was 203cm now (nearly 6’8”!), and an unbelievable 285lbs. She was obviously becoming denser in bone and muscle structure and every week bigger than the week before, able to lift more, stronger is all measurable respects. In a playful moment earlier, in fact, she’d taken an empty bar from the weight bench and showed she could bend steel with her bare hands! She was becoming…so much more. Was that a little bit of envy Marcia was feeling? Yes, she guessed it was.

In the meantime, though, they needed their data.

During stasis, the techs watched their screens as MM-1A’s body had begun to enter a higher anabolic state where it started to repair and rejuvenate tissues. However, beyond simply repairing the microscopic tears in her skeletal muscle cells, MM-1A’s enhanced genetics signaled her body to not only fix the tissue damage but also to improve and fortify her cellular makeup – enhancing her musculature in ways logarithmically above and beyond normal. Her regenerative abilities were proving themselves vastly superior to even those of the most elite human athletes.

With each passing second, MM-1A’s tendons and muscles, which had been torn and ripped to base fibers by the intense physical exertion in the weight area, re-wove themselves even stronger and denser than before, becoming hundreds of times more powerful than should be possible. The techs also watched the bone scans, as MM-1A’s skeleton likewise reinforced itself, crystallizing calcium further into super hard limbs capable of withstanding extraordinary forces. Even the subject’s skin – so smooth and perfect to the external eye, soft and supple to the touch – became paradoxically harder and denser, more resistant to harm.

While MM-1A’s genetic code was designed using arcane methods beyond what either of the technicians could comprehend, its function was currently working orders of magnitude better than it had in the past, or how it was originally designed. MM-1a was getting slightly stronger, faster and more durable with each passing second as she slept. Plus, she seemed more gorgeous every time they looked at her.

As they worked, talked, the two technicians had still assumed MM-1A asleep, blissfully unaware of their conversation. Yet a slight grin had begun to creep across her beautiful face. The young woman, now awakening, could not only feel that something truly wonderful had once again happened inside of her, but could also feel the awe and admiration of the two women in the room. She decided to bask in that feeling privately, for a good long moment, with the thought of knowing how strong she was now sending chills of excitement down her superhumanly fortified spine. She knew the two young nerds were amazed, watching what Melissa dealt with every day: her being slowly reborn as something completely new, the world’s first super goddess.

The thought made Melissa moan; the walls rattled with it.

“NNNNNNNnnnnnnggggh…”

“Y-you’re awake…” Marcia said, eyes wide as - in a moment of atypical discomposure - she looked up from her tablet. The set of beakers on the table in front of her had stopped clinking, but her nerves were still clattering.

“I am,” Melissa replied, enjoying how deep her voice sounded, echoing around the room and again setting glassware jangling. Here in the lab, she felt less like she had to hold back on her abilities, her strength. There was just so much of her these days and while the world outside was beginning to look more fragile and so little - needing her to curb her power so that she didn’t hurt it - she figured the lab here at Evolution could take it.

“Good,” Marcia replied, stepping around the table with her blonde co-worker in tow.

“I like your glasses,” Melissa said to Marcia, complimenting the dark-haired young woman as she watched them both approach, “Are they new?” Though she was nearly naked, just in her bra and panties while these girls were dressed fully in lab coats and sensible shoes, Melissa felt perfectly comfortable while they seemed…less so. In fact, Melissa reveled a bit in the anxiety she could sense in them. Even as Marcia answered, saying something about her new frames, Melissa could tell that she was trying to sound confident. But there was something a little bit twitchy in her tone.

Melissa got that reaction a lot, these days - little people feeling nervous around her. She would never admit it, but it felt good. Watching how others responded was gradually making her confidence swell to levels nearly as superhuman as her body. She smiled, as she could feel the subtle energy coming from the two young women as they neared, the blonde one especially. It was something she’d begun to notice recently, this nice warmth that seemed to feed her, almost like a pleasant electric current. It came from others, especially those that seemed to admire her. Like him, she thought in a sudden moment of edacity, I want more of this from him.

Marcia had begun to rattle off results, numbers and statistics as she proceeded to undo the straps around Melissa’s wrists. The blonde began to unstrap the ones at her ankles, pausing to look at her big feet. Quietly, Melissa noticed…and secretly smiled.

Marcia described information they’d gathered about her changing metabolism, bone structure, even neuroanatomy. Some of it - well, lots of it - went right over Melissa’s head. But some of it made her perk right up and listen intently with her now-superhuman ears.

“You’ve grown 29.3 centimeters…” Marcia began, but then noticed Melissa - just beginning to sit herself up on the exam table - cock her head, in question. Marcia paused, remembering the results of the IQ battery. 82. “…More than eleven inches,” she corrected herself, adding, “A foot, you’ve grown almost a foot - in three-and-a-half mon-“

“And six inches in the last five weeks..!“ added the blonde, more excitement in her voice than Marcia would like to see.

“We’re concerned how long that’s going to keep going-”

“And if you’re going to just keep growing faster and faster,” said the blonde, reaching out to hand Melissa another chocolate shake.

Don’t smile anymore than you already are! Melissa told herself, taking the pint of clinically-tested but never 100% governmentally-approved mix of amino acids, creatine, albumin and casein. “Never underestimate a girl that hits her protein goals every day,” she smiled.

“We’re worried that you’re changing too fast,” Marcia continued dryly, not looking amused by Melissa’s little quip and just able to keep a crack out of her voice, “Looking at your genetics, your new sequencing, it’s looking less and less like…well, a human’s. You’re becoming something…different.”

“Something…better?” Melissa asked, now unable to fight back her marvelous, delighted smile.

“Well, I, um…” Marcia began, not really knowing how to answer.

Her blonde co-worker - resisting the sudden urge to kneel - did it for her, with a demonstrative:

”Yes.”

=========================

thanks to brother Ankle4u for the base image for this offering and to RiF for his always appreciated editing

#growing into the job

48 notes · View notes

hollowsart · 1 year

Note

I sorry for the strange question, but how do you understand that this is a bot and not just an inactive person?

A thing to understand about tumblr: even if you're a big popular blog (not a good thing and not something you really wanna become..) you don't get 35 random follows in under 5 minutes if it's real people. Real people also usually will like a few posts or more before and/or after following you. These bots? They don't.

Tumblr is also known for these random influxes of bots from time to time. So the long time users, such as myself, are very vigilant about this sort of thing.

600+ notifications upon me waking up just a while ago, this is a record, and it's 99% ALL JUST BOTS FOLLOWING ME:

Inactive: they wouldn't be following you in the first place. Inactive means there is NO activity. Perhaps there was at one point, but there is no activity anymore.

New and lurking: if you're going to be joining tumblr. PLEASE put some semblance of "PLZ DON'T BLOCK, I'M REAL, I JUST WANNA LIKE AND BROWSE! I'M SHY/LAZY AND TRYING TO GET SOME FEEL FOR THIS PLACE BEFORE I DECIDE IF I WANNA POST OR REBLOG STUFF!" It would honestly help protect you from being blocked and reported as we have far too many instances like this where bots come in swarms at random.

Real: You have posts on your blog that a normal human person would and have customized your blog, too (ie, your pfp and header image, or if you're a desktop user, you also customized your blogs overall theme!)

Bot: bots are not real people and can come in a few different varieties:

1) The s3xy men & women bots: they have links that will steal your info if you click them. Don't do that. Their blogs will have tons of posts of HIGHLY EXCPLICIT nsft content, which are also links. DO NOT CLICK THE LINKS. BLOCK AND REPORT FOR SPAM AND/OR BOT WHEN YOU SEE THEM IN YOUR ACTIVITY OR WITHIN TAG SEARCHES!

2) Fake company: "Divorce Law Firm" or "[name] Beauty Academy" etc etc are all fake. They have changed their icon to a company logo and have a link post on their blog. Don't click the link. Don't even give them the time of day. Block and report. They aren't real, and it's just weird to see some random "company" blog following you when all you post is random fandom related junk or whatever the heck you dedicate your blog to that has no reason to be followed by such a blog.

3) Default: they have the default icon, default blog theme, default header image, default description (usually in Spanish, Cyrillic, etc). Their names will usually either be a keyboard smash, something that looks vaguely real but very much came from a name generator, a select few letters repeated, is someone's name (likely not a real person, or it's identity theft idk).

4) Default, but sus: Similar to the last one, but these guys have mismatched foreign text (Persian, Korean, uhh I can't identify the differences specifically between Middle Eastern/some South Eastern languages, but just know those are also used) and sometimes you'll see some with English or with numbers in the description like "1." Or "101" if you translate the text, you'll get suspicious spam email type sentences.

Once again. Just block and report on sight if you see these bots.

Bots #1 and #3 may interact with your posts as well. As well as a different type of bot, I didn't mention as they aren't nearly as incessant or as prominent, but those bots are the "sugar daddy looking for sugar baby for allowance" types of blogs you'll see leaving replies in the notes of popular posts.

I'm sure other people can add on to this post with further information about how to identify each type of bot and what not to trust about a blog if they seem suspicious at all in a "are you a bot?" way.

#//long post

24 notes · View notes

thepalmofyourfreezinghand · 10 months

Note

hey! you don't have to reply to this if you don't want to, but I just wanted your opinion because you're so reasonable. brazilian swiftie here, and her image here is terrible right now. and the sucky part is that it's really hard to even defend her. everybody is just incredibly disappointed by how she's handled this entire situation. we know she's human but she's really not showing it right now. she doesn't have to say anything or stage or anything like that but she still hasn't reached out to the family in any way, not even to offer her condolences (and we know that because they said so after false reports by tabloids), and it just doesn't match up with the way she's portrayed herself over the years. stans keep trying to make excuses but an under the cover sorry for your loss is really the bare minimum and wouldn't implicate her in any way. brazilian swifties just really feel like she doesn't care (at least not more than she cares about her image, or not enough to show she cares and...idk it's rough). she's been really cold with us. someone died, a lot of people got hurt, a concert was cancelled and people were stranded and all we got were two tree-approved IG stories. she hasn't even posted about the Rio concerts like she posts about every city she performs in. she rushed through the show on monday and didn't even mention that people made it there after it was rescheduled last minute and callously (like she did for Argentina). she hasn't taken any action about Ana, not even speaking her name once, not even in her only story. it's so shocking when her whole image is about caring about fans deeply. I wish I didn't feel this way, but she's ice cold right now and it makes no sense to us when compared with how she deal with much smaller issues like the ticketmaster fiasco.

I'm sorry for the late response, anon, but I totally get your disappointment and your sadness (although obviously I can't fully understand it). I haven't really been able to rationally think about what happened in Brazil and discuss it with a clear mind because, unfortunately, something bad happened here in Italy a few days ago that has really engulfed my mind and that of all the people I know.

That being said, I absolutely get what you're saying, and I think I'd feel this way too if I was in your place. I really don't know what to say to comfort you, because the fact that Taylor never reached out to Ana's family, she didn't pay to bring her home, she didn't thank the fans for coming to the postponed show, she rushed through the concert (I noticed that too), and she didn't post about Rio are really all incredibly sad facts (some more than others, of course).

If it helps, I really think she cares, I really do, and I really think that she cares about Brazilian fans specifically and I think she couldn't wait to perform there. BUT I also think that right now she's acting in ways that don't display her care at all, and I think she's simply acting in the wrong way.

Here in Italy, saying sorry and paying to bring Ana home/pay for the funerals would not constitute an admission of guilt. I keep seeing people saying that in Brazil that would be the case, but honestly when it comes to the law most people talk without having any knowledge, so I'm not sure if that's true.

I think her team and her lawyer are advising her to be silent about all of this until things are "sorted out" (i. e., until she knows whether she'll be sued and what will come of it), though.

Even so, I still think that not even reaching out to Ana's family is a vile act.

I also think that stopping the concert the first night, when she saw that people were distressed and not doing well, would've been the right choice, and I can't really wrap my head around why she didn't do it. It would've been waaaay more efficient than just throwing a couple of water bottles to the audience and asking security to do the same.

I'll also add that swifties and their rampant xenophobia are not making any of this any easier. Plus, I think that some non-Brazilian swifties are pushing to sweep this under the rug a little too fast.

Overall, I get what you're saying, and I agree, and I'm so so so sorry. If you wanna talk more I'm here.

I really think she cares about all of you, she's "just" making A LOT of mistakes right now, imo, and those mistakes unfortunately have terrible consequences.

#taylor swift

14 notes · View notes

totowlff · 2 years

Text

extra — cover up the blank spots

➝ it was supposed to be another normal day for alma, until she read the name on the form in her hands.

➝ word count: 4,8k

➝ warnings: therapy session, mental health, mentions of self-harming and suicide

➝ author’s note: this extra is something ally and i agreed to do because we saw the need to give more depth to elisabeth's questions. of course, what is reported here, as well as the clinical notes, are just simulations of what happens in a real session, based on research and our own experiences. i also take advantage of the space so that, in case you are going through a difficult time, know that you are not alone. if you are afraid to seek professional help or just need to talk, know that my askbox is always open to welcome and help you in any way.

SEPTEMBER, 2016

It was the end of the day, and Dr. Alma Messner was trying to wrap things up before heading home. She closed the window in her office, drawing the yellow curtains and turning on the desk lamp. It was a lot warmer out earlier in the day, but now that the sun was getting lower on the horizon, a distinct early-autumn chill was starting to set in. As she was waiting for her cup of tea to steep, she straightened up the cushions on the couch in her office and took a look around.

She was very proud of her office — she’d decorated it to be bright and cheery, still cozy. It was furnished mostly in a neutral gray palette, but with pops of yellow and light blue to keep the gray from looking too gloomy. It also had a large window that looked out onto a narrow old street right next to a Jesuit church that was built in the 1600’s, right in Vienna’s Innere Stadt. She was pretty proud when she’d found the place for rent and finally opened her own psychology practice a year after getting her doctorate.

“Not bad for a girl from the hills, huh?” she thought, back then. She’d moved to Vienna from a tiny farming village in Styria when she started university. When she was younger, she never could have imagined a view like this becoming her every day.

She sat down at her desk and discarded the teabag, leaving the mug on her desk for a few minutes to cool a bit while she got herself situated.

This was her end-of-day ritual, once her last client left — she would spend about an hour or so updating notes from the day’s clients, have some tea, a nice peppermint variety — it struck the balance between helping her concentrate and decompress without caffeine — and enjoy the quiet of the empty office. She sat down at her desk and took her round tortoiseshell-framed glasses off and rubbed her eyes before getting started.

— Good night, Dr. Messner — someone said from down the hallway. It was her receptionist, Helena.

— Good night, Helena. See you tomorrow — Alma said, as she opened her clinical charting software.

She usually started with new intakes. She didn’t have one every day, and they usually didn’t take very long, because the first session was mostly sorting out release and authorization forms and getting to know a new client. An hour isn’t much time to dig in very deep.

Alma only had one new client intake today, and she felt like it was going to be… An interesting case.

“Elisabeth R. Lauda”, she typed into the form. “30, F, Diagnosis TBD”.

Of course, Alma knew who Elisabeth Lauda was before she even set foot in the office. Daughter of an Austrian national hero. Alma had never been one to watch motor racing, but everyone in the country knew the name Niki Lauda. In spite of her famous father, Elisabeth kept a fairly low profile until very recently, when she became the star of tabloid headlines. Word had gotten out about her being together with Toto Wolff, who was a wealthy investor that had become the CEO of a Formula 1 team a few years back. It apparently had the celebrity news in Vienna all up-in-arms, because Toto was considered one of the country’s most eligible bachelors.

Alma didn’t pay much attention to celebrity gossip, but she was surprised — and not, she supposed, to see Elisabeth’s name on the intake forms she’d gotten from Helena earlier on in the week. Surprised in that Alma didn’t expect the name of a minor Viennese celebrity to land in her intake basket, but not surprised in that if anybody would be having a hard time and in need of someone to talk to, it was her.

When Elisabeth’s appointment time came, Alma wasn’t really sure what to expect of the woman. She’d not ever had a client that was… Famous, if you could call Elisabeth Lauda that.

Elisabeth came for her appointment exactly on time — early, actually. Alma went out to the clinic’s waiting room to greet her, and to bring her back to the office.

She was wearing a pair of nice jeans, a light blue dress shirt that seemed like it was perfectly tailored, and her dark hair was up in a high ponytail. Alma noted that she had on light, natural-looking makeup.

“Well, at least she’s probably not expecting to cry”, she thought.

Somehow, Alma felt almost underdressed in comparison, despite wearing a pair of dress slacks, ballet flats, and a blazer.

Elisabeth was quiet, but she had an imposing presence, somehow.

She had inquisitive blue eyes that traveled around Alma’s office, taking everything in. Alma noticed that Elisabeth also had very good posture, and sat down on the couch very gracefully. She had a very firm, confident handshake as well.

— It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Lauda. I’m Dr. Messner, but feel free to call me Alma.

— It’s nice to meet you too, Alma. And, please, call me Elisabeth.

— Wonderful. We’ll just discuss some basics first. I usually look at this first meeting as an assessment session. This means that I'll be asking you some questions to get an understanding of what brought you here and to get to know a little more about you. We might skip around a little, but this time together will give us each a chance to see if we’d work well together and how I can best help you. Does that sound okay?

— That sounds fine — Elisabeth said. Her voice was quiet, her arms were crossed. Alma recognized her body language as closed off, almost withdrawn. She hoped that talking to her a bit would open things up.

— Now, first things first: what brings you to therapy? — Alma asked. Almost immediately, she noticed that Elisabeth started fidgeting with a ring on her left hand, a small, platinum-colored one that looked almost like a clasp, lined with clear stones.

— Well — Elisabeth said, before taking a deep breath in — My, um, partner suggested it. He’s been seeing a therapist for a long time, and he thought it might help me. We’ve been together for a few years already, but he’s… In the press all the time, because of his job. Our relationship recently went public, I guess you could say, and all of the attention has been making me a little…

She paused, furrowing her brow.

— Anxious. And I’ve been having trouble sleeping, and I’ve been having these episodes, anxiety attacks, I guess. When I get them, I feel this overwhelming fear. And then my heart starts pounding, I feel like I can’t breathe, I can’t stop crying.

Alma frowned.

— I’m sorry you’ve been going through that. I could see how that would be a stressful situation for you. When did these episodes start happening, and how frequently have they been happening?

— I’m… Not sure how to answer that — Elisabeth said — I first started having them when I was in school, probably since I was 13 or 14. I got picked on a lot. And I’d get this tight feeling in my chest whenever I had to present something in class. I thought about… Um, ending my life a few times during my teenage years, but I never… Followed through. I suppose, once I went to university, and started working after graduating, it was manageable, but it’s been getting bad again lately with the attention of the press.

Alma saw that Elisabeth wasn’t looking at her as she spoke. Her gaze was seemingly fixed on the area rug between them, and she was still playing with her ring.

— I see. Have you been to any sort of therapy or counseling before?

— No… I didn’t want my parents to think something was wrong with me — Elisabeth said, quietly.

— Well, if it helps any, I am glad you are here — Alma said — I know starting something like this is often difficult, but I think taking the first step shows a lot of bravery. And your partner, he must care a lot about you if he encouraged you to take that step. Now, would you mind telling me a little bit about him?

Elisabeth lifted her head back up and her expression turned into a fond smile.

— Well, his name is Torger, but he goes by Toto. He is a little bit older than me but that never mattered between us. We met when my father went into a new business venture with him, with both of them as investors. Our relationship started slowly, because of the process of... Accepting my own feelings towards him. I knew from the first time I met him that I was attracted to him, but I was afraid.

She took a small pause.

— We had some trouble here and there, and we finally ended up getting together two years ago. I wish I hadn’t been so stupid and cowardly and had just accepted that I was in love with him earlier. He is the best person I have ever met in the whole world. He’s been through so much in his life, and he can still look forward to every day with a smile. He’s very busy, because of work and traveling, but he tries to be present. Not only for me, but for his two kids. He’s less of a partner to me, and more of a best friend. I know I can count on him in good times and in bad. I really love him, Alma. He’s the love of my life, the kind you always see in fairy tale cartoons and movies. He’s the only one for me.

Alma raised her eyebrows. She was surprised at how effusive Elisabeth was. Until that point, it felt like Elisabeth was hesitating, maybe even uncomfortable, but asking about her partner broke the dam. It was something worth remembering — talking about things that clients felt strongly about or were willing to talk about at length was helpful in case they started withdrawing, or shutting down.

— He sounds like a wonderful man. And how about the rest of your family?

— My father was a racing driver in the 70’s and 80’s. He was very talented. When he retired, he dedicated himself to his business ventures — Elisabeth smiled — He is one of a kind, if I can say anything. He’s serious and focused, but he has kind of a mischievous side, too. My mom was a model, but once she had me and my brothers, she decided to be a stay-at-home mother. She’s amazing. She’s so kind and understanding. I was lucky to have such a good example of a happy marriage with the two of them.

— That’s wonderful. How about your brothers? How many do you have?

— Two. I’m the youngest. My oldest brother is named Lukas. He’s seven years older than me, but we’ve always gotten along really well, he’s very supportive and caring. My other brother, Mathias, however… Our relationship is… A bit more difficult. We used to be pretty close. Not as close as Lukas and I always were, but the three of us always got along growing up. Mathias is married and has two kids. But my brother… He still has a really childish way of dealing with things.

Alma tilted her head a bit.

— Hm. What makes you say that, if you don’t mind me asking?

— Well, I didn’t notice it at first — Elisabeth said. She shifted a bit on the couch, and her gaze went back to her lap — But when Toto and I got together, I was afraid of what my dad would think. Everyone liked my dad, but he said time and time again that he didn’t have any friends, but Toto sort of became the first person he considered a friend. And I felt sort of… Ashamed about dating the one person my dad considered his friend.

Alma spotted it again — the fidgeting with the ring. Some people’s body language was hard to read, but Elisabeth’s was loud and clear. “She would probably be a terrible poker player”, Alma thought.

— We also thought it would be best if we stayed out of the public eye for a while, because Toto is pretty well-known and had kind of a… What’s a nice way to put this? A reputation in the press for being a bit of a playboy — Elisabeth chuckled a bit, and then continued — But, after a few months, my brother caught us in an, um, compromising position, and connected the dots. I asked him not to tell anyone, especially dad, and he told me I…

Elisabeth took a deep breath in. Her voice had started to crack a little.

— That I broke my father’s trust by involving myself with Toto, and that I betrayed him. And that… Absolutely shattered me.

She clenched her jaw, as a stray tear rolled down her cheek.

— I hesitated getting together with Toto in the first place because I wasn’t sure how my dad would react, and he tried to use that against me, knowing that I didn’t want to hurt my dad’s feelings. And he started talking about how I was always the perfect child and dad’s favorite, or something, because he was always kind of rebellious, always getting into trouble with our parents for doing things they told him he couldn’t do, like competitive go-karting, and…

Elisabeth swallowed, and more tears started coming. Alma plucked a box of tissues from her desk, and leaned over to offer it to Elisabeth. She accepted the box, taking two tissues out to dab at the corners of eyes, and set the box next to her on the couch.

— Thank you. Um, anyway, I kind of negotiated with him to not tell dad, but our relationship was revealed through an Instagram mishap, and he had just been waiting for a good opportunity to sell me out, in a way.

Alma frowned, but tried to keep her expression soft.

— I’m so sorry, Elisabeth. That sounds awful. Family is complicated sometimes, and I can definitely see how that would be causing you a significant amount of anxiety, especially because I am sure that your brother was someone you had trusted in the past.

— Yes. My relationship with Mathias was good. We had our differences, but I loved him. I supported his racing career, and I helped him build it. I still do love my brother. I love my sister-in-law, and I love my two nephews. But right now, our family feels like it’s broken in half because of me, and I feel — Elisabeth turned her head again, looking out the window. Her voice went soft and quiet — I just feel so guilty about it, all the time.

Alma felt horrible for the woman. If the two of them were just friends casually chatting, she would’ve told Elisabeth her brother sounds like a piece of work, or something far less friendly, but she had to be somewhat indifferent as a clinician and professional. Plus, it was their first session.

— If it helps, I don’t think you have any reason to feel guilty about this — she said.

Elisabeth turned to face her again.

— But — she started, but didn’t continue.

— It sounds like your brother was just acting out on feelings that he hasn’t resolved. I don’t know him, so I can’t say what they are, precisely, but it doesn’t sound like you’ve done anything that you need to feel guilty about, at least to me.

— If Toto and I wouldn’t have started dating, my brother wouldn’t have gotten upset with me — Elisabeth said.

— That might be true, but there’s a difference between guilt and responsibility. They’re very different, and reframing how you think about your actions may help. Responsibility is recognizing that all of our actions have some sort of consequence, major or minor, positive or negative. But guilt is the feeling that comes from the fact that people always want things to happen the way we want them to.

Elisabeth’s expression was skeptical, almost confused.

— What I mean is, yes, you starting your relationship did have the outcome of your brother being upset with you and trying to make you feel guilty about it. But Mathias is feeling hurt from something else, and is using this issue to take his own pain out on you, and you’re not to blame for that. Does that make sense?

— Yes, but — Elisabeth pursed her lips, and looked at Alma like she wasn’t sure what to say — How do I stop feeling so guilty, then?

Alma sat back in her chair a bit.

— Unfortunately, it is a bit of a process. But it’s one of the things I hope to be able to help you with during our time together, reframing the thinking patterns and behaviors that are causing you distress. Speaking of which, and not to change the subject, but I just wanted to ask you something. You mentioned that you were experiencing anxiety or panic attacks recently, correct? When did they start?

Elisabeth tightened her fists, digging her nails into her palm. The tissues she’d used to wipe her eyes with a few minutes ago were now crushed into a dense ball. Her jaw was clenching.

— Y-yes. It was… Last weekend, when the worst one happened. I was in Belgium for a race with Toto. It was the first race after our relationship went public. There were a lot of people… A lot of cameras. I already hate publicity, so I was already uncomfortable, but then the reporters started asking questions about our relationship, their questions were really… Ugh, invasive. And then, one of them said something that brought up some really awful memories for me, and that’s what started it. Before I realized it, I was sitting on the floor of my partner’s office, crying. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. All I kept thinking about was how stupid and ugly I am. I felt like I was back in middle school, with other kids laughing at me, calling me…

Elisabeth had started crying again, trying to talk between sniffles and sobs. Alma fought down the urge to get up and hug the poor woman. It wasn’t as if she’d never hugged a client, but never on the first appointment, before she was sure the client wouldn’t be receptive or made uncomfortable by the gesture.

— Calling me ugly, or fat, or stupid. I kept trying to hurt myself, scratching and punching myself, and I didn’t really realize what was happening until Toto tried to stop me. And I just felt so awful, because I made him so upset, because he was worried about me. I felt like I was ruining his life by being so fragile and sensitive all the time, and that I’m just a burden, something he needs to take care of.

Elisabeth took another tissue out of the box next to her and scrubbed at her eyes again, and wiped her nose, which had started running.

— I’m so sorry you had to go through that — Alma said, quietly — I can’t imagine how awful that must have felt, but as I said, we can work on how to reframe those thoughts with the goal of decreasing your anxiety. But I do want to focus on that last part. The way you’ve talked about your partner, and the fact that you said he was the one that encouraged you to seek out someone to talk to, that shows me that he really loves you, that he cares about you.

Elisabeth sniffled a bit, and blew her nose again.

— Sorry about crying so much — she murmured — I honestly didn’t expect it to be this hard to talk about my feelings.

Alma shook her head.

— No, don’t worry. It’s completely normal. You’re not the first, you won’t even be my last today. This is a safe space to express whatever emotions you need to. I am concerned, though, about you saying something about you trying to hurt yourself. Have you felt those kinds of feelings at all since the anxiety attack?

Elisabeth sighed, her breath shaking a bit.

— I wasn’t doing it to myself on purpose. It was kind of unconscious, but I felt angry at myself for letting the press get to me so much, so I kind of, I don’t know, took it out on myself. I haven’t felt like that since, though.

Alma nodded.

— Okay. That’s good, but just in case you do have any thoughts or urges to harm yourself, my phone number is on the paperwork that my receptionist, Helena, should have given you. Please, call me any time, and I will answer if I can. I will not be mad. If I can’t answer, there’s also an emergency crisis line that is always open. Please don’t hesitate or feel guilty about using either number - it’s what I give them to you for, okay?

Elisabeth nodded tentatively.

— I… Okay.

Alma glanced at her watch — she normally hated to do it during an appointment, because it could make some clients feel anxious or guilty, but she had to keep on a schedule somehow.

— Before we end our session today, I just wanted to try and see what your goals are with starting our work together. Like, what kinds of things you’re hoping for, what kinds of things you might have reservations about, or are unsure of. That way, I know before we start developing your treatment plan, and you can decide if you’d like to continue working together.

Elisabeth looked thoughtful, and leaned forward a bit.

— I guess… I want to get better. I want to be able to see myself in a positive light. I want to see what others see when they look at me, and not see myself as the same scarred teenager I was in middle school. I want to learn how to be happy with myself, so I can stop feeling so bad about myself all the time.

— Those are all good goals to have — Alma said — And what are your thoughts on going on medication, specifically anti-anxiety medication? It won’t be a magic solution, it’s just a tool that we use in conjunction with talk therapy to help, and it’s not right for everyone, but I can refer you if…

— No — Elisabeth said, shaking her head — I want to try it without, at least at first. My partner was on antidepressants for a while, when he started therapy, but he tapered off of them after a while.

— That’s fine — Alma said, with a nod — It’s completely up to you. I can answer any questions you have about them if you want to try them later on, but we will see where we get.

She glanced at her watch again.

— I am afraid we have run out of time for today, but it was really nice to meet you, Elisabeth. I am hoping that we will be able to work with each other and get you back to feeling your best. You can schedule your next visit with Helena on your way out, if you’d like to, or give the office a call if you’re not sure of when, just yet. But, I’d recommend weekly appointments at this point, if possible. We can cut that down once we start making some progress.

— Well — Elisabeth said, as she stood up — Once a week might be tricky with travel and everything, and the fact that I actually live in England. But I’m in Vienna a lot of the time, so we can play it by ear for now.

She took Alma’s outstretched hand, giving her a good, firm handshake again.

— It was nice to meet you too, Alma.

Alma watched as Elisabeth swiped a tissue at her eyes one last time, smiled, and turned around to walk out the door of Alma’s office, shutting it gently behind her. She still managed to look poised, even after falling apart on Alma’s couch. Alma stood, planted on the spot, staring at the closed door for a moment. She remembered she had another session coming up and got to work, throwing away the tissues on the couch and straightening up the cushions, and typing a few quick notes in Elisabeth’s new case file.

Alma thought back on their visit later as she worked on case notes, her tea getting cold.

Alma hadn’t been sure what to expect. She had clients that were wealthy, clients that were high-performers in their fields — all of them had different needs, different expectations that weighed on them, but she hadn’t had anyone yet that had the triple-whammy of growing up relatively wealthy, famous, and being accomplished — in her few years of practice, someone like Elisabeth was new to her.

She hoped she could do something to help. Alma always hoped she could do something to help new clients, but with Elisabeth, she knew it would be tough, with her in the public eye. It would be a new challenge, for sure, and Alma only could hope that she was up to it.

Dr. Alma Messner, PhD, BMASGK

Schönlaterngasse 11

Wien, Austria

Client Name: Elisabeth R. Lauda

Client DOB: 18/02/1986

Age: 30

Sex: F

Diagnosis: TBD

Date: 06/09/2016

Start Time: 17:03 Uhr

End Time: 17:58 Uhr

Background: Elisabeth is a 30-year old female. Currently unmarried, but has a long-term partner. Born and raised in Vienna, youngest of three children (two older brothers). Father is a businessman, formerly a race car driver (NL), mother is a homemaker (but was previously a model). Elisabeth works with her father, mostly in civil aviation investments. Entered into a new business partnership in 2012 and met her long-term partner as a result. Partner (TW) is a 44 year old male. He is previously married and has two children (ages 15 and 12, boy and girl). Client also has two nephews, no children of her own.

Client’s Subjective Concerns/Chief Complaint: Client has been experiencing what she believes are anxiety attacks and recurrent episodes of anxiety, including anxiety attacks. Scheduled appointment at the suggestion of her partner (TW). Her last anxiety attack was triggered by a journalist asking invasive questions about her relationship and appearance, involving inadvertent self-harm (hitting self). Client’s work does involve running into journalists. Was Client is hoping to work on strategies for reducing anxiety and increasing self-confidence.

Clinical Observations: Client did not appear disheveled or exhibit any signs of immediate distress. Sat in a rigid posture, but appeared to be fidgeting as the session progressed, especially with her hands. Kept playing with a ring on her left hand. Client also spoke quickly, and sounded rather nervous, and did cry when recalling recent traumatic events. No signs of hallucinations, delusions, bizarre behaviors, or any other indications of psychotic process. Associations are intact, thinking is logical, and thought content is appropriate. Does not seem to be experiencing suicidal ideation, despite mentioning inadvertent/unconcious self-harm during recent anxiety episode. Cognitive functioning and fund of knowledge is intact and age-appropriate. Short and long term memory is intact. Client is fully oriented. Social judgment seems intact. Signs of anxiety consistent with client’s self-reported concerns. Not presently on any medications, has no previous diagnoses of mental illness. Reports experiencing suicidal thoughts and ideations during teenage years, did not seek any interventions or therapy. Did not report acting on them.

Issues and Stressors Discussed/Session Description: Client discussed experiencing a panic attack triggered by questions from the media. Discussed history of her current relationship with her partner, and relationship with her siblings and parents. Client has recently gone public with her relationship and has been facing pressure from the media, as her partner is a somewhat notable public figure due to his job. Client reports feeling low self-esteem and self-worth, stemming from adolescence and being made fun of in school.

Interventions/Methods Provided: Discussion of symptoms, identification and explorations of emotions, recommendation of supportive counseling. Patient is hesitant about starting medication, and recommended starting out with talk therapy/CBT for now.

Assessment: Client’s endorsed symptoms and demeanor are all consistent with generalized anxiety disorder. It is likely that she had coped with symptoms before, but increased stress about her relationships with family and her partner have caused symptoms to become problematic. Client has not expressed active desire to self-harm, does not appear to be at risk of suicide at this time, but referred her to contact myself or emergency services in case of ideation occurring. Client does not appear to be suffering from depression.

Plan: Client will call to schedule the next appointment (unable to make consistent appointments due to travel schedule) and we will discuss further treatment steps. Will have client start keeping a mood log to start to identify patterns in thinking.

Next Appointment: TBD

Clinician Signature: ____________________________________

Clinician Printed Name: Dr. Alma Messner, BMASGK

#toto wolff #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #natsversion #wlffog #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #toto wolff x oc #scwlff

84 notes · View notes

8bitsupervillain · 2 months

Text

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 6 Tsumihoroboshi pt. 1

So what, four subsections until something dark happens then?

Very excited to once again just skip all the way to the next to last part of this just to see what the alternate ending looks like.

I wonder if the poems will tie into the narrative at some point. I imagine they will. Like chapter eight will roll around and then looking back at the poems before the very end it'll be like "aha so this meant that." It might not tie in directly to the plot, and this is more metaphorical than everything, but I imagine it'll still have some bearing on events you know?

This is a very minor thing to harp on given Rena is confessing to presumably either a big violence or murder. But it bugs me the indentation on the line "and with that there was silence." I didn't mention it during Meakashi but there was an extremely minor spelling error during the incident report. Where it mentions that Oryou was violently abused "post-portem," which isn't a word. It's post-mortem. I try not to harp on minor spelling issues though because I don't think anyone really likes that sort of extreme nitpicking.

Gonna admit going into this chapter I didn't think it was going to be the Rena chapter. Makes sense that it would be since everyone gets one, and she hasn't so far. Also for some reason this particular line reminds me of this bit from the end of the shooter Spec Ops: The Line. "I didn't mean to hurt anybody." "No one ever does."

I wonder if this chapter will go deeper into her past when she smashed up her school and classmates with a bat?

Also a clean screenshot of the curtsy just because I think it's a nice visual.

Anyway it's not a week or so prior to this confession scene. The class is going to have a big squirt gun fight for their PE class. Do the youth still call them squirt guns? Or do they just call them water guns?

Now I'm not saying it would've fit the mood at the time, but what if they had cross-dressing Satoshi or Keiichi. It's all a conspiracy, Ryukishi07 doesn't want to draw boys in lingerie. Anyway, what follows is a big water gun battle until Rena and Keiichi are the only ones left standing. Mion tries to manipulate the situation into the two ending in a tie in an effort to get away from whatever the penalty game is.

I imagine Tomita or Okamura were probably some of the ones who kept shooting Rika. I recall one of them has a huge crush on Rika so... you know. It makes sense to me.

This is playing it a bit heavy-handed huh. Everything is perfect and peaceful forever. Ignore the pre-title screen stuff, clearly everything is going to be peaceful and idyllic forever.

Something amusing happened when I started playing this chapter. I forgot to install the mod, so for a minute or so it was the remake version from GOG installed. I clicked on the "omake" button because I wanted to see if it was like earlier episodes where you could see how many TIP files there are in the chapter. It was all blank, but what's interesting was I clicked chapter jump and it had all twenty-six available right from the jump. At least I assume there's only the twenty-six, but I just thought it was interesting the game was like "hey you want to just skip directly to the end?"

I do occasionally think about just going with the unmodded version of the game before starting the latest chapter. Except for chapter one though I've just installed the mod every time. I like the voice acting.

#higurashi #higurashi when they cry #higurashi no naku koro ni #higurashi playthrough

4 notes · View notes

i-mybrunettelady · 1 year

Text

Just one mistake (is all it will take)

Summary: Smodur the Unflinching and Alysannyra Ainsaph have a difference of opinion. Renira wants to know more about it. Content warnings: Mentions and allusions to shooting. Spoilers: General spoilers for Icebrood Saga’s episode No Quarter. Title taken from Centuries by Fall out Boy. Also this is a long one.

It’s cold in Drizzlewood. Renira almost envies the charr, who have all the fur on their bodies to keep them warm; she has no such luxury so she has to rely on other means to preserve bodily warmth. It’s less than satisfactory sometimes, though. Sharp wind blows hair into her eyes, and she has to risk getting her fingers out of the hot press of her legs to nudge the thick, woolen coat tighter around her body.

Yet today the Imperators have decided to convene and discuss strategy. As a Pact Commander, Renira has to attend. What gives her a little comfort is the fact that the rest of the humans find themselves in a similar predicament - Nyra’s pale cheeks are bright red from the cold, Kasmeer Meade sits stiffly on her chair and Logan Thackeray is the only one seemingly unfazed by the weather. Renira knows better, though. He’s shivering slightly as well.

She settles more into her seat and her oversized coat. Words reach her ears, a diplomatic response from Crecia Stoneglow, and she wills herself to forget the fucking cold and focus on what’s being said. She doesn’t know if her superiors at the Order will require reports, but she needs all the things she can reasonably get to even work here.

“Wise information to remember,” Malice Swordshadow whispers in Renira’s ear. “It’s about troop numbers. One of my agents gave his report to Crecia two hours ago.”

Renira feels her ears tingle hot under her hair. Her face betrays nothing. “They’ll be written down and given to us later as reports.”

“Us spymasters need to help each other out when we can,” Malice says smoothly. “Your all-charr Whispers unit has given the Legions a lot of usable information, so I wanted to return the favor.”

Renira smiles. That unit’s an idea she’s vaguely proud of, inspired by Laranthir’s Pale Reavers of the Maguuma campaign. “Much appreciated,” she replies. Malice certainly caught her drifting off for a minute, though, if the glint in her eye as she leans back is any indication.

“That’s not going to work, Smodur!” Nyra’s voice booms, firm and unrelenting. Her face is tighter than usual, brows furrowed just that much more. “We’re lacking in proper manpower. If I’m seeing correctly, we’re lacking fifteen people for that little operation of yours. And how many people did you shoot last week?” The sound that leaves her is best described as an aborted breath of overflowing frustration. “Fift–”

“They were defectors, Ainsaph, not just any soldiers!” Smodur says lazily, tapping a claw against the table. “I’m sure even young commanders understand that we don’t need traitors on our operations.”

Nyra breathes deeply. Renira’s eyes are trained on her, on the tension in her neck. She isn’t blinking, staring Smodur down like he isn’t around three and a half times her age and height. “Do not speak over me, Smodur,” she says. Her voice is colder than the sharp wind around them. “Do not interrupt me when I’m speaking and do not, for fuck’s everloving sake, patronize me.”

She then straightens her back and lifts her chin. “You shot fifteen people last week, Smodur. Reconsider not wasting manpower when we need every fucking head in this war!”

“You’re not listening, Ainsaph. They turned their backs–”

“Stop it, both of you!” Crecia yells and everyone almost cricks their neck to look at her. Smodur huffs and growls and Nyra’s eyes are harder than steel. Rytlock Brimstone, who’s been blessedly quiet next to her, leans down to grumble something into Nyra’s ear. “If you have any issues with each other, I’ll have to ask you to sort them out elsewhere. Here, we are a unified front and you’ll have to act like it.”

“Nobody’s gonna hear us, Cre,” Rytlock says. “Especially not Ryland.”

“He’s too busy doing other things,” Nyra adds, voice strained. “He’s not gonna pay attention to us here. Bangar won’t either. We’re certainly not louder than his ego. I should know. My ego’s as big as his.”

Renira shakes her head. Nyra’s statement would’ve been slightly amusing if it wasn’t for her stiff posture and the unblinking stare she keeps pointed at Smodur. She looks like a predator ready to strike, one bad word away from giving him a fist to the face, and Renira knows her well enough to say with certainty she would attack.

She knows people like her. She’s sustained by ego, an idea of inherent self-importance that Renira’s seen in her since their first meeting back in Ebonhawke all those years ago. In another life, she may have been bitter about that fact, that Nyra could afford to have the sense of grandeur because of her high birth. To Renira, though, that’s a statement of fact. Alysannyra Ainsaph has brown hair and ego the size of Tyria and Elona combined.

In no life, however, would she call that idea a delusion on Nyra's part. She knows what she’s capable of, she knows what she must do to satisfy it, she holds herself to impossibly high standards in achieving her goals. She wields it like a weapon and as a driving force. It is a source of power.

It’s made her look a god in the eye, rise from the dead and pay him back double.

Renira’s still a little hung up on rising from the dead, actually. Death’s always felt a little strange. Regardless of any of that, Nyra’s ego is a big, glowing spot in every room she’s in and Smodur’s just stepped on it carelessly, like he’s frolicking on a meadow.

This is going to end in a murder attempt at some point.

“We were talking about the new report on troop numbers,” Renira says conversationally. Kasmeer shoots her a grateful look. There’s a feather-light feel of magic and Nyra’s face loses all tension and remains as impassive as it usually is.

“Yes,” she says, much calmer than a moment ago. “The new report on troop numbers. Crecia, the word is yours.”

***

There’s meatloaf in her hands. A good meatloaf, all things considered - Tybalt would enjoy it, if that’s any indication of its quality. Renira’s always maintained that she has better tastes in food than her friend does, to which Tybalt’s first response would always be that not everyone can look at Queen Jennah’s feet when working.

Renira likes shoes. It’s a weird luxury that Jennah can avoid them, but she’s not the one to judge such matters. In Drizzlewood, anyway, shoes are a must, as is strong, hearty food that can keep you fed for long watches and missions.

She looks at the meat in her hands. The slice is big enough for both her and Nyra to share, a perfect opportunity to discuss whatever the fuck came to be in the Impretarors’ pavillion a few hours ago.

She finds Nyra in her tent - a somewhat bigger than most, perks of being a commander on the field - seated on the bed. She’s rested her elbows on her knees and is rubbing her temples, hiding sighs of lingering frustration. Her hair, once in a tight braid, now falls messily over the furs on her shoulders. There are no torches, so the lingering source of light is the cool, icy shine from her crystalline weapon, Lightbringer, that she’s willed to form a lamp.

“I brought you food,” Renira says, certain Nyra’s heard her steps.

“Soon, we’ll be fighting the Dominion with meatloafs,” Nyra replies. Renira bites down a chuckle. “I’m not complaining. It’s good meatloaf. Once we kick Bangar’s ass, though, I never want to see it again.” Ever the optimist, their Commander.

“At least this one feeds you,” Renira shrugs. “I know many people who could not stand the bread they ate during the Zhaitan campaign.”

“We don’t have a choice during a war,” Nyra lifts her head. Her eyes are muted and unreadable, yet her voice gives away the tiredness. “So they better get used to standing both the meatloaf and the bread. I’m a little hungry.”

Renia sits beside her on the bed and puts the plate between them. Nyra divides it and bites into her slice. “If you tell me we can’t choose allies either, I’m going to smack you.”

“What you told Smodur–”

“Was deserved. He needs to get called out more and if I need to be the one to do it, I will.” Nyra purses her lips. “I just don’t understand him. He’s wasteful. He doesn’t offer second chances. Nobody with a head for strategy will make them squad leaders or officers, or even leave them unsupervised, but he’s being.. Wasteful.” She lets out a long breath. “I said that already.”

“So you support defectors, then?” Renira daintily bites into her own meal, licking her lips clean. It’s salty. “Traitors?”

“Gods, no. We just disagree on what a defector is.”

“Definition of a defector is very clear,” Renira says slowly. Without judgment. “Not all people are worth saving, Nyra.”

Nyra frowns. Her lower lip pales with how harshly she’s biting into it. “I’m tired of losing people, Ren. They may be monsters and traitors and whatever else, but who’s to say we’re not, to them?” She kicks her foot. “War is ugly and unfair and brutal. They may have defected, but I don’t think they should have their personhood denied for it. We should be inspiring them to stay with us rather than scaring them into joining the other side!”

Other, rather than the enemy side. Renira would call them the enemy side, but Nyra’s always been the more sentimental one of the two. “So you agree with the shooting, as long as Smodur accepts them as people?”

“I don’t know,” Nyra says after a long pause. “I guess I’m just.. Upset about it. It distresses me, seeing prisoners and traitors killed. How do you look at that and still say you’re a good guy in the end?” Her eyes water slightly and she blinks it away. “He asked me to drop a bomb down a stuffed bunker. I chose to not say fuck you, no and did it anyway. I can say without a shadow of a doubt I am not a good guy. But guess what? Neither is he.”

You’re better than most, Renira wants to say. She knows it won’t go anywhere. Nyra’s walls of guilt are too strong and impenetrable right now.

“I’m afraid I’ll hear the rifles go off when I lay down, and think why I didn’t do anything,” Nyra continues. Her voice is wobbly. “I should’ve yelled, ordered, argued, anything, but instead, I just walked past like I’m some sort of powerless mouse and not…” She laughs bitterly and points at her chest. “Whatever the fuck I am right now.”

“You couldn’t do anything,” Renira says gently and places a hand on Nyra’s. “They would have hurt you too.”

“One of them asked for mercy,” Nyra whispers. “One was unrepentant, but the other asked for mercy. The rifles were louder than both.” She wipes her hand and rubs the tears off her cheeks. “I’ll remember the rifles when I go to sleep.”

“Nyra–”

“Mercy, Renira, he asked for mercy and I didn’t do anything!” Nyra stands up and holds her hands near her face. They’re shaking. The burn marks on them are still harrowing to look at.

Renira’s on her feet as well, towering over Nyra in what she hopes is a comforting shadow. “You may not have saved him,” she says softly, putting a steadying hand on her shoulder. Nyra’s cheeks are wet. “But you can save many more. I know it’s distressing, I know it’s overwhelming, but you shouldn’t try to save everyone at your own expense. He made a mistake and he paid for it.” She wraps an arm around her. Nyra digs her face in Renira’s neck.

“He cried for mercy,” Nyra repeats. “He cried for mercy and was denied.”

Charr Legions are not well known for their mercy. But that’s their business. Renira knows better than to questions as firmly established as the Legions, especially as their ally. Besides, it’s not like the Whispers’ conditioning is any different in that regard. But Nyra’s a different kind of beast altogether, half-way heroic, half-way self-serving. There’s no way she could fully understand.

Renira doesn’t begrudge Smodur for doing this. But if she had to pick sides, she would immediately side with Nyra.

“Then you make sure as few people as possible have to plead like this,” Renira says into Nyra’s hair. Nyra’s hands tenderly wrap around her waist. “Then you make sure the Legions are victorious. You, Crecia, Efram, Rytlock. Hell, even Logan and Kasmeer. You’re not alone, remember?”

“I suppose I have to remember that,” Nyra whispers. There’s wetness on Renira’s neck. She presses a kiss to Nyra’s temple and doesn’t let go for a long time.

The rifles do not go off that night.

37 notes · View notes

jennhoney · 1 year

Text

I somehow yet again missed a call from my neurologist. He yet again called me himself. That’s wild for a specialist, I think? Everything is relatively fine. My tests keep coming back normal or close to normal. It’s just that my body isn’t working. I’m almost certain it’s not currently getting worse and it might actually be a tiny bit better very recently. So we decided to wait a month and touch base at the end of August. I have stuff to tell him but I think it can wait and I’m curious to see if I can get a little better in that time.

But I want to tell you and @songbirdstew about the building that my neurologist is in. I think it is a liminal space. Our town has a whole neighborhood called The Medical Quarter and it’s right next to downtown and, not to brag but, I’ve been to a lot of the hospitals and medical offices in the Quarter lately. A LOT. They are all pleasant, bustling, busy places. Except for the building my neurologist is in. This building is right in the middle of everything. It’s between two large hospitals and a ton of other medical buildings. To help paint the picture my cardiologist (and lots of other stuff) is in Med Pavilion 1 and my neurologist is across the street in Med Pavilion 2. But I can’t really tell you what medical Pavilion 2 looks like. I sat and stared out the window at it when they were stopping my heart at my stress test. It’s sort of tucked behind a Firestone. It must be taller than the Firestone but I cannot for the life of me picture it. I have a clear image of the parking ramp. There are always plenty of spaces very close to the door but that’s pretty common for Iowa. We’re a great place to park. Stepping into the building feels like stepping into a very nice, bigger on the inside, empty elevator. This could be explained by it being the overflow building, maybe they aren’t at capacity yet but they anticipate growth. We have a lot of old people. Anyway, this is the building where I was accidentally called back for a mental health check when I was actually there for bloodwork and they quickly realized had “the wrong Jennifer”. But the thing I may not have mentioned at the time was that I was sitting in a big empty waiting room. Not only was there not another Jennifer in there. There wasn’t another soul in there. Medical Pavilion 2 is also not in the MyChart system. Everything else that I’ve done seems to be. I don’t get any reminders about appointments I don’t have any way to verify appointments or reread appointment notes. When I do have to get bloodwork there it goes through some weird journey where they apparently walk it over to the main collection site, a few blocks away, and ask them to book an appointment for the blood they’ve already taken. I know this because once that happens I get a notification that I have a bloodwork appointment in like five minutes but it has already happened in the futurePast that is Medical Pavilion 2. Some such bloodwork came back over two weeks ago. I could see it in MyChart. But I knew something was wrong when I still hadn’t heard anything from the office last week. So I was talking to someone from the office and explained that I had read my report in MyChart and I was pretty sure it said I was normal but I wanted some confirmation from someone that knows what they are doing and she said, “I don’t see it. Did you say you read it in..” and she says a word that I assume is their system but I have never heard in my life and I swear was something like Morpheus or Excalibur. So just before 5 tonight I get a call from my neurologist and I miss it by a second. I keep my phone on mute almost all the time so that wouldn’t be weird except I think I was holding my phone (although not looking at it) and NOW I have a smartwatch that lights up and vibrates on on my wrist when I get calls and texts and I didn’t feel a thing. I only caught the light and motion on my wrist of the words Missed Call fading away. And in the voicemail message my neurologist apologizes for not hearing from him sooner he- “tried to leave a message” on my bloodwork results “but I don’t think it went through”.

So, if I vanish at the end of August for a little while I’m likely on a journey in the Fey realm or some shit.

#Treva says the entire state of Iowa is a liminal place #I don’t think I want OtherJennifer’s life #but I don’t think she would want mine either?#jennhoney personal log #the messages are coming from a liminal space

19 notes · View notes

latibvles · 1 year

Text

LET ME DOWN EASY.

right so today @almost-a-class-act brought up Hoosier in a band and naturally any sandbox Sam creates I also must partake in. So now we have uhh *reading off of hand* Chucker/Runner/Sid/Hoosier rock band, reporter Vicki, and some mentions of music Snob Bob Leckie. And also some implied SidSledge. Vicki/Hoos Meet-Cute except it's more like Meet-Embarassment. Read it all under the cut! also I was listening to uh , this , while I was writing this .

She managed to grab Lew… or rather, Chuckler, for a quote before they got in the studio, and she got Runner in between takes. In sharp contrast, Sid didn’t have much to say — the bassist was quiet and polite, a southern drawl and dusted cheeks, shy smile. Chuckler and Runner liked to talk, but whereas the frontman expressed a sort of… unabashed gratitude, the drummer seemed to have a joke for anything and everything.

The guitarist comes in about thirty minutes after the other guys start messing around on the drums and the strings, throwing suggestions in the air for lyrics and the like while Sid scribbles in a notebook. Vicki finds a spot on a stool, notepad in hand, jotting bullet points down for later use. She didn’t want photos yet, not until all four of them were present.

The guitarist is squinty-eyed and messy-haired, she can’t tell if it’s intentional or if he just rolled out of bed. He’s gripping a water bottle like someone might try and steal it from him otherwise. He’s got a white t-shirt on, faded jeans, and a pair of beat up trainers. She wonders if that furrowed brow is out of irritation or if it’s just his face.

“Well look who decided to show up,” Chuckler greets, with one of those big grins of his and a light fondness to his voice.

“Go to hell.” he grunts. Grumpy, then.

“Rough night, princess?” Or hungover. Probably both. She looks over at Runner, and then at Chuckler, who’s looking at her with a smile that’s bordering on apologetic.

Bob’s article had been bordering on scathing, but then again it’s Bob, who could give a sermon on his Feelies records without so much as stopping for air. Of course, their last album still did great, and Bob was definitely an outlier over matters of opinion — even if some of his criticisms were fair. I critique music, not sales, he justified, when the album went gold.

The grumpy one follows Chuckler’s gaze, landing on her on her corner-stool.

“You’re not Lucky.”

“Nothing gets past you, cobber.”

There’s a snort, probably from Runner, that he pays no mind too. He walks over, sticking out a hand for her to shake. She takes it.

“Bill Smith.” She watches his gaze move up and down her, examining but not otherwise suggestive. At least, not yet.

“Vicki Graves, Fusion Magazine.”

“Lucky’s friend then, I’m guessin’?” Vicki looks back over at Chuckler, who nods, and then she mimics it, reverting her gaze back to Bill as she releases his hand.

“Something like that. Does he make a habit of showing up thirty minutes late? It’s for the article.” She spares Bill another momentary glance, as the tips of his ears turn red, and Chuckler just laughs.

“I think the man can speak for himself.” She reverts her attention back to him.

Bands had certain… molds that they needed to fit into, in some way, in order to find success. The ones that work hard, party hard or the enigmatic indie bands who all wore matching shades — something digestible. Vicki was accustomed to that. She was used to rock stars in big fur coats walking in, their breath already smelling like whiskey and their clothes already smelling like weed. They liked to act like their amber-tinted aviators were suitable coverage to brazenly eye her like the next notch on a tour bus bedpost.

In comparison, Bill no longer looks grouchy, but almost embarrassed. Like he’s trying not to express it, but the color flushing his cheeks and ears betrays him. She arches a brow, waiting for his answer as he coughs into his hand. They never expect her to be as blunt as she is. Bob found it funny.

“Try not to, at the very least.” They stare at each other a moment longer. Vicki narrows her eyes. Now that they’re opened fully — she sees that they’re a vibrant shade of blue. He returns the stare.

“Well! Nothing we can do about it now,” Chuckler claps his hands, disrupting their momentary standoff. “Get your ass over here. Sid’s got a couple ideas he’s been meaning to play with.”

It takes a while, but she watches as slowly but surely, the four of them seem to come to life in a way. They exchange ideas, talking in between. Sid’s got someone flying up from Alabama, a Eugene, and she watches as his cheeks seem to flush. Runner pats him on the back, then gives his shoulder a firm shake. She snaps a photo of it before the moment’s past. None of them seem to pay her any mind as she continues to jot down things that she deems noteworthy.

There’s an introductory paragraph forming in her head, a hook and a spread she’s envisioning. She’ll have to ring Bob later to get his feedback on it.

The guitarist, Bill, comes into himself a bit more too. They call him Hoosier, or Hoos, rather than Bill. Their stage names feel less like stage names and more like affectionate nicknames, in that way. She can’t help but stare at times. When he plays a lick on a beat-up looking acoustic, and his lips pucker as he goes over it again and again. Sometimes Chuckler or Sid will hum the melody over it, or some kind of adlib to figure out how the song goes. When he catches her stare, he grins before looking away — but not in that smug and self-serving way she’s used to.

Chuckler carries a melody, and Sid takes the harmony, Runner’s hands tapping away on the percussion box he’s sat on. She watches as Bill’s eyes flutter shut for a moment and he licks his lips in concentration.

He looks almost otherworldly like that, like this man wasn’t still nursing a hangover just a few hours prior. He could’ve fooled her.

Vicki lifts her camera again, snaps a picture of it. She doesn’t miss the grin that forms on his face as she lowers it. He opens his eyes and looks at her, she forces her gaze down into the notepad. She tries not to stare too much after that.

Another hour goes by, Chuckler lays his own guitar down in its case, then points to Bill with both fingers.

“Since you were the last one here, you get to run and grab lunch for us,” Vicki bites back a snicker as that grumpy frown returns to Bill’s face. Chuckler then looks over to her. “And uh, if the lady’s willing to tag along with you, you gotta answer all of her questions, even if they’re way too personal.” She snorts at that.

“What kind of article do you think I’m writing here?” He shoots her a wink, gives her another smile.

“Hopefully a nice one.”

She rolls her eyes, but shifts her gaze once again. Bill’s no longer scowling, but somehow the bordering-on-expectant look he’s giving her makes her almost squirm in her seat in the corner. She doesn’t, though, and she doesn’t miss the way he grins as she rises to her feet, shrugging her jacket over her shoulders and walking towards him to look him in the eye.

“Let’s see if there’s a redemption story somewhere in here, yeah?” Bill grins unabashedly, like he’s won the lottery.

“I promise not to disappoint, ma’am.” Vicki looks him up and down, before brushing past him.

“We’ll see.” Is all she supplies him with, hoping that it’ll be cold enough to serve as an excuse for her flushed cheeks.

#not proofread we die like men #one thing about bill smith #is that he's gonna get with a reporter who bullies him #*poet writes #bill hoosier smith x oc #bill hoosier smith #the pacific oc #the pacific au #the pacific fic #. vicki graves #au: let me down easy

14 notes · View notes

classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 2 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Tom Roberts

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(I love Tom, I love Kate, I especially love Riff, and I love you for making me watch this. One of my new favorites lol)

- When you first met Tom, you weren’t aware of his reputation. You’d just started attending the school and only knew him through your science class: the same science class which had you writing a report on meteorology.

- When he came up to you after class and launched into his rehearsed “cats and dogs” line, you were none the wiser and figured he was just trying to break the ice with something he assumed you were interested in. Sure it was dorky and lame, but you also thought it was kind of cute, so you brushed off the awkwardness and spoke to him normally.

- It wasn’t until you’d been at the school for a bit longer that you realized mentioning Idaho’s proclivity towards rain was just a sort of quirk of his.

- Did it make him seem less cool than he already was? Kind of. Did it turn you off completely? Absolutely not. You still found him cute ...in a dorky sort of way.

- Admittedly, you joined in on the long running gag that surrounded him from time to time, throwing his line back at him whenever you bumped into each other in the halls. But you didn’t just do it to amuse yourself, you did it to get past the typically awkward first sentences of your usual conversations and get to know him better. And though it took a while, your work finally started to pay off.

- You actually managed to get somewhere with the boy: talking about things other than the dryness of your state and on more than a few occasions, getting him to walk you to class or sit with you at lunch. He even started driving you to and from school every now and again; even though your house wasn’t on his typical route at all.

- It’s easy to see that he has a crush on you; just about everyone in your school can see it. It’s obvious in the way he blushes and smiles and talks all nervously when the two of you are together. And though you aren’t aware of the extent of his feelings nor the fact that he dreams about you, you’re entirely sure that he’s got a pretty decent sized crush on you and that it’s only a matter of time before he asks you out.

- Unfortunately for you, Tom; without meaning to, edges you with his confession; bordering on telling you how he feels before tearing it away completely just before he can finish.

- Whenever you’re alone together you more or less expect one and he does, on multiple occasions, gear up to give you one, but he always chickens out at the last minute and covers it up with a nervous goodbye or a not so subtle shift in subject/end of sentence. It’s enough to make you scream into your pillow and decide on taking matter into your own hands.

- So one day, while you’re sitting together at your typical empty lunch table, you just up and say it. “Tom, do you want to go out with me?”

- He chokes on his sandwich and you almost immediately regret saying anything, watching as he coughs and attempts to dislodge the bread from his throat.

“Geez, I was just trying to ask you out on a date, not kill you.” You mutter, sliding him his drink while he tries to clear away the last bit of inhaled lunch in his breathing canal.

“You wanna go out with me?” He questions, swallowing the last of his suffocation down while you glance down at your hands.

“Well, yeah? I mean if you don’t want to-” He interrupts you immediately.

“I want to! I mean I-I would love to,” You watch as his face turns pink for an entirely different reason than his prior coughing fit.

He smiles before continuing. “...When do you want to?”.

- The two of you make a few vague plans before you carry on with your typical lunch conversation, trying and failing to contain your smiles as you look at each other and picture hanging out after school; not only as friends but now as two potential lovers.

- He picks you up in his van later that day and though he’d had a few halfhearted expectations when it came to getting laid by the end of the night, all those sexual thoughts vanish the minute he parks at the sidewalk in front of your house and sees you in your date outfit.

- You’re more beautiful than he ever would have anticipated and all he can feel as he looks at you is love. And so, with sex taken off the backburner of his mind, the two of you continue on with your date like normal, heading to your towns bowling alley for a couple games, French fries, and soda.

- He contemplates kissing you a lot more than he manages to do it but luckily for you, this time you don’t actually have to wait very long for him to find the nerve to accomplish the feat. He’s walking you to class a couple days after your first date and as you’re saying goodbye in front of the door, he just sort of leans over and lays one on you.

- It’s quick and soft but you love it all the same and it makes your most boring period feel a lot less grim. Not only that, but you get to watch him walk away with an extra pep in his step that he hadn’t had before.

- And just like that, he couldn’t care less about Idaho. Instead, he’s thinking about here and now and how much he loves being with you.

- If you’re a very affectionate person then you’ll probably wind up showing him more affection than he shows you but that doesn’t mean he never touches or loves on you. In fact, pda is very common is your relationship, it’s just that he tends to let you take the lead: putting an arm around your waist when you cuddle into him or happily letting you lean on his shoulder/hold his arm.

- He puts his arm around your waist a lot: either having you snuggle into his side while he does so or wrapping both of them around you while you talk in the hall; your own hands on his stomach or the opening of his jacket.

- He also has a tendency to pinch your chin/lift it up with his finger from time to time. It’s a fairly adorable habit of his.

- When it comes to chaste kisses, he prefers kissing your lips more than anything else; planting a soft one onto the area instead of pecking your cheek or forehead. He just thinks its more worth his time; and he also sort of hopes it’ll evolve into a longer and deeper kiss depending on where you are/how much time you have.

- Speaking of long and deep kisses: makeouts are quite common in your relationship and definitely aren’t reserved for just behind closed doors. He’s grown to not care about public response so don’t be surprised if he starts making out with you on the steps of the school or somewhere equally in view.

- But if you aren’t down for a French kiss in front of your French teacher then he’ll dial it down a bit and just kiss you softly and sweetly. For someone who isn’t very good with his words or with romance in general, he’s a surprisingly good kisser.

- Pet names aren’t really his thing, they tend to feel a bit awkward coming out of his mouth; sort of like he’s putting on an act, but they do slip out from time to time; mostly baby or something like “sweetpea”. It’s kind of a jarring experience to have your relatively dorky creampuff huskily groan out “baby” in the middle of sex/makeouts but you certainly aren’t complaining.

- Tom’s a pretty big cuddler, so much so that he feels a bit betrayed when you call off your weekly hangouts; the times where he’d get his affectionate fill. He’s mainly a big spoon; or a variation of a big spoon depending on where the two of you are lounging, but he also enjoys laying his head and shoulders in your lap from time to time.

- You’ve pretty much got a perfect hangout place to go to whenever the two of you want to be alone; his lovely little van. He can park it anywhere and the two of you can sit and relax: listen to music, cuddle, drink; whatever you want to do. It’s like having your own little apartment away from your parents and any other worldly interruptions.

- Speaking of his van: he most definitely bought it with you in mind and it’s a perfect representation of how much he’s willing to shell out or sacrifice for the sake of love. He’ll bleed himself dry trying to make you happy or make things perfect for you so try not to abuse your power.

- Him trying to make things perfect for you is a running theme and you won’t even know the half of it. He’ll spend an hour getting ready, change the placement of the pillows on the couch five times, jog a mile to pick flowers because he thought a vase needed to have them, etc. He won’t mention any of it and you’ll take no notice for obvious reasons but it makes him feel good knowing that he did whatever he could.

- Listen, I’m just gonna tell it like it is: you’re his first girlfriend and probably his first everything else so try to be nice and understanding with him. He gets deterred pretty easily when he feels like he’s making a fool of himself so try your best to silently let him know you don’t mind his clumsiness and that he hasn’t killed the mood.

- He doesn’t totally realize that you like him just the way he is: that his dorkiness is more appealing to you than any inherently smooth or suave move another guy in school can pull off. When you finally let him know that this is the case, he’s over the moon and turns the brightest shade of pink you’ve ever seen.

- Bridal carrying and other gentlemanly acts. He might not be able to unclasp your bra with one hand but he is able to pick you up like you weigh nothing and carry you over a puddle so your shoes don’t get dirty, or make you guys look like the coolest couple at the dance.

- Speaking of dances: he loves dancing with you; even if he’s more of a ‘twirl you around’ kind of guy. He’s not a great dancer but he learns pretty quickly and he’s never afraid to do it just to make you happy.

- Concert dates.

- Road trips.

- Going to pep rally’s and all of his football games.

- Playing dungeons and dragons and engaging in other high fantasy hobbies. He’s a secret enjoyer of all things geeky so don’t be surprised when he takes you to the newest movie about wizards or gushes to you about a book that centers around dragons.

- As geeky and dorky as he is, he’s got a bit of a thing for girls who are rock n rollers or other more inherently cool subgenres; though he’s kind of got a thing for all girls so I suppose that doesn’t really say much. I’m just saying not to be surprised if you’re the badass of the school and wind up with a boyfriend who looks like he’d describe your breasts as being “neat”.

- Speaking of breasts: he’s obsessed with yours! You can very easily get your way if you wear a low cut top or flash him at random, and he’ll most certainly be heavily distracted by them on more than a few occasions.

- Yes he’ll go to the beach with you even though he spent like five minutes talking about how he didn't have the time. No it has nothing to do with seeing you in a bikini....

- He’s not really used to rebelling but he soon becomes your partner in crime: doing everything with you and enjoying little pranks and equally troublemaking activities. He’s surprisingly open to engaging in wild shenanigan's so a majority of the time just ask and you shall receive.

- He’s open to a lot of different things, wanting to broaden his horizons more than anything, so 90% of the time he’ll be willing to try anything at least once. Tell him about your favorite music, take him to your favorite places, show him different games and sports, etc. He’ll probably really enjoy at least a good few of them.

- Doing little self care routines. He’s a man who cares about his complexion and that’s a man you want to keep.

- On that same note: if you want to make him over than all you have to do is ask. He kind of gets a kick out of letting you fuss over and dress him up, especially when you get all touchy after turning him into your ideal type; clothing-wise that is.

- Almost everyone in school is gonna wonder why you’d choose to date a dork like Tom but they also sort of get why at the same time. You don’t appreciate everyone thinking your wonderful boyfriend is boring but it is kind of reassuring to have him all to yourself; not that he’d ever stray away from you to begin with.

- And most people are well aware when it comes to how in love with you he is. All they have to do is take one look at his half lidded expression and the way his eyes are locked onto you and they’ll know in an instant.

- Eaglebauer is sort of embarrassed by how whipped for you he is but at the same time, it seems to be working for him so he guesses he’ll let him off the hook. Not everyone can be a stud like him.

- Just don’t be surprised if the man comes sniffing around every now and again, filling your boyfriends head with ideas and making him try out different out of character moves on you. Though some of them are kind of fun sometimes....

- It might not be technically “smooth” but being subtly reminded that your boyfriend dreams about you does a lot more for you than any other playboy move. Like, seeing him go all pink when he realizes he’s describing a raunchy dream he had about you to you or watching him stop himself before he gives you any details because he realizes it’s kind of lame makes you fall for him even harder than he already had.

- Don’t use sarcasm with him or try to tease him, he doesn’t pick up on it and it’ll just end up making you feel bad.

- Sneaking drinks when you’re with him. He tends to get a bit bolder when he’s drunk and loses his nervousness so it’s fairly amusing to be with him. You like seeing the different side of him from time to time.

- Jacuzzis are his kryptonite. Mention that a party has a hot tub and he’s bound to agree to go with you.

- Him picking you little flowers while you’re out walking together or before the two of you are meant to see each other.

- I’m convinced he made you a bracelet, or any other sort of thoughtful little present, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

- He’s got your picture hanging up in his locker and seeing it never fails to make you smile.

- A big bonus to dating Tom is just how much your parents trust him. On the outside, Toms a football playing, all American, star student: he looks as pure as American pie. So; even though he still is pretty sweet and innocent, they’re completely unaware of his more mischievous side and they give the two of you much more leniency than they probably should.

- Tom isn’t terribly prone to jealousy; unless you really start to blow him off and/or play into it. He’s fine with you having male friends or other things of the sort but as soon as you start neglecting him and your couples hangouts he starts to have a problem with it; and starts biting his telephone when you call off yet another date of yours.

- He’s both protective over you and not protective over you at the same time. He blindly follows your orders to chase someone and has a habit of trying his best to make sure you’re okay but he’ll also occasionally hide behind you when things get scary so I guess you can say he views you as equals.

- The two of you really don’t fight all too often. You’ll whisper yell and bicker on occasion but that's usually the extent of your fights: you never have screaming matches or insult each other; just argue and then resolve things.

- He’ll give you some space, maybe hang up the phone and relax for a little while, but it doesn’t take long for him to call you back and apologize or for the two of you to mutually work things out. Most arguments end as quickly as they begin so it’s really not something to worry about.

- Tom would tell you he loves you constantly and you can pry that idea out of my cold dead hands. He is the whiney boyfriend who can’t leave until you say it back so you can cry about that if you want to, but I refuse to not acknowledge it.

- He’s the blueprint for a malewife/the lame husband who has a much cooler and accomplished wife so do with that what you will. Just know that he’s going to the college of his choice and that he has a lot to offer you.

#tom roberts imagine #tom roberts headcanon #tom roberts imagines #tom roberts headcanons #rock n roll high school imagine #rock n roll high school headcanons #rock n roll high school imagines #rock n roll high school headcanon #70s movie imagine #70s movie headcanons #70s movie imagines #70s movie headcanon

23 notes · View notes