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sortofanobsession · 1 year

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Unsure and Unconventional, to say the least (Ted Lasso Fic)

Author's note: because the Uncle's Day scenes made me think a lot of things. Phoebe would have Jamie wrapped around her finger in like .01 seconds. They would be a mischievous duo. And the team would be like awww that's cute.

Parts of this fic partially Inspired by:

an answered ask (HERE) by @andfrecklesandyoursmile about Roy giving his sister Jamie's contact for "emergencies".

@politelymenacing did a post that (THIS ONE) That may have helped inspire some dialog.

So credit to those brilliant post.

Ted Lasso Masterlist

OT3 Roy/Keeley/Jamie Romantic ship. Platonic team dynamics.

Content warning: Cursing/Swearing (lots of it because Roy Kent is gonna Roy Kent), Mentions of abuse, Mentions of physical violence, Mentions of hospitals, Self-Esteem Issues (because Jamie Tartt...), Polyamory, Anxiety, Anger Issues, Fear.

Word count: 8k+ (this one got away from me and that is why it took days to finish)

Read on AO3 here

Unsure and Unconventional, to say the least

“Coach?” Will says as he nears Roy Kent as the coach oversees training on the pitch. “Someone’s here to see you. They’re in the office.”

Roy’s brows furrow. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Keeley would have just come out and joined them on the sidelines. He grunts in acknowledgment and heads inside.

“Uncle Roy!” he hears as soon as he reaches the doorway.

“Phoebe?” He says, accepting the little girl’s hug when she reaches him. He looks over to see his sister talking to Trent Crimm. Trent Crimm moves to the doorway. Stopping to offer to take Phoebe so she could say hi to the team.

“Can I please, Uncle Roy? I want to say hi to Jamie,” Phoebe looks up at him with those big eyes he just can’t say no to, or at least say no and mean it. He looks to his sister, who shrugs.

“What? They're friends now too,” his sister says, challenge clear in her tone. “That a problem, Roy?”

Trent watches the Kent siblings with silent interest. Phoebe practically buzzed with excitement as she waits for an answer next to him.

“A 25-year-old prick cannot be friends with an 8-year-old girl,” Roy glares.

“That bridge is long crossed, dear brother,” she laughs. “Especially after Uncle's day.”

“Uncle's day?” Trent asks with a grin.

“Fuck off, Crimm,” Roy grunts. His sister just gives him a fond and familiar look. “Fine,” Roy relents. “You can go say hi to Jamie, but stay out of the line of play. And don’t-”

But she is already gone, an amused Trent following close behind. Phoebe tells him all about Uncle's day as she goes.

His sister grins. “She’s just going to bother Jamie. Thought you’d at least find that amusing.”

Roy grunts. “Too bad the prick will enjoy it.” Roy winces it. “That just sounds so fucked up.”

“You make it sound so wrong that she likes your friends,” his sister says. “That you think the people you have surrounded yourselves with are criminals.”

“How would you know if they are or aren’t?” he glares at her.

“Because you’d have kicked them in the teeth and sent them packing if they were. Jamie Tartt might be a prick, but even I know he’d probably die before letting anything happen to Phoe, especially if his childhood was half as shit as you’ve said. And he can’t be a complete twat if he sat through the whole of Uncle's day.” She grins.

“Alright, cut the shit. What’s wrong?” He is quick to change the topic. “I know you’re not here to talk about Jamie fucking Tartt?”

“You sure about that?” She raises a brow. He growls. “Fine, I need you to take her this weekend. One of my colleagues was supposed to speak at a conference, and the prick went and caught something on holiday.”

“So now you have to go?” he asks.

“Fuck no,” she says. “I’m covering for the poor bastard that does, which means I’m working a double.”

“Fuck that,” Roy says, annoyed on her behalf.

“I know you have a match, and this might ruin your plans with Keeley-" she starts, but he doesn't care what else she has to say.

“Fuck off. It’s fine. We’ll take her,” Roy doesn’t even hesitate to say. “Kid always comes first. You know that.”

“I know,” she nods. "Thanks."

"You don't need to fucking thank me," he states.

"I don't, but I'm still going to, you fucking prick," she says fondly. "Every time, no matter how much you curse or growl."

"You could have just texted me," Roy says.

"Yeah, but then I couldn't ruin your whole day by asking you the same question you have avoided answering. Can't avoid it in person."

Roy growls, and his glare intensifies. Most people would probably hesitate to continue. Or even hurry to leave. Not his sister. She was used to Roy's behavior decades ago. Roy would kill for his sister. Die for Phoebe. And he'd do it happily. She knew that.

"Roy, you can't just ignore your feelings forever." She holds a hand up to stop whatever argument he was about to make. "You can, and you probably would. I know you, Roy. I know that you-"

"Don't," he cautions. She sighs.

"You might think that you're hurting just yourself here, but you're not. And that's not fair to anyone." She doesn’t drop specific names because she doesn’t want to risk anyone hearing the specifics. And she knows there isn't any point in pushing more now. "And I know you don't actually want to hurt him. You'll make the right call eventually." She grins. Before heading in the direction of the tunnel out to the pitch.

"You're lucky that you're my sister," he growls when he catches up to her.

"And that you love us, I know," she bumps her shoulder against his. He hums more than he grunts for once as he walks. He gives into that voice in the back of his head that he used to always ignore when in public, even if it's just the dog track on a training day. He puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her into a half hug as they walk. God, she might be a pain in the arse, but he loved his sister and her kid. He may have smiled just a little as she returned the gesture.

"You know I'm just trying to look out for you. Like you always do us," she says as they walk out of the tunnel toward the pitch. "You may think you're happy now, just think how much better it could be."

"You spend too much time with Keeley, and she spends too much time with Ted and Rebecca," he laments.

"I'm just glad we finally get to spend time with your friends. Richmond really has brought the best out of that boy from Chelsea that kicked Brock Lorens' arse at the commons."

"Do it again, too," Roy grunts. "Fucking deserved it."

"He was a bellend," she grins.

"He gave you a black eye. That's not a bellend. That's a fucker with a death wish."

"Who has a death wish now?" Ted asks as they reach them. Roy drops his arm as they do. "Hey there, Doc." Ted greets her.

"Coach Lasso, Crimm," she nods. "Coach Beard." He responds with a nod.

She turns her attention back to Ted as he speaks. "Glad to see you outside the ER, or is it ED here? Heh, that always sounds so odd to me. ED means something very different where I'm from," Ted says. "Probably just nice to get out of those scrubs. Those always seemed so starchy," he continues earning an amused look from her and a growl from Roy.

"It is nice to meet in a less sterile but just as chaotic environment," she says. Her brother has warned her to pretty much ignore most of what Ted Lasso says. She looks out to where Phoebe has seemed to draw the attention of most of the Richmond team. "Hopefully, my daughter hasn't caused too much commotion."

"Aw, the boys could always use a bit of a break," Ted assures her. "No harm, no foul."

She chuckles as a player, one she recognizes as Dani Rojas gives Phoebe a bear hug that lifts her feet off the ground. Phoebe's laughter carried across the pitch. Her brother grunts. She knew she was pushing it the longer they hung around. Her brother used to keep his professional and personal lives separate. Didn't like the way his teammates would look at her. This team was different. He seemed to trust them a lot more. And she could seem to see why. But she was still playing a dangerous game, treading on her brother's nerves. He takes his job very seriously, and they were disrupting it.

"Should probably let you lot get back to it."

"Well, go on, coach," Ted says to Roy. "Know you want to."

His sister is smart enough to step away. Moving closer to Ted and Beard. Doesn't even flinch when Roy shouts. "Oi! This is training, not a fucking playdate! Put her down and get back to your fucking drills!” She just shakes her head.

"Been dying to ask," Ted keeps his voice low as he leans towards her. "He always been like that?"

"He's been Roy Fucking Kent since the day he was born," she says with a grin. "But he has his moments. You can say he was a very protective older brother. Don't know why I said was. Still very much is."

"Like dealing with whoever had that death wish?" Ted asks, low tone forgotten.

"Fuckin' Lorens. I'd smash his face in if he showed that ugly mug around here," Roy grumbles.

"Again?" His sister smirks.

"Yes, again. Fucking twat." Roy growls.

Ted looked between the Kent siblings. "That bad, huh?"

"No one lays a hand on either one of them if they want to keep it," Roy states.

"What did you tell his mates the next day when they threatened to go to the teachers?" She grins.

"To fucking do it," Roy says. "That I'd give them a detailed list of every fucking thing they'd ever done to any kid in her class."

"He then listed them, chronologically accurate."

"Then told those fucks that if they even breathed at my sister wrong, their teeth would be in the pavement."

"Wow," was all Ted could say.

"So yes, Coach Lasso, I can assure you, he has always been some version of this Roy Fucking Kent."

"Fucking, right," Roy says.

"And yes, I got more first aid training patching up his sorry arse after fights than I did in medical school."

*-*-*-*

(Earlier during training…)

Jamie’s head snapped up when the pitch goes quiet. He had stopped to stretch out an annoying knot in his hamstring. The striker wondered why drills had stopped despite no whistle. Not even Roy’s shout of it. He looked up at his teammates, Sam and Jan being the closest. Sam was grinning. Then something collides with his back. He immediately tensed up until small arms snaked around his neck. Jamie let out the breath he was holding and huffs a laugh.

“Just gonna run right out an’ tackle me, Phoebs?” Jamie laughs.

“Keeley says you like hugs,” Phoebe says in his ear.

“Especially, Phoebe-shaped ones,” he says with a nod. He reaches around with one arm to anchor her to him as he shifts to stand up. Earning a few curious looks from his teammates. Jamie couldn’t have possibly cared less. When he is on his feet, he reaches up with his other arm to keep hers secure around his neck. He spins her around. She laughs. It’s an infectious noise that causes a few of his teammates to chuckle. When he stops, Phoebe giggles and says she’s dizzy now. He goes to let her down, but her grip only tightens. He can’t help but smile.

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone got sick on the pitch,” Sam says.

“Roy would love that,” Colin says as he and others join them, all of training seemingly unofficially put on hold.

“Speakin’ of,” Jamie starts as he makes exaggerated motions as he turns to look around. Phoebe laughs as he swings her around. “Where is the grumpy prick?” Jamie asks having not seen the man. Phoebe giggles, but before she can chastise him for his language, he adds, “Yeah, I know, it’s a bad word, innit? Pay ya next time.” His teammates laugh. He feels her nod more than sees it.

“Mum said she needed to talk to him and that I could come say hi,” Phoebe tells him.

“Well, hi,” Jamie says.

“Hi,” she laughs.

“Say hi to the lads, Phoebs,” Jamie grins.

“Hi lads,” she parrots, earning amused greetings from the now bigger group of players.

“You here for more than Jamie hugs?” Sam asks.

“Do you want a hug?” Phoebe asks, and the others laugh.

"I did not mean-" Sam starts to say but is cut off by Jamie.

“I’m sure the lads wouldn’t turn one down,” Jamie grins. Phoebe shifts, and Jamie lets her down. Sam does indeed accept a hug. A few of the others do too. Dani Rojas makes her laugh by picking her up off her feet and swinging her around.

“Oi!” They hear from the side of the pitch. “This is training, not a fucking playdate! Put her down and get back to your fucking drills!”

“Sorry, Uncle Roy,” Phoebe says at the same time the others say, “Yes, Coach.” Jamie just huffs, scoops her up and jogs them over, and sets Phoebe down on the sideline by her mom and uncle.

"Lovely as ever, Doc," Jamie winks, greeting Roy's sister.

"Charming as always, Tartt," she returns. Roy growls. "Alright. Steady on," she says, patting Roy's arm. "Say goodbye to Jamie and the coaches, Phoe."

"Bye, Jamie. Bye, Coach and Coach." She hugs Roy. "Bye, Uncle Roy."

"See you this weekend," Roy tells her as he hugs her back.

"Think about what I said," his sister says in a low tone to Roy, glancing at Jamie as she does. Jamie gives her a confused look, but she just grins as she pulls away. "Laters team," she says louder to the group. She takes Phoebe's hand and leaves.

*-*-*-*

“She’s gonna be a heartbreaker that gets legs broken,” Isaac says to the group as they watch the interaction on the sidelines.

“And that’d be the lucky ones Coach likes,” Colin adds.

“Not just Coach,” Sam mutters.

“Nah, Tartt would aim for faces,” Isaac says. “Kent would make sure no one’s walking away, but Tartt knows too well how they think. No helpin’ the ones that break her heart.”

“Make the outside match the inside,” Colin nods. “Break her heart, and they’ll be lucky if those two break their face.” A few of the players grimace, and the others nod in agreement.

“Fucking get to it, or you’re all running laps til I say so!” Roy shouts.

Jamie shakes his head as he joins them. “Might want to hustle, lads,” Jamie smirks. “As soon as she’s gone, he’ll run ya til you’re the ones sick on the pitch.”

“Yeah, alright,” Isaac says. “Back to it.”

They all head back to drills.

*-*-*-*

Roy is not surprised, but still annoyed, to find Jamie waiting for him after training. The locker room is empty but for Jamie. Roy resists the urge to go back into the office, but he knows Jamie would just keep waiting. Jamie was already in his street clothes, scrolling through his phone, and sitting like the fucking prick never learned how to properly use a chair.

"What the fuck are you still doing here?" Roy asks.

"Took ya long enough," Jamie says, getting to his feet. "So your sister-"

"Don't even think about it, Tartt," Roy growls.

Jamie holds his hands up at the sheer rage in Roy's tone, but he doesn't flinch or back away. "I wasn't gonna say anything like that, fuckin hell."

"Then what?"

"Just wonderin' why they dropped by. Not usually her thing," Jamie says. "Gotta be important to drop by in person, no text or shit."

Roy knew he had a point. He'd been concerned himself when Phoebe had run up to him. The only reason he hadn't been scared shitless that something was wrong was that no one was in tears, or as much as in tears that any of the Kents get. That image was seared in his brain from when that no good waste of space ex of hers left them.

"They're fine," Roy says as they head out to the car park.

"So we don't need to hide a body or slash any tires?" Jamie asks. If Roy didn't know any better, he would have thought Jamie sounded disappointed. When Roy doesn't say anything, Jamie looks up at him. "What?" Jamie asks. "Phoebe seemed fine, so I thought maybe-"

"Since when do you have thoughts about my sister? Since when do you have thoughts?!"

Jamie rolls his eyes. "Excuse me for giving a shit about your life and family."

Roy sighs. "Phoebe is fine. My sister, she is fine. She has to work a double this weekend and needs someone to watch Phoebe."

"I can-"

"No, you cannot," Roy stops walking as he reaches his car. "You have a match."

"So do you, Coach," Jamie counters.

"Well aware," Roy says. "She'll be in the box with Keeley."

"She'll love that," Jamie grins.

"Like I said, they're fine, so go home, Tartt."

*-*-*-*

"There she is!" Jamie says, picking Phoebe up in a hug and setting her feet on the bench so she was out of the usual chaos of the locker room. He glanced around. Everyone was still riding the high of winning the match. "Have fun with Keeley in the owner's box?"

"Yes!" Phoebe was quick to answer. Jamie did his best to keep her focus on him. He usually wouldn't give a shit about his team's manners. Even when it was Keeley or Ms. Welton in the room, Phoebe is 8. She's an innocent kid.

"Tell me about it," he says as he puts on a new shirt. Thankful that Keeley must have timed it so most of them would be wrapping up in the locker room by the time Phoebe got there. She starts telling him all about watching the game.

"You scored a goal!" Phoebe beams at him. Jamie can't help but smile.

Cockburn chuckles as he closes his cubby.

"Colin did, too," Jamie says.

"Keeley said you helped then, too," Phoebe says.

"That's what teammates do, Phoebs, you know that. You play on your own team."

"Less fun now that Uncle Roy coaches you," she says. A chorus of awws has Jamie looking over his shoulder. A few of the players were hovering.

"I'm sure your uncle misses coaching you, too," Sam says as he approaches.

"Richmond pays better," Jan states. "Would be silly to pick a children's league over-"

"Fuck off, Jan Maas," Jamie grumbles. "She's 8, and he still coaches her team when he can."

"Jamie…" Phoebe says, and she holds out her hand. Jamie feigns annoyance as he moves around the edge of the bench. He does reach up and put a hand on her arm to make sure she doesn't get knocked off balance by his movements. He gets his wallet out of his bag and hands her the money. She gestures again. He rolls his eyes and more money that he owes her from training.

"Good," Phoebe smiles. The teammates around him laugh. Phoebe clearly had Jamie wrapped around her finger.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Jamie tells them. "She'll get you, too, if you don't watch your language." He grins at Phoebe. "Still think you should cash Uncle Roy's debt in for a pony," he says with a wink.

"Better!" Dani says excitedly. "A puppy."

"How is a puppy better than a pony? I thought most little girls wanted a pony." Sam asks.

"You watch too many movies," Colin says. "Kitten, get a kitten. Less maintenance for your poor ma."

"Just what she needs, a grumpy black cat to match her grumpy and gloomy uncle," Jamie grins.

"Maybe smaller l, like a guinea pig or a-"

"No one is getting her a pet," Roy grunts.

"Uncle Roy!" She reaches out for him from where she stands on the bench. Half the team looks like they are about to try and catch her if she falls. Sam actually reaches out.

"Mate, she's 8 and plays football. She's fine," Jamie rolls his eyes but grins. She's safer in this locker room than probably anywhere else.

Roy steps up into the spot Jamie had been in before he moved over to the other side of the bench.

"Uh huh," Sam says. "And yet you braced her when you rounded the bench."

"He did put her up there," Dani points out.

"Fewer elbows and…other things in her eye line up there," Jamie says. "I'm not driving her to therapy."

"You would," both Sam and Dani laugh.

Roy shakes his head and looks at Phoebe. "Ready to go?" He asks.

"Keeley said we could get ice cream," She says. Roy is not surprised.

"If Keeley said so," Roy states. Earning a few murmurs from the room. Roy growls. Phoebe seems unphased.

"Can Jamie come too?" She asks.

"Yeah, coach, can Jamie come too?" Jamie smirks as he leans against the divider between his and Canterbury's compartments. Roy ignores him.

"You can ask him yourself, Phoebe. He's your friend, apparently."

"I still think he's your best friend," Phoebe says. Yeah, Roy left the door open for that one. That was on him.

"Yet he says it’s Isaac," Roy attempts to deflect the attention her statement got him.

"You wish," Isaac laughs.

"Get your own best friend, Tartt," Colin agrees.

"That's just ridiculous. It's clearly, Sam. Did you not see the international matches?" Reynolds says.

"He can have more than one best friend, can't he?" Dani asks. "I do."

"Of course you do," Jamie chuckles as he makes sure he has everything he needs to leave. He looks up and when Phoebe calls his name.

"Want to get ice cream with us, Jamie?" He glances at Roy. Roy rolls his eyes and shrugs.

"O' course, Phoebs," Jamie says. His smile softens. "Love to."

"Then get your arse moving, don't have all damn night." Roy helps Phoebe off the bench, and they head out the door.

"She's right," Sam says. "They're clearly best friends."

Everyone in the locker room murmurs in agreement.

"Is Tartt with her mum or something?" Someone asks.

"God no," Sam says. "He'd be dead if was."

"Fair point," Isaac says.

"But Jamie Tartt isn't the old Jamie Tartt," Dani counters.

"Yeah," Colin says. "But Roy Kent is still Roy Kent. He'd have destroyed Tartt for that."

"He has threatened to kill Tartt for a lot less," Sam admits.

"Yeah," the others agree.

*-*-*-*

"Glare any harder, and you might melt the cone with the heat of it," Keeley nudges Roy as she says it. Roy blinks before looking over at her. She is obviously amused by how he is acting.

"How is this not weird to you?" Roy says in a harsh whisper. Glancing over at where Phoebe is knocking around a balled-up wrapper as a ball on the tabletop nearby. She and Jamie had been seeing how long they could keep it going without it hitting the floor. It gets oddly competitive when it shifts to who can get it between two napkin dispensers more while not letting their ice cream melt. It only got worse once their ice cream was gone. Though Roy found it as funny as Phoebe did when Jamie got a brain freeze from it.

"It's like minding two children," Roy complains.

"Would you rather have to entertain her yourself?" Keeley asks. Roy just grunts. Phoebe cheers when she lands her last shot.

"Well played," Jamie grins and looks over at Roy. "Almost done, old man?" Roy has to resist making an inappropriate comeback. There are children, not just Phoebe, around. And normally, Roy doesn't give a fuck what people think about him. But he wasn’t actually that upset about anything. Jamie had actually gone out of his way to look after Phoebe in the locker room. He'd watched them through the window in the office while talking to Beard about the match. He could tell Jamie was trying to keep her focus on him and not the room full of half-dressed footballers. And in the past, he might have thought he was just being an attention needing twat, but Jamie had been keeping track of who was where in the room. Keeping himself between her and the rest of the room. So he'd give him a bit more leeway. And Keeley was right. Phoebe was having fun. They still have another day to keep her busy. Having Jamie keep her busy for a bit hasn't done any harm. Instead of saying anything, he just finishes his ice cream cone and gets up. He holds a hand out to Keeley, and she takes it as she gets up. "Let's go."

"Thanks for the invite," Jamie says to Phoebe as they walk back to Nelson Road. Jamie giving her a piggyback ride. She smiles, shifting so she can pat his head. He laughs. So does Keeley. "You too, granddad." He says to Roy when the laughter dies down. Roy does roll his eyes at that. Roy wonders how this became his life. And that thought made him wonder if this was a good thing or a bad thing. His gut reaction is, of course, it's bad. Jamie is the king prick of pricks. But he knows that's not true anymore. Jamie had picked to go with them to ice cream instead of the club to celebrate with the team. Jamie'd rather spend his time entertaining Roy's 8-year-old niece at an ice cream parlor while Roy and Keeley enjoyed their own treats than party with the boys. Or even find a casual hook-up like the old Jamie would probably do. No. Instead, he was carrying a sugar-fueled child on his back despite it being less than an hour out from playing a full football match. Roy's knee would have been protesting if it was him. They stop when they reach Keeley's car.

"What are you doing now?" Phoebe asks Jamie when he lets her down.

"He should go home. Rest and recover," Roy says.

"Not going to join the team at the club?" Keeley asks.

He shrugs. "Just going to head home. Catch up on something streaming."

"Nothing fun?" Phoebe asks.

"You heard Coach Uncle Roy," he grinned. "Gotta recover."

Phoebe gives him a hug, and he heads to his car.

*-*-*-*

After Phoebe is down for the night, Keeley hands Roy a beer. "You going to tell me what is going on, or am I going to have to just wait it out until you crack up?"

Roy considers ignoring her question, but he knows she will just bring it up again later.

"Just something my sister has been bothering me about," he says.

"Do I get specifics, or am I just to go off that vague nothing of a sentence?"

Roy huffs. "She's been on my case about Jamie."

"What about Jamie?" That piqued her interest. "Does your sister want to shag Jamie Tartt?"

"Fuck off." He cringes at the idea. "I hope not."

"Okay, then what is she on about?"

Roy has not been able to figure out how to say that part out loud. Especially to Keeley. They are barely back together, and Jamie is her ex. She still cares for Jamie, and Jamie has never denied he still loves Keeley in one way or another. Jamie maintains he's glad the two got back together. He had told Roy he was a dumb fuck of an old man and even dumber than Jamie himself was for dumping Keeley. Roy had agreed with at least part of Jamie's assessment on that. He had fucked up by pushing Keeley away. But Jamie had been there to keep Roy out of his head. Even if he was just pushing his buttons to give him a vent for his frustration. Filing the silence in training with annoying factoids that seemed infuriating at the time, but looking back, were just keeping his mind focused on something else. Roy hadn't realized how much he had leaned on Jamie. He had gotten to the point he'd started noticing stupid little things that Jamie would appreciate when Jamie wasn’t even around. Whether it was some stupid video on the internet or someone else's fuck up that he knew they could both find amusing. Fuck this was frustrating to think about. His mind had been drifting more and more to Jamie Tartt during the quiet moments of his life.

"Roy?" Keeley shakes his shoulders. He grunts. "Now I know something is up. Spill it."

Roy growls, not at her but at his own stupidity. Keeley just waits him out.

So he tells her about his sister's visit to Nelson Road. About how she had been questioning him about his feelings for Jamie since Uncle's day. Keeley is damn near giddy by the time he finishes talking.

"You love Jamie," she grins.

"I love you," he counters.

"And Jamie!"

"Would you fucking shut it," he hisses. He glances over at the stairs and silently waits to see if he hears Phoebe. Keeley glares at him. And he knows he fucked up. That had been too harsh. "Sorry, that was-"

"A bit harsh, yeah?" She takes a pull of her drink. "You're lucky I love you."

"I am," he admits. "But I'd rather not Phoebe hear this."

"But you haven't denied you love Jamie."

Roy groans, rubbing his eyes.

"You can't, can you?" Keeley grins. "You can love more than one person. The heart is a bitch like that."

"Keeley," he grumbles.

"You aren't the only one," she admits.

"What?" Roy asks.

"It's like…” she starts to explain. “He's kept all the sweet things I genuinely enjoyed when I was him and grew out of most, if not all, the bad bits."

"He's changed so much," Roy agrees. "And I don't know if that's endearing or infuriating."

"Well, you love him, so clearly, you have your answer."

"You just admitted you still love him too."

"Yeah, but I loved him before. It's new for you."

"Well, what the fuck are we going to do about it?" He asks.

"Honestly?"

"Yes," he growls.

"Drag him to the bed and settle it the fun ways," she says, taking a drink.

"Fuck off," Roy growls.

"I'm serious, babe," Keeley says. "He went to get ice cream instead of clubbing with the fellas. He asked if he needed to help you murder someone. He'd risk his career for you. He is ready and waiting for you at insane hours of the day already. He had a poster of you in his room as a kid. Admitted he loved watching you play. He still looks at you like you're his hero. Like he can't believe you would let him have even a fraction of your time and attention. Roy, he cares what you think. He lights up like the sun when you tell him he did a good job. Can you really not see how much he wants your approval? Your attention? Good or bad, he lives for it."

Roy has to look away as she speaks. That was a hell of a list. How has he missed it all?

"So you think he'd-" he slowly starts to say.

"If we texted him right now,” she interrupts him. “I guarantee he'd be here in minutes. If you asked him to do anything, he would."

"I doubt that," Roy vocalizes the little voice in his brain. The one that doubts most everything.

"Fine, I'll prove it." She grabs her phone and starts typing a message.

"What are you-"

"There. Done," she sends a message.

"What did you just do?" Roy asks, dread pooling in his stomach.

"Invited him tomorrow night," She says.

He is slightly relieved she hadn't invited him to come round now.

*-*-*-*

Jamie has the worst timing when not on the pitch. During training, during a match, he is a master at timing shots. He knows when and where to strike. As for his life outside the pitch, that has been a mess since, probably forever. Like now, he’s just kicked back on his sofa, tv on for mostly just background noise as he scrolls through social media and other sites on his phone. The match had been good. He was sending some of the best reactions and headlines to the team chat as he does. He had just taken a drink because Roy would probably kill him if he didn’t hydrate when he got a text from Keeley. He opened it and choked on his drink. He ended up coughing so hard his eyes watered. She told him to come round tomorrow night. That they had something important to talk to him about. Jamie’s chest hurts, and it isn’t entirely from the coughing fit he just had. Did he do something wrong? He thought they had a good time earlier, and it wasn’t even an inappropriate or raunchy good time. It was kid friendly. He kept Phoebe happy and safe. Isn’t that like Roy’s number one priority? Always. And Jamie is happy to help with that. Did he do too much? Or is it the whole locker room thing? She had found him there. He’d kept her from seeing anything she’d need therapy to forget. Was it something he didn’t do? The lads wouldn’t mess with her. They fear Roy far too much. But Roy didn’t scare him as much as he might have in the past. But fear wasn't his motivating factor for once. Jamie wanted to look after Phoebe because she was just a kid. She deserved to feel safe and happy. Roy might hate that Phoebe’s dad is not in the picture, but Jamie knows there are worse things than an absent father. An abusive one that resents your very existence. One that you can’t get away from. A dad like that is something he hopes Phoebe never has to even think about. He hopes her friends, classmates, teammates, all of them never have to go through what Jamie did. What Jamie still has to deal with. But Phoebe has Roy, at least. She doesn’t need a father. She has her mother. She has her Uncle Roy. She even has Keeley and now Jamie. The more people in her corner is a good thing, right? So it can’t be about all that, right? Then what else could it be? It’s Keeley, so it’s probably not about the match or training. He looks at the message again. He probably is taking too long to respond. So he sends her a message saying he’d be there and sets his phone on the table. So much for rest and recovery. He knows his dumb brain is not going to let this go.

*-*-*-*

"Phoebe go home?" Jamie asks when Keeley lets him in.

"Yeah, disappointed?" Keeley asks.

Jamie shrugs, aiming for nonchalant but coming off as anxious and a bit exhausted.

"Roy's in there," she gestures past the stairs to the living room. Jamie still seems to hesitate. "I'm right behind you, babe."

Roy notices it immediately. Something was not right with Jamie. That was clear as day as Jamie made his way into Keeley’s living room. The striker looked more exhausted now than he had when they watched him leave the Nelson Road car park.

“Are you okay?” Keeley finally asks as she follows the younger man.

Jamie waves it off. "I'm fine," he insists.

“Don't exactly look it. You end up out with the team after you left?” Roy asks.

“Nah, went home, just shit sleep,” Jamie attempts to shrug it off as nothing. He was not going to tell them his brain was thinking of a million ways this conversation could end badly for him. "Been worse, yeah?"

“Nightmares?” Keeley asks. Jamie shakes his head.

“It wasn’t your dad was it?” Roy asks. One of these days he was going to make James Tartt, Sr. pay for what he's done. All the shit he put his son through. That line of thinking is cut off for now as Jamie speaks.

“Wasn’t him. Wasn’t anyone, really. It’s nothin’,” he insists. “You’re the ones with something important to discuss.” Keeley looks at Roy before looking back to Jamie. Her brows furrow.

“How about tea,” Roy says before turning toward the kitchen. "Already started, shouldn't take long."

Keeley drags Jamie to the sofa and makes him sit as Roy leaves the room. She sits beside him. She frowns again when he puts more space between them by moving to the end of the sofa. Or at least as far as he can with her insane amount of throw pillows. That doesn't sit well with her. He looks so uneasy. Jamie used to act like he owned the place when he came over. Sure he was less of a prick the last few times, but this was not even how the new Jamie usually was with her. “Jamie…were you worried about this?” She gestures between Jamie and herself. "About this talk?" Jamie doesn’t answer beyond a shrug. "You aren’t in trouble or anything, babe.”

“I didn’t say that I thought I was,” Jamie tries to argue. His guard was up. He didn't want to feel stupid or look weak having worried over something this…well he wouldn't say insignificant. She had said it was important.

“Didn’t say you didn’t either,” Keeley counters. And he knew she had him there. The old part of Jamie that still pops up in his brain sometimes tells him to play it off as if he didn’t actually care. Or to just be a prick. But he doesn’t really want to do that. He’s not going to turn it on her and make her feel bad because his brain jumps to worst-case scenarios. He sighs and leans back until his head is resting on the back of the sofa, and he’s staring at the ceiling.

“Sorry,” He says but avoids looking at her. “You said it was important, and my brain ran with it.”

“Jamie,” she shifts, half kneeling on the sofa, and bracing her hand on his shoulder to try and get him to look at her. “Yes, what we want to talk about is important. But it's not bad.” “So I didn’t do something wrong, didn’t fuck anything up yesterday?” She goes to run her fingers through his hair to soothe him but she stops when she feels him tense up as he speaks.

“What?” Roy asks as he sets down a tray with steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table. “Match was a win. You played well, and went for ice cream. What would you have fucked up?”

“That’s what I couldn’t figure out,” Jamie admits, finally looking at them.

“So you’re saying you got a text from us, saying we wanted to talk to you about something,” Roy starts as he hands Jamie his tea.

“Important. Something important.” Jamie adds as he takes the mug.

“Okay, something important. And you assumed we were mad at you for something?” Roy is still trying to figure out where this is coming from.

“I mean, you’re usually mad about something,” Jamie states. “Wouldn't be you if you weren’t.”

Keeley tries not to grin but fails. Roy grunts. “Fair enough.”

“But I’m not,” Keeley says.

“Usually are with me, and that’s fair. I’ve fucked up a lot since you’ve known me,” Jamie counters.

“That was before,” Keeley says without hesitation. “That was a very different you, babe. Nowadays, you’re more likely to apologize for something you had zero control over than for something you actually did. And that’s assuming you’d have anything to actually apologize for in the first place.”

“Which you don’t,” Roy reiterates. “You train your arse off and barely complain about it anymore. You look after your mates. Keep ‘em in line if needed. You spent yesterday holding court for a stadium full of people and who knows how many more on live tv, then entertaining an 8-year-old at an ice cream parlor. How could I be mad at you?”

“You’re Roy fuckin Kent. Ya can usually find something,” Jamie states.

“Well, I’m not. Got it?” Roy says. “I’m not mad. But I will be if you keep being a prick.”

“Roy,” Keeley glares at him.

“What? I don’t want to be mad about anything, not right now, at least. Not with what we were going to talk about. Anxious, of fucking course. Angry, no.”

“Why are you anxious if it isn’t a bad thing?” Jamie asks. Now clearly confused.

“Because what we are going to ask you is not something people would consider normal,” Keeley answers.

“Not bad, but not normal?” Jamie tries to sort it out.

“Exactly. It’s unconventional, but could be fun,” Keeley grins, moving back to start carding her fingers through his longer hair. Ever since he had grown it out her fingers had itched to touch it. Style it. Just feel Jamie melt under her touch again as her nails scrape his scalp. This time, he lets her. He holds himself back from going completely to mush under her touch, but he doesn't fight how comforting it is. Keeley and Roy see it as a win. She can help but smile at them.

“So? What is it?” Jamie has to ask, his tone and his body language now showing he is less guarded and much more comfortable.

Keeley and Roy exchange a look.

“You want to say it or…” Keeley initiates.

“Don’t look at me,” Roy huffs. “This was your idea.”

“And you agreed to it,” Keeley insists.

“Because you-”

“Seems a bit bad if you can’t even say it,” Jamie points out. “Gonna keep going roundabout all night? If so, might need to order takeaway at this rate.”

Roy glares at him, but the prick has a point. He takes a drink if his tea to stall for time.

“We want you to join us,” Keeley says.

“Join you where? I’m already here,” Jamie says, his mind is too distracted by the feel of her fingers along his scalp to look deeper at Keeley's statement.

Roy rolls his eyes. Sometimes he forgets how direct you have to be with Jamie. Subtlety and nuance are often lost on Jamie Tartt. He is a genius on the pitch. And he knows a lot of shit about topic Roy couldn’t even imagine knowing anything about. But sometimes, he misses the obvious points. And as frustrating as it might be at times, Roy still finds himself wanting to protect this one particular idiot more than any other and help him. Teach him. Fuck, Roy was absolutely lost on Jamie fucking Tartt. Unfortunately, he, too, had been anxious about this conversation all damn day and was on his last nerve.

“For fuck’s sake, Tartt,” Roy sighs.

“What did I do?” Jamie starts to get defensive, pulling away from Keeley to look better at Roy.

“Steady on,” Keeley levels Roy with a serious look. She puts a hand on Jamie’s chest. “We mean with us, like in our relationship, not just at our place physically.”

Jamie is pretty sure his brain has short circuited. He cannot have heard what he thinks he just did. He looks back and forth between the two of them. “You…you’re serious?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Keeley says, smiling at him. Roy nods, hesitant to say anything that might ruin anything. He’s screwed up his relationships too many times. He’ll leave this to Keeley.

“Me?” Jamie asks. “You want me…”

“Yes,” Keeley affirms.

“You both do?”

“Yes,” Keeley repeats. “We both do, right, Roy?” She looks at Roy, eyes pleading for him to at least act like he isn’t a total prick.

Roy grunts but adds. “Wouldn’t have brought it up if we didn’t.”

“Like a one-time thing or…" Jamie says. He still can’t believe it.

“Fuck off,” Roy grimaces.

Keeley shifts so she has both hands on Jamie’s chest. “No, Jamie. Not a one-time thing. Because I miss you, Jamie. I miss being with you. And Roy, he…” She looks at Roy.

“Fuck it,” Roy grumbles before sitting in the seat Keeley was practically out of. Pulls her on his lap before gripping the back of Jamie’s neck and pulling him into his side before slotting their lips together. Jamie is almost too stunned to react.

“Jesus, Roy, warn a girl first,” Keeley says. “And let the man agree to it before you inhale his face. He may not slap you with an assault charge, but-” She’s cut off when Jamie pulls her into a hug.

“I missed you,” Jamie admits.

“So, is that a yes?” Keeley asks, her tone filled with hope and only a little muffled by his shoulder.

“Of fucking course, that’s a yes,” Jamie laughs. “I might be a bit daft, but I’m not a complete numpty.”

“You’re not daft,” Keeley says. She leans back enough to put a hand on his face. “You’re brilliant.”

“You might not be a fucking rocket scientist, but she’s not wrong. Selling yourself short, Tartt. On the pitch, you’re a fucking genius. Off the pitch, you know the most insane shit I couldn’t even pretend to know.”

Jamie ducks his head to hide the blush dusting his cheeks.

"So adorable," Keeley coos.

"That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me," Jamie murmurs, glancing at Roy.

"Don't get used to it," Roy grumbles.

"Or do," Keeley kisses Jamie's still pink cheek. "He's lying. He knows you thrive on praise."

Roy grunts. "No one would believe you if you tell anyone."

Jamie actually laughs at that. And Roy would die before he admits it out loud, but he loves that sound.

"This is really happening, innit?” Jamie asks. “I didn’t smash my face during the match and am in so fucked up coma dream, or like some head trauma hallucination, right?”

“Well, then we’d be figments of your imagination, so how would we know?” Roy points out.

Keeley elbows Roy in the ribs, earning her a grunt. “You aren’t hallucinating or dreaming.”

Roy pinches Jamie’s side. Jamie yelps and pulls away. “Real enough?” Roy smirks.

“Not nice,” Keeley glares at Roy. She takes the opportunity to slip her hand under Jamie’s pullover and shirt to gently run her hand along the spot Roy had pinched. Jamie’s breath hitches, and he melts into her touch. She grins, “There’s my good boy.” Jamie groans.

“That really does the trick, doesn’t it?” Roy laughs. Jamie glares at him, but Roy just laughs harder. He’d seen Jamie’s glare make people flinch. But this one had no heat to it. It was a bluff. Clearly, he was enjoying himself too much to really be pissed. When the glare fails, Jamie pouts a bit. And Roy bites back a sigh.

“Fuck off with that pout,” Roy growls. He reaches over and pulls Jamie back to where he was before he pulled away. “This is a good thing, remember?” He reminds him as he tugs on the back of Jamie’s pullover until Keeley helps take it off of him. His shirt is quick to follow. Jamie nods. Keeley kisses him as her hands roam his chest and abs. She swallows his moan.

“Didn’t hear you, Tartt?” Roy teases as his own hands reach out and touch. Skin he’d been dying to touch for longer than he would ever admit to every time he saw Jamie in the locker room.

“Very,” Jamie breathlessly admits.

“Good,” Roy nods. “Because this is just the start of what we have planned for you.”

“Fuck yeah,” Jamie says. “Let’s go.” Keeley laughs as Roy pulls him in for a kiss.

“Fucking hot,” Keeley says as she watches them. “We gonna move this upstairs or what?”

Roy pulls back and gets a good look at both Jamie and Keeley. “Inna minute,” he says, and he grips the back of his own shirt. Keeley shifts over into Jamie’s lap so Roy can get his shirt off. Jamie happily accepts her and frees her from her own shirt.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Jamie says before moving his lips to the skin below her ear and along her jaw. He wasn’t exactly a selfish lover in the past, and he wasn’t a religious man, but he’d thank any deity listening for the chance to have her back in his life like this. Roy being there was just icing on the cake.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Roy admits.

"She really is," Jamie murmurs against her neck.

"I meant both of you, you fucking prick," Roy reaches up and cards his fingers through Jamie's hair. "Those pretty fucking lips of yours."

"Thought I was an ugly, ugly boy, with bad hair?" Jamie smirks.

"Fuck you," Roy growls as he pretty much attacks Jamie's lips with his own.

"That's why I said we should go upstairs," Keeley says from where she is sandwiched between the two very shirtless fucking fit men. "Although I'm not complainin'." She runs her nails along Roy's abs making him moan into Jamie's mouth. Jamie took advantage of it and deepened the kiss. But Keeley wasn't done being cheeky. She grins as she grinds down on Jamie's already tented clothed lap. A shock of pleasure runs down the striker's spine and he moans loudly. His arm snakes around her torso to hold her tighter. The other goes up to the back of Roy's neck. Fingers gripping tight like if he lets go it will all just vanish. Roy growls.

"Oh, that was a fun one," Keeley giggles.

"Upstairs." Roy growls. "Now."

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non-un-topo · 11 months

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No one talks about this so here's a small reminder to keep your eyes on your own plate. If a skinny person is refusing food, it does not necessarily mean a) they have a restrictive eating disorder or b) they are calling you fat. Mind your business.

#food tw #ed mention #i think about this a lot because i've been having a lot of health issues #and just yesterday i was diagnosed with something to do with my stomach. and i am a skinny person.#i can't tell you the amount of times i've refused something that will undoubtedly irritate my stomach -#- and the people around me (always women bc they're taught to hate themselves) always say 'oh i shouldn't either actually'#or they tell me their whole life story like 'yeah i actually can't eat a lot in the morning either' 'i have trouble finishing sandwiches'#and????? congratulations?? like it's none of my business and what i eat is none of your business so..?#it really is annoying and i don't want to be that skinny person who complains but no one talks about this.#i'm not this way by choice. but if i was that also shouldn't matter. i'm not judging you by refusing food??#literally eat whatever you want. all food is food. i don't subscribe to the 'pure' or 'good' food bs. don't involve me bc i'm thin.#((disclaimer. i very much know how ED brain works and i'm very aware of how low self-esteem works and screws with your head.))

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transwhorefinn · 2 years

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I think we should talk about how Chip’s words are borderline s**cidal

“I’m just another bastard, I never should’ve existed”

Like….

I’m extremely concerned…

#jrwi #genuine concern for my boy like omfg #it’s the narcissistic behavior turns out to be a facade for severe self esteem issues and severe depression #he’s getting way too relatable and hitting way too close to home now like omfgg #jrwi riptide #just roll with it #chip jrwi #jrwi chip #chip lastname #jrwi spoilers #tw sui ideation #cw sui mention #cw sui ideation

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schrijverr · 1 year

Text

Shapest Tool in the Shed

A look into Eliot and how he views himself, his past and his intelligence.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: suicide ideation, self esteem issues, guilt, mentions of violence

~~~~~~~~~

Eliot never graduated high school. He has always looked old for his age and army recruiters with quotas to meet are more than glad to pretend they believe the kid in front of them claiming they’re eighteen.

So, Eliot disappears into the thrum of the army when he is sixteen – sixteen and a half, as Eliot will point out often to his mother back when he still calls home. Though, those calls end quickly, he has nothing to go back to anyway.

Quickly – quicker than someone his age has any right to do – he starts climbing ranks as the missions he gets send on get more and more dangerous. Eliot, however, doesn’t care. He’s proud of himself, of his skills. He might not have been the smartest in school, but he has found something he is good at and he relishes in it.

Joining the army at such a young age means that it is made difficult to develop a conscious. The violence is encouraged, ruthlessness rewarded and death is seen as natural. So, Eliot never really does.

He just moves into ops so special that he’s not even sure the president knows about them, doing things no human should be capable of doing without feeling remorse. There are truly two types of ways to go from there: wetwork or suicide.

Eliot rolls from specialized missions into wetwork with the ease of a seasoned professional at age 23. Seven years he served his country and now he serves his own bank account.

In his time in the army, he was often the youngest on the team and people always treated him like the baby, until they were out there in the field. Eliot had the experience to back himself up and while he might not have known what the hell Einstein or Newton are on about, he picked up enough skills to survive and those are way more valuable.

Those survival skills also include how to remain under the radar. How to function without being seen by the government when they have to be able to deny your existence. It’s knowing how to remain invisible, how to hide money, how to find water and food in the wilderness, what danger to avoid and how to blend in.

Eliot does not view himself as intelligent, but he is smart and he knows what he needs to get the job done. He picks up the skills he needs to survive. It’s either that or get killed, nothing special about it.

It takes him two years to build up a solid reputation in his line of work. Two years of staying out of sight of those that want him in prison and in sight of those that want to pay for his services. Two years before he ends up on Moreau’s radar.

Damien Moreau.

Somehow, it feels unavoidable that he ends up in front of the man. Anyone, who is someone in their business, has heard of Damien Moreau. Every hitter worth something has a job for this man on their resume. It’s been a build up. Something that had been coming for a long time.

So, Eliot finds himself in front of Damien Moreau. He’s still young, no longer naive, but with more confidence in himself than is probably good for him. It’s only much later that he’ll realize that taking his first job for Moreau is the stupidest thing he has ever done in his life.

However, Eliot does not realize that just yet, so he accepts the job from Moreau with a grin on his face, the amount of zero’s behind the number flashing in front of his eyes.

Eliot works together with Moreau for three years. In those three years he gets closer and closer to the man as the jobs he does get more and more brutal. He adapts to the work, growing to feel secure as he succeeds. Soon Eliot Spencer is the best in the business. No one to fear.

Being on top of the game, however, comes with an unforeseen setback. Eliot has never really been the best at something. He was good at a lot of things, physical things. But suddenly, he’ll look at the younger recruits and cringe at their mistakes, mentally mapping out how their behavior is going to get them killed one day.

For Moreau, these are the grunts that will do the less intricate work. He does not care if they live or die. Those who will serve him well, will live, those that will not, won’t.

Eliot then also realizes that he is their leader. He is the one in charge to organize their stings and these kids are the ones, who are supposed to have his back.

If there is one thing the army taught him, it’s that the people you’re attacking with can make or break a mission. Eliot might be skilled, very skilled, but there are certain things he can’t do alone and if these are the ones to have his back, then he’ll be screwed.

He’s going to have to take these kids under his wing and teach them at least basic skills, if they all want to make it to tomorrow.

Taking those kids under his wing backfires in the oddest way.

He starts to feel responsible for them, starts to care about their well being. Starts to care if they die. He has built these kids from the ground up, taught them what they needed to survive and when they don’t, it falls on him to carry that blame.

So, his road to redemption starts selfishly. It’s heartbreakingly in character for him and he’ll hate himself for the rest of time for it. But it is the step he needs.

The first time, one of his men dies on a mission and he feels guilt about not being able to return his body to his family, Eliot knows he is screwed. He hasn’t made the effort to bring a comrade’s body back home since he was 21 years old. He hasn’t cared about anyone dying since he was 22. Now at 28, he’s suddenly thrown back into caring; the emotion foreign to him.

Suddenly, Eliot starts to feel the need to get out. To get away from Damien Moreau and his entire operation. It’s not even that the man asks him to do worse, he has already done his worst and at the time he didn’t care a bit, didn’t flinch at the innocent blood on his hands. It is only in hindsight that he starts to feel sick at his actions.

Sparing the General had been self serving. Eliot might have regained guilt, but he still is a selfish man at heart and the General is his ticket away from Moreau.

So, he gets out.

He flees.

And then he hides. He hides and tries to deal with the fallout of getting slammed out of that disassociative uncaring state he has lived in for many years now and into a life of shame and guilt and fear. A life of revulsion at the person he has become.

Eliot has to find peace in what he has done, knowing he can never undo all the hurt he caused and never repent for all the lives he took. That he can’t go back to that kid from Oklahoma, who thought the army would save him from the horrors of high school.

He also has to come to terms that he never thought he would feel like this. That he had convinced himself he was above what he had seen break so many others in his line of work. Much like leaving the army, those in wetwork had two endings: remain uncaring till death or loose your mind and take your own life.

Right now, he is leaning hard against that second option, the first forcefully taken from him, all by that stupid kid. That kid, who had been so proud the first time he won a fight, who always managed to make a joke despite the danger they went into. Who looked with unseeing eyes and a bullet hole in his head.

But he also knows, that taking his own life, would be a coward’s way out. And Eliot prides himself on not being a coward. He is going to live through this, that he vows. He’s going to make it through and not let Moreau win, not let him take the rest of his life.

However, this is the moment where he realizes that taking that first job for Moreau, has been the stupidest thing that he has ever done.

Not just because of the destructive path the man lead him on, a path Eliot had already been walking before him. But also because Eliot has intertwined all of his being into Moreau’s business and now, he has not a cent to his name and will have to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life. Maybe if he had gotten that diploma, he wouldn’t be here now.

He has no skills next to death and if he wants to see his redemption through, he will need money, a job. Saying yes to the contract to kill again, weighs heavy on him, but he doesn’t see another way to be able to move on.

The compromise he makes himself, is no guns. If he is doing this, he is giving his opponents a fair chance and himself room to get defeated, to take the punishment.

Eliot will never be sure what Toby sees in him that night, when he is looming in his kitchen, knife in hand. Lurking and waiting for the lone cook to return for prep tomorrow. Doesn’t know why Toby would quirk a brow at him and merely say: “Your knife form is all off.”

But Toby does and Eliot is shocked to the core. His skill in weaponry is one he is proud of, the only one he has developed over the years and to hear it be critiqued piques his interests. That curiosity leads him to ask why Toby would say that and Toby merely informs him that he’ll be cutting no food if he holds the knife like that, before showing him how cooks use their knives.

It is the second time that Eliot does not complete his mission, that he does not leave his target behind dead and bleeding. Toby lives and this time, it is not out of a selfish reason. It is hardly anything, but it feels like a big step for Eliot anyway.

He stays and talks with Toby for the rest of the night, learns the other has been to prison and the hit on his head is from a former gang buddy of his. Learns that Toby now teaches other ex-cons how to cook, so they can make something off themselves. Learns that Toby has an empty spot for him if he wants to take it.

Eliot knows that he is no ex-con. What he is, is way worse and integrating back into society will always be out of reach for him. But he is closer to them than most other people. Ex-cons often don’t finish high school, get caught up in things bigger than them until they don’t know how else to live, they know violence and the fear of getting caught.

So, Eliot stays and Eliot learns.

Cooking, as it turns out, is something Eliot is good at. It’s something he enjoys and something he can use to push out all the emotions that threaten to overtake him. He can put the guilt of what he has done into pasta, wrap up the shame in the dumpling dough, mix the fear into the sauce he’s stirring and display the revulsion at himself on the steaming plates.

His 29th year on this planet is the first in twelve years wherein Eliot Spencer does not take a single life.

He has learned a non-violent skill and feels human again. Hell, he just feels again. He knows that he has more skills than the killing he gave himself credit for. He can fix cars, has picked up multiple languages and can plan like the best of them. However, Eliot will never feel smart again, fears giving himself that label, because it makes him blind.

Eliot is just a guy with plenty of skills. These skills are limited to the physical for the most part, not things that he can put on a resume, but they’re enough to market himself. Like he had already suspected, Eliot is not cut out for the civilian life. He has tried it, but he will always feel like he is putting those around him in danger.

He only stays with Toby those first two months, skipping town after the man who put a price on his head died in a shoot out with the cops. Then he travels around the world, picking up more ways to cook food and hiding from those that still have it out for him. His name carries enough weight that many don’t try, but he is intimately aware of the ax hanging above his head and the lack of funds that can carry him to safety.

So, he decides to go in a different direction. Retrieval is close enough to his old job that his skill set and reputation come in handy and pays well enough for him to rebuilt the safety net he used to have.

When changing career paths Eliot also decides that he will no longer kill and no longer use a gun. The two rules have kind of already existed in his own mind, but he makes them explicit to himself and people looking to hire him. He is turning over a new leaf.

Of course, Eliot knows that he cannot undo what he has done. He cannot make up for it and he cannot pay the universe back what he has taken from it. Eliot Spencer is a terrible man and he is aware of it. He is not looking to make up for what he has done, he just doesn’t want to make the bloodstain on his person bigger. He allows himself to be stupid enough to believe that that will be enough for him.

Retrieval can be kind of fun. It feels less intense than wetwork, while giving the same adrenaline kick and good enough pay. People will never pay the same for a statue than a man’s life, however, the amounts would be enough to send a normal person spinning.

In his new line of work, he also encounters one Nate Ford. By the time he gets into working with artifacts at 29, Nate already is an established name to watch out for and by the time Eliot turns 31, the man has chased after him on a few occasions.

And Eliot must admit Nate is good at what he does. However, Nate should also be lucky that Eliot isn’t doing his old job anymore, because he is terrible at securing a place and often times it would have been easier to eliminate him as a threat than try to work around him, but Eliot manages.

Well, he manages most of the time. Nate never catches him, but he does outsmart Eliot and gets the stuff Eliot stole back. It’s infuriating, but Eliot knows he is not the most intelligent out of the two of them. He’s not the most intelligent out of most people in the world. He didn’t even finish high school.

Then Nate Ford disappears from the scene, falls off the face of the earth for a few months. Then falls into a hole of alcohol. With a man like him, people talk and Eliot heart aches for the loss Nate endured. Eliot knows what inhumane looks like – he still calls back on that part of his life to dole out threats he won’t live up to – and what IYS did to Nate is inhumane.

However, Eliot can’t ruminate long in what happened to Nate, nor does he care very deeply. He isn’t the man’s friend, hardly knew him.

Plus, while retrieval isn’t the same as wetwork, it is still very dangerous and with Eliot’s past, he continuously has to be on high alert or it will all come crashing down on him again. And selfishly, Eliot wants to live. He is starting to like who he is becoming and starting to be at peace with who he used to be.

So, he doesn’t really think much of what happened to Nate Ford until two years later, when the man is in charge of a job.

Eliot can be honest with himself and admit it is a surprise to see Nate playing for their team. He has always been as honest as they come and Eliot knows that what they’re doing now is far from honest work, but with the turn his life had taken, Eliot can’t blame him for taking the payday and he hears how the man justifies it to himself.

Eliot can also be honest with himself and admit that Nate is good at what he does. He is obviously very clever and a good strategist. When it all goes south, the way he plays Dubenich right back can only be described as masterful.

And another thing Eliot can be honest to himself about, is that taking down Dubenich felt good. Really good.

It felt good in a different way than a good, clean kill used to feel, different than what winning an evenly matched fight feels like, different than what a good retrieval feels like. It felt like he is actually making a difference in the world. Taking down a scumbag like Dubenich prevents people getting hurt in his path, instead of Eliot hurting people. He’s protecting them.

The payout they get from the job also doesn’t hurt. The amount makes Eliot’s head spin and his head is hard to spin after all the payments he has been offered for his services throughout his lifetime.

That check, which Hardison hands to him, is his ticket to safety. There is still the chance people will come after him of course, that will never go away. However, he’ll have the funds to disappear if they do. And what this money really does, it ensure that he can say no to whatever job he wants. It is retirement money. Eliot will never have to fear again that he’ll have to resort to wetwork to keep himself alive.

With that safety, he craves to feel more of that good feeling. He has always resigned himself that he’ll never be able to make up for what he has done and, while he still believes he won’t, the work makes him feel like he can at least turn the ocean of blood into a pool.

And it seems Eliot isn’t the only one who felt good while on the job, because all of them return to Nate, ask him to lead and want them to be a team.

Eliot Spencer is pretty sure that coming back for the second job, is the only smart thing he has ever done in his life.

Working with the team is the best thing that happened to him. All of them are highly skilled in their areas and Eliot learns more than he is willing to admit from just watching them. From being allowed on their team.

If he allows himself to be honest, he can admit that he isn’t sure why they’d want him there. He has never been a good person and they’re aware of it, at least on some abstract level, so why they would even want to be near him is beyond him.

However, he can recognize special, so if he can take the hits so they don’t have to, then he’s more than happy to protect them. He has always been better at taking this hits then thinking.

He is more than happy to protect the team, to feel like he’s keeping this bit of goodness alive. To feel like he’s doing good by keeping them safe, instead of keeping safe the riches of someone who got them through carnage. Just the fact that he is protecting instead of hurting is more than enough, he can take the punishment, repay the hurt he doled by getting hurt for them.

And he is grateful that the team lets him, that they recognize him to make the calls he has to make and that they trust his judgment in the situations he knows best.

It’s not that he’s smarter than them, he tells himself. He knows he isn’t. Grunts like him just repeat the same steps over and over again, see what works for others and what doesn’t. It’s one big dance they all do.

But that doesn’t mean everyone knows the responses, Eliot does. Eliot knows risks, one of the only things he has had to get good at. One of the only skills he honed.

So, he knows it’ll be safer for him to take the beating from Tank, rather than risk the team in one of Nate’s convoluted last minute plans after they’ve already been made. And he knows how to respond to the kidnappers when Nate and Maggie are taken.

What throws him for a loop about it all, however, is that the other seem to respect him, seem to think he is knowledgeable.

Sure, Hardison continuously makes fun of his punchy hands and how he doesn’t understand tech and Parker gets an odd amount of joy of poking at the bruises he got by trying not to kill anyone as he fights, while Sophie calls the fighting barbaric and Nate uses him as human shield more often than not.

However, when Nate puts him in as a grifter, no one questions his choices and they all assume he can do it. When a new language pops up they turn to him to see if he speaks it and when it all turns south, Nate refers to him to get them out and everyone follows what he says.

A part of Eliot can’t help but think of those kids he was in charge of under Moreau. The ones that didn’t make it on the dark days. How much it hurt to loose them. How much worse it will be if anything ever happens to the people under his care now. How easily they trust him with their lives when he isn’t the brightest out there and one mistake can end up with them dead.

Eliot feels like he doesn’t deserve their trust, but revels in it anyway. Feeling human is something he hasn’t done until he was 28 and feeling positive about being alive is a novel experience that has only come once he met the team.

Slowly, he starts to feel like maybe he doesn’t have to get their trust, their faith in him. He just has to accept it and play his part in keeping them alive.

Naturally that means it come crashing down. He already doesn’t deserve the trust they put in him and now he’s lying them and putting them all in danger by allowing them to go after Moreau without speaking up. Without warning them of the dangers of that man. Without telling them all he knows about how Moreau runs his operation.

The guilt is eating at him and he makes another stupid decision. His whole life is already made up of stupid decisions, what’s one more? He’s only ever done one smart thing and that is stick with the team, he’s not putting them in danger when it is his past haunting them.

He decides to go after Moreau himself.

Of course he still has the team’s back while they go after his former boss, he is just also going behind it, so they won’t ever get to their final destination.

Eliot reasons that if he can kill Moreau, before they get close, then no one but him will ever have to know about his past. About how stupid he has been. How many people he’s hurt. No one but him and Moreau, who’ll have a bullet in his head.

Moreau loved having him as a secret weapon, few people know he worked for him and his leaving Moreau’s side has been kept under wraps to avoid Moreau seeming weak. As far as the dirty underbelly is concerned, Eliot is still out there, doing Moreau’s bidding.

It’s not a reputation Eliot is a fan of, but it helps. He knows how the silent shadow of Moreau has kept some people off his back these past five years. Let him be peaceful. Allowed him not to have to kill again.

He will have to kill again.

Yeah, he knows that is a pessimistic way to look at it, but there is no other way to defeat Moreau and he knows it. He has spend years in the man’s operation, he knows how hard it will be to come close to toppling it over. How smart Moreau is. Should he live, he will find a way to break out and rise to power again. It’ll only be a matter of time.

So, Eliot has resigned to breaking his no-kill streak to take down Moreau. Anything to protect those who have taken him in, who somehow see good in him.

Finding Moreau isn’t hard – Eliot has kept tabs on him ever since he left – it is finding an opening to take him out that is difficult. If he had Hardison at his back to track Moreau’s digital moves or Parker to look for unseen entrances or Sophie with her way of getting close unnoticed or Nate’s planning, he might be more successful, but he can’t involve the team in this. He’ll have to do it in his own stupid way.

Not that he isn’t cautious, of course. Eliot’s one skill next to violence is risk assessment, as stated before. He knows how to not rush in unprepared. How to not get killed. It’s the whole thing that got him in this mess in the first place.

Just like he knows it’s easier if you have good people at your back, but how those people will be at risk of dying if either of you don’t know how to assess the risks. If either of you do something you shouldn’t have. He can’t risk the people at his back again, when he has the most experience in what he is doing. When him dying matters less than them dying.

Eliot works alone, he knew that back then too and if he involves other people in that sort of job, they get dead.

Naturally, this plan of his also doesn’t work out for him. The pressure on the team gets bigger and before he can take a shot on his own, Nate is already hounding Moreau and will not be swayed differently. Eliot understands Nate not listening to him about it, he doesn’t have the mastermind’s brain and he never tipped his hand as to why he might know how dangerous this is.

A part of him knows that if he speaks up, they’ll think twice about it, but then they also might just kick him to the curb. He would get that. But then they would go after Moreau without him there to keep them safe and why he might be dumb, he isn’t stupid enough to let that happen.

So, Eliot stays quiet and Eliot plays along.

However, he makes sure to get assigned to get the auction details from Moreau and volunteers Hardison to with him. He is the smartest person Eliot knows and he needs some smarts at his back before he does something stupid again. Plus, Hardison trusts him the most. He hates himself for it, but Hardison is the one that won’t question him if he has to do something and who’ll play along if needed. Eliot wants him there.

At the elevators Eliot realizes that if he doesn’t take charge now, they’re never getting in and if they do, they’ll be blown in seconds when he is recognized. So he does something stupid and gives the guards his real name and hopes Hardison’s smarts will balance it out.

Standing next to that pool, Eliot realizes that thinking he would be able to face Moreau again is one of the dumbest things he has ever done.

Fear grips him as he is face to face with the man, who made sure Eliot would never find peace ever again. It takes all his energy not to let it show. To not let slip how terrifying is of Moreau in front of him and for Hardison in the pool behind him.

Eliot will say yes to anything if it means Hardison will be able to come up for air again. If the other dies due to Eliot’s own stupid decisions, he’ll never be able to live with himself.

So when all Moreau wants is to have some General dead, then Eliot will do that without any hesitation. He already knew going after Moreau meant ending his no-killing streak.

In the end, he doesn’t kill the General. It’s almost ironic that the two times he thwarted Moreau it involved not killing a General.

More surprising is the fact that the team doesn’t immediately send him away. Not even Nate, who has witnessed the carnage that can be Eliot Spencer. The person he used to be without a soul, without remorse or a conscious. That heartless killer.

They’re a little mad at him of course, but they seem to understand why he didn’t want to tell him, how much Moreau scares him.

And when they keep him away from Moreau during their second con they run on the man, it doesn’t feel like distrust. Instead it feels like they’re keeping him away from his personal devil, so he won’t have to go through that again. It feels like he’s being protected and no matter how much his mind screams at him that it should be the other away around, his heart can’t help but feel safe.

After they take down Moreau, Eliot throws himself into keeping these people safe even more than he did before. Putting his body on the line is the only way he knows how to make up to them for the man he used to be.

He scales a mountain, getting Parker back safely. He takes a carnival ride to the face, because Nate told him to do his worst. He takes on a cartel to get Hardison back. Subjects himself to torture because Nate asks, goes back to his roots and tortures the interrogator right back when Hardison is taken again. He even contemplates killing again, so Nate won’t ever have to come close to being who Eliot used to be.

He doesn’t, though. He doesn’t, but it’s close.

When he holds the gun to Dubenich’s face his hand is shaking. Killing in that warehouse took more out of him than he thought. Not killing has soothed his soul like nothing else has ever since the kids under his command died.

Eliot knows that he will give up that peace of mind if Nate asked it of him. If the man wanted someone dead, Eliot would pull the trigger.

But Nate hasn’t asked for this death.

Sure, he wants the man dead. Hell, he wants to kill him himself. A thing Eliot can’t let him do, because he knows what it will do to Nate and he doesn’t deserve that. And if Eliot does it now, he will save Nate that fate.

He should do it.

He should go back to that far away state where he didn’t really exist in this world and neither did his actions. He should pull the trigger and kill Dubenich. Protect Nate from becoming anything that is close to what Eliot is.

However, his hand is shaking and selfishly he disarms the gun instead of shooting it as he prays that Nate will be smart enough not to do what Eliot did.

As Eliot prayed, Nate does not kill someone. The two end up dead, but Nate is intelligent and he doesn’t need to get his hands dirty for the world to do as he wants. Doesn’t have to use brute force to bend it to his will. Doesn’t have to be stained like Eliot is. A part of him hates Nate a little for how easy it comes to him.

The team moves to Portland and Eliot follows without question. He would follow them anywhere, no questions asked.

The others probably know that, so Eliot is a little surprised at the Brewpub and state of the art kitchen Hardison has waiting for him. As if Eliot needs an insentive to stay, even as Nate and Sophie start to drift off and it becomes clearer and clearer that five are going to be three soon enough.

Eliot isn’t stupid enough not to see how Nate tests their abilities more and more. How they fill the gaps Nate and Sophie will leave. Can’t help but wonder why Nate think Eliot will ever be enough without them. Parker and Hardison are smart, but Eliot’s stupid might weigh them down. Wonders if Nate is assessing if he can handle it or if he’ll be a liability.

Fuck, Eliot doesn’t want to become a liability.

Nate and Sophie deserve a good retirement, so Eliot tries his hardest to prove that he’s good enough to be an asset. He takes all the hits that come his way, works on characters with Sophie and tries to think what Nate will do when a mark just won’t bend.

The most obvious move Nate makes is sending the three of them to DC for a small con, even Eliot can’t miss that one.

The con they’re there to run goes off without a hitch, but before they can skip town and avoid consequences for their crimes Eliot gets a Call. The capital is completely deserved there, because it’s the type of call he used to get before. Before the team, before his conscious, before the lives of others became valuable to him.

Eliot can’t ignore what is about to happen. Can’t ignore that someone is going to die today unless he does something about it. He is a good guy now. He protects others. It might be stupid, but he tells the others as much and they, maybe equally stupidly, trust him enough to come with to stop it.

A part of Eliot blames himself for not walking away when he had the chance, because what they uncover in the end is way bigger than any of them can handle. Eliot knows that, the second he sees who is on the hit list. And it becomes even more clear when Vance fills them in on what needs to be done.

Vance is a military man, who Eliot worked with between 21 and 23. Vance might have been older than him, but at the time Eliot had more experience than the other. Eliot went into wetwork, while Vance was smart enough to accept a suit position before his hands were so stained, he no longer felt the need to serve.

Eliot knows what Vance has done. Knows how smart the man is and how he uses it to get people together and dance to his tune. Knows that people die under Vance’s command, just like they’d done under Eliot’s.

Hardison and Parker cannot, under any circumstance, die. Eliot won’t let it happen.

However, Eliot also isn’t as bright as either of them and maybe he has grown soft with having people to fall back on. People who are so intelligent and who have the skill to get Eliot out of situations he can’t get himself out of. So, Eliot lets them stay.

With every new thing they uncover about what is happening in DC, Eliot regrets bringing the two with him, but sending them away is impossible. This needs to be stopped or they’ll be at risk anyway and Eliot knows this is beyond his own capabilities to stop. He punches problems, not solve those that are unpunchable.

But when Hardison panics, a small part of Eliot wants to validate that fear and get him to run and not look back. Get him to leave Eliot here while he can get out of harm’s way.

But at that point they know there is no getting out of harm’s way. They either stop it or are all in danger, no gray area to operate in.

So, Eliot is more open about his feelings than he has ever been before and tells Hardison how smart he is, how amazing his brain is and that he just needs Hardison to point him in the right direction so he can solve this problem in the way he knows well: with a good punch.

It is enough to calm Hardison. They both know this is how their team works. Hardison the brain, Eliot the punch and Parker with solutions to the problems they didn’t foresee.

He fears for her life, but god is he glad she is there with them. That she is smart enough to board the train, to bring that diamond to cut the glass, that she knows to keep Hardison safe, that she remembers how fire kills it.

Eliot doesn’t mind getting shot twice to keep them safe. He can take the punishment and he can protect the people who do the good, who are righting the world. He can aid in their struggle for justice, even if it will never cleanse him of his own sins.

The three of them work well together and he has no issue saying no to Vance when he asks. Nate will be leaving and these two will need someone to point in the right direction so he can punch the problems that are punchable.

It’s only when they get to their hotel that Eliot’s worldview comes crashing down yet again, much like it had back when he was 28. Now at 38, ten years later, it happens again and in a very different way.

After throwing away his crutch – which isn’t the smartest thing he has ever done, but not the dumbest either – Hardison and Parker have supported him all the way back to their room until he can collapse on one of the beds.

He is exhausted and glad to sit down. The other two are clearly still too wired from their day to even think of taking it easy, both still buzzing with excess energy, which they try to pour in fussing over Eliot.

On an abstract level Eliot appreciates their concern, but it’s quite unnecessary. He tells him as much and they ignore him after giving him a look.

Luckily, they ease up a little bit anyway and when they deem him cared for enough, they go back to poking and ribbing him. Parker is poking his shoulder, while Hardison sends him a smug look and says: “So, I’m the smartest man you know, E? I’m flattered.”

Eliot bats Parker’s hand away and plasters on his best grumpy expression. He can’t let Hardison know how high he has him in his mind, the other will become insufferable. No need to show any genuine emotions, he thinks as he grouches: “It’s all comparatively, Hardison. I never even graduated high school, not that hard to be smarter than me.”

Instead of gloating further, like Eliot expected, Hardison frowns, smug face gone, and asks: “What do you mean by that?”

Later Eliot will blame the blood loss, but in the moment, the question just catches him off guard and without meaning to, he replies: “We both know I ain’t smart, just ribbing you back a little.”

Hardison’s frown deepens and he says: “Eliot, you’re very smart, what are you on about, man?”

Next to him, Parker nods and repeats: “Very smart.”

Eliot meanwhile can only look at the two with, what must be, shock on his face. There was a time Eliot considered himself to be smart, but with hindsight he realizes he has made too many stupid decisions to ever be it. He has made peace with it. To hear from two of the smartest people he knows that they think he is smart is tilting his world.

Much to his horror, he can feel a flush overtaking his cheeks and he looks away as he tells them: “No need to lie to me. I’m a little hurt, not in distress. I can handle the truth, you know. I punch things, you guys just point me to who. I don’t mind. We all have our things.”

“Are you playing with me? Is this a joke?” Hardison asks, practically demands. “Eliot, you speak multiple language and are skilled in so many martial arts, not to mention all your culinary knowledge and frankly terrifying Rolodex of distinct features, sound etcetera. And your grifting manipulation skills.”

“Those all require smarts,” Parker adds. “And you are very tactical, good at coming up with exit strategies and plans of attack. That’s not easy either.”

Eliot blushes deeper under the praise, but waves it away in the end as he shrugs: “Those are just skills, both of you have basic criminal skills. I’m not a mastermind like you’re shaping up to be Parker or a literal genius. I’m just a guy who joined the army before getting out of high school.”

“You keep bringing up high school like that is a measurement of any form of intelligence instead of just if you can remember stuff,” Hardison says. “Not to mention that Parker never even went to high school and-”

“She’s street smart,” Eliot protests, because no one will insult Parker’s intelligence when he’s around, not even Hardison.

“I know,” Hardison rolls his eyes as Parker points out: “So are you.”

Before he can protest more, Hardison says something that shuts him up. “And – as I was saying – I also never graduated high school.”

“What?” Eliot can’t help but exclaim, never seeing that coming.

“Yeah, man,” Hardison shrugs like it’s nothing. “Me and school didn’t really jam and Nana could use extra money more than anything school could teach me. I dropped out to help, then never really looked back. Not like I needed a degree with my job.”

Eliot’s whole view is shattered like that. It isn’t like he didn’t know that high school wasn’t indicative of much, but a part of him assumed that those around him had more education than him, that his failure started there. But that internal bias has just been shaken up.

“What you do isn’t easy, E,” Hardison tells him intently as if to drive the point home, just in case Eliot missed it. “You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“I’ve always thought you were very smart too,” Parker agrees. “You know things, makes me feel safe that you’re there to help me find a way out. You think like me. We’re us. I like us being us together.”

And Eliot really hopes the blood loss is substantial enough that he can blame the moist eyes and choked up voice on it as he says: “Thanks, I- uhm, I’ll try to see it like that.”

“We’ll be here to remind you,” Parker informs him happily as she crawls into bed next to him and snuggles into his good shoulder.

“Yeah, man, we won’t let you forget you’re our own smart ass,” Hardison smiles as he sits on Eliot’s other side, letting their legs press together while being cautious of his injuries.

“You’re the smart ass,” Eliot ribs, aware that Hardison probably let him have that easy comeback so they could leave the emotional talk behind them if he wanted too.

“And still you put up with me,” Hardison says, letting his smile turn back into that smug little grin from before.

“Sadly,” Eliot grouches, but he doesn’t mean it and they all know it.

So, yeah, Eliot never graduated high school. He has made some stupid decisions in his life and lived the consequences, but he has learned from them too and picked up all sorts of skills that make him a smart hitter, who made it to 38 already.

Eliot hasn’t disappeared into a shallow grave before he could reach proper adulthood like so many around him have. Instead he found a family who want him there and make sure he has them to come home to, alive and well.

Quickly – quicker than they had any right to – they made themselves comfortable in his heart and he can’t be mad, because the work they do feels good and they all work well together, both as five and as three. They have found something they’re good in and they relish in it.

Nate and Sophie leaving when they do means that the others have to refind a balance. But they have been taught and mentored, given room to learn how to swim, before getting thrown in the deep end of the pool. So, they’re prepared to say goodbye when the moment comes.

And when they go, Eliot feels comfortable in promising that he will keep them safe till their dying day. That he has the skills and intelligence to keep Hardison and Parker alive until they all retire together. It took him a while to get here, but he is finally comfortable with who he is and what he can do. What he does.

Eliot is smart enough to run with the best thieves in the world that more than counts as being intelligent in his book. And it’s not like Hardison or Parker let him forget it, they’re stubborn like that.

#rr writing #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: self esteem issues #tw: voilence mention #eliot spencer #damien moreau #alec hardison #leverage parker #nathan ford #nate ford #sophie devereaux #leverage fic #leverage #leverage tv

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theredhobbit · 1 year

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fangirlwithasweettooth · 1 year

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I really love that both of my bosses are constantly talking about the diets they’re on and how much weight they’ve lost and are giving me well-meaning nutrition advice 🙃 it’s not like I get enough of that from my parents already 🙃

#this is sarcasm if you couldn’t tell #i know they mean well but damn i already have self-esteem issues #i don’t need to hear my boss celebrating that she’s lost a pound every day this week #especially not when my parents are in town and have been lecturing me on how I need to watch what I eat and exercise more #anyway yeah this week’s been super fun 🙃#no one cares sage #diet mention #weight loss mention #tw diet #tw weight #tw weight loss

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ask-the-celestial-family · 1 year

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But Harvest, you’re going to get to experience another level of guilt about that.

I already know I’m a horrible excuse for a brother. I hurt him just because I was angry. There’s no excuse for it, I just did it because he was in my way of yelling at Bloody, which I shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. But it’s Christmas. So I’ll suck it up ‘til midnight because today is supposed to be happy. They won’t be upset at what happened to me and I won’t let me being guilty ruin the day. -Harvest Moon💕

#kill lunar au #fnaf harvest moon #fnaf moon #fnaf bloodmoon #harvest moon answers #tw self hatred mention #he sure inherited something from moon #his goddamn self hatred and self esteem issues

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sortofanobsession · 1 year

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Roy/Jamie prompt: Everyone goes crazy when Zava invites them to his house for a “Wellness Gathering". Everyone goes but Jaime. Fed up with his "attitude" Roy goes to Jamie's and confronts him. Instead of getting angry Jamie just deflates and looks incredibly sad. " Happy fookin' birthday to me then." He says actually tearing up before he shuts the door in Roy's face. Roy can only go back to Zava's in a daze and reveal this massive screw up. Everyone is guilty, even Zava. Can they fix this?

A/N: I wanted to get this out today so bad I neglected doing my actual job, but that's not as bad as it sounds. I have all day tomorrow to do it. But I loved this prompt.

I changed one thing. Roy starts out dazed but then gets very angry very fast. But hopefully I hit every other note right. And I snuck in some Roy/Jamie at the end because my shipper heart doesn't know how to NOT write that.

Ao3

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Word count: 6k+

Paring(like last time): Roy Kent/Jamie Tartt, Roy & Keeley (platonic), Jamie & Keeley (Platonic), the afc Richmond himbos being themselves.

Content warning: neglect, self-esteem issues based in years of abuse and neglect, anger, swearing, angst/comfort, depression, anxiety, exhaustion

The team forgets, but twitter doesn't

Zava had invited the whole team over for a wellness gathering. Roy would rather punch himself in the face than go, but Ted had said it would be good for the team, like some team bonding shit. When Jamie didn't show up, Roy was pissed. If he had to sit through this, so did that little prick. Jamie had wanted back on this team. He should be acting like it. Not acting like a baby that just had his favorite toy taken from him. Fucking childish, even by Tartt's standards. He needed an attitude adjustment, and it seemed Roy was going to have to do it because clearly, Ted wasn't going to. So he left the team and went to Jamie's flat. He pounded on Jamie's door until he answered.

"Thought you were all about being a team player. The fuck is wrong with you?" Roy asks as soon as Jamie opens the door. He doesn't even really look at Jamie until after he does. "Too busy for team bonding now or just too good for it?"

Roy didn't know what he had been expecting, a snarky comeback, a half-meant apology maybe, but not the reaction he got. Jamie seemed to curl in on himself.

"Happy fuckin' birthday to me," Jamie mutters with a sniffle. Roy is horrified to see tears not only in Jamie's eyes but trailing down his face. Jamie just closes the door in Roy's face. Roy is too stunned to even react. Normally he would be livid if someone did that. But that felt more like a sucker punch than an insult.

Fuck. He took his phone out and looked at his calendar and then at the team calendar. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. There it was in black and white on the calendar Ted insisted they make after that first birthday celebration for Sam. Back when Roy was still a player. When he was captain. How had they fucked this up? Was Zava really that much of a fucking distraction? He looked up from his phone back to Jamie's closed door. Yeah, Roy was going to raise hell on this. Fuck! He rushed back to his car and drove back to Zava's. He ignored all the questions and odd looks he got until he found Ted.

"Give me your fucking phone," Roy demanded.

"Well, you don't look like you are-"

"FUCKING PHONE NOW!"

"Okay, here," Ted says, unlocking his phone and handing it to a very angry Roy Kent. Ted wasn't sure the last time he had seen Roy this mad. Roy opened up Ted's calendar and found the same thing he had on his own. Jamie Tartt's Birthday as an all-day event. He does his best to ignore Zava's complaints that Roy was not being very mindful or zen right now. And Roy wanted to punch him in the face, but he kept his focus on Ted.

"What is the fucking point of a team calendar if you all FUCKING IGNORE IT!" Roy seethes as he throws Ted's phone back at him.

"What?" Ted scrambles a bit to catch his phone. He looks at the calendar and realizes Roy is right. They'd missed something very important.

"Oh no," is all Ted manages at first.

"FUCKING RIGHT OH NO!"

"What did we miss?" Sam asks.

"See for your fucking selves!" Roy shouted before putting his own phone to his ear. "Fucking fix it if you want half a chance at having a fucking team next match." Roy winces. "Sorry, Keeley," he says into his phone. "I need your help-" is all the team hears as Roy heads back outside.

"Oh shit," Colin says when he looks at his phone. "How does half of Twitter remember it's Jamie Tratt's birthday, and we didn't."

"Because we are terrible teammates," Isaac says what they are all thinking.

"Poor Jamie," Sam says. He felt like a terrible friend. Jamie had worked so hard to be a team player, especially after the protest, and they failed him. Jamie had stood with him then, even when he did not understand what Sam was feeling. But Jamie had stepped up. And they all had forgotten him. He would never forgive himself. "We have to make this right."

"You what?!" Keeley wishes she could reach through the phone and smack Roy. "Not only did YOU forget his birthday, but the whole team also did, AND Ted. AND you all went to Zava's. On Jamie's birthday. Then you fucking yelled at him! ROY!"

"I know!" Roy growls. "I fucked up. We fucked up."

"I didn't. I texted him happy birthday and offered to take him out on his next off day because I couldn't get away from the office today. You spend every day with him, Roy. I'll call him, but you guys better fix this."

"We will. I will."

"Good."

"Why isn't he answering his phone?" Dani asks as he tries to call Jamie again.

"Because he was fucking devastated, you fucking twat," Roy grits out as he rejoins them. "Fucking tears in his eyes when he slammed the door in my face. And I fucking deserved it. Because I followed you fucking idiots here. Acting like you have a new fucking god-king. Well fucking brilliant job. We fucking broke the new and improved Jamie fucking Tartt. Fucking cheers!"

"He was crying?" Guilt seems to hit Dani Rojas like a brick. "Our Jamie? That's bad. We are bad."

"Zava did not know it was Tartt's birthday. Do you usually do something for birthdays?" Zava asks.

"We do," Isaac says. "And Coach is right. We are idiots."

"Then Zava says fix it."

"We're trying, but he won't answer anyone."

"Then try harder."

"How is he?" Roy asks when Keeley calls him.

"A fucking mess, Roy. What did you expect?"

"How bad?"

"Like I had to call him twice before he picked up. He barely said anything and probably crawled into his bed and hasn't gotten out since you left. So go back over there and make it up to him. And he might still keep a spare key in his cubby. I told him it was probably not safe, but he has locked himself out of his own flat too many times."

"Thanks, Keeley," Roy says earnestly.

"Don't thank me, just fix this. Jamie has been doing so well. This could really set him back."

"I know," Roy admits.

Roy finds the key exactly where Keeley had told him it would be. And she was right. Anyone could have taken it at any time. Roy might actually keep it himself or at least lock it up in his office. But that was something to think about later. He headed back out to his car. He had picked up a few things and was headed over to Jamie's.

He knocked a few times but wasn't surprised when Jamie didn't answer. When it was clear, Jamie wasn't going to answer. Roy used the key. He felt bad doing it, but the little voice in his head was terrified that Jamie was in worse shape than he had let on when talking to Keeley. He knew the little prick would try and be the least burden to her since she was busy.

"What the fuck?!" Jamie says when he sees Roy fucking Kent in his kitchen. "Did you break into my house?"

"Keeley said you kept a key in your cubby," Roy says.

"For emergencies!" Jamie shouts at him. "You're lucky I didn't call the police. Or bash your head in with a bat or something!"

"And you'd have every right to do it," Roy tells him. "Because I fucked up, Jamie. We all did. I see that now and-"

"You broke into my flat because of my birthday?"

"Because I should have known. I'm your fucking coach."

Jamie doesn't know what to say. Part of him doesn't like the fact that Roy actually looks more sad than mad. And that was something Jamie just didn't know how to handle. He has to fight the urge to comfort Roy. And that is an impulse he has not had. Ever. And that frustrates him because he is already miserable. And now he is standing like an idiot in his own kitchen in a t-shirt and boxers having confusing feelings for his coach. Could the universe hate him more?

As if Roy could read his mind. Or maybe just the way Jamie's fists were now twisted up in his shirt, and he was glaring a hole into his counter. Roy stopped, setting the takeaway he was unpacking down, and went over and just hauled Jamie into a hug as he had after that disaster of a Man City game the last season. Just like in Manchester, Jamie tensed violently at first.

"I'm sorry, Jamie. I really am. You deserve a good birthday. You have done so well. And we fucked up. You didn't deserve this. Don't deserve to be alone on your fucking birthday." Roy said with a gentle tone Jamie had never heard directed at him, and something inside shattered completely.

Jamie went absolutely weak and just cried. He cried because he missed having someone that cares. He missed having someone touch him. Hug him. The team was so busy swooning over Zava that he didn't even get celebratory hugs. Because what had Jamie done to deserve a hug? Zava did all the work, according to Zava. And it twists Jamie's stomach in knots to think about. He just cries harder. And Roy is mostly at a loss, but he does grip tighter to keep Jamie from falling now that Roy had taken the younger man's weight. And Roy did not mind one bit. He would ignore the slight ache in his bad knee. It was a punishment he would endure for the turmoil he and the others had put Jamie through.

"It's okay," Roy says into Jamie's hair. "I got you." After a few minutes like that, Jamie seems to have cried himself out and pulls away with an embarrassed laugh. He can't look Roy in the eye as he scrubs at his face.

"Sorry," Jamie mumbles. His hands went back to his shirt.

"Nothing to apologize for," Roy says as he goes back to unpacking the food.

"My birthday, and I'll cry if I want to, innit?" Jamie tries to laugh it off, but his attempt at a grin doesn't actually reach his eyes. But Roy does grin. That was at least closer to the Jamie he knew.

"Yeah," Roy says as he sets a cupcake Keeley had insisted he brings even though Roy isn't sure he ever saw Jamie eat sweets. He knew Jamie kept a stricter diet than most of them, and Roy had theories on that. He was pretty sure it had something to do with his dad insisting he be the best. That he not be a soft baby child. And that had something twisting in Roy's chest. Between that thought and the fact Jamie was standing there awkwardly half-dressed with his hand doing that ridiculously adorable thing in his shirt that he always does in his kit because he doesn't have pockets. And hold the fuck up. Did he just imply Jamie was being adorable? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Nope, he cannot be thinking that about one of his players, especially Jamie fucking Tartt. Fuck no. But dammit Jamie looked so fucking vulnerable standing in his own kitchen with tussled hair, red-rimmed eyes, and tear tracks on his face, and whatever walls Roy had built up came crashing down. Fuck. Focus. Don't be a fucking prick. Jamie was vulnerable because Roy fucked up. Jamie was in tears because Roy didn't pay enough attention. This was Roy's fault.

Jamie looks between Roy and the cupcake.

"Happy Birthday, Jamie," Roy starts. "I know it isn't much, but-"

He is cut off by a very different type of hug. This one wasn't about Jamie needing someone to comfort him. This one seemed more like Jamie wanted to show how much he appreciated the gesture but didn't have the words for it. And it had caught Roy off guard, earning a huffed half laugh, half grunt from the older man.

Roy had to pull away this time because the hug had gotten ridiculously long, and Jamie was still just in a shirt and boxers, and there was a line they were both dangerously close to crossing.

"Go get some clothes on, and we can eat and watch whatever rubbish you usually watch on that TV of yours."

Jamie laughs and actually smiles as he nods.

"Put on whatever," Jamie starts, but a mischievous grin appears as he continues. "As long as it's not some ol' war documentary that you granddads love so much."

"Fuck off," Roy says, but he is betrayed by his own grin. He balls up a paper bag from the takeaway and throws it at Jamie. "Put on some fucking trousers, Tartt, before this goes cold."

"Okay, coach," Jamie heads off to his room, and Roy lets himself relax. Roy finds what he needs to make tea and then sets to plating the food. But he was only half focused on the physical tasks. His mind was a mess of his own making. Fuck he was glad to see some normalcy return to Jamie's behavior. Roy would put up with every old man joke. He'd endure every barb and dig Jamie would send his way today. Because he just wanted his Jamie back. His Jamie. Fuck. Roy was in a bind here. Because he was right. Jamie hadn't been himself since Zava joined the team, and Roy had chalked it up to jealousy that Jamie wasn't the star anymore, but now Roy knew otherwise. Jamie wasn't jealous of Zava being the one people cheered for. No, this was team player Jamie losing his team. His friends. If the fact even Sam and Dani dropped the ball on this means this is a much bigger problem than just forgetting his birthday.

Roy had to bite his cheek to keep from doing anything stupid when Jamie came back in comfiest looking pullover and trackies. Roy mentally smacked himself at the thought of just wanting to snuggle right in there with him. And fuck, that was a ridiculous thought. So instead, he slid Jamie the food he had plated for him while he was getting dressed.

"For the record, this may not be the kind of emergency you kept a key in your cubby for, but it was important enough for Keeley to tell me."

Jamie winces between bites. "I bet she had some very choice words for you when you called."

"She fucking did," Roy set a cup of tea in front of Jamie before going to get his own food and sitting down. "And it was deserved."

Jamie just nods, and it is quiet for a bit as they eat. When Jamie was done, Roy slid the cupcake toward him again. Jamie looked between it and Roy.

"Hope you don't expect some sort of birthday song because that is not fucking happening," Roy grunts.

Jamie laughs. "I don't usually eat sweets, but well, it's my birthday…split it?"

And how could Roy say no to that? He grunts and nods. Jamie grins as he hops up and gets a knife, and it's a messy split, but he manages. He gives Roy half. Roy grunts again because his brain might actually have short-circuited as the younger man licks frosting from his own fingers. And Roy had not expected that to do things to him, but it does. So he focuses on his half of the cupcake.

"Happy Birthday, Jamie," he manages to say.

"Thanks," Jamie says with a smile that was almost too soft for what he was used to seeing from Jamie. And Roy had to look away and focus on his own half of the cupcake again. They end up watching Neverending Story because Jamie had never seen it, and Roy was worried it might be a bit much and hit too close to home but despite a few more years from Jamie. Jamie had loved it. And Roy was glad.

"I meant it earlier when I said we fucked up. Ted takes this shit seriously, and he knows he fucked it this time."

"You…you told Ted?" Jamie is not sure if that's a good thing or not.

"Told them all," Roy tells him.

"What?" Jamie asks. And Jamie looks like he might be sick, and that sets off alarms in Roy's brain.

"Jamie-"

"Just one more thing for them to hate me for," Jamie laments and begins to close himself off again. And fuck no, that's not happening on Roy's watch.

"None of that," Roy grunts. He reaches over and pulls Jamie across the cushion that separates them on the sofa. He doesn't stop until Jamie is tucked tight against his shoulder, under his arm. "Don't fucking cut yourself off like that, you fucking prick. I'm trying to help you."

"Didn't ask you to," Jamie states.

"Didn't fucking have to. That's what friends do."

"So we're friends?"

"Fuck off," Roy grumbles but pulls Jamie in tighter. "But yeah, get fucking used to it." Jamie just laughs and nods and focuses on whatever was on the TV now. Not even caring about it at all because Jamie was warm and comfortable, and he didn't want it to end.

Roy wasn't surprised that Jamie seemed absolutely drained by 10, and somehow Jamie didn't fight him on getting him to go to bed. What shocked him was when Jamie told him to stay, and every alarm was going off in Roy's head again, telling him it was a very bad idea, but he still stayed. Roy told himself it was because they had hurt him so badly and that Jamie was vulnerable and didn't want to be alone. It wasn't anything bad. It was just making sure Jamie got actual rest because, from the look of him recently, he hadn't been sleeping well.

Jamie slept great for the first time in what felt like ages. And he woke up warm and actually comfortable, and without even thinking, he snuggled closer to the warm body that was wrapped around him. And then he remembers what had happened and who the other body was. Roy fucking Kent. His childhood hero had crawled into his bed when Jamie had begged him not to leave. And Jamie was now very worried about what was going to happen when Roy woke up.

"Whatever you are thinking, you can fuck right off with it," Roy grumbles. Jamie goes to pull away, and Roy doesn't let him.

Jamie still feels tense against him.

Roy figures they already crossed a line. "It's a fucking cuddle, Tartt. Consider it your actual fucking birthday gift, and go back to sleep. Training isn't for hours."

And Jamie does because when is he ever going to get this chance again? A morning lie-in with Roy fucking Kent!

Jamie radiated nervous energy from where he sat in the passenger seat of Roy's car when they got to Nelson Road. He'd taken convincing to let him drive that he was already there and didn't mind one bit. Would be stupid to both drive. It was easy enough to drop Jamie back home at the end of the day. No problem. But now Roy was wondering if this was how Jamie was every morning since Zava joined.

"Hey," Roy reaches over and puts his palm on the back of Jamie's neck. He feels some of the tension release as he rubs at the right muscles of the younger man's neck.

"Hmm," is all he gets from Jamie.

"I know it has been shit recently, but it's okay. I'll take care of it."

"There's nothing to take care of," Jamie tells him.

"Jamie…"

"The team needs Zava. I get that. It's fine. We're winning. That's what matters."

Roy wants to fight him. Tell him that he's fucking wrong. That him being happy fucking matters. It matters to Roy. But he isn't even sure Jamie will believe him. Not yet, at least.

"Okay," Roy relents. He gently squeezes the back of Jamie's neck again before he pulls away. He just hopes everyone else kept up their end of the deal and did what they were fucking supposed to. "We should head in."

Jamie silently nods before mentally bracing himself for another shit Zava-filled day.

Jamie froze when he walked into the locker room, and everyone yelled surprise! Even Zava did. Rebecca and Higgins were there. Even Trent Crimm. The room had been decorated with streamers and balloons. The kind of decorations He would have killed for as a kid. There was cake and gifts. He didn't even know what to think. He jumped a little when Roy's hand found his shoulder in the doorway. He looked back at Roy.

"It's okay, go on," Roy nodded and assured him, "Right behind you."

Jamie nods and goes into the room. He sets his bag on the bench and looks around at the others. They all seem almost as nervous as he does.

"Uh…thanks," Jamie manages to say with a tense smile when Roy squeezes his shoulder again. That earns him a pat on the back as Roy pulls away. And Jamie misses the reassuring warmth instantly. He looks back at Roy. Roy just nods for him to keep going. Beard tosses a party hat at Roy, and both Ted and Beard stare at him until he begrudgingly puts it on like the others. Jamie just goes with it when Will gives him a crown. "Coach Lasso insisted," Will whispers. Jamie doesn't put up a fight. Still somewhat confused about why this was happening now.

"Did you do this?" Jamie asks, looking at Roy. Roy shrugs but says, "Do you really think I'd be wearing this if I did." He points at the ridiculous hat.

"Fair enough," Jamie mutters and looks over as Ted approaches him.

"I cannot even begin to express how deeply sorry I am that we missed your birthday," Ted starts. "But I'm going to try."

"Of fucking course you are," Roy grunts. Earning a chuckle from Jamie and a few of the others. Ted spent the next few minutes telling Jamie how sorry they all were and that it would never happen again. That Jamie was too important to the team to be treated like that. And Jamie had repeatedly told him it was fine and that he knew they were trying. He didn't tell them he was honestly used to his birthday being a letdown. Sure, his mum and Keeley called. And his dad had left him alone for once instead of taking the opportunity to insult him. But Roy had made sure it wasn't a totally depressing day. He looks up when Rebecca takes a picture. He looks at her, confused.

"For Keeley," Rebecca says. Jamie nods. He was sure Keeley insisted they prove they did something to make it up to him. Rebecca continued, "I am sorry if you have not felt like you are part of the team. I never did apologize for what I did to you the first time you were on the team, and I know that nothing will ever be enough to repair the damage done when I sent you back to Man City. I am sorry, Jamie. It was unfair to you. To Coach Lasso. To the team. Especially after learning about your father-"

"Didn't want anyone to know. Embarrassing, innit?" Jamie says. "And I was a prick then."

"That makes two of us," Rebecca admits. "Happy belated birthday, Jamie Tartt." She hands Jamie an ornately wrapped gift. "We're glad you trusted us enough to come back."

"Thanks," is all he manages to say before Rebecca goes back over to Higgins and Ted.

"Going to open it?" Trent asks.

Jamie just looks around at all his teammates just watching him. He looks at Ted. "What about training?" He asks.

"Roy will put them through the paces this afternoon. You just enjoy your party."

Jamie opens up a bunch of gifts.

Rebecca had given him a framed paper from their first win after Jamie rejoined the team. It was shockingly sentimental, and he wondered if Keeley or Ted had helped with that one. He genuinely thanked her.

Trent gave him a watch that didn't seem too pricey, but it was something that Jamie might actually wear. Trent had better taste than Jamie had realized. He thanked him. Because, let's be real, Trent didn't do anything to him. He was a bystander for the most part. A silent observer that offered a kind word now and again. Jamie could appreciate that. And he really did. It was nice to have someone like Trent on their side.

Zava gave him a book on mindfulness or something Jamie had zero interest in, but he had thanked him anyway because he had not expected Zava to get him anything. And then Zava gave him a set of gloves because Jamie always had his hands in his shirt or pockets, and Zava figured he must be cold. That had thoroughly shocked Jamie. And he let Zava know he appreciated that Zava would care enough to notice. Ted and Beard give a new book he says he'll actually try and read this time. Beard had slipped a code for a copy of the audiobook, and Jamie thinks he might tear up because, damn, did that make him feel seen. He wasn't the best at reading, and his coaches clearly knew him enough to still want him to try, but they'd made it easy on him.

The rest of the team had gotten him more Jamie-style gifts. A new set of boots that just screamed Jamie Tartt Van Damme insisted. Hats they knew he wanted. Colin and Isaac got him a pullover he'd been meaning to get himself but hadn't gotten around to. Dani got him a vinyl copy of an 80s band he had found that he figured Jamie would like because Jamie had an odd taste in music compared to most of the team. Sam had given him a card and a larger envelope that shocked Jamie. It had tickets from every game that Jamie had helped them with every goal listed down to the minute.

"You might not think we remember, but we do," Sam tells him, and Jamie hugs him. He doesn't know how he had all those tickets, but it was probably the most thoughtful and elaborate gift ever.

"One more," Roy says. He hands Jamie a bag that was multicolored and had bows. Jamie looks at Roy with amusement. He also wanted to say he thought the dinner and cuddles were his gifts. Roy rolls his eyes. "Phoebe sent it."

"Oh," Jamie laughs. "Yeah, that makes much more sense." He opens the gift to find a very bright and silly jumper that clearly a raining cats and dogs joke on it, and Jamie genuinely grinned. Leave it to an 8-year-old he barely knows to pick the most outrageous gift.

"You don't have to-" Roy starts to say.

"Oh, I'm gonna," Jamie insists. He had taken his crown off, followed by the pullover he had on, and proudly dawned the one with cartoon animals on it. "How do I look? Wait, don't tell, fucking fit, right? I can make anything look good."

The room devolves into laughter. Partially from the ridiculousness that was Jamie Tartt wearing a pastel-colored hoodie with cartoons on it and saying he looked good in it. Partially with relief because clearly, Jamie was not mad at them. He was more like his usual self than he had been in weeks. They took a bunch of silly pictures, and Jamie posted most of them on his Instagram, including a very proud one of the jumper Phoebe gave him. And Roy had a hard time not looking like he was happy in the few pictures he was in. He was happy. He was happy Jamie was seemingly back to his confident self. Jamie actually ate a piece of cake, or at least part of one. He pawned the other half on to Dani, and Roy was sure Dani might have gotten emotional over it, not because he had found out that Jamie had actually missed spending time with Sam and Dani since Zava joined, but because Jamie hadn't batted an eye at talking to him. Acting like it was just a normal old day for them. Roy may have sent a very expletive-filled text to Dani the night before. He told him to cut that shit out and be there for the people who actually like him for more than their egos. Because Jamie was lonely, and it was the team fucking fault. But Dani knew better and was better. So he should be fucking better. And Roy had been right. So when Dani had hugged Jamie before he gave him his gift, he had looked over at Roy, and Roy had nodded when he saw Jamie practically melt into the hug. Roy had trusted Sam would see how much he messed up without Roy having to verbally berate or rather lecture via text. And Sam had come through. Roy had actually smiled when he saw how Jamie reacted to Sam's gift. Roy stepped out into the hall when his phone rang.

"Keeley," he greeted when he answered.

"So it went well?" She asks without pretenses.

"Seems that way," Roy says.

"He seemed happy in the pictures he and the lads posted," she says. Roy thinks he can almost hear her smile in her voice.

"He did. Loves that fucking jumper you helped Phoebe pick out. Won't take the bloody thing off."

"And Zava gave him a genuine gift?" She asks.

"Shocked the hell out of all of us. He's more observant than I figured," Roy states, his tone darker than she expected.

"I know that tone…" Keeley says. "You don't trust it."

Roy grunts. "Of course I fucking don't trust it. It means he sees the shit that's been going on and doesn't actually give a fuck. He might just be realizing that Jamie isn't as easily overshadowed because of Jamie's history. Zava may not know Jamie's history, but I think he has an interest now. And-"

"And it scares you that Jamie's going to get hurt and worse than this time, aren't you?"

"Fucking exactly," Roy grumbles. "And it was hard enough getting him back this time."

"But you did, babe."

"He was a fucking mess. Didn't want to be left alone. He was so broken."

"And you held him and put him back together," Keeley said in a tone that was so soft and understanding. "Because you care so much about his happiness and his well-being. More than you want to, and it frustrates you."

She chuckles when he just grunts. He almost hated how well she knew him, how she could see through his bullshit and gruff guise.

"You know he wouldn't accept it from anyone else, yeah?" she adds. "He might accept the praise and encouragement from Ted, but he doesn't let anyone in as much as he does you. Not even me anymore. Try not to get stuck in your head and muck it up. You two are so cute together, and we both know you aren't holding back because of what people will think."

"Fuck off," Roy grimaces. Why had he ever told Keeley about the fact he cared about Jamie fucking Tartt? Oh, right, because he needed to talk to someone, or he would do something stupid. Roy frowns. "I slept in his bed last night," he admits.

"Just sleeping? Or like…"

"I did not fuck Jamie Tartt," he says in a harsh whisper, looking around to make sure no one heard any of it.

"But you did more than sleep?"

"He spent half the night crying and fucking vulnerable. Like some sort of fucking baby deer or something. Those fucking eyes of his."

"I know. They are like traps," Keeley agrees. "So what now?"

"I don't fucking know," Roy admits.

"Well, maybe put your big boy trousers on and tell him you want to make more than just his birthday happy," She smirks. "You're too old for schoolyard crushes. You're Roy fucking Kent. Tell the man you want to choke on his dick and fucking do it."

"What the fuck?" Roy says, his tone less confident than usual because that fucking visual was now in his head and sent most of his blood south.

"Goodbye, Roy," Keeley laughs before hanging up.

Roy has to will his body back into submission before he goes back into the locker room.

"All good, yeah?" Jamie asks almost instantly when their eyes lock. And Roy had to remind himself that they were at work, and this was not the time for his body to want to drag the striker into the boot room and fucking destroy him in the best way possible. Nope, cannot happen. Fucking Keeley and her notions. But Jamie is looking at him with that curious fucking look he gets. And Roy knows he'll have to actually talk to Jamie about his fucking feelings eventually, but not now. So he nods.

"Just Keeley checking in. She's glad you're feeling better." It's not exactly what she said, but Jamie didn't need to know that. And Jamie smiles and goes sort of soft and happy for a second. Roy wants to see that over and over, but again, not the time or place.

"That's nice of her," Jamie says.

Roy just grunts because, of course, Jamie goes all fucking soft over Keeley Jones. He loves Keeley.

The party winds down, and Will gets stuck cleaning up as everyone else is told to get ready to actually train. Jamie looks happy to anyone that might be looking, but Roy could see the tension starting to return to Jamie's shoulders. Roy pulls him into his office after he finishes lacing up his boots.

"Don't let him get to you, okay?" Roy says. Jamie looks at him bewildered. Roy fights the urge to sigh. "You're getting in your head again, yeah?" And Jamie was surprised anyone noticed. But of course, Roy did. It was his job to notice.

"Can't exactly help it," Jamie admits. His hands bunched up in his kit.

"I know, but," Roy starts. "You not fucking alone in this, got it? You have one advantage here. He doesn't fucking know what you can do anymore. He knows the shit you used to be known for. He has seen you at a loss the past few weeks. But fuck that. You are fucking Jamie Tartt. Show him more of that prick that we saw back when you could play for any team and fucking kill it. You don't have to be the old you, but you are still very much you. And you know you are good. Don't let that twat forget it. Got me?"

And Jamie felt fucking fantastic. Roy thinks it's like looking at the fucking sun with how Jamie was looking at him right now. Like Roy could tell him to fucking fight the world, and Jamie would. And Roy slips up because he is a weak and needy bastard. He grips Jamie's face and pulls him in until their lips meet. And Jamie doesn't miss a beat. He kisses Roy back with an enthusiasm that is almost manic. And if that isn't just the most Jamie fucking Tartt thing ever, Roy didn't know what was. Roy pulls away, and Jamie whines. Fuck this was not the place for this. So Roy refocuses.

"You fucking got this," Roy says, still gripping Jamie's face. And Roy thinks he was wrong before. Now Jamie looks like he'd burn the world to ashes if Roy asked him to. There was a power in that feeling that Roy didn't realize he needed.

"Yes, coach," Jamie grins, and Roy lets him go.

"Then fucking get to it," Roy says, and something in him shifts when Jamie gives him a quick peck on the lips before he heads to the pitch.

"Fuck," Roy curses himself and texts Keeley what just happened. Her reply is a bunch of emojis, and Roy rolls his eyes. He shakes it all off as best he can and heads out to the pitch. He can't help it. From the moment he reaches the sidelines, his eyes seek out Jamie's. And when he finds him, his stomach swoops because Jamie has an easy smile on his face. He nods at Roy, and without hesitation, Roy returns the gesture. If the corners of his usual frown tick up into the slightest of grins, well, no one says anything. And if they did, he'd fucking deny it.

#tw: neglect #tw: self esteem issues #tw: mentions of abuse #tw: anger #tw: swearing #tw: cursing #tw: cussing #tw: angst #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #tw: exhaustion #royjamie #roy kent #jamie tartt #afc richmond #ted lasso fic #ted lasso #zava ted lasso #keeley jones

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ghostzussy · 2 years

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woo hoo I can tell I’m getting better because it’s getting warmer outside and I want to draw and play games again and write (sometimes) but most of all when I took a shower earlier I could look in the mirror again :,) which may sound stupid to some people but my whole life I hated my body and now I don’t usually but I can always tell when I’m getting depressed again because then I just. feel bad you know? But today I looked in the mirror and I’m like. that’s me!!! that’s my body!!! those are my rolls and my beefy arms and my squishy face and that’s not a bad thing!!! yay :)

#<3 #body positivity #tw: depression mention #tw: self esteem issues

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starisenby · 2 years

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VENT BELOW THE CUT

So uh yeah it really started around 5 I'd say but I doubt he actually was intentionally being bad but he'd actively wake me and my sister up at like 3 maybe 4 am and I was in kindergarten at the time and my sister is a year and a half older then me so she was in 1st or 2nd grade, now it was bad and he genuinely was trying to be nice but it took a turn for the worst when I was around I'd say 9 when this motherfucker CHEATED ON MY MOM WHO ONLY EVER DID HER BEST AND HAS BEEN THE BEST MOM I COULD ASK FOR WITH A COWORKER OF HIS, and she (my mom) found out about this and they argued and got divorced with split custody which fine but the worst part is that they'd argue at 2, 3 maybe 4 am. And so a little while afterwards he got a new girlfriend guess who it fucking was....

THE GIRL HE CHEATED ON MY MOM WITH. Now she's genuinely a great step-mom but still dude... things only got worse from there the thing is part of the split custody is that every day of every other week is me and my sister would go to his house from 3:30 - 6:30 and he'd just let me and my sister starve there I guess, he'd not tell us where food was or what food was there but just let us "figure it out™" and we didn't eat real dinner if your curious we ate snack food.

Now this next end has to get some context my step-mom had kids young her kids then had kids young leaving me and my sister as "aunts"(yuck) as kids....

So the oldest of my step-moms kids is my kinda step-sister more like aunt and she has five kids the oldest of them is about my age, yeah awkward.... he's very clearly favored by my dad I mean I'm not surprised my sister was his favorite beforehand she had the same interest in hockey after all, now adding on to this is that he'll let my step-nephew more like step-brother get a pass on stuff but as soon as I do it, I must be burned alive.... so yeah November 28th 2021 we had a HUGE argument that still sticks to me, wanna know what started it I had a stomachache. Yeah fucking seriously. Also something I forgot to mention is that every other weekend me and my sister would stay at my dad's. And the argument blew up and had my dad pretty much said "Just go to your mom's" now the thing is I wanted to make sure if he was for real and yes he was and then I texted my mom.... so when she got there I was in the garage ready to leave and so he said and I quote "what if I die tomorrow?" Yeah that stuck with me for a while, now you'd expect him to apologize within the next week nope. December 20th is when he "apologized" and said "can you start going over here again"...

Now next takes place in August 2021 I originally planned to go to a concert with my dad and sister but then got anxious and paranoid causing me to cancel and he basically said "your anxiety is fake shut up" because yes I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder and OCD so like bro....

And then because this guy is just a genuine asshole, remember that bit about favoritism yeah guess who feels like they'll never be good enough and that if I was born a boy he'd like me even a little more and that if i was to kill myself he'd never even care, which then led me to want to self-harm that's right me... also the guy just constantly gaslights me so that's always fun, also I have those run-of-the-mill intrusive thoughts to just jump out windows or of roofs so yay...

Oh and i absolutely hate my body because I was AFAB and born with boobs that'd end up being rather round so as an enby it's great tbh

And let's not forget that he also called a video game character in his hockey game the f slur cause he lost..

Oh and the first end I'm pretty sure is what led to my god awful sleeping schedule that is borderline sleep deprivation

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stanfanfiction · 1 year

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Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART FOUR

Alrighty. Going to try bringing the reader’s history more into this one. There’s still a lotta hot going on but this one is more somber with some fluff and feelings and I really hope you like it <3

Thank you to @dogboytim for suggesting Ken helping the reader deal with self esteem/body issues. So definitely a TW for that.

I’ve also been dealing with some emotional shit in my own life and I think I kind used this as a catharsis for myself so….I hope it’s an okay read 🙈

Masterlist for previous parts

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / dealing with past trauma / panic attacks / body dysmorphia / domestic abuse (mentioned as a theme, nothing specific other than leading into the readers self esteem struggles) / horny Ken / caretaking Ken / fluff / feelings / Ken finally gets out of the house / soft sex / oral (fem!receiving) / stubborn Ken / bathroom sex / ptsd / some kinda con-non-con (but reader likes it so it is technically all consensual) / making love vs having sex… (you’ll see)

You squealed as Ken’s fingers entered you swiftly. Apparently you hadn’t been giving him enough attention this morning, *again,* and you were definitely starting to see a pattern forming here. You sat opened legged on your bathroom counter where Ken had placed you moments earlier while you were only trying to brush your hair and get dressed before you found yourself leaning back against the mirror over the sink and pulling his hair.

“I *HATE* class days,” he seethed as his mouth went to attack your clit and you gasped but smiled as you threw your head back. You hadn’t told him that right before he came into the bathroom deciding to be needy once again that you had just received an email that your class had been cancelled for the day, but you decided it didn’t hurt to not tell him for the next few minutes.

“Hmm…ahh…Ken is so needy again.”

Ken’s eyes stared at you as if being challenged and he used his free hand to open up your vulva lips and plant his tongue firmly against you, moving up from your opening slowly. You bucked a little and Ken removed his fingers from your core to place that hand on across your hips, holding you down for him as he began to tongue fuck you.

“Won’t let you leave,” he mumbled, his mouth pressed into you.

You laughed again. “Greedy boy. My class got cancelled today,” you breathed.

Ken paused for a moment to smile, then went back to pleasuring you but less from a place of frustration now as he began going a little slower, loving how you always squirmed when his touch was just a little too slow and your body craved more.

Your cell phone ringtone made you both startle, and you immediately began working to control your breathing when you saw the number.

“Ken, I have to get this,” you said, picking it up to answer it. Ken stopped what he was doing but remained kneeling in front of you, hands gently massaging your thighs. He leaned his cheek into one of your knees and smiled contentedly, pressing a kiss into it.

“Hi, Professor.”

Ken’s face fell.

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N. Sorry I wasn’t able to reply to your email, my Wifi has been dodgy all week.”

“No worries,” you said, noticing Ken’s scowl and trying not to giggle. You ran your fingers through his hair softly and that seemed to calm him down.

“But in answer to your email, unfortunately my plane back has been delayed so I’m not able to meet in-person, but I’m more than happy to answer any questions over the phone if now works for you.”

Ken shook his head.

“Yes! That would be great, thank you. Let me just grab the assignment really quick.” You wrinkled your nose at Ken and attempted to get off the counter but Ken held both of your legs tightly, not letting you go.

“Ken!” You scolded him silently. “I NEED to get my book bag.”

Ken gave you a playful look and stood. “Stay,” he said quietly. He left and within seconds he was back with your bag. You dug the out sample assignment you had been giving in class and smiled a thank you to him.

“Okay, so my first question was about -“ you could have committed a murder right then. Ken had pulled you forward to where you were almost hanging off the counter and dug his lips into your wetness.

“Ah, sorry,” ohhh you were definitely going to kill him, as you stressed over how there was probably no way your voice sounded normal right now no matter how hard you were tying. “Just finding the page.”

“Of course, take your time.”

“Stop it, stop IT,” you almost hissed, pulling the phone away from your ear just long enough to get your words out. Ken’s eyes met yours and your heart jumped. Ohh fuck fuck fuucckkk you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he was feeling then, but it definitely wasn’t going to make your phone call any easier.

You kept your eyes glued to his while trying to ask your question, glancing at the paper in your hand every couple moments to make sure your stressed-out brain was remembering how to speak correctly. Ken just stared back at you, waiting, and somehow that tension was worse than if he was fucking you right now because you didn’t know when he was going to strike.

Your professor began answering your question, and you rummaged with your hand in your bag to find a pin to mark on the mock-up assignment when Ken shoved his tongue into your opening, and you could have lunged at him. He smirked.

“This isn’t a game,” you whispered down at him, trying to hold focus enough to write down what you needed to.

His eyes bored into yours. “Oh, I disagree,” they said, twinkling, and he began firmly licking you in circles. You had begun to read his mind simply by how expressive his eyes were, and you felt like you were having a full conversation with them right now.

Your hand shook a little and you cursed internally not being able to write at this moment. You pushed at Ken’s shoulder with your foot but of course he was built like a wall and didn’t budge. He grinned for a second and you caught yourself grinning back in an irritating mixture of frustration but also…. fun? And you hated that you were having fun.

“I’m a professional student,” you kept thinking to yourself on repeat.

“Did that answer what you were asking?” Your professor’s words didn’t register until a few seconds after they were spoken.

“Oh! Yes, it did, thank you so much.”

“Of course. Anything else you need to go over?”

You eyed Ken and wanted to get your answers but also knew it just wasn’t worth it at this point and you would have to talk to your professor after class next week.

“No, that was it. I really appreciate you getting back to me.”

You had NO idea what his reply was as Ken stood up and wrapped your legs around his waist, reaching underneath your butt, but you were able to register your professor saying to have a good day.

“You too, thank you!” You managed to get out before Ken took the phone, hung it up, and tossed it aside as he easily picked you up and carried you over to the wall.

“FUCKING hell, Ken,” you let out. “You cannot do that.”

“Hmmm.” He smirked. You wanted to both slap that smugness off of his face but also kiss him hungrily.

“I’ve got to put you in your place,” you lamented as you became trapped between the wall and Ken holding you up.

“But I *am* in my place,” Ken replied simply, knowing he was egging you on, and solidifying his point by sinking his cock into you.

“I *mean* it - ahhhhhh…” Your mind went blank as your legs held on for dear life around his waist while he fucked up into you sharply.

You both lay panting on the bed, coming down from your highs. Ken held you like usual, butterfly kissing your face while you came back to reality. Your head was swimming from the sex but also from realizing you needed to get Ken interested in something other than you, and fast. He had come into your life right after midterms, and you realized now how much of a blessing that was because you couldn’t fathom how on earth you would get through finals this way.

You petted his cheek. “Ken? Would you like to go on an outing with me today?”

He sat up a little, curious.

“I have been meaning to go to the library anyways, and you could come see my campus with me.”

“I thought you said only students were allowed there.”

“Well, only students can be in the classroom. You are able to come with me to the campus, though.”

Ken smiled, and your heart ached a little at realizing how much you really hadn’t been thinking of how he would probably love going out with you, he just didn’t seem to have the motivation to explore on his own, at least not since you had known him. You thanked yourself for remembering to get him a normal, not open-to-the-hips shirt the other day so he had something to wear, and before long you were both on the bus headed to your school.

The bus was a FASCINATING experience for Ken. You watched in entertained awe at him as he acted like an excited puppy. He pointed out cool buildings and places he wanted to visit to you every few seconds, commented on the unattractive interior design of the bus, and was reaching up to pull the emergency break alert rope when you grabbed his arm top stop him just in time.

His excitement never waned but he had moments of quiet, too, and he held your hand in both of his as he stared out the window. You leaned your head against the seat and studied him.

Who *was* this man, exactly? You never questioned his explanation that he was a literal doll come into your world, and now you wondered why that hadn’t felt difficult to believe. You knew the last couple weeks had been utter chaos on a number of levels, and you realized how much you had actually been needing someone to come in and turn everything into something wonderful for you. That definitely explained your lack of attempting to learn about him, what he was searching for, what he desired and wanted out of life.

You felt melancholy then, watching as Ken pointed to a dog out of the window and turned, smiling at you, making sure you saw it. You smiled back and nodded, and he turned his attention back to the outside world, never letting loose of your hand.

Your heart hurt now. This wasn’t something that could last forever, was it? Or…maybe? You didn’t know anything that was happening, other than in your little condo that you paid for with your inheritance, that life had become a little bubble of a world the two of you had created, something from a fantasy, and you missed it when you weren’t there. When you walked in the door, Ken was always waiting for you, and your little house felt like a home. You decided you needed to start trying to look at things a little more realistically, learn to actually know Ken, see if maybe this whole thing had a futur-

You cut off the thought before it felt too soothing, not wanting to get your hopes up. You sniffed softly and quickly wiped at a tear that you hadn’t expected to form, not wanting Ken to see. You just wanted to focus on enjoying today with him.

Getting off the bus was its own new adventure, as Ken looked around the campus. “Where are your classes? Do you have a favorite classroom? Do you have a favorite study place? Is there somewhere you like to meet with your friends?”

His questions hit you hard, and you hated how oddly sad you felt today. Everything he was asking was less about general curiosity and only meant to better understand YOU and your life and how you existed in it when he wasn’t around.

You two made your way to the library where you found the book you needed and also check-out a book Ken had been absorbed in about horses. You knew you’d have to ask him to explain that one someday.

You were strolling slowly back to the bus stop when you noticed a really nice grassy area shaded by a huge tree, and suggested you both sit there for awhile. Ken happily complied, and you opened your new book to start going over it. Ken snuggled up next to you and would every few minutes ask about something in the book that he didn’t understand as he read over your shoulder, and this was honestly a really easy way to study for your exams, you decided.

Suddenly he felt your body go rigid. Ken noticed and followed your eyesight to see a man staring at you, dark eyes filled with anger. His body stance was tight, one hand in a fist. He looked the personification of pure rage. You felt paralyzed.

“Who is that?”

You worked to answer as you exhaled. “My ex.”

Your ex. He really didn’t know anything about your ex, but he fought like hell to destroy the dagger of jealousy that pierced his heart just then. He realized that was out of place and definitively not called for, especially in this moment, but he couldn’t help it, now thinking of how someone else besides him had been with you in the same way he was with you now, and he loathed the images that flooded his mind.

He leaned down to your ear. “Is that the reason you were crying the other day?”

Unable to verbally reply, tears stung your eyes as your breaths became shaky, although you were working desperately to control your outward appearance. You refused to look wounded in front of him.

That was plenty of confirmation for Ken and he wrapped his arm around you protectively. “What do you need me to do?”

“Help me get out of here,” your words barely a whisper as he helped you to your feet swiftly and grabbed the books. You tried to look away but were held captive by the gaze of the man standing across the courtyard from you.

Ken wasn’t sure what hit him then, but he suddenly felt outraged. He handed the books to you. “I’ll be right back,” he seethed, jaw tight.

You snapped back into reality just in time as Ken began swift, long strides over to the man, who look pleased at the attention he was receiving, and smirked in your direction. You jumped forward and gripped Ken’s arm.

“No, no, no, no, Ken, we have to leave.”

He paused and turned back to you because of the panic in your voice.

“He’s just trying to start a fight. I need to go.”

“He hurt you,” Ken bit out.

“Which is why we need to go. He’s angering you on purpose to hurt me again.”

Ken glanced back over his shoulder at the man who pulled his hand out of his fraternity jacket and waved mockingly. Ken huffed but hated how you were pleading with him, so he turned away and you both began walking briskly out of his sight.

You both remained quiet on the way home other than Ken asking if there was anything he could do a couple of times. You bit at your nails restlessly until the bus stopped at your exit station and you took Ken’s hand and hurried off back to your condo. You didn’t feel safe until you were back inside your home with the front door double locked.

You had kept your gaze on the floor the whole journey home, and Ken gently placed his hands on your arms, leading you to sit down on the sofa as he kneeled in front of you and took your hands in his.

“What did he do?” His voice sounded shaky, as if afraid of hearing the answers.

You felt fairly certain Ken didn’t know about certain forms of violence that happened between couples. From what he had told you about Barbieland, that idea had never been considered.

“So many things,” you were still trying to hold back tears. “So, so many things.”

“Tell me.”

You looked up from the ground to get lost in Ken’s blue eyes filled with concern and wanting nothing more than to understand so he knew how to help. The thought that telling him about what had happened and how that fresh new understanding of reality would probably break him just to process felt so cruel, and fuck, you didn’t want to lose the one innocent aspect you had had in your life. You broke out into sobs, trying to hide your face and Ken let you, your hands hiding your eyes as Ken wrapped his arms around your legs and placed his chin on your knee, waiting patiently.

“What is it you’re so scared to tell me?” He asked when your sobs became less loud.

How could you answer this without actually answering this…

“Sometimes, when people are in relationships, they can do really horrible things to their partners. They can hurt them really badly, in ways that sometimes never fully heal. That pain,” you grasped at your chest were you heart was, “it can just sort of stay, and sometimes you only have so much control over how much or how often it can hurt you again.” You began crying harder again, and Ken slowly got up and sat next to you, softly cradling you in his arms. You were thankful for the warmth and cried into his chest as he just held you like that until you were ready to say more. He wanted to know every detail of what you had gone through but also knew not to push it and wanted to respect the boundary you were holding with him. He worked to keep his body language soft and protective while fuming inside.

“Sometimes, though,” your voice was a little hoarse from all the crying, “people are able to find other people who help them. Who make them feel safe. Who are kind and gentle and who you know would never intentionally harm you.” You placed a hand on his chest next to your head, and his anger felt like it was seeping through his veins like the lava from a volcano as it erupted, filling every inch of him.

He had never felt this way before. You felt his muscles clench around you, but not tightening on you so as not to hurt you.

“What is it, Ken?”

“I feel angry,” he got out, jaw clenched again.

You nodded sadly. “Yeah. Me, too.”

He breathed in sharply. “How do I make sure he will never do it again?”

“I got a restraining order awhile back. That’s why he wasn’t able to walk over to us and was instead trying to get you to come to him instead. He tries to find new ways to scare me without getting in trouble legally anymore. He went for you hoping you would fall for it, to send me an extra message, that he is still capable to hurt anything I love.”

Ken felt his throat go dry. He wanted nothing more now than you follow up on those last few words, but now wasn’t the time to validate anything for himself. He needed to keep focused on caring for you.

“I will take care of you, y/n. I’m protect you. I promise.”

You felt his words vibrate through his chest right into your ear and felt his chin rest on the crown of your head.

“I will always be here.”

You smiled the tiniest smile and leaned into him more. “I know.”

Ken swelled with happiness, his anxiety calming down a little bit. You pulled back and Ken lifted your legs to rest over his lap, arms keeping their place around you.

“Days like today,” you said, “they have become less about physical danger to me. It’s all about hear,” you placed one of Ken’s hands gently on the side of your head. “It’s the memories that still hurt, and he works to bring them back.”

“How can I help make them go away, at least for now?”

You thought about it, then shook your head. “They’ll fade again, as they always do, for awhile. I think I need to clear my head and shower.”

Ken nodded and helped you stand up. “Do you need me?”

“I think I need just a minute to myself.”

“Okay. I understand.”

You stood on tiptoes to place the tiniest of kisses on the tip of his nose, then slowly began to head towards the bathroom.

Ken came in later when he head the shower faucet turned off, and walked in to check on you. Typically you had to issue being naked as soon as you dried off, but you had wrapped yourself tightly in a towel and he noticed the mirror had a towel over it, too.

You had hoped he wouldn’t walk in and have to explain another leftover stupid fucking thing from your previous relationship.

You tumble over your words to just get it over with, and his eyes grew wider with each passing sentence.

“But…..” he seemed incredulous, almost as if you had made the whole thing up. “You’re so beautiful.” It was stating a fact. There was no argument and he couldn’t comprehend anyone disagreeing.

“Sometimes I feel the opposite. You roughly brushed your hair just to have something to do.

Ken couldn’t believe the raw audacity that someone would harm someone else with words to make them hate how they looked, even for a second. He told you this in so many words, but finished with that even thought he didn’t understand, he did understand that your hurt didn’t hurt less just because he wanted it to.

You looked up at him, holding back tears, suddenly feeling the most intense desire to get lost in this man who genuinely could not process the pain you were in because it seemed so brutal, so cruel, so incredibly ridiculous that anyone would have to bear the weight that you were carrying. You need that, that little wisp that he offered of getting lost in the reality of his mind that knew so little but also someone knew and felt so much.

“Make love to me, Ken.”

It took him a moment to comprehend what you were asking, but he someone instinctively knew what you asked for, and walked over to you, ever so gently taking your face in his hands and leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss was like a spark went off in your head. Ken was gentle, taking your lips in his in tiny movements as if he might break you if he touched you too hard. You moaned to encourage him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and in turn he held you closer to him, his arms now around your back.

He kissed you lovingly and with passion you had never known before, pulling back to stare into your eyes, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. He had made himself master of your command, and he wanted you to be in charge of everything that happened right now, anything that would make you feel loved the way he hoped you wanted to.

“Take me to the bed?”

Ken picked your wrapped figure up bridal style and did as you asked, laying you down and holding you to him, your faces inches apart on the pillow. You initiated kissing again, and his hand caressed the back of you head, pulling you a little closer. His tongue traced the your bottom lip and you smiled a little and he smiled back.

“What do you need?” He was completely lost in wanting to care for you.

You didn’t reply, not to be rude, but your brain froze up again, not wanting to see your own body be uncovered right now.

Ken reached for the top of the towel, fingers closing around it, waiting for your consent. You shook your head.

“That’s alright,” he soothed, seeing guilt spread across your face. The he had an idea.

“What if you close your eyes, and I undress you under the comforter?”

You contemplated this then nodded, feeling small and mousy. Ken pulled his shirt over his head and then the comforter over both of you as he hovered over you but not putting too much pressure on you.

You closed your eyes as his hand went back for the towel, and as he began pulling it apart, pausing every few seconds to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind, he left tender kisses down your neck and collarbone, sucking softly, and he it felt so good to him when he heard you moan. The towel eventually fell open, lying underneath you, your body bare.

Ken ran his large hand up and down your body, grazing the side of your breast and then down your stomach and hip, your body responding so naturally it was as if he had been created just to touch you. You opened your eyes, relaxing, and saw him watching you, studying your every emotion.

You smiled shyly. “Hi.”

He smiled warmly. “Hi.”

You placed your hands on his chest just to touch him. “You make me feel loved.”

If Ken could have physically melted, he would have in that moment. “That is always my intention.”

You pulled him down to you, consuming his lips, and Ken’s body molded into yours as he somehow fully surrounded you, covered in a little cave of a comforter. You felt like nothing could penetrate the safety he provided for you right now.

You reached towards towards his jeans and unbuttoned them, him raising his hips enough to where you two were able to get them kicked off.

“Need you,” you said, pulling him to you.

He nodded and began to move downwards but you stopped him.

“I just want to feel *you.”

“But…you…I haven’t done anything yet -“

“I’m fine, Ken.” You promised. “I just need to feel you, now.”

He moved back up so your hips lined up perfectly and you opened your legs for him as he dipped his member into your folds. He gasped a little at how wet you already were.

He looked confused. “How..?” He trailed off, then, “I thought I needed to make you wet.”

“You always do.”

Ken breathed in deeply. His feelings for you soared, and he felt like he might be floating a little. He rubbed his tip against your opening and you put your arms around his neck again.

“Show me how much you love me, Ken.”

That was the last confirmation he needed as he dipped his cock into you, making himself keep shallow thrusts as you got used to his size before moving slowly deeper inside of you.

His hands roamed your body, stopping every few inches to tell you how beautiful you were, how majestically you moved, how perfect your noises were. He kissed each part he could reach with hips lips for emphasis, wanting to cover you with his love, and you felt that energy wash over every piece of you that he touched.

You felt beautiful, you felt seen and held and your hands explored Ken’s body at the same time.

You tangled your fingers in the back of his hair as he began to move faster but still maintaining a much slower pace then usual, both of you completely lost in each other for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, you began to feel your climax building, but loved how tenderly Ken was fucking you, and didn’t want it to change.

“Keep going, just like that, Ken. Please.”

His hand gripped your hip as he felt you arch a little, and he knew you were close. He wanted every single thrust to matter, for you to feel what he was hoping you would feel from him. He kept the pace you asked for, only making his movement a little rougher as you eyes begin to close tightly, your hands pulling on his hair now.

“Y/n,” he coaxed. “Please keep your eyes open. I want to see you.”

You did as he asked, and you swear you’d never seen a more beautiful sight then him staring down at you, and you lost it then, the most wonderful wave traveling from your legs all the way up into your chest, warm and tingly and almost healing in how it felt.

Ken followed right after, keeping his eyes on yours as well, so tender and so content, and you held him as he collapsed on top of you, his face buried in your neck as you both panted.

Ken almost cried as he engulfed you with his arms when he heard your next words, breathy but firm.

“I love you, too, Ken.”

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469 notes · View notes

lieslab · 8 months

Text

Star lost

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Genre: Comfort & hurt

Word Count: 7.7K

A/N: This was a request where you struggle with family issues/abuse and SKZ somewhat helps you with the fallout. Trigger warnings will be posted before each drabble. This one was tough to write about, but whoever requested this, I hope I did you justice with this <3

_ _ _

Chan:

TW: Low self-esteem, self-hatred, and mentions of a verbally abusive family.

Chan studied you with furrowed eyebrows and a frown. Ever since he came home, you were in your own little world. He caught you avoiding his eyes and staring off into space. Your puffy bottom lip was swollen from where you kept chewing on it.

Even now eating dinner, you were off. He took another bite of his food before he finally called your name. You didn’t hear him and didn’t respond until you felt the warmth of his hand waving back and forth in front of your face.

“Hmm?” You responded with no energy. You shoveled another mouthful of instant ramen into your mouth. You chewed and swallowed still in a clouded daydream.

“What’s going on with you? Are you alright?” Chan leaned across the wooden table closer to you.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

“If it was nothing, you’d be talking to me like usual. I have barely heard ten words from you since I got home. What’s wrong?”

Your eyes wandered down to your instant ramen. The quick and simple meal provided comfort. The sodium filled broth warmed you from the inside and the cheap noodles were filling.

“There was a customer at work today that got under my skin, that’s all. I’m sure I’ll get over it soon. Don’t worry about it too much.”

A frown filled Chan’s face at the news. He put down his chopsticks. “What did they say?”

“I don’t really want to s-”

“Tell me.”

Your body slumped as you sighed. Your fingers paled around the wooden chopsticks as you clutched them tighter. “It was just a handful of words. You know, like dumb and stupid and whatever. It’s alright though, really. I mean, I know already s-”

“What?” A look of bewilderment sat on his face. “What do you mean you know already?”

“I’m stupid and dumb,” you shrugged, “not the brightest crayon in the box.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

You stiffened at his words. The sudden edge of anger caused anxiety to brew. You stuttered over your words trying to explain how your parents told you multiple times while growing up. Once you leaked that information, his face began to go red.

“It’s alright,” you tried to ease his nerves again. “It doesn’t bother me that much. It was said so much, I understand. Not everyone can be smart. Like I said, I’ll get over it.”

Chan shoved his bowl to the side and stretched further across the table. His outstretched hands cupped your cheeks. Soft hands held your face and his kind eyes met yours.

“I never want to hear you talk about yourself like that ever again. You are not stupid and you are not dumb. You know who is stupid and dumb? Your parents for making you think that. You are bright and you are smart.”

“But I’m really no-”

His finger pressed against your lips to shut you up. “No, you are not. I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to prove it to you. From now on, you’re not allowed to say anything mean to yourself.”

“Nope!” He squished your cheeks a little more. “No more self-hatred. It’s going to take a lot, but from now on, we’re unlearning it. No objections, you’re not allowed.”

“I think you’re getting in over your head.”

“Nuh-uh.” He squished your cheeks a little more and laughed at your unamused look. “Look how cute you are.” He cooed and pressed on your cheeks more. “Ohhh, you’re so smart and cute.” He moved closer and with a dramatic “mwah!” He plopped a wet kiss to the direct center of your forehead.

A blush smeared on your cheeks, you jerked back and swatted his hands away. He giggled and sat back down in his chair. “You’re so cute.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Say it.”

“Huh?” You glanced up confused.

“Say you’re cute.”

“I’m cute.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Your cheeks heated up at his words. You picked up more noodles and playfully rolled your eyes. A grin revealed both dimples on Chan’s face. No matter how unamused you looked, he knew his words meant everything to you deep down.

_ _ _

Lee Know:

TW: Brief mentions of angry family, walking on eggshells, and fear.

When surrounded by predators, a turtle tends to burrow into its shell. Curling up and cocooning in the hardened exterior kept it protected. No birds to peck at the leathered flesh. No stray animals can clamp onto exposed limbs and bite them off.

Growing up, you learned the same thing. When people were angry in your family, you learned to retreat. Silently, you made your way back to your bedroom because that was easier than having exposed flesh. Your family members, much like birds, would rip you apart when angry because you were an easy target.

When Lee Know came home from work with clenched fists, furrowed eyebrows, and a displeased frown, you retreated. You had seen him angry before and you knew he’d never purposefully take out his anger on you, but there was always a potential. You disappeared into your shared bedroom and preoccupied yourself with your phone while hoping he’d calm down.

When he showed up a few minutes later, you kept the conversation to a minimum and left the room. Anxiety caused your heart to pound and your hands to shake a little. You were tense and filled with dread. Every step you took, you didn’t know if you’d step on a landmine.

Holding your breath, you snuck into the bathroom. When you shut and locked the door, you let out the breath you were holding. A bit of relief trickled through your body. The locked door created a safety barrier between the two of you.

Lee Know was aware you went into the bathroom after you left the bedroom. He plopped down on the queen sized bed grumbling beneath his breath about something that happened at work. He waited for you to come out because he wanted to preoccupy himself by talking to you more.

However, you never came out. Not after ten minutes, not after twenty-five, and by the time a half hour passed, Lee Know shoved himself off the bed. He had been scrolling through his phone when he realized how silent it was.

Getting up, he glanced around your shared place, but you were missing. He stepped up to the wooden bathroom door and knocked on it. He called your name and inside, you froze. You had been playing on your phone on the floor hoping the anger would subside.

“Yes?” You finally got your voice to work. Your eyes squeezed shut waiting for a response. The fear inside you began to grow again.

“Are you okay?” Lee Know asked. He pressed an ear up against the door, so he could hear your response clearly. “You’ve been in there for a while.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you? People usually don’t take this long in the bathroom. Do you have food poisoning? Do you need me to go get you some medicine for it?”

Your eyes shut and you let out a sigh. The worried edge to his voice made you feel pathetic. You shoved yourself off the floor, walked over to the door, and you tugged it open. He looked you up and down making sure you were alright before he gently grabbed your wrists.

“I’m sorry for making you worried,” you mumbled.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” His eyes scanned your face trying to read you.

“You were mad,” you admitted.

His eyebrow raised, “what?”

“You were mad. I didn’t want you to get mad at me, so I was hoping you’d cool off. You’re not mad anymore, are you?” The fear you felt was making you ramble. “I can leave the apartment for a while if you want me to.”

“Why would I be upset with you?” He blinked a few times. “I was mad, but not at you. You acted like I was going to hurt you or something.”

Your eyes went to the ground. Shame filled you for even assuming he might do something like that. You apologized again and let your eyes slip shut.

“You do know that I’m not going to hurt you, right? I’m not going to yell at you. I might get a little snappy accidentally when I’m mad, but I’ll never hurt you.” He tugged you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized for the third time. “When my family was mad, things got messy. I just,” you shrugged, “I expected it, I guess.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to live in fear when you’re with me. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I’ll make an effort to try not to come home angry, alright?”

“Thank you.”

“And if I am angry and it worries you, let me know and I’ll go on a walk or something.”

“Why were you angry in the first place?”

He scoffed, “you’ll never believe what happened today.” His arms went up as he began gesturing and rambling about the incident that started this mess to begin with.

While he rambled, you felt your heartbeat slowing back down. The adrenaline pumped up from earlier began to ease itself. You sucked in a deep breath of air and finally let yourself relax.

_ _ _

Changbin:

TW: Self-doubt, gaslighting, and verbally abusive family.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” A grin sat on Changbin’s face. The bright afternoon sunshine reflected off his sun-kissed skin. It reflected off his glittering eyes and made him look even more mesmerizing.

You nodded and took another bite of the sandwich in your hands. Changbin had taken you to a park by the Han River. You didn’t say it out loud, but you seemed to be struggling with something over the past few days.

So far, you let him do most of the conversating. When he spoke, you didn’t meet his eyes. You kept staring at the water behind him or the picnic table or the bright green grass. Quite frankly, you were in your own head instead of snapping into reality.

Changbin’s mouth kept moving as he explained something, but you zoned out. Your eyes focused on the gentle waves lapping at the side of the river bank. Birds flocked overhead and people maneuvered around in the background. The two of you were on opposite sides of a picnic table.

“Are you even listening to me?” Changbin’s loud voice snapped you back into focus.

“Huh?”

He frowned and studied you for a moment. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been like this now for three days. It’s like you’re somewhere else when I try to speak to you. Are you alright?”

“Sorry, I guess I’m just stressed. What were you saying?” You took a bite of your sandwich and focused your eyes on him. You chewed and waited for him to speak.

“What has you so lost?”

You swallowed as he spoke the words. The sandwich lodged itself in your throat. You shifted and gulped trying to get the dry bread to go down. When it didn’t move, you drank a few sips of water to help. “Do you ever doubt yourself?”

Confusion flashed across his face. “Do I doubt myself? Sometimes, yeah, but why are you asking?”

“Do you doubt the things that happened to you in the past?”

“I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

“Bad things?”

“Bad things?” He echoed. His eyebrows pinched together and the corners of his mouth drooped lower. “Did something happen?”

Your eyes went over to the river. You didn’t want to tell him exactly what happened, but you had already spoken up this much. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to get it off your chest.

“I have these memories of things that happened to me when I was a kid. I remember violent fights with family members. There are conversations that I can recall clearly, but my family members keep telling me I’m making it up for attention.”

“It makes me wonder if it really happened or if it was a dream,” you continued. Your fingers moved to the sides of your temples and you began to rub small soothing circles against your forehead. “Maybe they’re right.”

“Did this happen a lot? The fights? Did they ever hurt you?”

“I think so, yeah. They say I’m dramatic. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Do you have more than one memory of this occurring?”

You nodded.

“And what do you gain by making all of this up? If it was all just a dream, do you think you dreamt those fights occurring multiple times? A lot of people have bad dreams, but they’re not always so vivid. Most dreams and nightmares have a variety to them.”

You stayed quiet while he went on.

“When you bring the topic to your family members, do they get angry?”

You nodded your head.

“Scoffing and yelling?”

“Yeah.”

“Telling you they’d never do that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And calling you dramatic?”

“Yes.”

Changbin sucked in a deep breath. He put his sandwich down and reached out. His hand found yours and he interlocked his fingers with yours. “You know, it almost sounds like they’re getting extremely defensive and shifting the blame.”

“But what if I really did just dream it?” Your eyes met his. “What if I really am being dramatic and it never happened? What if I’m distorting dreams with reality?”

“What if you’re not? If you came to me and told me that you had a very vivid dream where I hurt you, I wouldn’t start getting upset and yelling at you. My first reaction would be to comfort you. Clearly, you’d be shaken up and I can’t imagine wanting to escalate your distress.”

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted.

“I can’t tell you what the right thing to do is, but it sounds like you’re a victim of gaslighting. Even terrible nightmares fade away, but you have all these memories stuck with you in such color. Perhaps, they’re not just nightmares after all.”

You finally nodded your head. His thumb stroked the back of your hand. “I don’t think I’ll be able to provide you much help in these scenarios. I’m not a professional, but I can always listen and give you my personal advice.”

“What’s your personal advice in this scenario?”

“You haven’t really been around much for the past few days. I assume something happened the other day with your family and now you’re down in the dumps. You don’t have to cut them off, but why don’t you try distancing yourself and seeing if that helps? Just take some time for yourself to breathe properly.”

His response was an obvious one, but it hit you hard. Hearing the words come out of someone else’s mouth and making you realize that it was okay to distance yourself, it calmed you down. The thought of not texting your family and dealing with the constant harassment and stress from them sounded blissful.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime. Now eat your sandwich because the birds are starting to show up. We can’t let them steal our food.” Changbin shoved the last few bites of his sandwich into his mouth. His cheeks poked out as he chewed.

You took another bite of your sandwich and, for the first time in three days, you felt a little bit of peace.

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

TW: Sexual intimacy, self-harm scars, self-hatred, and mentions of sexual assault by a family member.

Physical intimacy between two people was supposed to be enjoyable. It was supposed to be thrilling and exciting. However, the more Hyunjin’s hands wandered, the more your brain began to panic.

When he reached for the waistband of your pants, you quickly pulled back and jerked his arm away. He paused for a moment while his brain proceeded with what happened. You stayed quiet and anxiety crept in. The negative thoughts were beginning to whisper to you again.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked.

The two of you were in your bedroom. You had been dating for quite a few months now. You knew Hyunjin wanted to further your relationship and be sexually intimate. You thought you wanted it too, so you agreed, but you hadn’t been expecting your brain to spiral completely.

“Yes. No.” You paused again. “I-I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to do it. It’s not a big deal.” He pulled away from you and moved back to his own side of the bed.

“It’s not that I don’t want to do it, I do. I just-” you hesitated. You wanted to spill out the truth, but you didn’t want to overwhelm him and upset him either. The influx of confused feelings was pooling into frustration. Tears began to prick your eyes.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” you blinked rapidly.

“Are we going too fast? We don’t have to do this. The last thing I ever want to do is peer pressure you. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I-”

“You can tell me what the issue is.” He moved a little closer and lowered his voice. “I’m not going to be upset. Just talk to me, so I can understand what’s going on.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Explaining your feelings isn’t going to hurt me.”

“I want to continue with you, but I’m ashamed and embarrassed and terrified.” Tears began to stream down your cheeks. “I’m so afraid and I know you’re not trying to hurt me. I know normal couples do these things, but this is all happening so fast and I-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Let’s start at the beginning and take a deep breath. Do you think you can do that for me?”

You nodded and sucked in a deep breath. He leaned forward and gently wiped your tears with his thumbs. “Now why are you ashamed of yourself? What’s there to be ashamed of?”

You sniffled, “to start with, there’s self-harm scars beneath my clothes.”

His face fell a little, but he quickly put on a neutral expression. “Why should you be ashamed of that? It’s proof that you fought a battle and won. That’s nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. I’m not disgusted or freaked out. A lot of people have scars from different things. Just because yours were self-inflicted, that doesn’t bother me.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m gross.”

“You’re not gross. How could you think you’re gross? I’ve spent the last twenty minutes kissing you. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever gotten to lay my eyes upon. Does the idea of being naked scare you? We can turn off the light.”

You shook your head and shut your eyes. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“I was sexually assaulted when I was younger by a family member.”

That was the missing puzzle piece that created the whole picture. Hyunjin stared at you for a moment in shock before he pulled you into his arms. More tears blurred your vision as he wrapped his arms around you. “I had no idea.”

“I don’t want you to be disgusted with me. I don’t want you to see myself like how I see me. I feel worthless and I-” A sob came out of your mouth.

Hyunjin rubbed your back and quietly soothed you. After your sobbing quieted down, he apologized. “If I would have known sooner, I wouldn’t have been so intimate tonight. We can go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”

“Y-you’re not mad?”

“God, no. Of course, I’m not mad!” He pulled away and gently cupped your cheeks. His thumb pads wiped away more of your tears. “I think you’re incredibly brave for being so strong dealing with all of this. I didn’t know anything about what you’ve told me tonight. You might be the strongest person I know.”

“You don’t think I’m disgusting?”

He shook his head. “I’d never think that about you, darling. The only thing I ask of you is to tell me. If I do something to you that’s triggering something, just tell me and I’ll stop. I don’t want to hurt you.” His thumb brushed beneath your eye.

You finally nodded.

“Can I just hold you for a while?”

You nodded again.

He pulled you further into his arms and laid down with you. His arms wrapped around your torso. He tucked your head into his chest. A hand moved up and began playing with your hair. The future wasn’t going to be easy when it came to intimacy, but, with clear communication and someone who loved you for you, it was manageable.

_ _ _

Han:

TW: Depression, suicidal thoughts, family violence, self-hatred, and self-isolation.

Your consciousness wandered through past memories like a ghost. Through the fog, past the present, back into childhood. It was easy to slip back in the cracks of time and replay memories.

You got lost in your own head. The words family members spat years ago remained lodged deep inside of you. One negative thought sent you spiraling. Your glass heart was cracked and yet it still managed to beat.

It’d be so easy to just stop it all. Stop the thoughts. Stop the pain. Stop the misery and the madness. Stop the sadness and the bitterness. It hurts to go outside and catch glimpses of the others.

Mothers who smiled at their kids. Fathers who hold hands and crack playful jokes. Fathers with daughters sitting up high on their shoulders at parades. Mothers pushing sons and letting them go a little higher up on the swings.

It was hard living without the stability of a family. It was hard living in general. Things people flourished with, you struggled. Parents were supposed to raise you and help you become a better person, but all yours ever did was tear you down.

They spat names and threw things. Nightmares were filled with the familiar sounds of screaming and glass shattering. Cupboards slamming and heavy footsteps. Threats and belittling. Every sin and every flaw laid out for everyone to see; pointed out, mocked, and sneered at.

You were an empty vessel at this point. Capable of giving love and never receiving it. People’s words didn’t matter to you. Their compliments and praises were lies. You couldn’t accept them after you were spoonfed self-hatred instead of self-love. You were forced to swallow your family’s loathing and resentment.

Instead of strong calcium bones, yours were hollow. At some point, the marrow had been watered down. Your neck and spine curved down to face the ground instead of looking up and standing with your head held tall.

Was this some sort of punishment for a past life? Abandoned by every god and goddess out there, prayers went unanswered, and hope dwindled away. It grew fainter and fainter until it was snuffed out entirely.

“Rough day?” Han’s voice cut through your thoughts.

You sat up from your bed to face him. There he was again. That was the only reason you kept going. He stared at you with glistening eyes. He munched on something and it caused one of his cheeks to poke out.

There was a loud gulp as he swallowed. His adam's apple bobbed before it settled again. “So I was thinking we could play chubby bunny and a few other games. I could really use a break after we watched that last anime that ripped my heart out. What do you think?”

You stood up and nodded. He watched you for a moment wondering if you were okay. When he came home from running errands, he couldn’t find you until he glanced in your shared bedroom. He found you blankly staring at a wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

You shook your head. It was hard to open up to people and explain what you were feeling. It was easier to deal with these emotions by yourself. No matter how hard he tried to get you to open up, you refused.

“If you insist,” he finally let it go. “Just so you’re aware, I’m going to beat you at chubby bunny.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Have you seen these cheeks!” He filled his cheek pockets full of air and puffed them out. You couldn’t help, but laugh at how ridiculous he looked. There really was a reason why everyone compared him to a quokka. “You’re not going to beat me.”

“Game on,” you challenged him. You followed him out to the kitchen where a glass bowl of marshmallows sat. You picked up a large one and shoved it into the back corner of your mouth. “Chubby bunny.” Han followed in suit.

Your fickle feelings about the past would have to be put on hold. Despite the past, you were never the type to turn down a competition. Especially, when it involved watching Han make a fool out of himself.

_ _ _

Felix:

TW: Implications of starvation, manipulative parenting, and financial abuse.

Felix sat on your bed patiently waiting for you to get out of the shower when his stomach rumbled. You were expecting to see him on Friday, but he showed up two days early. Running low on motivation and struggling to finish the week strong, he figured he’d surprise you.

The only issue was that your showers took nearly a half hour. You loved standing beneath the near boiling water and letting your skin turn bright red. You rejoiced in the warmth and basked in it. The warm water made you feel squeaky clean. Plus, it felt nice for your muscles.

After waiting nearly fifteen minutes, you were still inside the shower singing off-key. Felix stood up and disappeared into your kitchen to find a snack. You usually had your cupboards and fridge stocked. You didn’t mind when he helped himself.

He pulled open your fridge expecting to find food, but the only thing greeting him was a half gallon of milk, condiments, and two small cups of yogurt. He turned to your snack cupboard. Throwing open the wooden doors, he found two packs of ramen and a half consumed bag of granola.

He frowned and headed back over to your bedroom. You were humming to yourself and putting on a pair of fuzzy socks. The sudden footsteps caused your head to snap up. You met Felix with wide eyes and then relief flooded through you.

“You just scared the shit out of me. I thought you weren’t coming over until Friday. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” A small laugh fell from your lips and you pulled up your second sock.

“I wanted to surprise you. I thought we could hangout for a while. You said you weren’t doing anything earlier and I missed you. Where did all your food go?”

“What?”

“Your fridge and cupboard are nearly empty.” He plopped down on the bed beside you. “You usually keep your stuff stacked up. Did you buy less last time?”

“Something like that, I suppose.”

“Wanna go grocery shopping together?”

“Not really.”

“So when are you going to go grocery shopping?”

You shrugged and pulled your damp towel off your head. You left Felix on your bed and disappeared back into the bathroom to put it back. Felix watched you go with a bit of worry. He knew you had money and you had a well-paying job.

“Tomorrow?” He guessed.

“Probably not until Monday,” you finally admitted.

“Monday?” His face frowned. “But that’s like five days away. You’ll be starving by that time. You get paid on Friday.”

“I do,” you came back out, “but groceries can wait. They’re not that important.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Felix frowned. “You’re going to let yourself starve? No way, I’ll buy you some stuff.” He stood up off the bed, “and I-”

“No!”

He paused at your outburst.

“It’s a complicated situation. I won’t know how much money I have until Monday. My account is hooked up to my parents’ account and I-”

“What?”

“My bank account is shared with my parents. I mean I have my own account, but ours are joint accounts. They need money for stuff and,” you shrugged, “you know how it is.”

“I don’t think I do,” Felix shook his head. “So let me get this straight, you are an adult, you live on your own, and yet your parents have a joint bank account with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Your parents who also have two well-paying jobs? Who has their cars and houses paid off? From what you’ve said, no debt whatsoever.”

“Everyone has shared bank accounts with their parents,” you chuckled. “Why are you acting like it’s such a big deal? It’s really not.”

“Is that what they told you?”

“Yeah.”

He let out a sigh and rubbed his hands over his face. “Alright, I need you to go find your identification documents and a few other things.”

“What? Why? What for?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Because parents aren’t supposed to control their children’s finances. You’re currently almost starving and you think this is normal. We’re going to my bank and we’re opening up your own account, so this doesn’t happen again.”

“I don’t think my parents are going to be happy about that,” you mumbled.

He walked over towards you and gently grabbed your hands in his. His thumbs stroked the sides of your thumbs. “Your parents don’t need your money. It sounds like they’re taking advantage of you and you don’t realize it. Just trust me on this, you work really hard at your job. That money that they’re stealing from you, it should be yours.”

“But they need it.”

“To do what with?”

“They have bills.”

“And don’t you think they can pay for them by themselves? There’s two of them and only one of you. You deserve a lot better. Don’t you want to have that money to put away for a house or a new car or something?”

“I guess that does sound nice,” you finally admitted. “I haven’t been able to put away a bunch because they take the majority of my paycheck.”

“Let’s go then. I’ll help you open your own bank account. After that, we can go get you some groceries. I’ll help you reach out to your boss and make sure they change your banking information, so your money goes to your new account and not to the one with your parents.”

“Thank you.” A smile filled your face. “I genuinely thought it was normal.”

“It’s usually not. Especially, when you have parents who make a good salary. Come on! You’re going to love my bank! They give out complimentary lollipops.” He grinned and pulled you toward the door, so you could grab your shoes.

_ _ _

Seungmin:

TW: Self-hatred, domestic violence, verbal and physical abuse, drunk driving death, substance and alcohol abuse, and generational trauma.

“Were you born dumb or was it something you learned throughout the years?” Seungmin taunted you.

Usually, you don't mind them. You always clap back with something or throw something in your vicinity towards him. His taunts are harmless and his bark is much worse than his bite.

However, after a conversation on the phone with your mom where she cursed you out, you were struggling. Your mom always treated you decently. Your father did most of the name-calling growing up. After a drunk driving accident, your mother couldn’t cope.

Your mother’s soft and gentle nature was overpowered by your father’s narcissism and dominant personality. Your mom learned to bow her head and break herself down to fill your father up. Even when it came to watching her kids suffer the same fate she did, she stayed silent.

She let her husband belittle and break the kids down. Her comfort was only given after he left the room. If he found her comforting you, there’d be hell to pay for everyone. That was why what your mom was going through made it so much worse.

Your father was dead and your mother was a mess. Left destroyed in the wake of everything. Hurt people hurt people and that cycle seemed to continue even after the abuser was six feet under. At least, it did when it came to your family.

Your mother began using alcohol to cope and then alcohol turned to drugs. She went from a victim to domestic abuse to a victim of substances. Your heart ached for her and you tried to help her. You and your siblings were older now.

They cut her off, but you were determined to help your mom. You tried to text and call her. You were terrified that you’d lose her to whatever she took. She was alone and there was nobody there for her.

When you called her earlier, she was strung out on some unknown drug. Her words slurred, she spoke things that didn’t make sense, and it concerned you. To make it even worse, she said she wasn’t at home, so you had no idea where she was.

You tried to get her to tell you what she saw. You tried to get her to call the emergency services, so they could trace the call. Your mom needed desperate help, but she refused. When you brought up her using drugs to fill the void your father left behind, your mother lost it.

For the first time in your life, it wasn't your father spewing names at you, it was your mother. You never minded Seungmin’s taunts and teases, but with the mixture of fear for your mother, hurt, and anger cast at your father; your emotions blended together into frustration.

You were upset because your father hurt your mother and your siblings. You were mad at your mom for not leaving him and yet you realized she was a victim. She was a victim, but she was an adult with kids. You were mad because your father made her entirely codependent on him.

You were sad because you just wanted parents who loved you. You were tortured because your mother was hurting and your siblings refused to deal with it. You felt so alone and defeated and hopeless. You weren’t even sure your mother would make it to daybreak.

So when Seungmin slung that sentence, something inside of you shattered. Your eyes watered, your bottom lip trembled, and your teeth bit into the velvety flesh of your inner cheek. He realized instantly that his words affected you far more than they were meant to.

An apology fell from his lips, but you couldn’t hear it over the sobs that broke through the lump in your throat. Your chest shook and your eyes blurred with tears. He rushed over and pulled you into his chest desperate to fix his mistake.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His fingers brushed your cheeks frantically. “I didn’t mean it, I never meant it. Shhh, please stop sobbing.” He wiped your tears on his pants before he went back in and began brushing away more tears. “You know I can’t handle seeing you cry, it’ll make me cry.”

That just made you sob harder. That was your fatal flaw after growing up the way you did. You cared about everyone and their feelings a little too much. You had been groomed to bend down to people and please them just to keep the peace.

You stayed silent like your mom, but you were angry like your father. There was so much grief buried deep inside of you and you didn’t know what to do with it. The branches twisted and curled above your head. The trunk of your body was rotting from the inside out.

You didn’t know how long you sobbed until you finally caught your breath and explained everything to Seungmin. He listened to your problems with you curled up against his chest. You spoke with a shaky and shrill voice. You pulled the plug and let the decomposition from the last twenty plus years pour out of you.

When you finished, Seungmin brushed a few more tears away from your eyes. “Let’s start at the very beginning. I’m sorry I called you a name, I didn’t think it’d hurt you. I really didn’t mean it. I think you’re smart and one of the bravest people out there.”

“Let’s go try to find your mom,” he continued. “We can start at her house and work our way around town. I’ll even get my friends involved if we can’t find her, alright? Once we find her, we can go from there.”

“You don’t have to help me.”

“I don’t have to, but I can’t stand seeing you like this. I want to help you. Let’s go find your mom and then maybe you can talk to your siblings. We’ll take it one step at a time. Baby steps are a good way to get to your final destination. They’re better than standing still and not doing anything.”

You shifted in his arms and hugged him tightly. He wrapped an arm around your back and pulled you tighter towards him. He kissed the top of your head. “I suppose I should say something sappy now like I love you or something.”

“That feels wrong coming out of your mouth.”

“Does I hate you work? Am I allowed to use that like usual?” He pulled away a little, so he could see your reaction.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, I hate you.” He stood up and reached out for your hand. “Let’s go find your mom and get her the help she needs.”

_ _ _

Jeongin:

TW: Jealousy, self-hatred, abortion mention, verbal abuse, and neglect.

Families came in all shapes and sizes. High school sweethearts that had never lost their love for each other over the years. A group of friends who survived high school together. A group of strangers who met one night at a college frat party.

People who grew up and reunited with another person from their past years later when they were older and went from reunited to dating to marriage and then kids. People who identified with the same gender, people who identified as the opposite gender, people who decided gender wasn’t right for them at all. There were no boundaries when it came to who could be part of your family; stranger, friend, lover, something not yet known.

You watched the family in front of you with twines of envy wrapping around your heart. Jeongin was with the rest of Stray Kids filming a new SKZ Code video. The video wasn’t anything too spectacular. There were a bunch of mini-games that the staff members set up.

The guys could win so many points for whatever place they were in. Whoever had the most points at the end was considered the winner and got a prize. You watched Felix and Jeongin lunge forward and step into a small platform in the middle of two bigger inflatable pools filled with shaving cream.

Two neon green and blue pool noodles had been duct taped together. Changbin walked behind them and stood behind the pools in front of the camera. “On your mark, get set!”

Felix and Jeongin raised their pool noodles. “You’re going down!” Felix taunted.

“I’d like to see you try,” Jeongin grinned.

Changbin blew the whistle around his neck. Felix reached forward and swatted Jeongin. A soft thwack filled the air as his pool noodle bounced off the top of his head. The goal was to knock the other into the shaving cream filled pool as fast as they could. Jeongin wobbled on his bare feet before he jabbed the foam into Felix’s face. In the background, the rest of the guys cheered on their favorites.

Behind the cameras, the filming production members seemed amused. One held a stop-watch and timed them. You watched them for a while before you got up behind the camera and silently disappeared out the door.

The neglect and abuse you suffered at the hands of your parents left you damaged. You craved that kind of bond with other people. Desperately, you wanted to be able to fall back on a group of people who loved you too.

Jeongin talked about all his adventures with the rest of his band all the time. It was normal for him to talk about the latest funniest thing Changbin did or the time Hyunjin and Seungmin got in a fight while bickering over who loved him more.

You couldn’t help, but feel jealous. You were happy that Jeongin got to experience so much love, but there was a rotten piece of you that thought it wasn’t fair. You wanted to experience that too. Why couldn’t people love you the way that they loved him?

You sat yourself down in one of the empty dance practice rooms and laid on your back on the floor. The guys would be here when they were finished filming content. They left all their bags here.

Your head spun with thoughts about the past. Your parents were never meant to have children. In fact, you often wished they would have aborted you. Why have a child if you’d never be able to properly care about it?

Now it was years later and you were left damaged with a cracked stain-glass heart. The treatment from your parents left you bitter and full of resentment. Their teeths gnashed like wild dogs and they hurled insults your way. You’d never forgive them from the mental or physical bruises they left.

Tears began to fill your eyes at the soured memories. You could still hear your mother’s disgruntled voice. Your father’s disgust that he never bothered to hide towards you. You were mangled inside. That inner child never got to experience love and now you were angry and sad. Nobody seemed to understand that.

Pushing out the past, you closed your eyes and let yourself drift to sleep. You didn’t dream of anything anymore. Your dreams had faded a long time ago. At least the pitch darkness was better than nightmares.

When your eyes reopened, you were being shaken. Your bleary eyes looked up to find Jeongin staring down at you. His shirt was different from earlier. His hair was damp like he had just washed it. “Have you been crying?” He asked.

“Hmm?”

“Your eyes are bloodshot.” He sat down beside you. “What’s wrong?” The usual smile disappeared from his face and was replaced with a look of concern.

You shook your head, “it’s nothing.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

“But it’s really nothing.”

“Then tell me. Why’d you leave the shoot early? Did something happen to your family? You were watching us and after Felix fell in the shaving cream, I looked over to find you gone.”

“It’s not like that,” you whispered. “I got a little jealous, so I left.” You sat up and your eyes went to the floor. Shame made you hang your head.

“Jealous of what?”

“I’m jealous of your relationship with the guys. You make up your own little tribe. You guys have a really nice family going and…you know.”

Jeongin was well aware that you had struggled in the past with your family. He let out a soft sigh and tugged you into a hug. “You know, they could be your family if you want them to be. They really do like you a lot.”

“Do they even know we’re dating yet?”

“They have their suspicions. They really like you and I’m glad they do. If they didn’t like you, I’d have to beat them with a pool noodle again.”

“They’re just looking out for you.”

“Should we prank them?” He grinned. “Should we go out there and I can propose to you? Do you think they’d lose their minds?”

“I think you’d start a riot and then they’d hate me.”

“Oh, come on!” He stood up and grabbed your arms. “Let’s go prank them and then we can all go out for dinner. Maybe if we’re lucky, I can propose in the restaurant and we can get a free dessert.” He pulled you to your feet.

“That sounds like fun until I remember you’re a k-pop idol and your fanbase would lose its mind. Dispatch would have a field day and I doubt your manager would appreciate the controversy.”

“Then let’s go prank the guys and play more mini games. We finished filming and this is a great way for all of us to get closer. They have to get to know you because I plan on marrying you one day.”

“Woah, what?” Your eyes widened in shock. “You want to huh? Me?”

“Sorry for spoiling the surprise, but yeah. Someday in the future I want to put a ring on your finger. I really do want us to be our own little family of just us.”

“And your seven older brothers who will murder me if I hurt you.”

“Oh, you think that’s what’ll happen? They’re smitten with you. I got threatened by Changbin the other day.” He rolled his eyes. “He promised to beat me up if I hurt you.”

“Wait, really?”

“You’d be shocked at the effects you have on people. They care about both of us, but somehow they seem to like you a little more. It’s somewhat offensive considering I’ve been here longer.” He poked a finger into your side. “But I’ll allow it because you’re cute.”

A wave of warmth passed over you. “They really care that much?” A timid smile began to appear on your face.

“Of course, they care about you. Anyone I care about, they automatically care about because that’s how family works. I mean, unless I start caring about an asshole and then they nearly jump me.” He held up his hands in surrender. “You do not want to see Channie Hyung when he’s mad. He nearly ripped my throat out with his teeth.”

“Giving some truth to those alpha memes allegations then.”

“I’m sure Felix and I can talk him into howling at the moon. One of the other guys can secretly film it and post it to our TikTok page. He’d never live that down.”

“Sounds like you’ve been hanging out with Seungmin too much.”

“That’s what happens when you’re a family; you rub off on each other.”

“Does that mean you’ll all start howling at the moon too?” You teased him.

Jeongin couldn’t stop the playful smile from appearing on his face. His deep dimples stood out as he reached over and lightly swatted your hand. “Oh, shut up! That’s not what I meant!” His cheeks and the sides of his ears went red. “Let’s just go prank the guys.”

Before you could taunt him again, he dragged you back to the place where the guys had been filming.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @s3ungmins

Masterlist

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stray kids comfort #kpop fanfic #bang chan #lee know #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #skz fanfic #fanfic writing

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pro-memoriia · 3 months

Text

Phantom angst thoughts </3

But also with pack comfort because I didn't know how else to end it.

TW: Anxiety attack (?), self esteem issues, over thinking, hyperventilating, non-purposeful SH (scratching, throat grabbing, hitting, and hair pulling), one tiny mention of bleeding, crying

Phantom's self esteem reaches lower than the Pacific.

He's sensitive. He hates it, he does, but he is. And it's his weakness. He gets anxious about what other people think when he makes any small mistake. He feels such an overwhelming amount of shame for any small thing someone gets onto him for.

He brushes it off like he's fine, but he's different after it. His smile is forced, his tail goes still, his ears flick back, and his beautiful obsidian purple eyes get all dull.

He isolates himself in his bedroom, pretending to practice his powers or take naps. Sometimes Swiss or Mountain or the others will offer to come cuddle. But he says no, too embarrassed to even be comfortable with someone he loves so much even looking at him.

He curls up in bed and starts thinking. He thinks and thinks until his mind starts spiraling. He doesn't know what's going on anymore. All he can focus on is how stupid he is and how much everybody hates him.

His throat tightens, his expressions keep shifting. His eyes start to burn with tears. He tries his best to take deep breaths, but he can never seem to get enough air into his lungs. He panics and struggles to breathe. And soon he feels the warm, salty droplets start to flood down his face. There's no easing into it. There aren't a few small tears first. No, they come down like a waterfall, making his face red and wet. His body wracks with sobs and he starts grabbing his throat, thinking it might help him breathe. His eyes are wide and stinging. He starts to feel trapped. He cries out, but it's weak and strangled. His hands move and he squeezes himself. His nails rake down his arms hard enough to draw blood. His body curls up as much as possible, not even aware or careful of the way it could hurt his back. His fists clench and he wails into his pillow. His eyes burn so much and he hates it. He moves his hands again and pulls his nails down his face over his eyes. He frantically rubs them and just keeps sobbing. His knees are at his chest and his tail goes between them and wraps around one of his calves. He pulls his forearms over his head. He hits himself and pulls his hair in hopes to make the overwhelming sensations stop. He tries to scream, but all that comes out is a sad, broken squawk. He needs help, but he can't reach it. He's too deep now.

His hands cover his ears and he rocks back and forth. He tries to focus on the voices in his head, the ones of Swiss and Rain comforting him, helping him through his anxieties. The one of Mountain reassuring him that everything will be alright. The voice of Dew telling him to calm down because there's nobody out to get him or anything. The ones of the ghoulettes pampering him and telling him how loved he is.

He tries to focus on all the sweet things they always said, but all he could hear were the bad ones. He heard Swiss' slightly annoyed tone, Dew's yelling, the ghoulette's scolding, even Copia's disappointed voice. He hears the voices of every "fan" or Clergy member or ghoul who told him he wasn't good enough. He was a mistake, a replacement, an accident, an incompetent dog who should've been sent right back to The Pits.

He bawls his eyes out all night until things go black.

And when he wakes up, he expects to feel alone and isolated. Stupid and unworthy.

But instead he wakes up to warmth. He opens his eyes and sees Swiss laying in front him, snoring away. He has an arm draped over Phantom's torso and another cradling his face.

Phantom feels tears brimming in his eyes again. He feels like this isn't real. He whimpers and is immediately shushed by two voices. Mountain is behind him and pulls him close to press a kiss on his head. Rain is on the other side of Mountain to softly reassure the quint that everything is okay.

Phantom looks around and sees everyone from his pack all cuddled around him. Some of the ghoulettes are stacked and Dew is sleeping on Rain's legs.

And he realizes that they're all there for him. They're all there because they love and care about him.

He's not a screw up. He's not a mistake or an accident. And he's not an incompetent dog.

He's a ghoul, and he's part of a pack who treasures him.

Swiss is half asleep and moves his other hand to hold Phantom's face.

"Cheer up, love bug," Swiss tells him. "You're alright."

Phantom sobs softly as Swiss wipes his tears.

And after some coaxing and sweet words, he's falls back into sleep, now rid of his nightmares and thoughts of self hatred.

He is loved.

#working on a post that's gonna take a while bc it's a lot longer now that i restarted it so heres this for now #actually it's not that long #I'm just slow #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #swiss ghoul #rain ghoul #sodo ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoulettes #angst

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hispieceofcake · 5 months

Text

Adam and the abandonment issues and the negligence of heaven

Hello hello folks, I've been thinking and searching a little lately about Adam and deep questions about his personality, and also because a person (a person who has caused me a lot of harm) came to fight with me because I like Adam and today I'm going to talk a little more about this, I hope you like it.<3

TW: Mentions of trauma,heavy subjects,negligence,profanity,and mention of sex.

Firstly, I want to address his creation, Adam the first man, the perfect creation by the hands of God, molded and sculpted in his own image, the one who would be responsible for the earth's settlement betrayed by the two woman he was forced to love because they had been created for him.

And yes, I know that Adam tried to command Lilith and try to subject her to her unwillingness, but then I think, no one had ever told him that it was wrong, from the first moment he was created was told that he was God's perfect creation, so he probably felt so "special" that he thought he could boss Lilith around. And then, the first betrayal...knowing that the person he loved hated him and betrayed him with an angel and then falling to hell with him.

And then came Eve...made from a piece of his flesh, his rib, the one made from his own being that he would love just as Lilith did. And then again another betrayal, Lucifer again, but this time not only taking his wife's fidelity but also betraying his trust by trusting Eve and eating the forbidden fruit.

So I think, guys, how much did all of this must have hurt? What is the pain of being betrayed by the people you swore your love to and having your trust betrayed?

Adam all the time in the series he always seems to reassert himself to himself and to people, he look needs that, I just think how insufficient and useless he felt after everything he's been through, to the point of creating a false narcissistic and arrogant personality to hide the broken man deep within himself. Inside all that facade of "Dick Master" and "The First Man" there is only Adam, only a betrayed and hurt man.

The pain of betrayal, I know what it's like, the fear of being deceived and abandoned again by someone better than you, Adam knows what it's like, he knows what it's like to go through it twice. Hiding your real self for fear of being abandoned again, being ridiculed, being seen as weak, try to feel enough by reaffirming to yourself that he is the best, he is the most badass, that he is the first man like a little boy.

I have in my mind that Adam also wears that mask due to low self-esteem because he never takes it off, not even in heaven, unlike Lute who takes off the mask to walk freely in the heaven, but Adam keeps the mask on all the time even though he doesn't need to. I imagine when he got to heaven he was the only one with human appearance, all other angels and winners (Human souls going to heaven) had different appearances, such as animal appearances, so I think he may have made that mask with horns to feel more integrated into that society and less different, and uses it all the time because he feels insecure about his appearance, because of the trauma of being abandoned in the past, not feeling that his appearance was enough, that he wasn't good enough and then just like his false personality he keeps the mask as part of it.

But the question of all this is: did he realize most of it? Everyone thinks that Adam's actions were born out of conscious hatred and malice, like many villains in the series, but I see that more than his choices came out of ignorance and years of incompetent molding by others, pride manifested in negative ways like vanity and arrogance. , while Charlie was raised with limits, pride manifested in more reasonable things like self-respect. To make a long story short, Adam has always been an idiot since he was created, there are lines where he says without sarcasm or hesitation that he has never made a mistake in his entire life, sounding as if he sincerely thinks he has never made a mistake, the fact that he can say that with sincerity and a clear conscience despite being guilty of almost every sin in the book so far really sets him up for a question that makes you wonder what's going on in his head.

And then this line from him in the trial episode: "Well, yeah, they have me here, right, Sera?"

And there it is, the tone and voice of an insecure and confused boy who doesn't know what he preached seeking approval, that's another reason why you can't be mad at Adam, he never had proper guidance or teaching in his entire existence both in the garden of Eden and both in heaven.

In the final episode Adam then gives his final speech, and the way it was presented sounds less like a villain asserting, showing dominance one last time, it's more like genuine confusion, as if this isn't how he was told that things are supposed to be, this isn't how things are supposed to work, which feels a lot like his first dialogue when he's introduced, his understanding seems like such a soft thing and he believes it with all his might, as if he needed something to believe in.

All of us living beings we are generated in our mothers' wombs and then we are born and protected and taught by our fathers, taught what is right and wrong, protected and safe. But Adam, he was just raised as an adult and with a purpose behind him, so I think "Could it be that Adam was just a confused little boy in an adult's body with a big obligation on his hands?"

Adam was barely created and already had a purpose to fulfill, he was barely born and already came face to face with someone different from his physiognomy (different between male and female) and kind of practically forced to love her since he barely knew her (Lilith).

I'm not trying to rub Adam's head (I'd really like to stroke his hair) and put him in the position of victim, but guys, he is also a victim! He had never been taught that it was wrong, God, the Seraphim and all of heaven never lifted a finger to give him advice or try to teach him, no one consoled him after he was betrayed, no one was there for him, no one.

So I assert, that Adam is just protecting himself with his big ego and arrogant narcissism and obeying what he thought was right for the seraphim is all he knows.

I also want to highlight, about the first episode of the series, where the meeting with Charlie takes place. Man, he was practically having to have a face-to-face meeting with the DAUGHTER of his first wife's betrayal with Lucifer, and having to hear her say that what he was doing was wrong (not that it really wasn't, but it was the only way to balance the population of hell since most sinners refuse to redeem themselves), I'm honestly not impressed or surprised by Adam's rude reaction, practically having the living embodiment of his first wife's betrayal in front of him telling him what he was taught and allowed to do was wrong.

Adam is not an idiot without feelings, in the scene of his death you can see this, in the moment he looks at Lute and gives her one last smile as consolation to her because he knew she was little by little dying but this time forever, and also as said before in the court scene where he seeks approval from Sera, like a confused boy looking for approval.

Now moving on to Adam's abandonment issues, as I said before in a headcanons post, Adam reaffirms himself by saying that he hooked up with and had sex with several girls, an example of this is him bragging to Charlie during the meeting that he says he had sex with a girl who was interested in the drummer of his band, but honestly, I think that's all a lie, It may be true but I doubt he felt any connection with any of them, I doubt he took off the mask and showed his true self to them, and besides the fact of his fear of being abandoned again, fear of falling in love again and then being betrayed again, as someone who has been through this, I know how the fear of it continues to haunt you and how it hinders your relationships.

In short, I think that Adam was a victim of the negligent system of heaven, but he was also evil, killing demons en masse and causing genocides in hell in the days of extermination, but here comes a question...

"What would happen if there was no extermination?"

We have already been shown that hell ends up with an overpopulation due to the amount of sinners that go there, if I could guess I would say that more people go to hell than to heaven, and it is well shown that most people in hell don't listen to Charlie and her idea of redemption, so I ask you, Were the exterminations necessary or not?

Well, a while ago I was watching a very good YouTube channel and I found an incredible video where he talked about Adam and whether he deserved to die or not, that's the video if you want to see it, he gave me some inspiration for this post. ☝🏻🤓

youtube

Adam was actually a tragic character, in essence I believe Adam was someone who had a lot of insecurities and doubts about himself and hid all of this behind his facade, he built this idiotic bad boy and Dick Master persona around him, with the intention of keeping people at a distance and asserting oneself, thus avoiding more hurt and heartbreak.

When he was about to die, he saw that despite his idiotic facade and his best efforts to keep people away, someone (Lute) still cared about him. And in the end, I think that's all he ever wanted, someone who truly cared about him despite the rude way he treated her, and so he died with a smile on his face. Someone really liked him...(I would also love him regardless of his personality, I would try to understand why he is like that, the famous "I can fix him")

Returning to the subject of neglecting of the heaven, from the same channel I mentioned before I found a very good video that talks about this, addressing Adam, heaven and the history.

youtube

In my view, Adam was and was not a victim, he was the antagonist of the first season, of course, but we also have to see that he was also one of the victims and one of the most affected due to the lack of responsibility and negligence of heaven in not having disciplined him or at least taught him that it was wrong, I know that Adam is not a child but for me deep down he was just a confused boy in the body of an adult who had no reception or teaching and was betrayed and abandoned by those he loved and trusted more.

Well guys, that's all for now at least, for me Adam is a deep character, full of hidden pain and confusion, honestly I love Adam, I love him very much, he is one of my comfort characters and one that I identify with a little (As for being neglected, I didn't have very good parents and I paid my price for that and nowadays I have some emotional problems because of that).

I wish more people could see the good in Adam and not just fight me and lecture me like how "you wish I talked about my dick all the time and had sex with all the girls he saw in front of me? Do you will like it?" , this was someone's comment during an argument with me and honestly I was hurt by it, yes I'm a slightly sensitive person, but man, it was hard to try to understand the character a little? not even a bit?

Well, thank you very much for your attention, I really enjoyed writing about Adam, it's always very good, kisses in your hearts, bye bye. 💗🎸

#Youtube #hyperfocus #hazbin hotel vizziepop #adam dickmaster #adam #adam hazbin hotel #adam and lute #adam the first man #eve hazbin hotel #lilith hazbin hotel #vizziepop hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel #vizziepop #adam was a victim too #adam the first man hazbin hotel #fandom Hazbin Hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #confort character

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

Text

Undercover

TW: Extremely Dom!Rafe. Smut. Language. Coercive behaviors. Degrading language. Bondage. Mentions of drugs. Use of drugs. Choking kink. Good girl kink. Slapping. Gun play.

SUMMARY: You are undercover to bust the drug ring within the higher class of the Outer Banks, unaware that Rafe is on to you, and means to make you pay…

WORD COUNT: 4200

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Undercover

Your eyes narrowed to him from over the rim of your chosen mocktail, a guise of drinking among the masses to keep from blowing your own cover. All to study him and wait for the perfect moment you would offer yourself in order to ‘strike’. A subtle obliteration he wouldn’t understand until he was left in the debris of what you intended. But even as your eyes surveyed him, you couldn’t deny the way he was a pleasing subject to look at. The effects of his chosen vices having yet to touch his youthful looks as you bit the edge of your cup in thinking of differed circumstances would make him a target as a one night stand.

But you had a job to do. And you were not one to allow your hormones to get in the way. And yet, you’d never met someone quite like Rafe Cameron before…

“One hit each and I’m expecting payment for more, it’s the good shit…come on, don’t be cheap or I’ll throw your ass to the pogues…” He caused the group to chuckle as you added yourself into the feigned humor to keep from drawing suspicion. But from the second you made yourself known, all eyes were suddenly peeled to you. Just as you had observed him, he had done to you. Shameless stripes made of his eyes, up and down your physique, as you’d worn something just enticing enough to give the appearance of confidence battling low self esteem and the need to quell your daddy issues.

“Is this all you have?” You asked, the group suddenly silent as he pulled another two bags from his pockets, an impressive amount on hand for what was rather courageous considering you could have been anyone. A detective even…

“I was looking for a real party…You don’t even have enough to last an hour…” You shot, aware girls who threw themselves to his feet were what he’d be used to. Therefore flattery would get you nowhere. Or at least not where you wanted to be. For that, you journeyed to your feet before being pulled by his grasp. A quick and harsh grasp that was anything but compassionate. If anything, it was a threat of what could happen if you weren’t careful.

“You got the cash?”

“You got the coke?” You shot back, throwing your hand back to your side as his jaw cocked.

“Sort this out for me, yeah?” He asked a friend, leaving the other supply behind before following you. From a simple observation with his hand on your lower back, it would appear as a decent enough interaction. And yet the raging fire behind his eyes would validate it was anything but.

“Through here…” He finally offered after taking you through the entire extent of the house. A beautiful plantation plagued with the recklessness of adolescence. Stains of carelessness worn into the walls as you crossed over the threshold of a private room with the door closing behind you. Once the door locked, your eyes flashed to him in concern.

“Don’t want any interruptions now do we?”

“Where is it?” You asked, appearing as gluttonous as his eyes were for you.

“In that closet. Top shelf.” You turned to open the doors, finding one to stick before forcing it open. On the very tips of your toes, you were able to see the racks he spoke of. Only they were only housing perfectly stacked shoe boxes and a handful of nicknacks of a lack of importance.

“It’s not-” But as you turned to counter him, he was already at your back, pushing you against the closet door completely. The way he hovered over you nearly swallowed you whole as you had prepared yourself for this very thing. His reputation made it clear he was one quick to anger. Kook or Pogue, didn’t make a difference. Yes, you had accounted for everything.

Except how your body would respond to him.

“You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Before you could answer, he continued his apparently rhetorical question, “A pretty girl I would have noticed at any other party suddenly wants more coke than her ass can handle and you think I wouldn’t care? I wouldn’t find it suspicious-” But as his eyes washed over you in a display of clear lust and need, his head cocked as if doing so allowed him to gain a better view of what you offered gladly as eye candy.

“If you don’t have what I need, you could have just said so…Guess I was wrong…” You shot back, narrowing your eyes, before turning to leave. Only you weren’t allowed even a step before his arm projected before your face. A thick forearm roped in muscle acting as a starting point for the climb of your eyes to reach back to his blue irises darkened by desire. Carnal or chaotic was yet to be determined.

“You were wrong…Thinking I wouldn’t notice what you’re trying to do…” He pushed you into the wood of the closet door, his knee rising between your legs to keep you from raising them to escape or angled against him in any way.

“What are you doing?” You asked quickly as his fingers took hold of the silk you’d chosen to wear. A tight blouse that hung low as he ripped it directly down the center. His jaw set aside in disbelief but also pride in himself as he came upon the microphone set between your breasts. You swallowed hard.

“Now what would you have this for?” He asked, playing coy. Before you could respond, his fingers dipped just far enough in your bra to trace the chilled skin beneath.

“Think you can take me down? Then you’re going with me…” His second hand was in your panties before you could stop him. Your body quick to arch and your lips immediate in a separation as you rode into him.

“Let them hear how good you are at your job, you little slut…If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was actually making you want to come…” Your lips came open to object, but he only forced those same digits into your mouth as he lowered the microphone to your thighs. Offering a look of warning, he brought his fingers back to your sex, caution left to the wind as you squelched to each piston.

“Go ahead, the more you fight it, the harder you’re gonna come…” He lowered himself closer to your ear. “Don’t torture yourself. That’s my job.” With that,he withdrew his fingers.

“This what you wanted?” You asked as he pulled the dime bag of cocaine from his back pocket. But as you expected him to bring it away, he used his fingers still slick with you, before dipping it into the container.

“Mmm…” Your cheeks became hot. Too hot.

Enough to remind you of what was at stake if you allowed yourself to remain. Rafe wasn’t some innocent bystander manipulated by those he trusted. He wasn’t in a situation in which his life was on the line if he attempted to do ‘the right thing’. He was just as responsible for the lives lost from drugs like this. And yet his presence was intoxicating enough that you understood why every warning against them could be easily ignored.

Yet at the last moment in which temptation held you within its clutches, your eyes flashed to the door. Your feet set off before you could second guess yourself.

“I’m not near done with you yet, baby…” He explained as he pushed you against the door just long enough to make this threat before pulling you by your hair until you were on the edge of the bed.

“If you were any other girl, I would have you ass up on this bed until you screamed my name in pleasure…” He brought you closer to him until your lips teased him.

“But you’re nothing but a liar and a slut who needs to be taught a lesson.” He tossed you onto the bed, moving to the bedside table and producing a gun.

“Tell me why you’re really here.” You paused as he stood between your legs at the end of the bed. The cold nose of the pistol at the tip of your knee and descending between your thighs. Closer and closer to the pulsation he made from a mix of danger and anticipation.

“I want to know what you know.”

“Enough. I know enough…”

He leaned over you, threatening your panties to the side with the nose of the gun before using it at your lower lips. He pulled them apart as you trembled, truly uncertain of what he would do. And yet every nerve in your body was exhilarated by it.

“So you know I’d hurt you and not think twice about leaving you somewhere nobody would ever find you…” You swallowed hard before he quickened the weapon.

“But not until I have my fun first. Maybe showing me you’re worth keeping around.” He withdrew the weapon and replaced it with his cock as you moaned in approval. Your stomach twisted and tightened to the voices within your head reminding you how immoral and unjust this was. You spent years in an academy and within a job to ruin soulless individuals like the male Camerons. Ones that used intimidation and threats such as this very one to keep their role in society. And yet, the way his touch burned you from the outside in had been enough to ignore this reminder.

“Knees." He spoke simply, as if a king demanded his subject. For the briefest of moments of silent rejection you watched his eyes shine with amusement.

"If I have to ask again-" he interrupted himself.

"Stand up." Your eyes flashed before he pulled you back up by your hair.

"They got to hear enough…" He explained while tearing the microphone from your body, separating it from the pack at your back, and sending both to the floor in ruin.

"Everything else you say and do will be for me." He traced the gun between your breasts, circling your nipples. He watched and basked in every flinch of your body, getting off on the fear behind your eyes more than the soft moans from your lips.

"Take off what's left of your shirt." After a hesitation, you submitted to his order. Your fingers gingerly peeled the fabric freely from your arms until it fell to the floor.

"Did I say to drop it on the floor?" He hesitated for a moment.

"Pick. It. Up." You obeyed before watching him set the gun onto the bed. Of course with your training you could easily maneuvering against him. And yet, you simply didn't want to. Whatever he had in store, you wanted to endure. Curiosity and lust too strong to silence.

"Can't have you trying anything stupid." He left knots right enough to cause the perfect bite into your skin. Just enough to be reminded of his dominance without the temptation to slip free.

"Perfect…" he confessed, the only kindness he had shown so far. And the only kindness he would.

You were pushed into your back until you collided with the mattress, the fabric tied to the headboard. Yet, you were positioned in such a way that allowed you to hang off the edge of the bed. And this was his intention.

"Don't want to tell me? Then show me what good your mouth is before I put a bullet in it instead." He set himself into your upside down mouth, your eyes closing to the pressure at the back of your throat.

"Fuck!" He breathed deeply no matter your fight. As your toes gripped onto the sheets beneath you and you reacted violently to the way he held you down with force, his fingers came to your clit. The angle was uncomfortable. The pain was excruciating between breathlessness and stretching. But that touch was enough to forgive everything.

"Jesus, you're such a fucking slut for me, aren't you? Don't even have to try and you're willing to do anything to come…" He held himself in the back of your throat as you trembled beneath him, withdrawing ss stars set behind your eyes, and repeating this process in preparation. Not a moment of comfort. And it made you so fucking wet for him.

"If you only would have gotten on your knees when I asked, could've been better for you…" he scoffed to his own words before aligning himself into you from behind.

"Now…you shut that pretty little mouth before I leave it bruised. And just maybe you can come…" He was inside of you before you could object, not that you could or wanted to. Your body a mere outlet for his tensions as you favored his brutality. Even as he buried your face to the sheets below, every battering made you moan out for him. Every smack to your ass sending you to sing in labored winces, before he finally pulled you against his chest. A single pull of your bonds allowed your hands my mobile enough to be taken by him but still bound at the wrist.

"How many people have you arrested?"

"Ah…" you moaned to his fingers at your clit, teasing and pulling before he hit the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"That's an easy question…or you too fucked out already?" He smirked against your cheek. "You think that's bad…you aren't prepared for what's coming…" he abandoned you at his bed. His absence sent you to turn and face him, watching him return with his belt that was hanging on the closet door prior.

"I've already made your ass the perfect shade of red, don't worry…" He paused.

"This is for me…" he bound your thighs with the belt, forcing it together, before hiking your legs over his shoulder.

"You can't stay fucking still…this should help…" he hovered over you, tightening the loop until it ate into your legs as his hand came to your neck.

"Shame you don't have your cuffs, might have let you tie me up, God knows it's the only way you'd get me…" he teased.

"Please…" you whimpered.

"The big bad detective wouldn't be begging now would she? Your pussy that desperate for me?" You nodded, teeth tensed closed, as your eyes attempted to plead with him.

"Then tell me why you're here…"

"B-barry…" The name of your informant slipped from your lips. Whatever code of conduct was ashes to your feet.

"Sold me out?" You gasped as he slowly thrusted into you.

"But you should get a reward for telling me, don't you think?"

"Yes!" You begged as he smirked. One hand to your breast as he twisted your nipple. But as you found comfort in this, a cold sting came to your cheek.

"Stop closing your eyes. You look at me and show me how grateful you are that I'm being nice or I'll have to go back to hurting you…Believe me…I prefer that much better…"

You kept your eyes to him as you watched his face contort. Perfect pleasure as he pulled himself into an arch.

"Jesus, you feel so fucking tight. Not what I expected for such a little whore…" He scoffed.

"Come here-" he unlatched the belt around your thighs and brought it around your throat. In one grip he held the tail to the belt as well as the binds of your arms before retying the knots at your wrist.

"You're gonna ride me until you make me come. Do it how I want and you can come on my face…"

Your eyes rolled as you worked for that reason. Every inhibition shattered and every warning ignored as he pulled you down onto him to initiate the beginning.

"Work for it." He instructed again. Only as he had, you took complete dominance. Your body worked overtime to please him, not a moment of pause as you attempted to dry him out within you. You would have given nearly anything to have that power over him. Even if only for a moment.

"You are desperate…shit!" He groaned as he pulled himself deeper.

"Changed my mind…get up here…" he moved you to his face until your thighs framed him.

"You do it quick or you don't get to come at all." His tongue and teeth worked in unison against you. A cruel hit on your hip, leading you faster. But with each motion came your reaction. You were tired but desperate, washing over him in rushed bibs before he pinned you down and spread you wider with the same force.

"Fucking come already!" He spat between suction as you moaned over him, your hands desperate to return the favor to him as he sent you in tremors.

"Yes!" He growled, turning you as you shivered from the rush, eating you through that orgasm. Your hands remained pinned behind you as he pulled you harder into his tongue.

"So fucking sweet…" he spoke while rising from your thighs.

"Now it's the fun part…" he teased, hitting at your clit as you gasped beneath him. Quick slaps from a low height that worked with the same sensations a vibrator would have left against you. Overstimulation sending your thighs in a threat to close as he hit your breast.

"Keep your fucking legs open."

"I can't!"

"Do I gotta stick my cock back in there to make you behave again?"

You were tempted to rival him just to taste him again. To have dominance over him again. But he was too convicted to his own ambition.

"Dirty fucking girl…come on…" You weren't sure what he was asking for specifically. But your body seemed to answer that request as you came again. A wave too strong to silence as you shook beneath him. Your hips bucking as he kept you flat.

"There…now you stay fucking still for me. You've got yours. Now it's my turn " he thrust sharply. Snaps made of selfish motions as you were nearly dissolved into the mattress. Every minor sensation intensified by the two orgasms he carefully curated to tease the third incoming. All for this moment.

"If you come before me, you'll be fucking sorry…so greedy. You'll wait." He slapped your cheek as you arched. Your mind dizzy with how much you should loathe him. Yet, you felt you were in debt to him. For the orgasms. For the pleasure. Even for the pain…

God, the pain…

"Ahhh…"

"Turn around. I don't wanna see you come again. You've had your fair fucking share…" To this, he grunted and groaned, his cock refamiliarized with your dripping folds.

"Ass up-'" He explained while pulling your hips high.

"Yes…good girl." He used the back of his hand with the ring to leave a mark on your left cheek.

"Isn't it better when you behave? Not so fucking hard either is it?"

"I wanna watch you ruin that pretty little manicure in my sheets-" he untied your hands and allowed them freely as you obeyed. Your nails gripped sharply into the sheets as you were rooted into the same fabric. Your body a mess as you were close to yet another unbuckling beneath him.

"Don't fucking come!"

"Then slow down-" He pulled the belt around your throat until it tightened. You were set at his chest as he used the hold to both interrupt your breathing and remind you of your forgotten submission.

"You don't tell me how to fuck you. Did you have to when you came the first two times, baby?"

"No-" he answered for you. "Now,' He used his second hand at your clit again. Pain and pleasure battling once again as you fought to keep from coming undone for him. You didn't want to allow him a third. But the tightness around your throat only worsened your need. An unknown kink set alight as you trembled in front of him.

"You're acting like a fucking virgin, coming so much…"

"You're…"

"Too good?" You nodded.

"I know baby…so don't piss me off so I can give us what you both want…" he took turns between your clit and ass, fisting and contorting your breast in the final moments before he released the belt.

"I wanna hear you scream. Make sure everyone on the other side of that little microphone hears you too-" he produced it from his side, having taken it when he left for the belt.

"Bet every guy listening wants to come just hearing how wet you are for me…" he moved his lips to the microphone.

"So…fucking…tight." He set the microphone to your joint hips. Every depraved sound is nicely memorized in the echo as you were lost to another pulsating orgasm. Only this one was painful as he continued to fuck you through it.

"Hear that? Making her come again …don't fuck with me." He threw it away before turning you to face him. A grip to your jaw.

"Think you can pull one over on me and get away with it?"

"Answer me!" He slapped your face, pulling your hair to force you to view him withdrawing from you.

"Oh, you like watching it? Then watch-" he pulled you higher. The sight made your eyes roll as you winced.

"That sound right fucking there is better then when you come….does it hurt baby?" You nodded.

"Good, should teach you your lesson…" he explained as you moaned beneath him.

"Please .."

"I don't think you've learned it baby…"

"I swear!"

"You just wanna coke again…"

You paused. Unable to deny it.

"Battered little pussy is already crying. And you still want one more?"

"Answer me!"

"Yes!" You shouted back.

"Fuck me!" He rutted into you. Deep penetration too swift to comprehend before he became sloppy. His finish dripping from both of you as he withdrew. And yet, he remained convicted against you.

"I'm not done." He pulled you between his naked thighs, your ankles pinned beneath his on the side of the bed while his fingers attached your sex.

"We're not done until you squirt."

"It hurts." He slapped your cheek, softly, as if such a thing could exist.

"Do you think it will feel any better if you try and stop me?! No…you're gonna squirt because it's gonna be so fucking hot…and you're gonna do it just for me…" He groaned into your ear.

"So shut the hell up and fucking spray for me. I'll even make it easy…" he was vengeful to your pussy, pistoning fingers as you rose up to follow only to feel him withdrawal.

"Ugh!"

"Yeah?"

"Yes! Fuck! Rafe!"

"I like when you scream my name baby…let's see if you still can when I make you come this time…" his fingers pistoned and then focused on your clit, denying you the pleasure of both sensations.

"Please please please! Rafe!"

"You wanna be my good girl? Wanna make me proud?"

"Yes…" he followed his hand as he scoffed.

"All over my hand. Right now. I know you're desperate. There she is! Look at you! Yes…making such a fucking mess all over me…" Your body betrayed you completely as you chased that bitter high. His hold at your nipple and the other at your clit sendong your body to new heights in every sense as you squirted over the sheets before you. But in the middle of your high, he was inside you again.

"I told you…I wasn't near done."

By the time he has been, your body was stretched and pulled well beyond limits. Your name spoken in ecstasy from his lips as it came off of hatred from your own. Cum staining every visible surface as you blushed to the scene left behind.

"Now you're smart enough to know what would happen if you try to go against me, right baby?" His hand took hold of your breast.

"No another night like this…and I think we both need it…" you paused, biting your bottom lip.

"You want more?"

You nodded.

"Then meet me back here in an hour. I need to handle some business…and then that ass is mine…" he smacked your backside before leaving you alone in the room.

You dove to the microphone when he left.

"I'm earning his trust…I just need another minute…" You explained, hoping it was believable, tearing through this room before realizing he wouldn't store it somewhere so obvious. Instead, you moved throughout the party, careful not to be seen by him, until coming into an office. Having done so as he was in search of you, nursing another swollen erection as he climbed the steps to make you handle him.

Insatiable bastard.

Not that you could judge as you were tempted to follow him. Willing to drop to your knees and do what was necessary for his fingers to end up back in you-

Focus!

"What…" Your eyes narrowed to the contents of the drawer you'd happened upon. One left open in a hurry. A pair of glasses set in place that were identifiable enough to know they didn't belong to Ward. But a missing person.

Big John Routledge. Who went missing a year prior.

Suddenly this was more than drugs. This was more than a small bust. And it gave you an excuse to return to Rafe and rectify a night of promised orgasms…

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