#tw: Mentions of hospitals

[sortofanobsession]

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."

[domina-honoribila]

My daughter cut her finger really badly and we're in the ER, please keep her in your prayers. She may have severed a tendon.

Her name is Maria.

Update: she needs surgery on Friday to repair the tendon. She's only 4.

Update Two: she will not need surgery! They think it will heal on its own. Thanks for the prayers!

[ocprompts]

has your oc ever been in the hospital for more than a week?

[whumppromptoftheday]

whumpee waiting alone in the hospital because caretaker has trauma and can't bring themselves to visit.

[nat-1-whump]

Whumpee was a capable magic user, having cultivated that skill their whole life. So, naturally, they took liberty in exercising it every change they got. From teleporting rather than traveling, to using telekinesis to carry heavy things, to using illusion spells to pull lighthearted tricks... it was a wonder they ever had any energy left to cast more spells at all.

However, they were injured and had to be hospitalized. The doctors put them on magic suppressants, warning them that using magic could be unpredictable, or even dangerous, in their vulnerable condition. It was safest to take their powers away for the time being.

Whumpee did not take this news well.

One evening, Caretaker went to visit Whumpee. Whumpee had seemed particularly upset with their loss of magic last time Caretaker visited, so this time, they brought them a stuffed animal. Hopefully it would comfort them, at least a little bit, as they recovered.

They expected to find Whumpee frustratedly picking at their bandages, or in a restless sleep, as usual. But when they opened the door, they found Whumpee knelt down on the floor, sobbing over a shattered mug.

Caretaker hurried to set the plushie on the bed. They crouched down next to Whumpee, and put a hand on their shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. I'll help you clean it up, and we can get you a new mug, okay?"

Whumpee sniffled. "I-I can't even fix a stupid cup..." They cried.

Caretaker instinctively glanced towards Whumpee's hands, worried that they'd cut themself trying to pick up the pieces. They were initially relieved to see that Whumpee hadn't, until they realized that Whumpee must have tried---and failed---to use a mending spell instead. That must be why they were crying now. "...Fix it? Whumpee, no... You can't. Not right now. Look, I'll go get a broom to clean up the pieces, and-"

"No, I want to do this..." Whumpee looked up at Caretaker, their eyes reddened and tearful.

"Whumpee, you can't, remember? They-the doctors, they put you on magic suppressants until you get better." Caretaker wasn't a magic user themself, so they wondered what it was like to lose magic powers after using them for so long. They figured it probably threw poor Whumpee's system all out of whack.

Whumpee considered for a moment. They looked at the broken mug, then back at Caretaker. "Wait, I think... I think I can force a tiny bit, just a little..."

"What do you mean, 'force?' Whumpee, I really don't think that's a good idea." Caretaker tried to take Whumpee's hands in their own, but Whumpee pulled away, focused on the broken mug.

Whumpee picked up a few pieces. They ignored Caretaker's protests and closed their eyes, chanting a mending spell under their breath. Their brow furrowed, as they seemed to strengthen their resolve to cast the spell.

To Caretaker's disbelief, a faint light began to flicker from Whumpee's palms, the glow peeking out from under the ceramic shards. A couple of pieces began to shudder, clinking as they seemed to gravitate towards each other.

Suddenly, the pieces went still. They clattered to the floor as Whumpee's arms fell limp. Like a reflex, Caretaker grabbed Whumpee and pulled them into an embrace before they could collapse into the pile of sharp pieces. The ceramic shards glittered in the light from the window, as if to taunt them.

"Whumpee!" Caretaker felt a warm trickle against their chest, and gently turned Whumpee's head up to see a stream of blood coming from their nose. They shakily pulled Whumpee up and took them back to their hospital bed, struggling to carry their limp body. After draping Whumpee over the blankets, they found a paper towel and began to clean the blood off their face.

Whumpee's eyes fluttered open as Caretaker wiped their bloody nose. "D-did I do it?" Their voice sounded distant and groggy.

Caretaker's heart broke. Whumpee sounded so hopeful. "No, Whumpee. Your cup's still broken. But you have to rest, okay?" They instinctively put a hand on Whumpee's chest to push them down, fully expecting Whumpee to try to pull themself out of bed.

Instead, Whumpee only stared up at them, defeated. Caretaker noticed the dark circles under Whumpee's eyes and was about to ask when they last slept, when Whumpee's gaze wandered past Caretaker to the floor.

Caretaker followed their eyes to where the fragments of ceramic seemed to glow in the fading sunlight. They felt they should leave Whumpee's side to clean it up, but now, such an action felt too... final. They figured it would only make Whumpee feel worse, watching the pieces they tried so hard to fix get swept up and dumped in the trash.

A sniffle from Whumpee pulled Caretaker back to the moment. They looked down to see Whumpee's eyes well up with tears. Wordlessly, they squeezed Whumpee's hand.

Whumpee pulled their hand away and curled themself up on the bed, hiding their face behind their knees. Their sniffling turned to full-on sobbing.

Caretaker gently stroked Whumpee's hair, trying to find the right words. "Whumpee... You need to rest. Nobody is expecting you to start casting spells again so soon. Not after all that happened."

Whumpee peeked over their knees. "It hurts. It feels like they took something out of me and it messed everything up."

"I know... But you'll feel better once you sleep, yeah? And the more you rest, the sooner you'll be recovered enough to handle your magic again." Caretaker pulled the blankets up to Whumpee's shoulder and handed them the plush toy they'd brought earlier.

Whumpee moved their legs away from their chest, exposing their face as they clutched the stuffed animal. Their momentary comfort gave way to worry. "What if I forget how to use magic while I'm in here, though? W-what if I'm never able to use magic again?" Their lip started to quiver.

Caretaker gave Whumpee a warm smile, though their eyes held a look of pity. "I'm not sure, Whumpee. I don't know a whole lot about magic... How it works, what it takes to learn it." They patted Whumpee's shoulder. "But whatever happens, I'll stay by your side every step of the way. I'll promise you that much."

A small smile formed on Whumpee's face. Though they still seemed worried, Caretaker's reassurance calmed their nerves somewhat. They closed their eyes, squeezing the stuffed animal against their chest.

The two rested quietly in the hospital room, the shadows stretching higher up the wall until the orange sunset outside had darkened to a rich purple. Once Whumpee dozed off, Caretaker swept up the broken pieces. They sat down next to Whumpee again and gently placed a hand on their cheek.

Whumpee mumbled contentedly. For the first time in a while, their sleep seemed... peaceful.

[inkblot22]

Can You Keep A Little Secret?

JFC this took me longer than usual I'm so sorry anon. I sort of explained it before, but I didn't exactly use your prompt, based on ineptitude on my part. After I finish reading Oshi no Ko, I might try again! Line divider by @/cafekitsune.

This fic is aimed towards sort of everyone, but the reader possesses afab features (they don't come into play until later, this chapter has no mention of them.) You'll understand what I mean by it being for everyone if you read the first paragraph or so. It has to do with suspending your belief/ employing your imagination.

TW for: lots of confusion, semi-shy reader, creep behavior, mention of death, mention of lobotomy/grippy sock jail, reincarnation. These warnings will get worse, and this takes place when all characters are 18+.

Waking up was never your favorite part of the day, but that feeling increases tenfold when you wake up in someone else’s body. You know for sure you didn’t look like this last week, and the name on your ID is similar to your own, but you don’t recognize the face in the mirror. Whoever you’re inhabiting has a few similar features to your own, but your skin was never this dewy, your eyes never so… hollow and strange. 

When you looked up your name, you found out that you, or your body, at least, had died in your sleep. When you looked up the name on that ID, you found out that you’re the child of some big business man and a prolific model, and you apparently dabble in acting. Your dad isn’t your dad, but he calls you every night to make sure you’re settling into your “new” apartment. Your mom isn’t your mom, but she has popped by once or twice to ask you how you’ve been and make you really good food. She mentioned last night that your acting instructor was worried, since you hadn’t attended your Thursday classes, and also that your agent has been trying to contact you. You didn’t know you had an agent.

When you called your agent, who was literally just titled “Agent” in your new phone, she sounded relieved then irritated, chiding you for living the high life too fast. She said you weren’t popular or loved enough to go on week-long benders, and then she mentioned that she had a job for you and she’d see you on Thursday. According to this phone that isn’t yours, Thursday was tomorrow. 

You made a night of getting prepared- slathering on the fancy face masks, trying on various outfits, scrolling through the pictures on the phone of your new body in the past, painting your really gorgeous nails- and then you went to sleep and woke up to a phone call from your new dad. 

“Hi, sweetheart!”

“Uh… hi, Dad…” You mumbled. You didn’t know him from Adam, but there was no point in being rude to him.

He pauses, and then he speaks slowly, “Did you hear from your agent, honey?”

“Yeah- yeah I did, uh, I have acting class in a little, and she said she has a job for me.”

“Oh, I’m glad to hear it! You know you can always visit me if something is wrong, okay? Just call me or Devin and he’ll come get you as soon as possible.”

You don’t know who Devin is, but you don’t point it out, “Of course. Thank you, dad.”

There was another pause. This one stretches out for a while and then he mumbles, “Okay… love you, sweetpea.”

“Uh… love you too. I’ll call you when I get back home?”

“Sure thing. Bye bye.”

The call ends with a click and you hop in the shower, trying to scrub away the confusion. You pair the lotion with a body spray that makes you smell like a summer afternoon in an apple orchard, and then you dress yourself in a soft off the shoulder sweater dress with a pair of tights with little sequins and gems sewn onto the sheer black material. You pull your hair back, tied at the nape of your neck, and roll on some lip gloss. You grab your bag, which isn’t your bag, and stroll out, walking down the street to get to the talent agency.

The receptionist looks at you in some measure of shock and greets you kindly. You smile and wave. He looks even more confused as you clomp into the stairwell. Once you get to the third floor, mildly out of breath, you hurry to room 3-5 and silently slide into the back.

You’re not sure why you’re acting so covert, as the class hasn’t even started. A woman with dark hair strolls in and flinches when she sees you sitting there, your new name tumbling from her lips with confusion.

“Hello.” You hope that she’s the instructor, “How are you?”

She looks at you like you grew two heads and forces a smile, “Oh, I’m well, dear. Give me a moment to look outside.”

She clicks to the window in her heels and opens the blinds looking around wildly before she turns back to you.

“Well, nothing’s on fire and there’s a distinct lack of flying pigs, so I guess you’re finally serious about getting better at acting?” 

“Uh… I…?” You don’t know how to respond, “I didn’t realize I’d been late so often.”

“Late? Half the time you didn’t even show up. The only person worse than you is-”

The door behind you opens. You clench your hands to stop the shaking you just realized you were struggling with, and turn slightly in your seat to see a willowy young man, tousled lavender hair being haphazardly smoothed by his slender hands.

The instructor snorts, “Speak of the devil. Hello, Mr. Felmier.”

He smiles, but it’s a bit too calculated. When he speaks, his voice is soft, almost artificial, “Ah ha… Good morning, Angie.”

Angie, evidently, rolls her eyes and takes a seat at the front of the room, crossing her long legs, and tilts her head skeptically, “Sure. If a satellite doesn’t crash in this room and kill us all in the middle of class, I’ll be shocked.”

“Mr. Felmier” walks over and smiles at you. It seems even more strained than before, and keeps eye contact with you as he points to the chair next to you, his voice high and sweet, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Oh, of course not. I don’t own that chair, haha!” You joke. 

His face twitches, some micro expression that you’re just observant enough to notice, but not to see, and he takes a seat. Angie gets up and leaves and you look out the window. You can feel eyes on you, and when you turn to look at him, his face is impassive save for a slight narrowing of his eyes. You look down at yourself and pat your cheeks, suddenly nervous.

“Oh, no, is there something on me?” You ask.

He doesn’t immediately respond, his eyes blinking so fast that if he hadn’t done it twice you would have never seen the movement, and then he gives you that sweet, plastic smile, “Oh, no. Your makeup is different than usual. It looks nice. Pretty.”

“I- I’m only wearing lipgloss, so I guess that’s why. Thank you.”

He nods slowly, and tilts his head, still smiling as though he’s trained to do so, “After we’re done here, did you want to go get brunch together?”

You’re about to say no. You don’t remember him, because this is not your life you’re living, but if you did know him, you’d decline anyway. Something feels funny about him. You don’t really have to decline, though, since you have to go down to floor 2 and see your agent afterwards anyway, “Oh, uh, I’m so sorry. I have to do something after.”

“I can wait.”

“I don’t want to put you out. Maybe another time?”

His eyebrows pinch together ever so slightly and his smile doesn’t strain, but it feels wrong as he leans his elbow on the back of his chair to better face you, “Did you hear the news from Mirelle?”

“What news?” You don’t know who Mirelle is.

“Oh, you’re meeting with her afterwards, aren’t you?” He smooths the hair along your temple so it is slicked behind your ear, “Are you wearing that perfume I got you? You said you hated it.”

Okay, so whoevers body this was definitely knew this man, and now you don’t even know his full name. Judging from the way he’s speaking to you, you were friends at least. Your lashes flutter and you look away from him.

“I- I’m sorry. It smells very nice.” You don’t know how you’re supposed to be acting. The irony of waiting for an acting class while not knowing what your role here happens to be is not lost on you.

Felmier sits up like you insulted him and his voice is quiet, so quiet and tense that you don’t think you’re supposed to hear him, “Interesting.” 

You glance at him again, “What?”

“I didn’t say anything. You like that bagel place down the street, don’t you? After you see Mirelle, meet me in the lobby. I think we should have a chat.” Although he is smiling, his voice doesn’t leave any room for argument as he turns back to the front. 

You stand up, leaving your purse in your seat, and walk to the window, looking out of it for a moment until Angie strolls back in. She clicks her tongue and you walk back to your seat.

“It’s just you two? Now I’m really expecting a freak accident. Well, let’s get started.”

Acting class was… interesting. Since it was just the three of you, Angie had you read lines from a script and act out some kind of argument. She seemed pleased with your performance, but Felmier kept stumbling over his lines and making the wrong expression. He seemed tense by the time the two hour long session was over. You didn’t want to follow that thread, and besides, you had somewhere to be. You went down the stairs again and bumped into a woman with silver hair, who looked at you just as confused as everyone else had been, and smiled sweetly, genuinely.

“Hey, you. You’re a bit early.” She says.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so? I don’t know.” You guessed this was supposed to be Mirelle, your agent, maybe. 

“It’s a good change, babe. Why don’t you come into my office?” She doesn’t really ask, since she’s already leading you over.

She takes a seat behind her desk and you take a seat in front of her, and she taps away at her computer for a moment before she says something.

“You remember Epel? Epel Felmier?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Oh? You ‘guess so’? Not that the two of you are constantly arguing, or anything.” She smirks, glancing away from her monitor to look at you, “Regardless, I’ve got something that will help with your little PR nightmare last month. What were you thinking?”

“Uh, I’m sorry.”

Her eyes narrow a fraction, but whatever she was thinking is ignored, “You and Epel are gonna be collaborating on an upcoming short film. Hopefully the two of you don’t get into another screaming match.”

“Um. Yeah. Hopefully.” All this new information and these new people are making your head spin. You don’t want to start panicking- you did enough of that last week- but you’re already exhausted. You wonder if there’s a back entrance to this building so you can just sneak out and don’t have to talk to Epel again. You don’t think you can mentally handle him talking to you over a cup of coffee.

Your agent, Mirelle, is looking at you expectantly, like she just said something. Your heart jumps into your throat, then sinks to your gut and you clear your throat quietly, shifting in your chair.

She laughs airily, “Oh, you didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

You shake your head, and she laughs again.

“I just said that production starts Monday. Try not to do anything crazy. This project is monumentally important for your public image.”

“Okay. Sorry for causing so much trouble in the past.” You mutter, standing up.

She shrugs with a happy little grin, “Oh, you’re young. Maybe you’ll grow out of it.”

You just nod. How are you supposed to even respond to that? If you get mad, you’ll probably get hysterical, and if you get hysterical, that is a one way ticket to a stay in grippy sock jail or a lobotomy. Rich people are different, and even though you’re living in some rich person’s body, you did not live this life for longer than a week. 

You purposely walk to the other staircase. Most buildings have two for fire safety. Your eyes water as you pause on the stairs and you sigh before you start descending them. 

Just as you get to the exit, your hand on the door, you hear a voice behind you, “Hey.”

It scares you out of your skin. You jump and spin and squawk, only to meet the wicked smile of Epel. It doesn’t reach his round blue eyes. He tilts his head from side to side, slowly, as if appraising you, and then he starts walking towards you and you push back against the door, opening it ever so slightly. He stops his motion and looks a tad surprised.

Then his eyes narrow, “Come back in.”

His voice sounds different, rougher. You don’t really want to, but it’s hot outside and you figure from all the odd looks and reactions you’ve gotten, running would be too erratic for this poor person’s life you’ve taken over. 

When you close the door and remain leaned against it, Epel’s face relaxes. You didn’t even realize he was making any sort of tense expression. He glances at the spandrel, the area beneath the stairs, and sighs.

“You hit your head last week? That why you were missin’?” Yeah, he’s speaking entirely differently. He has a sort of charming country twang to his voice, an underlying roughness that makes him seem even more boyish than before.

“Huh?”

“‘Huh?’” He mocks, looking back at you. He looks like he might cry, but his eyes are angry, “That all you got to say? For years you’ve told me that I don’t mean shit, and now you’re actin’ like you don’t even know me.”

He is right. You don’t know him at all. Even though you’re still in the cool building, you begin to sweat. You don’t know what to say to this without going through the experiences you’ve had in the past week, so you decide you don’t have to, especially since it seems like he may get aggressive if you say the wrong thing.

You lean hard against the aptly named panic bar, turn on your heel once outside, and take off running. It dawns on you a little late that he might be following, or, seven forbid, that he knows where you live, so you take a different route as dictated by your GPS and call your new father as soon as you get in the building.

It’s the middle of the work day, so he obviously doesn’t pick up. You unlock the apartment door and pant breathlessly, leaving a hasty voicemail, “O-oh, great seven- ugh- okay, hi, Dad. I told you I’d call you when I get home, so that’s what I’m doing. Hope I didn’t disrupt a meeting or whatever. Call me back, bye.”

You flop face down on the bed and groan, rolling onto your back as the ringtone that you would never choose goes off. In bold white letters on the screen, it says “Bumpkin Boy” with no other indication of who it might be. You pick up.

The voice on the other end sounds heated, a quiet mocking lilt to it, “Bet you went home, huh?”

Your blood runs cold and your very ability to speak is ripped from your lips.

“S’okay. You don’t have to talk. I could pay you a little visit, see what it’s like to live like a nepo baby for a day, but I think…” He pauses, and when he next speaks you hear the smile in his voice, “I think I’ll just wait for Monday, since you owe me a coffee date, don’t you?”

He hangs up after that. You stand up and double-check that you’ve locked the door before you hide in your closet and try not to start hyperventilating. You can’t even beat yourself up for this one. These circumstances are entirely out of your control.

[marvel-and-chicago-fan]

Break Through Au

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: You go out ice skating on the lake with your brothers and Things don’t go as planned for you three

Warnings: CPR/Death, Falling through Ice, Hospitals, Yelling

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were on the ice with your brothers Will and Jay, even though you weren’t allowed to, you guys still went regardless.

It was 10pm, no one would be out here to get in your way or yell at you to get off the ice.

“Cmon Y/n/n, it's better out here” Jay said while attempting to slide farther out to the lake. 

“I don’t know Jay, I kinda wanna stay over here. That way I get off easier than struggling to get off if I'm way over there.” you shrugged.

“Alright then, me and will be over there if you need us' ' He pointed towards the middle of the lake.

“Alright, I’m just gonna slide around.” You shivered. Maybe I should work more layers. You thought to yourself.

After a while you got bored and decided to go over to Will and Jay who were “fighting” over who got the better hockey stick.

Will pulled out his phone and checked the time. “Guys it’s 11 o'clock, she should head home now, if we all get a cold moms gonna know that we went outside without asking her, especially if Y/n gets sick”

“But I'm getting good at hockey,” you whined.

Will and Jay just have you that look. “Alright alright let’s go” You caved.

Because your brothers were better on ice than you were, they went up ahead of you. 

“GUYS! I'M NOT AS FAST AS YOU SLOW DO-“ Before you could finish your sentence a loud Crack interrupted you.

That made the two Halstead brothers come to a halt and turn around to you. “No,” Jay whispered. “Y/n don’t move, just stay still we’ll come to you”

Before you could say anything the Ice broke.

Jays pov:

“Y/N, SHIT NO” I screamed, my little sister just fell through the ice.

Me and Will immediately slide over to where she fell in and I immediately throw my whole arm in the freezing water to see if I can feel Y/n

“Give me your other arm so I can pull you once you get her!” Will shouts.

“Once I touch something that feels semi to a human arm I pull. I can tell it’s Y/n because once I pull I feel a bit of weight. 

“PULL WILL, PULL” 

Once we were towards the edge of the Lake I pick y/n up bridal style and rushed over to land.

“Put her down here.” Will says. 

“What the hell do we do?” I cry

“She’s not breathing, Jay, you need to run back to the house and call someone” Wills is studying medicine so he knows a couple of things about what to do in a life or death situation.

“WHO DO I CALL?” I shout

“I DO GIVE A FUCK, CALL 9-1-1 AND HURRY”

My body moves into autopilot as I’m running through the forest making sure I don’t trip on any rocks or roots. 

My legs are burning and I can’t breathe but I can’t stop, if I stop Y/ns gonna die and it’ll be all my fault.

As I reach the house I punch in the code to the door and run upstairs to my bedroom. 

I basically almost threw my  phone into the air while trying to pick it up.

“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?”

“It’s -it’s my sister, she fell into the lake and I don’t know if she’s breathing”

“Check if she has a pulse”

“My older brother is with her at the lake, he-he's studying medicine so he knows what he’s doing”

“What’s your name sweetheart?”

“Uhh jay, my names Jay”

“Alright Jay, How old is your sister and how long was she under water for?”

“I don’t- 5 minutes maybe, and her name is Y/n, but we all call her Y/n/n. I don't know what I’m gonna tell my mom, that my littler sister died because we didn’t listen to her?” I’m panicking.

“Jay, I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath, I have help coming on the way right now”

How did she get my location? I didn’t even tell her.

***

The paramedics arrived and Jay led them to the lake where Will was with you. 

Will did successfully get you back but you were still unconscious. 

Why didn’t we just listen?

***

“15 Year old Female Y/n Halstead, Hypothermia after falling through ice, Was unconscious on site and Has a history of Heart issues.” The paramedic listed off all the things

(Ik that Grey's anatomy is in Seattle but because the show is so old let’s just pretend that this happened with them, it’s been awhile since I’ve watched it so if I make mistakes Woops)

“Alright,on my count if we move her. 1…2…3”Alex said.

Alex looked you over and started telling Jo things to do. “I want a head Ct, Keep me updated on her temperature and get me Derek for a consult.” Jo nodded.

Jay and Will followed Dr. Karev outside. “Is she gonna be ok?” Jay asked.

“She’s not out of the woods yet, but we won’t know more until she wakes up which will be a couple of hours” 

***

“Jay Halstead and Will Halstead” A stern voice called to them that made them Gulp.

“What in the world happened, and why did the Atwater’s call me and say that something happened on the lake and I needed to come home?” Your Mom stoked with her hands on her hips.

Jay and Will glanced at each other and knew they had no way out of this so they just decided to tell the truth and get it over with.

“I have told you guys time and time again not to play on that lake during the winter,

If you want to go ice skating go to the bigger one. Y/n has been punished enough, and as for you too, just until we get home, me and your father Will real with you. Do you understand?”

“Yes mom,” The boys said together.

“Alright, either the Atwater’s or the Uptons are going to pick you guys up and take you home. I will stay here with your sister, your father should be at home by now”

“But mom-“ Jay said. “No buts, wait here”

***

It had been a couple of weeks since the incident and A lot had happened. 

You were on the News, people came to your school and spoke about Ice safety. Jay and Will were indeed grounded but only for two weeks. The lake was now closed off while they were still doing an investigation. Which you didn’t understand why because it’s not like anything else happened but it was whatever.

“Y/n hurry up you’re going to miss the bus!” Jay shouted from downstairs.

“HOLD ON IM COMING” You grabbed your backpack and ran down the stairs.

After getting all your stuff in your backpack you got all your stuff ready to walk to the bus stop.

“Alright, what’s the rules?” Will questioned you.

“No wandering off to the other lake, don’t take off my jackets unless I really need to and don’t get anything that will drop my body temperature” 

“Good.”

“Do you still have to put my hat and Jacket on for me? I’m 15 years old.”

“Because of recent events and mom being gone and I’m going to leave soon I need to make sure you're ok, plus your body temperature is still not to its normal temp yet so layers it is.” You rolled your eyes at what would be said.

“I will pick you up for your doctor's appointment maybe 30 minutes before school ends, and Jay will drop your lunch off at the front office” Will said as he started walking at the door. 

“Bye will see you later” 

Once Will was gone, you ate the last of your waffles and grabbed your hot chocolate or what Jays calls “Jay's famous Hot chocolate” but it tasted like any other drink.

***

“I miss having you out on the lake by the middle school” Your friend Ellie said.

“Me too, but ever since my mom died Will and Jay have been strict on what I can do since my dad won’t really do much and they're trying to get me to learn stuff before Will leaves for New York and Jay leaves to serve” You shrugged.

“But I did convince Jay to get you some fries and nuggets” You laughed 

“You are literally the best, I really didn’t feel like spending all my money in my account today” Yeah the school food was expensive but it’s because you guys had fast food restaurants in your cafeteria so I guess it made sense.

***

“Hey Nugget” Will greeted you as you got into the car.

“Hi Will, can we please get McDonald’s after my appointment?” 

“Sure, where’s Jay? I told him he could get out of school early since he has a free period this week.”

“He said he wanted to stay at school, so he’s probably just walking around the hallways or doing whatever Jay does” You shrugged.

You thought about it for a while, your life was somewhat falling apart. Will was leaving for New York. Jay was getting deployed so you weren’t gonna see him. And your mom was gone so all you had left was your Dad, and your dad wasn’t the best person now since your dad died.

“Hey Will?”You broke the silence 

“Yeah Nugget?” 

“I’m- I’m gonna miss you when you leave” Here comes the water works.

“Me too Y/n me too”

Life from now on was going to be way different for you , and everyone around you knew that. You were going to get through it and it was going to be Ok. Right?

Well that’s at least what you thought…

[ijustbesayinstuff]

My thinspo rn

[honeydew-wecantwo]

thinking about vampire bite aftercare because it wouldn't be that much different from when ur getting ur blood drawn at a hospital

imagine ur vampire f/o bringing you peanut butter crackers and apple juice and checking in on you every two minutes until u can stand on ur own

[espers-n-espurrs]

OFFSCREEN POST

Connecting Roots

Continues from Laid to Rest

TWs // CWs : Hospitals, Child Injury Mention, Discussions of Pokemon Death, Discussions of Kidnapping / Child Abduction, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Complete upheaval of life, Police

The hospital was unnerving, with its pristine white walls and floors and its blinding fluorescent lights. The scent of disinfectant perpetrated the air, causing the room to feel artificial and dead. Esper shifted uncomfortably in her bed, forcing herself to not fidget or touch the IV stuck in her arm. Beside her, Victoria sat in the recliner with furrowed brows and a distant stare, her arms crossed and her leg bouncing anxiously. The ticking of the clock pounded its way into Esper’s skull as she waited.

It had been nearly an hour since Reina had excused herself from the hospital room to go make a phone call, ordering Victoria to stay with Esper. At first, the two attempted to make small talk to stave off the silence. But the lingering tension from earlier events hung over them, suffocating any conversation until it died down to nothing more than crossed arms and far-off gazes from Victoria.

And yet despite the passage of time, Reina had yet to return. Esper didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. She couldn’t see the dust. She couldn’t see the scattered remains of the Hatterene in her room. She couldn’t tell if any had landed on her, if Barcelona’s last remnants were all over her or in the far corners of the room. She couldn’t tell and she didn’t want to know.

Her body ached, the pain medication only doing so much to dull the throbbing in her face and torso.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs and hoped she wasn’t breathing in the dust of Barcelona, and opened her eyes to refocus on the blue-haired girl in the room.

“How are your Pokemon doing?” Esper asked, desperate to focus on anything but what had just happened. “I know Maria had to leave the dorm with Esperanza.”

Victoria’s eyes flickered upwards to look at Esper, slipping back into the present. She blinked for a moment before quietly responding with, “Physically, they will be fine. They are Pokemon, they heal fast.” She cast a glance at the blazer pocket that stored her Pokeballs. “Esperanza, as far as I am aware, sustained no injuries. Maria escaped with a few scratches. And Matador…” She trailed off. “Matador doesn’t know Barcelona is dead…”

“Oh…” Esper paused, looking down at her hands as she rubbed the blanket fabric between her fingers, “You're right. He doesn’t.”

With the grim reminder of what had occurred only an hour prior, the girls once again slipped back into uncomfortable silence, with only the ticking clock and the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights to fill the void.

Minutes later, however, Victoria suddenly lifted her head and whirled around to face the entrance to the hospital room. Unfurling her arms, she squinted and furrowed her brows at the door, extreme confusion and disbelief riddled her face. “Wait—” The girl whipped her head to look at Esper, eyes darting around every detail of her face. “Wait wait—”

The girl in the hospital bed blinked, “What–” She quickly brought a hand up to touch her bruised cheek, “What– Is the bruise getting worse?”

“No– I—” Victoria looked back and forth between Esper and the door, her chest rising and falling increasingly erratically. “I don’t– Wait– no—” Her gaze became unfocused as she stared off into the distance behind Esper, shaking her head slightly. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that fell from her lips were unrefined stammers. “You– No– Nono– You can’t—”

“I– What–” Esper furrowed her brows as worry etched itself across her face. She watched her friend’s actions carefully, attempting to understand why her friend was acting so uncharacteristically emotional. Esper moved to the side of the bed, throwing her legs over the edge to sit up as she questioned the other girl. “Tori– Tori, what’s wrong?”

“Est— Esp—”

She was interrupted by a knock on the door. And before either of them could respond, Reina Velasco-Delgado had let herself into the room.

Two officers filed in behind her, along with a sharply dressed man— Victoria’s father.

The white-haired girl paused, her face paling as she eyed the police officers like a wary Pokemon, “Wha…”

Reina raised a hand to cut her off, “You are not in any trouble, love.” With her hands clasped in front of her, her smile warm, and her eyes soft, she appeared a lot less intimidating than she had been an hour ago. She had forgone the thick fur coat and wide brim hat for a much more humble white blazer. If not for her light complexion, she would appear a lot more like Victoria.

Speaking of Victoria, at the sight of her mother and father, the girl had quickly sobered up and sat straighter in her chair. She raised her chin in acknowledgement. The only hint of her prior state was the occasional glance she would throw in Esper’s direction.

Esper looked Reina up and down, doubt and confusion riddling her mind with all sorts of worse case scenarios as she asked, “Then– Then what–”

The girl was swiftly cut off by the clacking of heels as another figure entered the room, stealing away her attention and causing her to freeze in her seat as her eyes met those of an older woman. The older woman froze in turn, letting out a gasp at the sight of Esper and clasping her hand over her mouth where Esper could’ve sworn she had briefly caught a glimpse of the shining whites of fangs. But that wasn’t the only thing of note about the woman. No. Her hair that fell down to just below her shoulders was a brilliant snowy white and her eyes– her eyes were soft lavender with white pupils so bright that they almost seemed to glow.

But that couldn't be. These traits combined with the aged face of the woman resulted in what could only be described as the spitting image of Esper’s father.

If it were not for the fact that this woman was so clearly not her father she would’ve called out to them in excitement, but no. No. This was not her father, she did not know who this woman was.

Esper sat quietly, her guard raised as she stared at the woman through furrowed brows as she waited for her to make some kind of move.

And that was when the woman spoke. “Salut, do you remember me…? Do you know who I am…?” Her voice was soft and warm and she spoke with a strong Kalosian accent.

“...Am I meant to?” The younger girl responded rather bluntly.

The older woman's shoulders slumped slightly as she let her hands fall from her face but nonetheless she smiled at Esper as she answered “I had wished you did but that cannot be helped my dear…” She then leaned down to be face to face with the younger girl and this was when Esper took notice that the woman’s eyes were red and puffy as if she had just been crying. “Which means I should introduce myself, my name is Cécilia Wyrmwood. Does the last name Wyrmwood ring any bells?”

Esper shook her head with a growing sense of dread building in her gut as she glanced off to the side to see the two officers watching them intently.

Cécilia hummed in response, a seemingly sad look in her eyes before she shook her head in turn. “I… I understand. Let’s try this then.” She reached into her purse, pulling a series of photos. Thumbing through them for a moment the older woman selected one and bent down to show it to Esper. “Does this man look familiar to you?”

The white-haired girl looked down at the photo being presented to her and felt her stomach drop as she saw the ever so familiar face of her father staring up at her. It was undoubtedly him, the only difference being a bright toothy grin and a lack of wrinkles, but it was so clearly him.

Esper’s eyes snapped up to meet Cécilia’s, her face paling as she quietly asked, “Why do you have a photo of my da…?”

“Because I’m his twin sister, dear.” The older woman spoke with such confection that Esper didn’t have it in her to argue. To say that, no, no, you’re lying to me, my da has no siblings. Because how could Esper know for sure? Her father always shooed away any conversation about his family, always scolding and telling her to stop asking him such questions. But here she was, in front of one of her father’s family members, in front of one of her family members. But why? Why now? Why here? Why at all?

Esper wanted to ask every question running through her mind, every single one, but the only one that came out was, “Then… then why didn’t he tell me about you..? Why– What–”

Her mouth went dry as Cécilia answered with, “Because he took you.”

“You’re lying.” Esper spat out before thinking. She had to be lying. Her da didn’t take her. He couldn’t have.

Cécilia frowned at this, “I’m not. I promise you, I’m not. He took you and your brother and, as we’ve found out, fled to Spik–” 

She was quickly cut off by Esper snapping back, “You are! You must be! My– My da never took me! I’ve lived in Spikemuth my whole life! He never took me if I’ve always been there!”  

Victoria visibly flinched at Esper’s sudden outburst. Yet she remained silent as always. Reina stepped to her daughter’s side and rested a hand on the back of the chair, shooting Cécilia a sympathetic frown.

Cécilia sighed in return, “I know. I know this is hard, trust me when I say this.”

“And why should I?” The girl snarled back.

Esper’s aunt took a deep breath and pulled out another photo from the collection she had in her hands, staring at it for a long moment before turning it around for Esper to see. In the photo stood a young girl, no more than six, with white hair and lavender eyes smiling brightly at the camera as she held an older boy’s hand, his complexion darker than her own with curly white hair and his own eyes a darker shade of purple. The two stood in front of a large and extravagant iron gate with Esper’s father off to the side, watching the two with sharp eyes and a soft smile.

“Do you recognize these two?” Cécilia asked in a tone that indicated that she already knew the answer.

Esper felt her hands begin to shake, her eyes scouring the photo for what felt like minutes. No. No. She doesn’t– Those can’t– No– “That’s my brother and I…” She quietly responded, her voice much more meek than what it had been before during her outburst. “But… That can’t– I don’t remember that– Where–”

“That was taken for one of many Christmas photos when you were six...” Cécilia pointed at the building in the far distance of the photo, “That is the Wyrmwood estate in Kalos. Where you grew up until you were taken.”

“But I wasn’t–”

“Your father has been lying to you, my dear.” Cécilia softly responded, reaching to place a hand on the girl’s shoulder only to have her instantly be shrugged off. The older woman held back a sigh as she continued, “He’s been lying to you about so much. That man is not named Cedric Hargrove but rather Lucien Wyrmwood�� Much like how your name isn’t Esper Hargove–”

Esper’s chest began to rapidly rise and fall. No. No. No no nononono– This wasn’t real– This can’t be real–

“–but rather Estelle Lucille Wyrmwood… Lucien took both you and Flynn on November thirtieth twenty-seventeen and we’ve been looking for you ever since…”

“No. No– No no no–” Esper repeated in a frenzy. Her eyes began to tear up as she felt the pit in her stomach begin to twist and churn, a shooting pain firing through her as she felt her heart begin to strain and hurt. That was all she felt. Hurt. “Wh– Why would he– He wouldn’t do that—”

“Because he cheated on his wife, your brother’s mother, and had you with another woman–” Cécilia continued despite Esper’s protests, her brows furrowing as she tried to find the words, “We… We hadn’t known that was the case and it’s an incredibly long and upsetting story that I feel as though should be shared with you at another time–”

“You’re lying–” Esper interrupted the older woman, her voice strained, “You have to be lying– Pl– Please be lying–”

She can’t trust this woman. She doesn’t know this woman. Who can she trust? Was there anyone here she could trust? Was there anyone here who wouldn’t lie to her for some unforeseen gain?

Victoria.

Esper whipped her head around to look at the girl, tuning out Cécilia's voice with relative ease as she stared at her friend with pleading eyes. Victoria would tell her. Victoria would tell her the truth.

And as if Victoria could hear her thoughts, she lifted her gaze to look Esper in the eye. With trembling hands, she slowly reached to pull off her gloves, exposing the eye-shaped tattoo on the back of her hand. Setting the glove aside, she wordlessly extended her exposed hand to Esper with a small nod.

An invitation to discover the truth for herself.

She knew Esper would believe every word she said. And yet she was giving her the option anyway.

Esper stared at the open hand for a moment, fear of what she may learn causing her to hesitate and second guess if she really wanted to know. But she did. She so desperately did. Because if this was all a lie then she would need to worry about why she was being lied to. And if it wasn’t…

The room became dead silent as Esper slowly took her friend’s hand into her own.

The memory of two young girls flashed into her mind: one with dark blue hair and small freckles on her cheeks, and the other… the girl from the picture. The two girls were playing with dolls in a beautiful garden, burying a Ken doll that had clearly been set on fire in recent history. On the other side of the makeshift grave stood a towering Pangoro and Matador, Victoria’s Armarouge, lowering their heads solemnly as if attending a funeral service. The Pangoro pretended to wipe a tear from his eye as he held his cabbie hat to his chest. The girls put the Ken doll in a casket and lowered it into the grave. Normal little girl stuff.

But that was clearly a younger Victoria. And that was clearly a younger Esper. Estelle? A younger her.

The memory melted away as the girl’s hand slipped from her friend’s, falling limply at her side as she slowly turned back to Cécilia. She could hear that Cécilia was attempting to speak to her but no matter how much she strained, no matter how much she tried, she could not hear her. She could barely even see her face. 

Something wet hit her arm, pulling her gaze downwards to see dark spotting along her hospital gown. Tear stains. When did she start crying? How long had she been crying?

Esper could feel her throat squeezing tightly shut, narrowing her airways and making it harder to fill her lungs with air but when she could she could her chest heaving and shaking. Her heart was being strangled from within, sharp pains shooting through like salt to tender wounds. Her hands were unsteady as she wrapped them around herself in a tight embrace, squirming away as she felt someone else's hands try to reach for her. She didn’t know who it was. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to be touched.

She felt cold, clammy, as if all worth had been sucked from her in an instant. Thousands of thoughts ran through her head as tears stained her cheeks and mucus filled her nose. Everything hurt. Her muscles, her heart, her mind. Everything. Hurt. 

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurtsithurts–

She felt sick. 

Esper could barely feel her own mind as she tried to look at the faces around her, finding that her vision was startlingly becoming more and more fuzzy as seconds passed to such a point she wasn’t even convinced that she could see. “I don’t–” She choked out, her voice nearly inaudible, “I don’t feel well….”

She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. She could not think as her vision faded into nothingness and Esper, the now no longer missing Wyrmwood girl, collapsed onto her hospital bed.

Scene End.

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

[ Victoria, Reina, and Alamar all belong to @victoria-vd / @jaimemes ]

[domina-honoribila]

I need your prayers, please. My husband has been hospitalized for a bipolar episode. This is probably the worst he's ever had.

[clownrecess]

(TW FOR MENTIONS OF ABLEISM, INFANTILIZATION, MEDICAL PROCEDURES, AND HOSPITALS)

.

I love when people don't infantilize me, don't question my nonspeaking-ness, etc.

It's really upsetting that those are things that I have to love, and that those are rare things. Doing those things are the bare minimum and they need to be normalized. Treating nonspeaking and nonverbal (and semispeaking/semiverbal, intermittently speaking, etc. But right now I'm talking specifically about nonspeaking/nonverbal because that's what I am) people with basic respect doesnt make you a super special good person deserving of praise. It just means you aren't being ableist in that way.

Unfortunately we do currently live in a society where these things are uncommon though. And so these little bare minimum actions mean a lot to me. A lot.

Yesterday I was in the hospital, and as I was having a procedure done I was asked what my date of birth is. My device was sitting over on a table, because I was getting an MRI (so I couldn't have metal), so I couldn't tell them. The staff member asking the question wasn't confused and aggressive when I didnt say anything back, they continued to look kind and waited for me to respond. Then another staff member told them "Raymond is nonverbal" (I prefer nonspeaking but that was perfectly okay /gen), and they said "Oh, okay!" and then asked for my consent to grab my wrist to read my DOB on my hospital bracelet. I nodded, they said thank you, and then they looked at my bracelet.

That meant a lot to me. I was wearing a face mask, so they didn't know, but I was smiling so big.

I wish more people were like them.

[trans-axolotl]

Do you have any advice on who to talk to about my self-harm? I really need to talk to someone but my parents might tell my psychologist and my psychologist might put me in a psych ward and the only friend I’d feel comfortable talking to about this stuff is currently in the psych ward and I can visit them but theyre dealing with enough right now and there has to be a nurse present for all visits anyway so that might also end up with me in a psych ward

Hi anon.

You deserve to access support for your self harm that meets your needs, and to have compassionate people you can talk to about your self harm that aren't judging you or threatening you with things like involuntary hospitalization. That's really rough that your friend is now in the psych ward and that you can't talk to them about it anymore, I can imagine how exhausting that must be for you right now. And I know how difficult it can be to try to navigate mandatory reporting, figure out who's safe to talk to, and actually access the kind of support you need. I have a few suggestions, but please feel free to ignore any that aren't relevant to your life or reach out again if you need more advice or support.

The first group I want to share is Self Injury Support UK. Depending on where you live, their text and call line might not be as accessible to you, but they also have a webchat service that should be back up soon. They are a really great org that wants to create a space for people to talk openly about self harm and get support without being judged or with people immediately threatening you, and they also have a lot of resources on their site.

Another resource is the Wildflower Alliance Discord Server. This is another peer support space where it is okay to talk openly about self harm and receive support. I know that for some people big discord servers can be pretty overwhelming, but Wildflower Alliance also has a Peer Support Line that you could call to talk to someone and get individual support, and lots of other resources, especially if you're local to Western Mass.

If you're trying to figure out how to access irl resources in your life, one tip that helped me when trying to figure out if someone was safe to talk to was to directly ask if they were a mandatory reporter, what sort of things would trigger them to make a report, or to try to have conversations with them about things like how I thought it was important to make sure cops are never involved in crisis calls, to have actually confidential spaces, and to see how they respond. Then I could decide what kind of information I want to share with them or not. If you're interested in talking to your parents but really don't want them to tell your psychologist, maybe bringing up some of these topics or coming into a conversation prepared with resources to show them might help you navigate the conversation. (Of course, you're going to know your parents best and know whether that's even an option.) It might also be helpful to figure out exactly what sort of things would make your psychologist try to get you to go to the psych ward so that you could have a little bit more certainty and comfort in knowing what you feel safe discussing with them.

I was assuming based on your ask that you were not an adult so I wanted to share some youth specific ideas, but please feel free to correct me if I was wrong. Sometimes, youth health centers have therapists that actually keep things like self harm confidential. I know that in my area, the LGBTQ youth health center doesn't report self harm or force people to be hospitalization, and that when I was in high school, the youth clinics attached to schools and some of the youth clinics attached to housing services were more flexible about reporting self harm and confidentiality. Would definitely recommend double checking and getting clarification on those policies first, but that was I way that I could sometimes access free wound care supplies and things like that when I was in high school. If you want recommendations specific to your area for irl organizations and feel comfortable sending another anon ask with what state or city you're in, feel free, but absolutely no pressure.

Overall just want to emphasize that you do deserve support and care and I'm sorry that there are so many barriers to you accessing that right now. I really hope that you're able to find someone to talk to and that things get a little easier for you. Sending so, so much solidarity your way and please feel free to come back to my inbox anytime if you need anything, even if it's just to vent.

💜💜💜

[raceweek]

so alex and his trainer patrick gave an interview to men’s health about his recovery from respiratory failure and. im emotionally compromised

[anjukaji]

♠️🃏♥️ I imagine deep down I’m absolutely paralyzed with fear, but there again, I’m so good at deceiving everyone else, deceiving myself is child’s play.♥️🃏♠️

[existing-existentially]

The gays!!!!!

Loki finale broke me lol

I’m out of the hospital‼️ Freedom 😎