@09TARTT " it's a bloody online shooter game, i don't get why we're all acting like we're hunting each other's mums. "
it's in feigned indifference / irritation embroidered at its hems. * closed mouth, arm wrapped around jamie's back ... hand, planted
@09TARTT on his laptop keyboard.
what he's typing, exactly, is for whatever gods are up in the damn heavens to figure out.
( * it's keysmashes masquerading as data reports. )
@O6KENT jamie's a forward thinker though, defs, so he keeps an arm as tight around roy's neck as possible while he keeps his weight off his man's bad leg. ฬcause he's, like, an empath, he is.
"the real fun is you gettin' all gruff when anyone's too mean." (หถแต แต แตหถ) โน๐น
@09TARTT โ to their credit, iโunno any other football players whoโd go on voice chat to say โโ what was it, โ oi, the fuck did you say about jamie tartt ?? thatโs ME ?! โ
@09TARTT โ * i thought the fun, for you, was gettin โt yell at all those little pricks who donโt believe itโs really you. โ * sigh โโ his resolutionโs not what it was some years ago, lips - to - cheek as a * compromise.
@09TARTT " how * i scored you ? i made you, tartt. " * affectionate flick to the palm of his hand, swiveling back to face his desk. the papers all seem to spell ' jaime tartt ' now. odd.
@09TARTT " oi, " he starts -- gruff and low with all the makings of feigned dissatisfaction ( and cue : tinted cheeks, hands at hips like the goddamn steering wheel ) " if bloody * overwatch is what's at stake, 'm here all night. "
( the air lets itself out of royโs body when familiar pressure presses on his leg, like heโs one of those bloody inflatables at the petrol station. kidsโll call it sad, but royโs always imagined the relief it must bring.
y'keep talkinโ like that anโ you'll hafta take care'a wee tartt. โ ( lets that sit in the air 'cuz he's so chuffed with hisself, โ even if he's tempting whatever mad gods there are into a swift shove off the mattress.
anโ it's, like, โ s'kinda like gamblinโ innit?
( and, apparently, tartt - watching to do โโโ because thereโs never enough attention for jamie, and heโs lucky roy gets a kick outta it. )
i donโt hate you, come on now.
( hand loosely propped against the back of jamieโs head, thumb
( * thereโs the jamie tartt roy knows well / all shiny like a diamond, with that shit - eating grin plastered on his face. the ladies swoon for it, so says lasso. roy doesnโt care, purportedly, despite being caught blocking the view
nah, mate, i was right awful, ( he starts, shirt already pulled off of his body, peacock-flaunting himself for the cruel, old bastard roy kent to, like, tease apparently. so he can't help pouting. who fucking caaaares. s'not like roy ain't used to it. )
of cameras fancying a quick snap. )
โatta boy, tartt. self - acknowledgementโs the only way to greatness.
( leeeeaaaan back, take in the view. kent deserves it, see, after all the goddamn coaching heโs busy with. )
cโmere.
( itโd be an incredulous look, were it * anyone else making the request. tarttโs exempt from that โโ & subject only to grumbling under his breath, for show. ) iโunno, tartt. did your plays last match deserve it ?