#and he expects ted to let him down gently

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

yknow i have a lot of aus in my brain but the one currently spinning in my lobes is a stardust au. like. honestly it really works both ways like. i feel like thematically it's probably more appropriate for ted to be the star, changing trent's life forever, but my first thought was like. michelle asks ted to bring her a star, because he's always trying so hard to please her and she needs space and he will literally pluck a star from the sky if it means making her happy--only instead he finds a man where that star fell (he's beautiful, but ted tries not to notice) who's rather disgruntled with being on the ground, suddenly. and like. idk man i'd have to watch the movie again to really get into this au either way but i am just spinning it. slowly rotating it.

[kxsagi]

Hiiiii love your writing, ugh makes me wanna osbeodgekbehehridhahdhdjdb

But anyways I have request! Maybe something where the reader gets panic attacks at football matches like Ted does in Ted Lasso? And like they don’t tell the boys cause they don’t want them to worry and want to support them? Anyone’s fine just if you could add Ness that’d be scrumptious

Thannnnnks

“𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬”

a/n: HIIIII OH YOU'RE SO SWEET C'MERE

i hope this lived up to your expectations!

tw: panic attacks

ft. ness alexis, isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, mikage reo, kaiser michael, nagi seishiro, karasu tabito, itoshi sae

ness alexis

ness is the kind of boyfriend who watches everything. every flicker in your eyes, every twitch of your fingers, every deep breath you take. 

so when you start excusing yourself during his matches, right around halftime or the most intense plays, he doesn’t confront you immediately. but he notices. 

at first he thinks maybe you're overwhelmed by the crowd or bored, but then he catches the way you look pale when you come back. and the trembling in your hands when you think no one's looking. 

one day, mid-match, he scores, turns to celebrate, and sees you hunched by the stadium gate, clutching the wall with tears in your eyes. the smile fades instantly. 

he doesn’t even realize he's off the field until the ref is screaming and kaiser’s like “bro where the hell are you going???” 

he rushes to you, brushing past the staff and security like you’re the only thing in the world. “hey hey hey… breathe with me, baby, i’m here, i got you. you're not alone. okay? i'm right here.” 

you’re embarrassed and overwhelmed and try to apologize but he shuts it down immediately. he cradles your face, gently kisses your temple and whispers, “you don’t have to do this alone. not ever again.” 

after that, he gets you noise-canceling headphones, finds the most private VIP seats he can sneak you into, and always signals to you from the field to remind you he's thinking of you. he even starts sending you pre-match good luck messages like "breathe, blink, stretch. i’ll see you after i win." 

isagi yoichi

isagi is such a game-focused player that you assumed you could keep this hidden. he's usually in the zone, all instincts and calculations, right? 

but you didn’t account for just how much he loves you. 

the first time he finds out is after a match when he overhears one of the staff members say, “your girl fainted outside the bathroom earlier. is she okay now?” 

he drops everything – medal, towel, press interview. runs through the tunnel until he finds you curled up on a bench, clearly shaken. 

"you… you fainted? why didn’t you tell me?" he asks, trying so hard to sound calm but his voice cracks a little. 

you try to explain that you didn't want to be a burden. that you wanted to be strong for him. and isagi’s whole face softens with guilt and affection. 

“but you are strong. stronger than anyone out there,” he murmurs, sitting beside you and letting you bury your face into his shoulder. “next time, we face it together, okay? just like always.” 

he starts learning about panic attacks on his own, sets up a hand signal you can use from the stands when you need help, and even makes the team add a calming room near the locker hallway just in case you need a safe place. 

also starts writing “for her” on his wrist tape. 

itoshi rin

rin has always admired how unshakable you seemed. being with someone like you balanced out his intensity – your cheeriness, your resilience, your unwavering support. 

so when he catches you in the hallway outside the stadium during a match – eyes wide, hands trembling, visibly spiraling – it wrecks him a little inside. 

not because he's angry. but because he had no idea. 

“why… why didn’t you say anything?” he asks, his voice lower, tense, not at you, but at himself. “you sit through every single game, even when i’m being a dick. you didn’t have to do this alone.” 

you tearfully admit you didn’t want to be the reason he messed up during a match. that you were scared if you said anything, it’d throw him off. 

he stares at you for a long second. then pulls you to him, arms tight around you. “you think winning means anything if you’re not okay?” 

from that day on, he gives you a specific hoodie to wear to matches – one sprayed with his cologne, thick and oversized – because he read that scent and pressure can help ground you. 

also insists you wait in a VIP box with noise buffers and two staffers he personally trained on how to help if anything happens. 

he starts winning more, too. because now, every time he scores, he looks up to you and knows he’s not just playing for victory. he’s playing to protect the one person who never stopped rooting for him, even through the anxiety. 

shidou ryusei

surprisingly, shidou picks up on it pretty quick. 

he’s not “emotionally intuitive” in the conventional sense, but when the person he loves starts disappearing during high-intensity moments, he’s immediately suspicious. 

he catches you during a match break, hiding behind a pillar, hands shaking as you try to calm your breathing. and for once… he doesn’t say a word. 

he just slides next to you, presses his hand to your back, and waits. not laughing. not poking fun. just breathing with you. 

when you finally speak, he shrugs, “yo, if you think i’m gonna stop loving you ‘cause your brain pulls stunts sometimes, then you clearly don’t know how deep i’m in this.” 

from that point forward, he acts like your emotional support gremlin. 

gives you random distractions before the game – shows you memes, cracks jokes, lets you braid his hair while growling fake threats at the other team like “if they even look at you, i’ll score just to send them to therapy.” 

after each match, even if he’s bruised and bloody, he runs to you. throws his whole body onto you like an oversized golden retriever and whispers, “still alive? i missed you. good job surviving out there.” 

mikage reo

reo would immediately go into “CEO of your nervous system” mode. 

once he catches on (because your bathroom breaks during matches are way too frequent and you’re always pale), he gently confronts you after a game. 

“you’ve been having panic attacks, haven’t you?” he says, no judgment in his tone, just deep concern. 

you try to brush it off but he just sits you down, holds your hands in his lap, and says, “you don’t have to hide your hard days from me. we’re not a power couple just when things are perfect. we’re a team all the time.” 

cue softest kiss to your knuckles and him promising to figure out ways to make matches easier for you. 

pays for a therapist to guide you both through coping mechanisms, builds a chill-down room in the stadium under your name, and starts a secret blog for people who deal with match anxiety. 

the blog bio? “inspired by the strongest girl i know who keeps showing up anyway.” 

kaiser michael

the first time he notices something’s off, he’s cocky about it. you left your seat during the last five minutes of the match, and when he finds you after the game, your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“what, couldn’t handle how hot i looked out there?” he teases. 

but then he sees your hands. they’re shaking. and your eyes are red. 

everything inside him goes quiet. 

“lie to everyone else, fine,” he says, tugging you gently aside. “but don’t lie to me. what’s going on?” 

when you finally admit you’ve been having panic attacks but didn’t want to make him worry, kaiser actually looks pained. 

“you seriously thought i’d rather score a goal than make sure you’re okay?” he mutters, brushing your hair out of your face. “schatz… i need you more than football.” 

from that point on, he makes every game about you. not the crowd, not the win, just you. 

he buys custom in-ears that can connect to your voice (only in emergencies). security staff now includes a therapist. he makes you a playlist called “kaiser’s emergency ego boost” full of absurd voice notes like “breathe in, breathe out, remember you’re dating the most beautiful bastard alive.” 

and after every match? he walks straight past the press, throws his jacket over your shoulders, and tells you: “thank you for staying. even when it’s hard. you’re stronger than anyone out there.” 

nagi seishiro

nagi may be sleepy, but he’s unreal at picking up on your emotional shifts. when you disappear mid-match multiple times, he doesn’t say anything, just starts keeping tabs. 

when he finally catches you after a game, hiding in a staff hallway with your knees pulled to your chest, his heart drops. 

he crouches next to you slowly, eyes wide. “you okay?” he asks, soft and quiet like he’s afraid to scare you more. 

you try to brush it off like it’s nothing, but nagi just sighs and reaches for your hand. “you know you don’t have to fake anything with me, right? even when it’s messy. i like all of it. all of you.” 

after that, he becomes like a weighted blanket in human form. brings you hoodies to the games. sits next to you in warmups even if he’s not supposed to. sends you texts like “just blink twice if the crowd sucks today.” 

also becomes obsessed with breathing exercises and panic attack grounding tools. you’ll find him holding a fidget cube like, “is this thing helping or is it just clicky and annoying?” 

the gentlest of protectors. literally loops his fingers with yours in the post-game tunnel and hums to calm you down while everyone else is still hyped up. 

“i don’t care if you have to leave mid-match. just come back to me, okay? i’ll always be waiting.” 

karasu tabito

karasu finds out because one of the team’s water boys casually says, “hey, your girl fainted last game. she’s fine now, but she didn’t want you to know.” 

his entire body stills. 

doesn’t joke. doesn’t smirk. just sprints to find you. 

when he does, you’re sitting by the lockers, clearly still recovering. and karasu kneels in front of you, hands on your knees, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. 

“babe. talk to me. you don’t gotta hide from me, alright? if you’re hurting, let me carry it with you.” 

hearing you say you didn’t want to ruin his focus? it breaks him. he chuckles, but it’s bitter. “you seriously think scoring goals is more important than you breathing?” 

immediately becomes your emotional defense lawyer. threatens to sue the stadium if the acoustics are triggering your anxiety. learns grounding techniques and makes them into dumb chants like, “5 things you see, 4 you feel, 3 you love, like me, me, and me again.” 

will literally abandon an interview if you even look slightly off in the stands. “gotta go. someone hotter than this trophy needs me.” 

“listen, baby,” he’ll whisper against your temple, “next time your brain gets loud, just remember my voice. i’ll talk you through every storm, okay?” 

itoshi sae

sae is slow to catch on, not because he doesn’t care, but because you hide it so well. 

but one day after a match, he spots you quietly crying in the private lounge, your breathing erratic, fingers clenched in your jacket. 

he doesn’t say anything at first. just sits beside you. places his hand over yours. 

“it’s panic attacks, isn’t it?” 

the moment you nod, his entire posture shifts. he doesn’t look annoyed or upset, just heartbroken in that stoic, unreadable way of his. 

“how long?” he asks softly. 

when you admit it’s been happening for a while, he exhales deeply. then pulls you into his chest and mumbles, “i’m sorry i didn’t notice. i should’ve.” 

you try to tell him you didn’t want to distract him. he scoffs, almost offended. “you think winning means anything to me if you’re hurting like this?” 

after that, you never have to suffer alone again. sae sets up a quiet private viewing space just for you. makes staff send him live updates on your well-being during matches. 

and when the game ends, you’ll find him already walking toward you – gloves off, jersey half-drenched, but eyes locked on you like you're the only thing in the world that matters. 

“you stayed,” he murmurs. “even when it was hard. thank you. you’re the strongest person i know.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[sharkbitten-sailor]

can we have some platonic forsaken and teen reader with ptsd headcanons plsss? (i need some comfort in my life god-) - TED talk anon -

[forsaken] forsaken survivors & teen!reader who has ptsd headcanons .ᐟ

a/n; welcome TED Talk anon! i’m really sorry for what you’ve been through , you deserve every ounce of comfort and support. just know , i’m here whenever you need someone to talk to. you are never alone , alr?

noob - they don’t get everything you’re going through , but they get enough to sit quietly by your side and just... listen. sometimes quiet company hits different. - they’ll slide you a boxy cola when they notice you’re overwhelmed. no words needed. - “y-you’re holding up better than i-i would… seriously. you’re kinda... my hero.”

elliot - highkey panics at first. you’re a kid , a survivor , and already carrying this much? it breaks his heart. - adopts you as his lil sibling figure , no questions asked. treats you like you’re made of glass but the kind worth protecting , not pitying. - saves you the last slice of pizza , always. and gently teaches you how to speak your mind , only when you’re ready. - “deep breaths , alright? in… and out. you don’t have to face everything at once. we’ll take it slow , together.”

shedletsky - freezes. not built for deep talks , so his support comes through actions. - offers to teach you sword stuff (if you’re cool with it) or just shares his chicken. - clumsily avoids any mention of possible triggers. you see him fumble , but it’s endearing. he cares. - “hey kid… i’m not great with words , but… i got your back. always.”

007n7 - gets protective real fast. like , instant dad mode. - asks if you're okay when you're alone , never in front of others. (reason is obv.,..) - sure , he asks all the time: how you’re doing , if you’re okay. but it’s always genuinely. - lets you fidget with his clones to calm down. they remind him of his son , and somehow , that softens something in him too. - “you’re not weak. feeling it doesn’t make you any less strong.”

guest 1337 - you’re the only one he lets in like this. shared pain , shared understanding. - shadows you in every round. no killer gets near. not on his watch. - unless they wanna see a locked in guest. rip - if violence erupts , he’ll lure the chaos away. not because he’s scared , but because he doesn’t want you to see it. - “you made it this far… and that’s no small thing. you’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for. including yourself.”

two time - i’m sorry, but they straight up don’t get it. don’t try to either. - might throw you a glance , maybe even pity. but connection?... don’t expect warmth here. - and if they do show a little warmth , trust me. it’s bait. just a way to drag you into their cult.

chance - disaster with emotions. absolute mess. - might accidentally say the wrong thing , realizes it , and hands you his lucky coin as apology. - invites you to endless rounds of monopoly n poker. terrible at comforting , but his goofy jokes will crack the tension , even if just a little. - “shoot… sorry. that was dumb. here- good luck token. it always works for me.”

dusekkar - treats you like fragile glass , always on the edge. - offers to teach you some healing magic. soft , strange stuff that somehow works. both physically & mentally(?) - you’re the only one he lets mess with his deer horns. he says it’s annoying , but never stops you. - “storm passed. still you breathe. still you stand. still you’re here.” (can you tell im this bad at writing rymth stuff ,,,)

taph - same boat as elliot , panic when he saw you at first. why is a minor here , at this hell of all places?? - he’s completely mute , so he starts drawing little comics to talk to you. ends up teaching you sign language too. - offers to teach you tripwire tricks for self-defense. - he’s proud of you no matter what !! no self-loathing allowed !! - constantly reminds you how amazing you are. - 💪🌟🫵 ~ “you’re goated. no arguing.”

builderman - holds real hatred for the entity aka the spectre. it’s really heartless , isn’t it. - protective , but urges you to stay close to other sentinels unless it’s just the two of you. he trusts them more in a fight. - can tell right away when you’re overwhelmed. doesn’t always say much , but he knows. - starts rambling about random stuff like blueprints , upgrades , the best kind of bricks , just to ground you. - sometimes lets you wear his hard hat. says it’s too big , but it’s really endearing to him.

jane doe (added her here cuz i feel like it-) - absolute shock,. mother-insect mode activated. you can’t convince me otherwise/hj - instantly becomes your main caretaker. basically adopts you as her kid. she always wanted one , after all. - shares the best of what she has , from rations to rare supplies. you get first pick. - drops whatever she’s doing if you want to talk. no hesitation. no delay. - “speak. whatever it is , i’m listening.” - “they were cruel to send you here. i won’t be.”

a/n; here ya go !! my first time writing all the forsaken survivors ,,, turns out it’s way easier than handling the lil ones with long hcs ,,,, he ,,

WAIT THE TAGS- SAVE ME-

[w0rmss]

Can you do Bruce Wayne x young adult reader eho kinda took up a job for him as a maid but ended up getting closer and well… yk.. it’s smut so go wild (female)

Thank you so much for the request sorry it took me so damn long. Feel free to request more

Tw smut power imbalance age gap rough use of baby girl and good girl oral (m) also i do not condone these kinds of relationships in real life if you are not safe in one of these situations please get out or report if safe to do so. But as this is fiction, please carry on with that in mind. Thank you for coming to my ted talk

Enjoy

Everything started of perfectly. You just needed a job to pay for college and when you seen an ad for a live in maid you jumped at the opportunity. A place to stay and get paid it was perfect.

When you found out that your boss was the Bruce Wayne only added to that perfectness. So you spent your days cleaning the manor and going to school it was perfect. Your bedroom was bigger than an apartment with a couch tv and bathroom nearly as big. You had free access to the library and living room. Alfred, the butler, would let you use the kitchen too if you cleaned up altered yourself. It was perfect and pretty easy, just some light dusting and vacuuming, which Alfred often helped with. The one thing you didn't have to clean was the big grandfather clock in the hall, which you found strange until Bruce explained it was he's parents and Alfred took it upon himself to keep it perfect.

You can't remember when your relationship with Bruce had become more than boss and employee. Was it the day you were oggling him at the pool or the day he was oggling you. The time he walked in on you changing by accident or possibly the time you accidently caught him masturbing in his study one morning. You have no idea.

But now here you were bent over his desk with his cock buried deep inside you and he slammed into you like a mad man. This was not the first time Bruce had fucked you and you hope it's not the last. You let out a moan, and he hits the perfect spot just right with the tip of his throbbing member.

"Oh fuck Bruce I'm.. shit.. I'm so close." You mange to pant out causing the older man being you to grunt and speed up. Before you know it, you're a shaking moaning mess coming on his dick like a faucet. Gently Bruce pulls out helping you to your knees in front of him as he leans back in his desk chair. "You did so well baby girl." He hum his voice slightly raspy as he brushes hair from your face. "But you're not done yet." He takes your chin between his fingers and guides you to his still hard cock. Without a second thought, you open your mouth.

Bruce lets out a groan as you finally manage to take his whole member into your mouth. His hand grasps your hair, shoving you down a tiny bit further. "Good girl. Doing so well. Fuck your mouth feels so good." The man groans and before long and without much movement his coming down your throat. You come up gaging and coughing as Bruce tries to come down from his high. Once you've regained the ability to breathe, you turn back to him. "Look at the mess you've made." He gestures to the spit and cum on his dick and tights. "I expect that cleaned up, you know. It is your job." You cheeks fulls and you move closer to him once again. "Yes, sir." His hand falls to your hair once again. "Good girl."

Hope you enjoyed

Dont know what came over me writing this opps anyway

Feel free to like repost reply and request everything is so appreciated

Stay safe

Have a wonderful day night afternoon etc

[foreverisntenough]

--------- My tiny one shot below for you 🤍

'Daddy's Home'

1.4k words | Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader |

↳ Trent returns home from an away game to an overjoyed Teddy, the ultimate daddy’s girl. She clings to him, dodging his question about whether she behaved for you. With playful coaxing, she finally admits she wasn’t her best and tearfully apologizes. Trent and you reassure her of your love, comforting her worries about his absence. No matter where he goes, he always comes home to his girls.

Other ForeverIsntEnough One Shots

[Apart of Fie's Trauma Dump Memorial. A swan song of works about the impending dearly departed.]

---------

The moment Trent stepped through the front door, Teddy’s little feet pitter pattered against the polished hardwood flooring. He’d been away for a champions league game in Germany and now, daddy was finally home. 

“My Dada!!!” she screamed, her tiny voice bursting with joy as she ran straight for him. Trent barely had time to drop his bag before squatting down, arms wide open, his smile stretching ear to ear. 

“Mmm c'mere, Ted!" He hummed squeezing her tight. "My baby bear. I missed you, sweetheart. You look so beautiful.” He tried to pull her off him to see the identical dimples deepening, and pouty lips curling. But Teddy had no patience for sweet words. She crashed into him, her little arms wrapping tight around his neck. 

“Dada,” she muttered, ignoring anything else, too excited that he was finally home. Trent chuckled, rubbing slow circles on her back. You walked into the foyer with a lazy smile knowing that you were guaranteed a good two to three hour window Teddy free now that daddy was home. 

“Were you good for Mama while I was away?” he asked, voice warm and expectant. You couldn’t help but smirk, casting Teddy a knowing side-eye, recalling the storm of tantrums and the stubborn little frown and pooling puppy dog eyes that had plagued yesterday. But Teddy had mastered the art of distraction, burrowing deeper into Trent’s shoulder. She was a pro at being a bonified daddy's girl.

“My Dada!” she squealed again, her grip tightening like she could keep him from ever leaving again. Trent almost fell for it. Almost. He held her close, inhaling the sweet scent of baby shampoo in her curls. But then, his eyes flicked up to you, catching your playful glare—one that said, ‘come on, don’t let her get away with that.’

“Answer my question,” he laughed, pulling back just enough to see her little face. “Baby, you good for Mama? Because my Teddy bear is always a good girl. She loves her mummy.” Teddy’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout, her little brows furrowing at the mere suggestion that she could have done anything wrong. 

“I Daddy’s Teddy bear!” she whined, her arms clinging tighter, like the title itself was at stake. She didn’t like the concept that she could possibly have ruled herself out of being Daddy's Teddy. Trent tilted his head, pretending to contemplate. 

“Mmm, don’t know. Depends.” He hummed teasingly.  “My Teddy bear is so nice to her mummy. Come on, be brave. Tell me, baby, because big girls don’t lie to Daddy.” He cooed gently. She whined hiding in his neck, trying to move past this interrogation and move onto just cuddles. You rolled your eyes at her antics. Trent smiled at you before his attention returned to the little girl in his arms attempting to get impossibly closer to him. “Excuse me… Teddy Alexander-Arnold. Can you pay attention to me?" He chuckled. "Were you good for mummy?” He asked again. She squirmed, her face scrunching up in protest before finally letting out a tiny whimper. Then, the puppy-dog eyes came out in full force, thank god no longer directed at you anymore, but they were wide and shimmering with unspoken pleas as she let out a defeated huff.

“Nos,” she whispered, looking down at her feet. Trent exhaled, fighting back a smile. She looked ridiculously cute, but he tried to stay firm. And then… there it was. The tears. Tiny, guilt-ridden tears tipping over her lashes, her little chest rising and falling with the weight of them. You reached for her, your heart melting instantly. 

“It’s okay, baby,” you soothed, sitting beside them on the hardwood floors. Trent pulled away from Teddy just long enough to press a kiss to your lips, his hand cradling your cheek. She whined in protest with a hiccuped shaky breath, but he only chuckled, his gaze soft and full of love as it met yours. 

“Missed you so much, beautiful.” He murmured, his thumb brushing your skin. You pulled away with a bashful smile because Daddy was home—but so was your T.

“Come here, Ted. Mwah.” You pressed a kiss to her temple, letting her snuggle into your lap, but keeping her within Trent’s reach. Teddy curled into your chest, her big, glassy eyes peering up at you, the very picture of dramatic sadness. You stroked her back, fighting back a knowing smile as you glanced at Trent. “I wonder where you get this little pout from, hmm?” you mused, tracing your finger over her jutted-out bottom lip. Trent just shrugged, completely unbothered, and you rolled your eyes at his blatant denial. 

“You know you’re the most beautiful girl in the whole world, right?” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Teddy’s temple, his voice soft. Then, with a pointed look at you, he added, “Just like Mummy.” You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping as you glanced between them. Teddy was Trent’s carbon copy—pout, puppy dog eyes, and all. “So, did ya have a little bit of an attitude yesterday, Ted?" He asked her, trying his hardest not to let his smile to get too big, but she was really cute and he missed her. She nodded with a sniffle. "Did you apologize to mummy?” he asked softly, brushing a stray curl from her cheek.

“Am sorry, mama,” she whimpered, tears still falling as she looked up at you.

“Shhh, that’s alright, baby. I love you, okay?” You stroked her back as she nodded again with a hiccup. “But baby… you know it’s better to tell Mama why you’re upset than just get grumpy with her, yeah?” Another nod. More quiet sniffling. “Remember we talked about it yesterday. Have to just tell mummy how you feel. It’ll be okay.” You kissed her hair with a hum, trying to calm her. It really wasn't a big deal but two and a half was proving to be filled with a lot of the word 'no.'  

“Ted, we always tell Mummy. And we definitely always tell Daddy the truth, yeah?” Trent’s voice was gentle but firm, and Teddy’s pout deepened. She huffed, her tiny shoulders rising and falling. “Did you know Mummy and Daddy tell each other everything, even when we're upset?” Trent continued, watching her closely. Teddy’s little face scrunched up in confusion. She shook her head. 

“But ‘way Dada…” she murmured, her lip trembling again, fresh tears brimming at the mention of his absence. Trent’s expression softened, mirroring hers. His own heart clenched at the sight of her struggling to understand why he ever had to leave at all.

“Yeah, but Daddy always comes back home to us. And we call him all the time he's away, right?” You kissed her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "Never misses bedtime, does he?" You cooed kissing her cheek again. Teddy’s eyes flicked between the two of you, processing. She shook her head no again recalling just last night daddy had called before she went to sleep. “But Daddy is my best friend in the whole world, so I tell him everything,” you added, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Do you know who else is my best friend?” She shook her head, curiosity dimming the last of her tears. “My Teddy bear,” you whispered, squeezing her tight before blowing a loud raspberry onto her cheek.

“Mama!” she squealed, giggling and wiggling in your hold, her little hands pushing at your face. Trent let out a sigh, his smile full of love as he watched the two of you. His entire world, right there.

“I love you so much, okay?” you whispered into Teddy’s ear, holding her close. She nodded, her tiny hands clutching at you both before she turned to Trent with wide, searching eyes.

“Dada still love?” She asked earnestly. Trent’s heart clenched all over again. He hated that he wasn't always home. And he really hated that Teddy was becoming more aware that he wasn't and you were facing the backlash.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling her into him again, his lips pressing into her curls as his arms wrapped tightly around her tiny frame. “I love you, Teddy girl. So much. Always and forever. Every day. Everywhere I am. No matter when. No matter where. Okay?” 

“Tay..." She sniffled.

"When I'm away though, gotta be good for mummy f'me. Promise?" He cooed gently earning another nod, another sniffle.

"Tay... " Teddy’s bottom lip wobbled again. "But miss Dada.”

“I know, I know. I miss you so much. Wish I could be with you and mummy every day.” He whispered softly, his hand reaching out to squeeze your thigh, ever thoughtful, even if his focus was on your daughter. She sniffled again, burying her face into his chest, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of his jumper like she was afraid he’d disappear again. You laid your hand over his and your heart ached because a part of you felt the exact same way she did. You wanted him at home too. “It’s just Daddy’s job. I’m sorry, baby bear.” Trent held her tighter, rocking her gently, whispering every promise he could think of against her hair, his heart entirely, completely, and utterly hers. Teddy finally calming because she knew at least for now, daddy was home.

⇨ Read other ForeverIsntEnough here!

[gojokive]

Welcome Home, Honey ♡

❝synopsis❞ ‣ the men of JJK coming home after a long day to find you in lingerie, sleeping because you were waiting for them.

𓆩☆𓆪 PAIRING(S) › jjk men x afab!reader 𓆩☆𓆪 GENRE(S) › fluff/(little)smut 𓆩☆𓆪 WORD(S) › 3.7k+ » 13min read. 𓆩☆𓆪 WARNING(S) › women wearing lingerie・cockwarming・whispering sweet nothing's・cuddling・somnophilia・f! fingering・butt plugs・alot of apologizing・mention of penetration・sweet nicknames・not much else, let me know if I miss anything! ♡ 𓆩☆𓆪 POST DATE › 01.15.2025 𓆩☆𓆪 NOTE › the links take you to picture of the lingerie I envision for each reader. the person used doesn't indicate the body type nor the skin color of the reader, they are just used for lingerie reference! thank you for coming to my ted talk(:

❝featuring❞ ‣ nanami kento・gojo satoru・kamo choso・ryomen sukuna・fushiguro toji・ shiu kong・geto suguru・atsuya kusakabe ♡

‣ 𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚒 𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘 ♡ ↳ lingerie choice

"Sweetheart? I'm home!"

The front door creaks open as he's expecting you to rush him like you always do. When he calls out to you again and he doesn't get a response, he's quick to shut the door to hurry with his nightly routine.

It's eerily quiet and that's something Nanami isn't use to. Usually you're up watching something on TV or he can even hear you moving about in one of the rooms down the hall but, there's nothing.

And he hates it.

"Darling?" He calls into the apartment one last time as he kicks off his shoes and sits them by yours at the door.

He can see that you're home.

All your things are in it's right place. It's just... you're not here to greet him.

He sighs, exhaustion flooding through his bones and feeling a bit bitter at the fact that they kept him from you. He hadn't expected to make it home this late!

But, of fucking course, Gojo and the higher ups- you know what? What's done is done all he wants to do now is cuddle up to his lovely wife and get some sleep.

It's was the only thing he was looking forward to on the ride home (aside from your cooking because he's starving).

He shoves his jacket off to hang it nearby as he slowly makes the walk toward your shared bedroom. Loosening his tie in the process, he tosses his bag on the couch on the way there.

"You in here, honey?" His heartbeat quickens as he calls into the room but he quickly stops when he sees you're on his side of the bed. Face snuggle into his pillow, his eyes trail down your body the moment he notices what you have on.

The pretty orange lingerie hugs your figure beautifully (metaphorically patting himself on his back with a job well done for picking it).

He plays with the straps that kiss your pretty thighs as he remembers buying it as a gift and telling you to wear it on a special occasion of your choosing.

He's guessing today was the day you were going to surprise him with it but of course, he was late getting home (he blames the higher up and Gojo for his... incompetence).

"I'm so sorry." He frowns, taking short strides to get to you but stops when he remembers he needs to shower and change.

Vibrating with excitement, he can't wait to crawl into bed with you, wanting to have you in his arms. He knows the last thing he wants is for you to scream at him for tracking blood and dirt into the house.

Let alone into the bed.

"I'll be back." He whispers, leaning in to gently kiss your forehead and watches your face scrunch. You don't see how much his face softens, how he turns back to lovingly gaze, honestly not wanting to leave the room.

He's in complete awe with how beautiful his wife is.

He hates that he wasn't able to be here in time for your surprise but that doesn't mean he can't wake you up with a surprise of his own.

‣ 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞 ♡ ↳ lingerie choice

"I'm home, buttercup!"

Exhaustion is Satoru's last name right now and all he wants is to fall asleep in your marital bed, together.

"Babyyyy?" He whines, hoping it'll make you come to him faster but, alas, you're still no where to be found.

What does he have to do? Wail your name all through the house to get your attention? All he wants is to see your pretty face! Hug you, kiss you.

He tosses his bag and coat on to the floor near the door, opting to deal with it later. A firm pout on his lips, his main priority is finding you so he can get the love and affection he's yearning for.

The frown on his face deepens until he makes his way into the living room to find you on the couch with your legs to the side of you and leaning on the back of your hand to try and stay upright.

He can hear the light snores as your favorite show has become nothing but white noise.

"Oh my poor princess..." Satoru can't hold the giddiness bubbling inside of him at the thought of you trying your hardest to stay awake for him. You're so fucking cute and it makes him so angry that the higher ups kept him from you tonight.

His eyes immediately grow in size once he rounds the couch to see you. Crouching down to get a better look, he faintly grins as he plays with the strings that's fallen onto your hips.

"I knew it would look good on you, baby," Satoru mumbles to no one but himself. Just looking at you makes Satoru's mouth water with all kinds of possibilities. He wants nothing more than to rip it off of you but... he'll wait until you're fully awake for that.

He caresses the side of your face, noticing the light makeup you decided to put on as well. His hatred for the higher up's growing when he realizes you were wanting to simply surprise him just because you can.

He tries to quell his anger, noting it would have no use here as he pinches your chin between his fingers and rub his thumb against your bottom lip. He chuckles when your lips enclose around it as you begin sucking on it without warning.

"Wake-up, Sweetheart," He whispers only to hear you groan in response. You snuggle deeper into your hand. He thinks for a moment, knowing he should go ahead and get cleaned up while you're sleeping so he can quickly make his way back to you.

He does just that.

When he comes back, you're still sleeping and he has no other choice but to scoop you into his arms and whisk you away to your shared bedroom.

You wake when you realize you're moving, smiling with relief when you realize it's him. He lays you down on the bed, letting the towel wrapped around his body fall to the floor as he crawls into bed with you.

“I missed you today...” He whispers, leaning over you as you dreamily lock your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

"Then show me how much."

He presses his forehead against yours, and honestly, he could sleep but not when he has a duty to perform.

"Your wish is my command, baby."

‣ 𝚔𝚊𝚖𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚘 ♡ ↳ lingerie choice

If it was up to Choso, he would never leave your shared home. Living with you has become the highlight of his morning and nights and each second he spends away from you, he feels a deep bitterness that he can't quite explain.

All he knows is the moment he walks away from Jujutsu High, his whole being is buzzing with excitement. Giddiness. So Joyous.

Coming home to you gives him a sense of thrill as he can't wait to kiss you, hug you and just simply orbit around you.

So what he doesn't expect is to come home to you stretched out on the couch with your phone discarded on the floor. A pretty burgundy lace material adorning your beautiful body as he recognizes the set you're wearing. The one Shoko helped him pick out for your anniversary.

His breathes hitches, legs frozen in place as he sees how gorgeous you look with the lingerie hugging your perfect body. 

Can he touch you? He wants to so bad! Would that be okay? What would you say?

He should probably let you sleep because he knows you and Gojo have been putting in overtime with training the others and this was one of your only days off. He should- but wait... you wore this for him, right?

What should he do?

You wanted him to see you like this so it has to be okay!

There's a lot of mental gymnastics going on in his head to rationalize his thoughts. He's sweating bullets, back turned as he doesn't even realize you've woken up. Standing to your feet, you slink your arms around his waist. Startling the poor boy.

"Welcome home, Baby.” You giggle, laying head on his shoulder as he whips his head to the side to get a look at you.

“I-I didn't mean to wake you. I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry, you didn't.” You lazily smile, pulling back and taking him by the hand to lead him to the couch. Laying down with him on your chest, you undo the hair ties to let his hair fall into his face.

Caressing his cheek in the process, you ask him how his day was, noting how late it was as you help him peel off the layers of clothing and leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

He continues to talk excitedly about how teaching his brother to use blood manipulation was going and well he's doing seeing as he feels he isn't the best teacher.

He's doing his best and you can't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“You know, I missed you, today.”

The moment he is comfortable, you notice he's curled himself into you as his face is buried in your breast.

"I always miss you when you're gone."

In an instant, Choso's heartbeat flutters as his cheeks burn with the intense love he feels for you.

"That's why you're dressed like this? This was for me?"

You nod with a soft smile, noticing his gaze on you and nothing else. The hearts in his eyes grow with each passing second.

"Of course, who else would it be for silly?" You grab his hand, bringing it cup your breast. Biting his lip, he glances at you as if to ask for your permission and when you nod, he quickly tugs the straps down to get a face full of your breast.

“Show me how much you missed me, pretty boy," You tell him as he leans up to kiss you passionately.

His body vibrating with anticipation of what's to come.

‣ 𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚓𝚒 ♡ ↳ lingerie choice

"Aren't you a pretty little thing, mama." Toji chuckles, pushing you to turn over on your back.

The forest green lace molds to your body flawlessly and fuck, you look so damn good in that little number. So good that Toji finds himself growing impatient, quickly jumping in the shower to wash of the days work so he can settle into bed quicker.

"Can't believe this is all for me," He proudly says, hearing you moan his name although you're still sleeping. You look good and god, he wants to rip it off of you but another part of him wants you to keep it on.

The more he rubs over your clit, the wetter you become as he runs his finger over your clothed pussy.

You must be dreaming of him too.

“Don't worry. I'm gonna make you feel real good ma,” He purrs, towing over you as you wearily blink trying to wing yourself awake.

"Toj?"

"Yeah? I'm here." He smirks, pushing your legs apart to give him easier access. He leans in to gently kiss against your neck listening to moan out his name and feeling how wet you've become in a matter of seconds. "Look at 'ya... Didn't think ya would wear it."

"Wanted to surprise you."

Your back arches the moment his slips his finger inside you, letting out a sharp gasp. Biting his lip, he watches how well you take his thick fingers. So wet with your essence and it makes him want to taste you even more.

"I missed you..." You whine, your hips jerk to try to get more friction as he chuckles at your desperation.

Leaning in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, your eyes roll to the back of your head and letting him push your legs up to your chest to get a better look.

“I'm gonna make ya feel real good." He yanks the bra cups to the side to let your breast spill out of the lingerie piece. "Isn't that what ya wanted?”

“Yes." You moan, rolling your hips to tryand get his fingers deeper. “I-I missed you so much. You were gone too long...”

“I know, I know." He chuckles, pulling the small, barely visible piece away from your pussy. "I missed you too, mamas.” He nips at your bottom lip before pulling his fingers out of you. He sticks them in his mouth with a loud groan as you watch on with hooded eyes, lust hidden withing them.

“Want me to show ya how much?” He asks, taking his cock in his hand to rub it against your pussy lips.

“Please-” You gasp as he inches himself inside of you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you gasp for air, knowing you're gonna have a long night ahead of you.

‣ 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚞 ♡ ↳ lingerie choice

‘Come find me.’

Suguru reads the note with soft smile, knowing how playful you get when you miss him. It makes him wonder what you have in-stored for him.

He can't wait to find you. Being gone for almost two weeks takes a toll on a man. He missed you more than he missed being home and he couldn't wait to have his hands all over you.

' You're getting warmerrrrr(; '

He chuckles, taking the little pink notes with him as he made his way to your shared room.

At least, that's what he hoped until he found you laid out on the bed in what was (more than likely) the gift you were talking about. 

Disappointed? Yes, but he's definitely not surprised. You could never stay up even if you tried and honestly, it's the cutest thing in the world.

He hates that he was forced to come home this late, hating the higher-up's for all the missions they've been sending him and Satoru on.

He wants to be home, with you. Is that too much to ask?

He slowly peels his shirt off, standing near the bed as his fingers lightly trail up the back of your thigh. You shudder from the contact. The purple lace catching his eye as he pushes it over your ass to get a better look at the pretty lace thong.

The heart jeweled butt-plug catching his eye after.

"Pretty." He smirks, you floral perfume filling his senses as he's quick to take his pants off and toss them to the side. "Baby?"

He leans in to kiss all over your neck, hearing you moan softly in his hold.

“I'm sorry I wasn't home earlier.”

“Sugu?” 

“I'm here, gorgeous.” He whispers close to your ear as you turn over to face him. Face to face with his gorgeous purple eyes that's filled with nothing but love as he smiles. “I'm sorry I'm late. I missed your surprise.”

“You're here now.” Holding his hand, you intertwine your fingers. "That's all that matters."

He kisses are soft but asserting as you throw your arms around his neck to tug him closer. Deepening the kiss further when goes to pull your leg over his hip to keep it there.

“I'm happy you're home, Sugu.” You gasp as he pulls back before running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I'll always come home to you, princess.”

The warmth of his embrace making you feel just how deeply loved and cherished you truly are.

‣ 𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚊 ♡ ↳ lingerie choice + kimono

Duties of the day done and over with, he tells Uraume to run a bath while he makes his way toward his chambers with heavy feet.

He's ready to have your servants bring you to him but when he slides the door to his chambers open his eye catches movement.

It's then that he realizes you're already here.

You're laid on his side of the bed, the canopy doing little to nothing to shield how naked you are. The small kimono fallen open and showing you in all your glory since the lingerie hid nothing.

"Stupid woman," Sukuna growls, stomping his way over to the bed to shake you awake as the rage continues boil his blood. The thought of some nobody seeing you like this has him wanting to rip the heads off of anyone who dares cross his path.

Although, he knows no one is stupid enough to enter his chambers unannounced, it's the principal. Your body is for his eyes only and he'll gouge the eyes out of anyone who even thinks about staring for too long.

"Wake the hell up, woman."

He tries to shake you awake but you're out cold.

He sighs, taking the moment to admire just how good you look in the little lingerie piece. Wanting to strangle those idiots from keeping him busy and away from you.

He calls your name, pinching your jaw to shake your head from side to side.

"Wake. Up."

Your eyes flutter open as you take in the mountain of a man standing over you. Grinning wider now that he's here.

"'Kuna."

"Come." He sees you frown, although he allows you to climb into his lap and lay your head on his shoulder. He picks you up and carries you to the bath that Uraume has been keeping warm for the both of you. "Bathe with me."

Peeling the beautiful kimono off your body, the heart cutouts makes him chuckle at how on the nose it is.

"Like it?" You sleeply asks, allowing him to reach behind you to unclasp it and drop the tiny underwear to your feet before stripping himself of his dirtied clothes.

He hums, stepping into the bath and shooing Uraume away so you could be alone.

"Lay back."

You do as you're told as his bottom two arms wrap themselves around your waist. His top right hand being used as rest, his head cocked to the side to watch you while the top left stretches itself on the edge of the bathtub.

He's as hard as a rock right now and it's all your doing but he'll let you rest.

For now.

‣ 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚞 𝚔𝚘𝚗𝚐 ♡ ↳ lingerie choice + lace cover-up

His angel.

That's all he can think when he walks into your shared bedroom to see you laid out on the bed looking so ethereal.

There's something so alluring about the way the lace hugs your body, making him feel just how much you effect him.

He adjusts his slacks, his cock growing stiffer by the second when realizes you fell asleep waiting for him to get home.

It doesn't help that he was missing you today (more than usual) and coming home to this? It was definitely the icing on the cake.

"My pretty girl." He mumbles, unbuttoning his shirt to let it fall open as he sits on the side of the bed to take in the lacey material.

He's going to kill Toji from keeping him from you.

Fuck, he wants to ravish you as he feels up your body. His touches are as light as a feather, watching you unconsciously squirm away from his touch.

God, you don't know what you do to him. It's the littlest things that keep him on a leash.

And he definitely doesn't mind.

He leans forward and gently kisses your ear, chuckling when your eyebrows pinch together.

"Wake up, baby."

Confusion settles on your face as you slowly wake to recognition.

“You're home?” Your smile lights up his world (it's a little dopey too but it's the cutest thing in the world) and he can't think of a better way to be greeted.

“Yeah, I’m home, doll.” He leans in to place a kiss on your lips, hoping to give you more tonight (if that's what you want of course).

‣ 𝚊𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚢𝚊 𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚊𝚋𝚎 ♡ ↳ lingerie choice

After the night he had, coming home to you like this is nothing short of a treat.

His gorgeous wife, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard with the book you’ve been reading sat in front of you.

"Hey Honey," You greet him with the sweetest smile, closing your book to set it aside. "You're home later than I thought you would be."

He can only sigh in annoyance, knowing the only reason you're awake at one in the morning is because of him.

Well, not really him, but because of the mountain of curses that's been popping up lately.

He hates it. He's sorry for making you suffer like this. Making you wait so long before gracing you with his presence. You don't deserve this.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." He frowns, letting you tug him closer by his tie to get him to climb into bed.

He can change shower and clothes later... You just want to cuddle into his strong arms as he lays his head on your chest.

Finally able to relax in your hold.

"It's okay." You kiss his forehead and gently brush his hair back. "It's not your fault."

"I know but still-"

"Not tonight. Sleep. We'll talk about it in the morning, alright?"

"Okay..." He whispers, kissing your cheek to hear you giggle out his name. The sound shooting straight through his senses. "You look beautiful, by the way."

"Well..." You tease as he listens to you talk without a care in the world. Nothing but love swirling in his eyes. "It was your surprise. I wanted to do something special but they fucked that up, huh?"

He hums, playing with the frills underneath your breast as he begins kissing the bits of your stomach that's exposed.

"How about we continue this surprise in the morning?"

Don't get him wrong! He’s grateful for you dressing up for him and trying to stay awake to greet him but he's so damn tired that he knows he won't be able to give you the dicking of your life.

At least, not right now.

Plus he also wants you to get your rest as well.

"Sleep with me?" You turn over on your side to let him hold you from the back, holding his arms against your stomach to make sure he doesn't move.

He kisses the back of your neck before telling you good night.

He can't wait to ravish you in the morning but for now, sleep is his priority from the day that he had and it should be yours as well.

© GOJOKIVE 2024-2025 ➳ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED  PLEASE DO NOT PLAGIARISE -and/or- TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK. ・thank you for reading! & remember: you nice, keep going.❤️ ・comment/reblogs(s) and like(s) are totally welcomed! › read more work here: masterlist ‹

[casuallyobssessed]

7 Minutes in Heaven - Ted "Theodore" Logan x Fem!Reader ❥ 1.3k Words

A/N: idk why I wrote this but i'm posting it bc I'm too self conscious to post the other fic I'm writing lol. lmk if there's any errors, I didn't edit this very much! Divider by enchanthings

Warnings: handjob, heavy petting/touching (?), no beta, no use of y/n

Archive of Our Own Link

Maybe it was fate that placed you at this party at the same exact time as Ted “Theodore” Logan. It definitely had to be some kind of divine intervention that had you sitting directly across from him during this game of spin the bottle. And if that wasn't enough, you must have had some kind of guardian angel by your side when Ted spun that bottle and it miraculously landed on you.

You have been crushing on Ted ever since you first saw him at one of his first Wyld Stallyns shows. Sure, the music wasn't great, but they were incredibly passionate about playing and that was enough to keep you coming back for more.

Now, you're being ushered into a closet with him, expected to play seven minutes in heaven and act entirely normal about it. Of course you're starstruck, who wouldn't be?

-

“Whoa, it is like, super dark in here. I can't see anything, dude,” Ted whispers as soon as the door closes behind you.

“Makes it more interesting,” You whisper back.

You say a silent prayer that he can't hear your heart hammering inside of your chest. With no time to waste, you make the first move.

You follow the sound of his breathing and search in the dark for his hand. He stiffens as you grab onto him and pull him close, using your other hand to reach up and feel for his cheek. You make contact with his neck and slide your hand up to his cheek.

“Can I kiss you, Ted?”

“Oh, I haven’t, uh-” He clears his throat before you feel him nod and stutter out, “Y-Yeah.”

The Ted “Theodore” Logan has never kissed anyone?! You weren't expecting that. Thinking about being his first kiss makes you nervous, but you're determined to make the most of this short amount of time you've been graciously given.

Leaning up a bit, you try your best to aim for his lips, but end up bumping your nose into his. Thankfully, he lets out an amused chuckle and doesn't seem put off by your blunder. You feel his large hand bump into your chest, followed by him pulling away and a hushed ‘sorry.’ This time, his hand lands higher up, between your neck and shoulder. He follows the contours of your neck to your jaw and guides you to his lips.

As dark as it was in the closet, kissing him lit you up inside. Warmth blooms in your chest as you slowly take the lead and show him the motions. For someone who hasn't kissed anyone before, he wasn't half bad. His lips are soft and taste faintly of… cinnamon?

You intend to give Ted the full experience here. So, when he tentatively puts his hand on your hip, you intercept it and place it on your breast, squeezing around the back of his hand to give him an idea of what you're asking of him.

Eagerly, Ted pushes up your shirt and cups your breast through your bra. The fabric is restricting, but thin enough for him to get a feel for where your nipple is and gently rub his thumb across it, sending a hot wave of want pulsing through you.

Blindly, you slide your hand down his chest, slowing as you trace the long, raised scar adorning his belly. You want to ask him about it as you run your fingers across it, but you feel him flinch as you linger on it and figure it's probably still a sensitive topic. Abandoning the scar, you continue your journey downwards to find the edge of his jeans. He lets out a shuddered breath as you creep your hand underneath his waistband and into his underwear. What you find is more than enough to sate your curiosity.

Nestled in a bush of soft curls is his dick; it's long, and once you wrap your hand around it, you can feel that it's thick enough to make your mouth water and your thighs clench. You've barely touched him when he lets out a low whine, desperate and unsure. You pause for a second and pull away, seriously considering if you should be doing this to him or not.

“Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” You ask, concern heavy in your voice.

“No! Please, don't stop,” Ted exclaims in a hushed tone as you hear him unzip his pants and shuffle them down, “You can totally touch me again, if you wanna.”

His reassurance is enough to have you groping around in the dark again, searching for him. He catches your wrist, and brings your hand down to where he's fully exposed now. You take him in your hand again, testing the waters with a couple shallow pumps before leaning into his shoulder.

Hot huffs of his breath ghost across your neck as you stroke him; soft whimpers spill unfettered from his lips. Feeling a little daring, you press a few experimental kisses to his neck.

“Wait, I'm-” He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale of breath and a moan, and you suddenly feel his dick pulsing in your hand.

“Did you just…” You whisper in disbelief, feeling his cum drip onto your fingers.

“Y-Yeah. I'm sorry, it never happens that fast,” Ted stumbles over his words as he apologizes to you.

“You don't have to apologize, Ted. It was fun.”

“Sorry. You can wipe your hand on my jeans, if you want.”

“Do I have to?”

“Huh?"

Without another word, you lift your hand to your lips and slowly lick his cum off of your fingers, one by one. With the last finger, you make an exaggerated pop noise as you pull it from your mouth, hoping he gets the message.

“Whoa.”

Message received, loud and clear, it seems.

Next thing you know, you feel his hands on either side of your face, pulling you in. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, hungrily licking into your mouth, chasing what's left of his taste on your tongue. The desperation as he moans into your mouth makes you weak in the knees.

You're about to break away from him when the closet door flies open, the sudden burst of light causing you to squint. Ted's hands fly down to shove himself back into his pants and zip them up. His cheeks are beet red as he looks from you to his friend Bill, who is holding the door open.

“Nice! Dude, you totally got lucky,” Bill shouts as Ted takes your hand and leads you out of the closet.

“Shut up, Bill!” Ted uses his free hand to shove Bill out of the way.

You follow Ted up the stairs, past the rest of the party, and into the kitchen . It's strange looking directly at him. In the dark, everything almost seemed fake, like it didn't actually happen with him.

As you're processing that it did, in fact happen, you watch Ted dig through a couple of drawers before he produces a notepad and a pen.

“Is it cool if I get your number?” He asks sheepishly.

You nod and write it down for him with a grin.

“Excellent! Thanks,” He rips the page off the notepad and shoves it in his pocket, “Does this mean I can see you again sometime?”

“Maybe. Why? You wanna hang out with me for a re-do?” You tease.

Just like that, the red is back in his cheeks and he’s rubbing his neck nervously, “I totally didn't mean it like that. I like you, I think you're cool.”

“I think you're cool, too, Ted.”

He freezes up, almost like he didn't expect you to respond positively. You gently grab his hand and take a step closer to him.

“So, is that a yes?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah. I think so,” You giggle as you kiss his cheek.

[nameless-jamie]

Offside Tension - Jamie Tartt x Y/N

Masterlist - Next Chapter

Chapter 4 - Lines Crossed, Hearts Questioned

The past few days had been... strange for Y/N. She wasn’t exactly sure when things had shifted, but something about Jamie Tartt had lodged itself in her thoughts, and it was beginning to feel impossible to shake. The banter between them was harmless, playful even, but every smirk he gave her lingered longer than it should have in her mind. Every time he called her “love” in that casually cheeky way, her stomach did this ridiculous little flip that made her want to kick herself.

Why, of all people, was Jamie Tartt starting to get under her skin?

She didn’t have much time to dwell on it this morning, though. Training had wrapped up smoothly, and the team was dispersing. Y/N was standing near the pitch, watching the players file out, when Jamie walked past her, his usual swagger on full display.

“Good drills today, Coach,” he said, his tone teasing but not unkind. Then, after a beat, he added with a smirk, “Maybe next time, I’ll let you win one-on-one.”

She raised an eyebrow, biting back a retort. “Let me? Pretty sure I wiped the floor with you, Tartt.”

He grinned, stepping closer. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

Their eyes locked for a moment, and for reasons she couldn’t quite place, her breath hitched. She forced herself to look away, focusing instead on gathering her clipboard and whistle. When she glanced back up, Jamie was already walking off, but he glanced over his shoulder and gave her a quick wink. Her face flushed, and she quickly turned away, hoping no one had noticed.

Unfortunately for her, Keeley Jones had. Keeley saw her from Rebecca’s office and wanted to say hello to her new friend, but didn’t expect the heavy flirting with a certain Mancunian.

Later, as Y/N sat on a bench reviewing her notes on the sidelines of the pitch, Keeley’s voice broke through her concentration.

“Alright, spill.”

Y/N looked up to see Keeley standing in front of her, arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face.

“Spill what?” Y/N asked, feigning innocence.

“Oh, don’t play coy with me,” Keeley said, plopping down beside her. “You’ve been all distracted today, you didn’t even show your face in the locker room. And don’t think I didn’t notice that little... moment you had with Jamie earlier.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It wasn’t a moment.”

“Babe, it was totally a moment,” Keeley said, nudging her playfully. “So what’s the deal? You fancy him?”

“No,” Y/N said quickly. Too quickly. She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe? I mean, it’s just... he’s Jamie Tartt, you know? And we’ve only ever had this... flirty banter thing going on. It’s not like it’s real.”

Keeley tilted her head, studying her. “Why do you think it’s not real?”

“Because...” Y/N hesitated, searching for the words. “Because I’ve seen the way he is with people. He’s charming and cocky and—”

“And completely different from who he used to be,” Keeley finished for her. “Y/N, I know Jamie can come across like he’s all bravado, but he’s changed so much over the past couple of years. You should’ve seen him when he first came back to Richmond. He was a nightmare. But he’s worked so hard to be better—as a player and as a person.”

Y/N frowned. “What changed?”

“A lot of things,” Keeley said. “Ted had a big impact on him, obviously. And then there’s his dad...” She paused, her expression softening. “Jamie’s dad’s in rehab now. But before that, he was... well, let’s just say he wasn’t exactly Father of the Year. Jamie’s had to deal with a lot of crap from him. But instead of letting it drag him down, he’s used it to push himself to be better.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the thought. She’d seen glimpses of vulnerability in Jamie—moments when his confidence seemed more like armor than arrogance.

“I didn’t know that,” she said quietly.

Keeley smiled gently. “He doesn’t always let people see that side of him. But it’s there. And I think... maybe he lets you see more of it than you realize. I think you could be that person for him.”

Y/N’s stomach fluttered at the implication, but she pushed the feeling aside. “I don’t know, Keeley. I’m his coach. This... whatever this is... it’s complicated.”

Keeley shrugged. “The best things usually are.”

That evening, Y/N stayed late at Nelson Road to finish up some paperwork in her office. By the time she was ready to leave, the parking lot was nearly empty, save for a few cars. She climbed into her own car, an old, beat-up thing she’d bought on a budget as soon as she arrived in Richmond. Better to have a car than no car at all. She turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. She tried again. Still nothing.

“Great,” she muttered, leaning her head against the steering wheel. She shouldn't have listened to the guy at the car dealership, but she had a habit of being bad at saying no to salesmen.

A knock on her window startled her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see Jamie standing there, his brows furrowed in concern. She rolled down the window.

“Car trouble?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “It won’t start.”

“Pop the hood. I’ll take a look,” he said.

She hesitated. “You know anything about cars?”

“Not a clue,” he admitted with a grin. “But I’ll give it a go.”

She couldn’t help but laugh as she popped the hood. Jamie peered inside, poking at a few things while muttering to himself. After a few minutes, he stepped back, wiping his hands on his track pants.

“Yeah, I’ve got no idea what I’m doin’,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure this thing’s not goin’ anywhere tonight.”

Y/N groaned. “Fantastic.”

“Come on,” Jamie said. “I’ll give you a ride.”

She hesitated. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said, his tone softer now. “But I want to.”

Something in his expression made her relent, and she grabbed her bag, following him to his car. The ride started off awkward, the tension between them palpable. But as they drove, the conversation began to flow more easily. They talked about football, about their favorite players and matches they’d seen. Jamie told her about growing up in Manchester, and she shared stories from her own childhood. They found out that they both think Messi is way better than Ronaldo.

"No, I know. And the whole goal celebration thing. Like, it’s a team sport. I mean, who only celebrates themselves after a goal? A little arrogant, if you ask me." Y/N knew what she was saying and to whom she was saying it. She’d seen some of Jamie's old goal celebrations. But teasing him was just too tempting at the moment.

"Wow. Ok, foul play. I'm a changed man now, love. These days I would even consider celebrating with my coaches," he side-eyed her.

By the time they pulled up outside her flat, the air between them felt lighter, though the tension was still there, humming just beneath the surface. Jamie turned to her as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said. "And for taking a 'proper look' at my car."

“Anytime,” he replied, his voice quieter than usual. "You should get it checked out by a professional tomorrow."

"Oh, so you're not professional enough to fix my car for me, Tartt?" She stopped the light banter mid-sentence because Jamie tucked the loose strand of hair that had fallen in her eyes behind her ear in such a loving way. It took her breath away, literally.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Their eyes met, and Y/N’s breath caught. Jamie leaned in slightly, and for a split second, she thought he might kiss her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt herself leaning in, too, before reality crashed down around her. You're his coach, for heaven's sake.

“Goodnight,” she said quickly, pulling back and fumbling with the door handle. She practically stumbled out of the car, her cheeks burning.

“Goodnight,” Jamie said, his voice tinged with disappointment and definite confusion as she hurried inside.

Once she was safely in her flat, Y/N leaned against the door, her heart still racing. What the hell was happening to her? Jamie Tartt was turning her world upside down, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: July 29

2019

A Very Specific Store [david/patrick, T, 12,448] by @startswithhope

What if Christmas World didn't pull out? How would David and Patrick meet? And what would that mean for Rose Apothecary? Come along, for a little holiday tale, a Christmas in July story of first meetings, flirting, some misunderstandings, dreams lost and maybe found, along with a whole lot more (with some bed sharing, because that's always an extra special gift for us all).

Crying With Laughter [david/patrick, NR, 794] by AriseFairSun

Sometimes David contradicts himself

Electricity [david/patrick, G, 752] by @stargatewars

**Spoilers for Friends and Family S03E12** Patrick reflects on his lost opportunity to make his feelings known to David.

How You Know [david/patrick, T, 3,645] by @distractivate

How do you know someone is the one? David tries to figure it out. A few snippets of (mostly) marital fluff.

I've been watching you [david/patrick, G, 1,948] by @imperaptorfuriosa

What do you get when you combine a broken-down car, two dads just trying their best, and some spilled cheerios? A slice of domestic fluff apparently

It’s A Bad Week To Be A (Patrick) Brewer [david/patrick, M, 2,009] by @wildxwired

David is the last person Patrick expected to be into Shark Week.

It's the final countdown [david/patrick, E, 1,139] by anonymous

T-minus 7 days until the wedding. David wants to abstain until their wedding night. Patrick is a troll.

Pearl [david/patrick, E, 921] by @sloganeeer

Patrick had a tomato soup on the stove. He stirred it gently, listening to the noon news, watching the tiny alphabet noodles peeking through red. They had fun pastas in the cupboard for the kids, but Patrick enjoyed indulging his husband, especially on days like today. - This is year 30.

stay (and I'll be loving you) [david/patrick, NR, 1,497] by @banesapothecary

3 times David thought his family liked Patrick more than him, +1 time they gave him the love he deserves

when you lie to me it's in the small stuff [david/patrick, G, 1,649] by @brewerspatrick

“So I’m having a little back pain,” Patrick says and David has to resist every urge he has to let out a laugh. Instead, he sets his lips in a thin line and nods, patient and stoic. “What gave it away?” David asks and maybe he’s not being so patient.

Wonderstruck [david/patrick, G, 936] by patrickbrewer

There are so many little ticks, so many tiny gestures that make Patrick, Patrick, but as David steps further into their home, he can’t help but stop in surprise as he hears singing emanating from the bathroom. It shouldn’t shock him too much, he supposes. He learned very early on that Patrick is a talented singer, and he’s very used to hearing him hum quietly as he restocks the store, but it’s less about the act itself and more about the song. Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

2020

and they said speak now [ted/alexis, NR, 1,152] by singsongsung

The first time he ever saw Alexis Rose, her hat - oversized, floppy-brimmed, adorned with feathers - had flown off her head, carried down the street by the wind.

And Your Eyes Look Like Coming Home [stevie/ted/alexis, T, 1,700] by @streetlampsunset

She turned to look at him and his breath caught in his throat. He’d assumed Patrick and David had adopted a second child, but those were Alexis’s features on her tiny face, surrounded by a halo of soft curls. She tilted her head as she studied him, swaying in her powder pink sundress, with blue, blue eyes.“Hi,” he said, kneeling in front of her. “I’m Ted, it’s nice to meet you, Theia.”

David ‘n Stevie: Rescue Rangers [david & stevie, G, 1,842] by @neelyo67

David & Stevie take a picnic down to the creek. David learns something about Stevie that he didn't know before. It isn't as surprising as he originally thought.

Go, Fight, Win! [david/patrick, T, 29,160] by @dinnfameron

David is in color guard and may or may not have a tiny little barely-there crush on one Patrick Brewer, Cheerleader. When Patrick asks him to be his (fake) business partner for a school project AND hang out at the homecoming dance, David must figure out how to overcome his own knack for screwing everything up before he, well, screws everything up. With a halftime performance, a $100 Café Tropical gift card, and a sweet boy’s heart on the line, David can’t afford to lose this one.

Husbands: Two Years In [david/patrick, E, 24,461] by @unfolded73

A year in the life of Patrick Brewer, about two years into his marriage with David.

One of a Kind, Locally Sourced [stevie & david, G, 1,202] by sunnyfreeze

Patrick gets Stevie's blessing to propose to David. Not that he needed it.

so give me one more, one more [david/patrick, G, 3,370] by punk_rock_yuppie

Patrick wants to give David a little bit of a do-over.

Taken at Par [david/patrick, T, 3,326] by @simplymarleycat

The postcard was sitting on the corner of the desk under a paper products catalog for a few days before David noticed it. “Elmdale Valley Entrepreneurs Golf Outing” David said quietly to himself as he flipped the card over in his hand. -David & Patrick discover new things about each other and themselves thanks to a charity golf match. ⛳

The Clues Are There if You Know Where to Look [david/patrick, E, 836] by @dazedwriter1

David and Patrick make up post lip sync in "Olive Branch". Short little smut piece. Who needs plot.

These Sporting Events My Boyfriend Insists on Taking Me To [david/patrick, T, 11,213] by @doublel27

“Umm, what are those and why are they assaulting my eyes at this ungodly hour?” “Curling pants,” Patrick tells him, pressing a kiss to David’s temple, “and it’s seven-thirty.” “Curling pants?” David asks, as he blinks at his boyfriend, who joined a league of yet another sporting event about a month ago. “For the bonspiel, today.” “That’s today?” OR the Curling Sequel to the Kiss Cam AU

To Be Home [david/patrick, T, 861] by stevierosebudds

A quiet moment in front of the television at the Brewers'.

2021

Alexis Saves the Turtles [ted/alexis, T, 32,229] by @maybewecandreamalittle

I posted this on my tumblr a year ago: The super self indulgent part of me wants a Schitt’s Creek movie where we find out that Ted is in trouble in the Galapagos and Alexis finds out and sets out to rescue him and David, Patrick and Stevie tag along and chaos ensues and there are so many obstacles but Alexis is the one who continuously guides them out of trouble and finds Ted and the first thing he says to her when he sees her is, “Alexis! I thought I was a Galapa-goner!” And I somehow made it happen.

April Showers [david/patrick, E, 2,120] by @goodiecornbread

How Patrick had fit himself into those gray sweatpants was a mystery. "David, my eyes are up here." ~Happy Birthday, InEveryUniverse_SC~

More Pizza In Bed [david/patrick, G, 4,690] by SoonerOrLater

After all the engagement fanfare, David brings his fiance pizza in bed. The talk Rose and Brewer weddings and consider what's in a name... Part of the 'I guess I'll just lie here' series, but also sits alone.

There ain't nothing like the first time [ted/alexis, M, 637] by @kiwiana-writes

This is not how she thought this would go. All the movies and the novels made it seem like sex would be something magical; sure, maybe it would hurt a little at first, but then her body would, like, unfurl or whatever and she’d see fireworks.Or, five of Alexis' first times, and one last time.

There's No Place Like It [david/patrick/stevie, T, 2,166] by @neelyo67

Starting today, when Stevie comes here—to this house—she’s actually coming home, to David and Patrick, to the cottage that belongs to all three of them.

You Are The Reason (I Wake Up Every Day) [david/patrick, G, 2,861] by @madsworld15

David and Patrick have a podcast where they discuss movies they share with one another. When David is in an accident this podcast becomes Patrick’s lifeline.

Young Johnny and Moira [johnny/moira, E, 25,588] by slimexpuppy

Exploring the lives of Johnny and Moira as they get together, going through the lyrics of simply the best

2022

i guess i'll take your stupid key [david/patrick, G, 831] by unrealcityunrealheart

A week after their apartment hunt, Patrick offers David a key to his new place.

i will find you here inside the dark [david/patrick, T, 5,095] by @patrckbrewer

“Gone?” The word comes out strangled as his ruined heart pounds against his ribs. “What do you mean he’s gone?” “I don’tknow, Patrick, okay? All I know is that when I went to sleep he was here and now he’s, like, not.” Patrick’s mind races. He is normally the level headed one, the one to talk everyone else off the cliff, the dependable one. But, right now, sitting in bed with a migraine, talking to his maybe ex-boyfriend’s sister about how his maybe ex-boyfriend had mysteriously vanished, Patrick is spiraling. or after the events of the barbecue, david steals roland's truck and runs away

2023

oh, you'll get an olive branch-but first, a kiss [david/patrick, G, 784] by @milklovexoxo

Tumblr kiss prompt for out of necessity

soup, there it is! [david/patrick, G, 1,399] by @hullomoon

David thinks soulmates are overrated and then he gets soup spilled on him

Summer Word Challenge [david/patrick, M, 3,242] by @chelle-68

@ mallpretzels started a Summer Word Challenge over on tumblr so this will be a collection of whatever my brain can create from the weekly words. I’m paraphrasing what she posted: “I’m shaking things up with word prompts inspired by summer. No rules. Any fandom. Any length. Just have fun!” I will update tags and ratings when applicable.

Trust Me On The Sunscreen [david/patrick, G, 536] by @fictasticvoyage

Patrick finds an old mix CD and has some feelings about it.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017, 2018, or 2024 2019: 11 fics/27,738 words 2020: 11 fics/79,125 words 2021: 7 fics/70,291 words 2022: 2 fics/5,926 words 2023: 4 fics/5,961 words Total: 35 fics/189,041 words

[saywhatjessie]

I am so mixed up (that I cannot tell you)

Advent Calendar Day 13! (prompts by @raven-cincaide-words) Today’s prompts: Christmas Cleaning | Enemies to Lovers | Kisses Fandom: Ted Lasso - Pairing: RoyJamie 2k[Ao3]

“How the fuck did you get so much of your shit into my house without me noticing?”

“It ain’t your fault! Your eyesight’s gone all funny with age. You can’t be expected to see shit more than 3 inches from your face.”

Roy growled and Jamie winked back. 

Roy had been volunteered by his sister to host his family for the holidays. It was fine: he had the biggest house and guest rooms that could hold his parents for the week of Hanukkah as well as Ruth and Phoebe if they wanted to stay over any of the nights. He was also the best cook and absolutely refused to make latkes in the Little Tikes playset Ruth called a kitchen. So he’d agreed, figuring he could get some plastic to protect his kitchen from oil splatters and just tidy up the living spaces for his family to gather.

He had not realized how much of the surface area in those living spaces was filled with Jamie’s shit.

“When did you even wear this?” Roy asked, holding up bright pin track pants, disgusted. “Why are they here?”

“Wore that when I pulled your bike!” Jamie told him, brightly. He snatched the trackies out of Roy’s hand and shoved them in a giant laundry bag he’d had in his car. “Have you not seen the fan photos? I look well fit. You look like a belland.”

Roy growled, kicking pairs of Jamie’s shoes away from the door.

He supposed that helped explain it. Many times after their early morning training sessions, Roy would let Jamie shower at his place before they headed in to Nelson Road. And also he would come over after training to eat before late night training.

But that still didn’t explain why Jamie had left things here.

“How many bum bags do you have?” Roy asked, incredulous, yanking about three out from between the couch cushions. ���Is there anything even in them? How do you just forget them here?”

“Ooh, I’ve been looking for this one!” Jamie said, excitedly relieving Roy of a bright silver thing. “Well flash, innit?”

“It’s ugly as shit,” Roy told him. “And still doesn’t explain why it’s here.”

Jamie snorted. “I lost this one over a month ago, mate. Maybe start asking yourself why you never clean your place.”

Roy growled again and Jamie rolled his eyes, heading up the stairs.

Roy rumbled quietly to himself. Little prick. Roy cleaned his fucking house.

He went into the kitchen to check the damage on that. He knew his kitchen was absolutely clean – he used it every day – he just wanted to make sure he moved any clutter off the counters so it didn’t catch any stray grease. Hanukkah was the oiliest holiday of the year: thank you Maccabees. 

The kitchen was just how he left it. The stove was clean, the dishes were clean and put away, the floors were swept and at least surface cleaned. He had drawings Phoebe had done hung up on the fridge. Roy sighed in relief: this space, at least, was free of Jamie Tartt.

He started carefully removing the things from the fridge, knowing that those oil droplets could fly and not wanting to ruin any of Phoebe’s work. He took down a couple drawings, photos, Phoebe’s participation ribbon for children’s pole vaulting or whatever. He smiled at them, fondly, as he removed them and gently slid them into an envelope that he’d store safely away in his office until his kitchen could be deep cleaned. 

Then he hit non-Phoebe stuff he’d forgotten he’d put up there. Training schedule. Dietary list. Match calendar. He couldn’t remember why he’d hung those up – it made sense for him to think about these things as a coach but why were they in his kitchen?

And then he saw the ‘Good Boy’ tracker with little golden stars on it and he remembered. Of course. Of course these were for FUCKING Jamie.

The Good Boy tracker was actually a work of genius: nothing made Jamie work harder than the promise of a gold star. He could run that extra kilometer, do a hundred more burpees, and make that fiftieth crossbar kick if Roy promised him a little gold star by the finish. He couldn’t help but smile seeing all the stars proudly stuck to it. It was a nice reminder of how far they’d come.

The calendar and schedule were old so Roy just threw those away. But the dietary list and gold stars went into the envelope. He couldn’t help being a good coach, now, could he?

He moved onto counters once the fridge was clear and was again relieved by the familiarity of it. Roy’s cookbooks got stored in his office with the envelope, his jar of utensils got put in a cabinet, jars of flour and sugar got put in the cabinet as well as the ENTIRE spice rack. 

He hesitated over the salt and pepper shakers. They were little black greyhounds, bought for him for secret santa sometime in the last few years. He loved them so much, he couldn’t stand to put them away. He figured they would be easy enough to clean later.

Roy had just finished stowing everything away and gave the counter one last wipedown when Jamie came into the kitchen hauling his overstuffed laundry bag. He let out a low whistle.

“Fuck, it looks so empty in here.” He noted, frowning at the naked fridge. “What did Phoebe do to piss you off?”

Roy rolled his eyes, turning to wipe down the cabinets. He only wanted to have to get through one layer of grime when this was over. “Her stuff is safe in my office. You’ve never seen a kitchen during Hanukkah, everything gets fucking covered in grease.” He grunted, rubbing his socks against the tile and wondering if it would be worth it to do a deep clean beforehand. “I put away everything I didn’t want to see ruined.”

Jamie hummed in understanding but then scowled at the stove. “Well I guess fuck me, then. If you hated the little greyhounds, you didn’t have to use them.”

Roy frowned back, turning to look at the stove. Right, the salt and pepper shakers.

“Oh, no, I–”

“They weren’t easy to find, you know,” Jamie said, slouching against the wall and folding his arms, defensively. “Greyhounds ain’t exactly a friendly shape for salt and pepper. And no one makes things black you like it so it took a long fucking time to find something you could use in your kitchen that you would like and would remind you of your team. Like I spent ages on this shit so if you don’t like them, re-gift them to Higgins or something, I’m sure his wife would use them.”

And Roy remembers, oh fuck. Right. Jamie had been his secret santa that year. He’d loved the gift so much but had hated Jamie so he’d completely divorced the two from each other in his head. He’d forgotten completely.

He looked back at Jamie, his anger, and didn’t actually think he deserved it. “I do use them. You’ve seen me cook with them. I use them every fucking day.”

“Well how do I know you’re not just using them to make fun of me? You didn’t think they were worth saving or whatever.”

“How would using them be making fun of you?”

“I don’t know, maybe to remind me how unimportant they are? How pathetic it was for me to try so hard to get you a present?”

“Why would I even do that? I didn’t even remember they were from you!”

And that was the wrong thing to say.

Jamie’s head jerked back, his face going completely frozen even while Roy could hear a soft gasp being sucked in through his teeth.

Then, before Roy could react, Jamie’s teeth clicked together, his jaw tense, and he nodded. “Right. My mistake. Why would you remember?”

He heaved his laundry over his shoulder and nodded again. “Happy holidays, Roy.”

“Wait, no, fuck.” Roy scrambled around his kitchen island, his socks skidding a bit as he ran into Jamie gripping his arm. “I love those fucking salt shakers.”

Jamie snorted, turning enough so Roy could see him roll his eyes. “Right.”

“No, I do!” Roy said, desperation making his voice hoarse. “It makes me happy every time I look at them. I couldn’t bear putting them away. I told myself they would be worth cleaning by hand myself after the holidays.”

Jamie kept frowning, his eyes narrowed in mistrust.

Roy growled, pulling Jamie back and shoving him in a chair at the kitchen island.

“I’m not fucking lying,” He grumbled. “I forgot you gave them to me because I loved them too much to think they came from you. I sublimated it.”

Now Jamie’s eyes were confused. “Like the Beatles? The yellow sublimate?”

“That’s submarine you goddamn numpty.” Roy sighed, leaning his weight on the island. “Sublimate. Like repress or some shit.”

Jamie made a soft noise of understanding but looked away from Roy.

Roy sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Fuck.” He said, banging his fist on the island. Jamie didn’t jump. “I should have known it was you, though.” Roy sighed. “After Uncle’s Day. Should have known you’d have gotten me another one of my favorite presents.”

“Yeah?” Jamie said, his eyes getting some of their lightness back. “More than those custom trainers from Beckham?”

Roy rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop his relieved smile. “More than the goddamn sunglasses from Elton Fucking John.”

Jamie gasped, the sound much more welcoming than the last one. “You’ve got sunglasses from Elton John? Why haven’t I seen them?”

“Because I don’t trust you with them, I already have to lock my trophy room when you come over to make sure you don’t masturbate into my old jerseys.”

Jamie choked, going bright red. Roy huffed a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s fine. I’ve got no use for more trophies: things I lock in a room and never get to look at.” He pointed at the stove. “Those little shakers are with me every day. So thank you, Jamie. For the gift. I don’t know if I thanked you properly for them at the time.”

Jamie swallowed, still bright red and avoiding Roy’s eyes. “No, but you well hated me at the time so–” He shrugged, the laundry bag sliding off his shoulders and back onto the floor.

Roy grunted, putting a hand under Jamie’s chin and tilting it back.

Jamie’s eyes looked up at him, wide from shock. Whether from Roy’s earnestness or the fact Roy was touching him so softly, he couldn’t be sure.

And he couldn't think about it or he was going to lose his nerve.

He leaned forward and kissed Jamie softly on the mouth. Roy could hear the breath halt in Jamie’s body, the muscles in his back and neck tensing in surprise, but his mouth was loose, accepting Roy without protest and pressing back like it was as natural as blinking.

Roy pulled back just enough so he could say. “Thank you, Jamie. Really. You’re a good boy.”

Jamie squeaked, his eyes still wide and his body moving toward Roy like Jamie was fighting not to chase Roy’s lips.

Roy just smiled, leaning in to kiss him again once, very quickly, before pulling away completely.

“Why don’t I make us some supper?” Roy asked, turning back to his kitchen. “Reward for cleaning up before my parents get here.”

It took a look time and several unsuccessful attempts at speech before Jamie said. “You shouldn’t cook, you just cleaned the kitchen. Why don’t we get takeaway?”

Roy looked at him, nodding again in approval and delighting at Jamie nervously looking away. “Good, yeah.” He bit back a smile as Jamie squeaked again. “I could use a kebab.”

[kissorkill16]

My Lost Love: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Ted catches Nicky in his room.

(P.S., continuation from @ghostly-writers 's latest Selkie AU fanfic! Plus a screenshot.)

"Nicky, where are you?"

Nicky froze when he heard his father call out to him. He hid underneath the bed and held his breath, trying to stay as quiet as possible as he heard him step into the room.

Did he know Nicky was here?

The poor thing didn't even stop to ask himself that. But it's not like he had time anyway.

When he heard his father walk to the other side of the room, he slowly crawled out from under the bed and tried to quietly step out of the room as fast and as quiet as possible...

But apparently, it wasn't enough of either of those things.

Ted turned around faster than Nicky anticipated, and he looked straight at him, making the boy freeze once again.

He wanted to run when his father stepped over to him, but his feet felt like they were stuck to the floor.

"Nicholas...", said his father, "You shouldn't be here."

He bent down to him and his eyes met Nicky's, making the boy shiver in fear.

"What have I told you about coming in here?", he said. "I told you not to come in this room, it's not for little boys like you. Did I not tell you that?"

Nicky nodded, he remembered his father telling him that.

"Then why are you in here?"

Nicky didn't answer, not because he couldn't exactly speak words yet, but he just didn't know what to say even if he could say words.

He looked at the floor, eyes trailing off to the picture of his father and the woman in their wedding picture. When his father saw what he was looking at, he picked it up and sat down on the bed, motioning for Nicky to sit down next to him.

"You found this, didn't you?", he asked. Nicky nodded. "I see."

He then began to tell his son a story.

"This was my wife, her name was Diane. I loved her very much, but...apparently, she felt otherwise. I didn't understand why she didn't return my feelings, but...it just makes my eyes come to tears.", he said. "One night, I woke up and she was just...gone. I tried to look for her, I called the police, but she was nowhere to be found."

Nicky felt bad for his father. The woman in the picture who was supposed to be his bride was just a woman who didn't feel the same way about him?

"If she would've stayed, you would've had a mother...and maybe a brother or sister.", said Ted. "She was with child when she left me. She just disappeared, and she took my child with me. I...I have never forgotten about it ever since."

Nicky looked at his father with tears in his eyes. He wiped them away, then moved closer to him and wrapped his small, skinny arms around him. Ted did the same and gently rubbed Nicky's back.

"Oh, love. It's alright. Don't cry.", he said. "I know, it was hard for me too. But I just need to come to accept that she never loved me, and I don't think she ever will. It made me cry, but I wiped away those tears, and I shall do the same for you."

He wiped Nicky's face with his fingers, and Nicky gently smiled at him.

"I suppose I could let you off with a warning.", said his father, "But don't let me catch you in this room again. Because if I do, next time, don't expect me to be nice."

Then Nicky's eyes widened in shock.

Ted patted his head and led his son out of the room.

Nicky was a little upset, because he didn't find his coat. But he found something else that was special, not to him, but to his father. He was happy to know that his father was a stronger man now.

...If only he knew the truth about Ted's lost love.

[someplace-darker]

In The Static | Ted Lasso

Pairing: Ted Lasso x reader (no y/n) Wordcount: 2.1k Warnings: panic attack/talks of panic attacks, vague mentions of trauma. That's about it I think, it's a touch angst and hurt/comfort I suppose. Fluff. Summary: Ted thought he was past his panic attacks until he encounters another, and you follow him to make sure he's okay. A/N: "now jay" you might be saying "wasn't the last thing you posted smut almost a year ago?" and the answer is yes. But i've recently become insanely attached to Ted Lasso, and I dipped my toe into writing more than a wip. SO here's my middle aged white man of the month. Enjoy :)

“REFEREE!!!” Keeley stands with a force that causes her to latch onto your arm to keep from falling forward. It continues to astound you that for such a tiny lady, she really contains an insane amount of spunk. One of the opposing team’s men had just slid Sam’s legs out from under himself, causing him to land hard on his shoulder. The game had been a rough one so far, more aggressive and bitter than most. Richmond had been respectful at first (as per usual) but the second their opponents had started playing violent and dirty, that changed.

Roy and Beard were obviously shouting and pointing angrily, though you couldn’t make out what they were saying from your seat in the box. Ted, however, was standing stiffly with his balled fists shoved into the pockets of his Richmond zip-up. You can feel that something is off. Even if you can’t see his face, you know him well enough to read his body language. There’s mere minutes left in the game and the teams are tied.

Rebecca is already standing and gathering her belongings to head back in, gesturing for the lot of you to follow. That’s exactly what you begin to do before the crowd goes ape-shit, jumping from their seats and screaming so loud it makes your head thrum. 

“ROJAS INTERCEPTS THE KICK AND PASSES TO TARTT AND JUST LIKE THAT-”

You turn just in time to watch Jamie kick the ball into the net, the stadium erupting in cheers that shake the ground.

“AFC RICHMOND TAKES ANOTHER VICTORY 2-1 IN A SHOCKING LAST SECOND SCORE”

Keeley, Higgins, and Rebecca rejoice, grabbing at each other in shock. Placing your fingers between your lips you let out a piercing whistle, jumping up and down as thousands of chants echo. You look down to your coaches, expecting to see all three soaking in the sweet relief of not gaining another loss. Instead, you see Ted darting for the locker room, head down with his phone held two inches from his face. It was obvious to you that he was trying to use it as a cover. 

“I’ll meet back with you guys later, I’ve gotta check something real quick.” 

They smile and wave you off, relishing in the buzzing excitement clearly felt throughout the facility. As much as you wish you could join them in celebration, you were pretty sure Ted needed you more. So you slip through the small crowds with ease, having much practice during your time with Richmond, taking the back staircase to the locker room hallway. 

At first you check his office, finding only his jacket laying on the floor. The second spot you search is the right one, opening the door to darkness. You almost turn and leave but a staggered breath gives him away. 

“Ted?” you whisper, stepping into the boot room and closing the door gently. He sniffles almost silently and hums in response, curling in on himself when the lights flicker on at your touch.. You’ve never seen him look so small before, his entire body condensed into half of his height in the corner of the room, the sight moving you to shut the lights back off for his sake.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, walking over to kneel in front of him. He has his head placed between his knees, hands on the back of head with his fingers intertwined tightly. As much as you know of his panic attacks, you’ve never been present for one. Something tells you he tends to keep it that way with everyone around him. 

However, you’re well versed with them yourself.

“I’m gonna sit beside you, but I won’t touch you unless you say it’s okay.”

You lower yourself onto the ground, the floor cold beneath your already freezing ass. England's weather was not kind to the warm blooded. Ted doesn’t lift his head all the way, simply angles it towards you just enough for an eye to peek out from behind his arm. He looks at you with the gaze of a wounded puppy, eyes red and wet, smeared with warm tears.

The silence that follows is deafening, a faint ringing the only thing you hear. Ted looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. It’s not like you can blame him. The last time he opened up to someone he considered close about his panic attacks, it ended up plastered on every magazine and tabloid across the country. Trust within himself and others had been fractured- not broken. No one could ever betray Coach Lasso enough to break that within him, it was fundamental to who he was as a person.

After a few more minutes of silence his foot slides over to yours, just barely nudging it. He lifts his head and sniffles, using his sleeve to wipe the mix of tears and snot off his face.

“I want to tell you about it, I do. I’m just… stuck. Feels like if I tell you, it’ll be too much,” he murmurs, keeping his foot pressed to yours.

“I understand, Ted,” you whisper. “I started having panic attacks before I was even a teenager. I’d been through things- rough things -and they plagued me for years.” He begins to unfurl himself, listening intently to every word you say, the blatant honesty and vulnerability easing his anxiety. “It took me a while to open up to anyone about them, let alone a therapist. I spent so long trying to hide them, that when I finally did get help I felt like a fake.” 

Ted adjusts himself to sit up straighter, shimmying closer so your shoulders touch. You can tell he’s trying to be inconspicuous about it, but the man is known to be anything but subtle.  Outside you can hear the boys begin filing into the hallway, headed for the locker room surely for some type of victory activity. Their shadows dance across the wall in the darkened boot room, slashed into segments by the blinds slanted slightly open. Both of you seemed to have held your breaths as they passed, because as soon as they’re gone there’s a simultaneous exhale of relief.

An amused breath comes from Ted, palm pressing from the corner of his eye to the tip of his cheekbone to wipe away the stray tears. He knocks his knee against yours and dares to glance at you, opening up enough to make eye contact. Here in this room, he looks more human than you think you’ve ever seen him. For the most part he keeps his mood insanely optimistic, tending to care more about others happiness than his own. It gave him an almost otherworldly bounce to his step and light to his eyes. 

But now that he’s sat no more than two inches in front of you with puffy eyes and a chewed lip, Ted is just… a broken man. 

“You’ll never be too much, Ted. It’s normal to feel stuck, and it’s okay to not be able to talk about it yet.” His eyes flick to your hand when you lift it towards him, a lifeline of trust, openness in the form of warm skin and an upward facing palm. Internal conflict tugs at his lungs, his breath hitching as he weighs his options for all of five seconds before taking your hand. You are someone Ted knows he can always find solace in. 

Someone who he could spot in a crowd of thousands, someone who he will always seek out. 

His other hand reaches to pat the top of yours, rubbing his thumb against your skin in soothing circles. A shuddered breath begins to pass his lips, but he smothers it to ashes with the cool press of a kiss to your wrist. 

Humming amusedly at the feeling of his mustache tickling your skin, you lean your head on his shoulder, moving slightly as they lift with the intake of air into his lungs. “I suppose you’re right. I just feel bad that I haven’t spoken to you ‘bout it,” he tsk’s softly to himself, carefully navigating his brain for the right words. 

“I was fine out there, y’know? I’ve been doin’ better, Sharon’s helped a lot. But it just got so loud, and everything felt out of my control- out of any of our boys’ control and I- I just couldn’t breathe. Tunnel vision, boom, just like that.”

You whisper encouragements softly under your breath, murmurs of ‘it’s okay’ and ‘you can keep going’ pushing him gently in the right direction. Voices can be heard from the locker room, loud cheering and chanting from the team acting as muffled background noise for Ted’s moment of vulnerability. 

“After everything that happened with Nate, I learned to mask it a bit better I guess. That’s the fancy word Doc told me about,” the corner of his lips quirks up “I figured I’d be okay in here for a bit anyway, then you walked in.” Your brows furrow and you pull away from his shoulder, opening your mouth to apologize for intruding but he beats you to it.

“No, no, that sounded different than I meant. I am very glad that you found me here. I needed you even if I didn’t know it,” he traces the details of your face with his eyes, not stopping you when you move your head back down to his shoulder. 

“I think you’ve worked on it so much quicker than you realize, Ted. It wasn’t that long ago, yeah? Healing and improving takes time, and it’s okay that it takes time. I certainly took my time,” you muse, channeling your own therapist’s word. “But I think it’s right on par with who you are, who I know you to be, that you got on it as fast as you did. Even if it was begrudgingly at first.”

“Yeah, Doc definitely had her work cut out.”

You laugh, normally at first but then Ted snorts and you both lose it, bodies bumping against each other with the shakes that come with post-meltdown laughs. Soon enough you’re both wiping away tears of a different variety, the air in the room much lighter than before. You take that moment to push yourself up and off the floor, lending a hand to Ted to pull him up.

“I am immensely proud of you, Coach Lasso. So is the team. You have a very large family backing you up, as unorthodox as said family is.” You take one step closer, hand still holding onto his, pressed between your bodies. Taking your free hand, you hold the side of his face and lean in to kiss his cheek, thumb stroking his jaw. 

Ted presses into your lips, chasing your touch even when you turn to the door. Twisting the knob open you find Will standing there, boots tied by their laces hanging over his shoulder, hand outreached to grab the now absent handle. 

He blinks at the two of you for a second, gaze one of vague shock, before curling his lips in an embarrassed smile and stepping out of the way.

“Not a word, Will,” you sing-song when he opens his mouth, pulling Ted down the hall to stand outside of the locker room door. 

You can hear Roy in the middle of a somehow happy/angry sounding congratulation speech that only he is capable of, grinning and turning to face your Coach once more. “Now, get your butt in there and relish in the sweet taste of winning.”

“I mean, relish is pretty tasty-”

“Ted.”

“Yep,” Ted takes a deep breath and nods, squeezing your hand “you coming in with me?” 

“I don’t want to intrude on your moment, Coach.”

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and pushes the door open, dragging you with him. The boys’ faces light up, immediately rushing to storm him, all reaching to touch him and jumping up and down. Their team song buzzing and bouncing along with them.

“WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE, WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE, WE KNOW WE ARE, WE’RE SURE WE ARE, WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE”

You slide past the group, safely reaching Roy and Beard without your feet being stomped on. The smile on your face is one of pure joy and contentment, not faltering when Beard slides to your side, bumping your elbow. 

“Thanks,” he speaks, nodding towards Ted. It’s easy to know what he means immediately, always one to be of few words. 

“No need to thank me,” you reply easily, watching your family bond even more “it’s what we do.”

[richmonds-disaster-bi]

24 + Roy/Jamie 💜

Feel by Fletcher ❤️

Jamie knows he shouldn't be here, sat at the bar with Mae watching him with sad eyes, but he just keeps looking at his half empty drink and aches. He knew that confessing his feelings was going to end this way but still, his mum had always told him to be brave. So Jamie had been brave. He had taken the time at the end of their training to look Roy in the eyes, and confess that he had feelings for him. Jamie hadn't expect Roy to like him back, but he hadn't expect Roy to just stare and him and walk away. The rejection hurt more somehow with Roy having just walked away. It felt like Jamie meant nothing to him. That after all this time, Roy still didn't see Jamie, and Jamie didn't understand. How could Roy treat him so softly and help hold Jamie together during some of his worst moments just to leave him heartbroken on a park bench at 8am in the morning? Roy, who had been so worried about him that he stalked Jamie to his mum's, who had held him when the world had fallen from beneath him the night he had finally stood up for himself against his dad. Jamie had always known Roy could be mean, but he had never been cruel and yet that was the only word Jamie could use to describe it as he tried to drown his feelings in the bitter alcohol on his tongue. "Closin' up now, love", Mae said kindly, touching his hand and Jamie just nodded, "Do you need me to call someone? How about Ted? He's only round the corner" "No thanks Mae, I'm okay", Jamie tried to smile but he was so tired. She tried to say something else, tried to get Jamie to stay but he just shook his head. He paid for his drink, refusing change, and gave Mae a goodnight before stepping out into the cold, bitter night. Part of him hoped that the cold would numb the pain in a way alcohol didn't seem to be working. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted the pain to end but it seemed hopeless as he made his way through empty streets. This was a bone deep pain that cut Jamie at his core, because how couldn't it? He had wanted Roy for longer than he cared to admit, and the other hadn't even had the courage to let him down gently. It hurt to know that he would have to see Roy every day and know what happened between them. That he would have to smile and be the Jamie everyone had come to love when right now, he didn't feel like that man anymore. His heart was too broken to piece together the person the team had grown to love as he toed at stone while waiting for the cross walk man to turn green. Maybe someday this wouldn't hurt so much, but right now, Jamie would give up everything for a moment of peace from his emotions. (Or maybe, as he finally found his way home to a familiar silhouette sitting on his porch with their head in their hands, just maybe this would be okay)

[andjesslikethat]

Wrestling with the Weight of Life | Job 10–13

Out of the gate, Job 10 hits you in the chest: “I loathe my life.” Whew. No sugar. No filter. Just raw.

And immediately, I was reminded of something that happened just yesterday at work. A new patient had arrived on the floor... barely 20 minutes before my shift started. She was 19, on the autism spectrum, fairly high functioning. I went to process her paperwork, and there it was: DNR/DNI.

Do not resuscitate. Do not intubate.

At 19.

I had to pause. That’s not something you expect to see on a young patient’s chart. We thought, surely she didn’t understand what she’d chosen. So we walked into her room to talk. The nurse gently asked, “How’s your pain?”

Her response: “Physically or emotionally?”

Stay right there.

That answer stopped me cold. And as the conversation unfolded, it became clear... she felt exactly like Job. The pain, the confusion, the heaviness of existence. She understood her election. She meant it.

I still don’t know why. That’s her story, not mine to tell. But what I do know is that this world is too heavy for some people, and it’s not always because of the things you can see. And unfortunately, as a society, we stay so busy lightening our own load that we unintentionally throw weight onto someone else’s back. Kind of like Job’s “friends.” But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Job 10: Perplexed, Confused, and Asking All the Questions

In chapter 10, Job is done. He’s grieving, questioning, and desperate for answers. Verse 7? A solid question. Verse 10? Another good one. Verse 15? That one isn’t Job’s... it’s mine:

Have you ever tried to prove your innocence, but no matter what you do, you just look guilty?

That inner conflict... the screaming of your truth while the world judges the optics... is beyond frustrating. And it continues through the chapter.

Then Enters the Last Friend: A Whole Lot of Nothing

In chapter 11, the third friend finally opens his mouth. And whew, he should’ve kept it shut. He calls Job long-winded, questions Job’s knowledge of God, and basically gives him a divine TED Talk.

Sir… are you even his friend?

What he did say was more than enough. Thankfully, he didn’t say much more.

Job 12: Shade With Scripture

Job 12:2 is petty perfection: “Doubtless you are the people, and wisdom will die with you.” A slow clap was had.

Then Job lays it out plainly: God is both Creator and Destroyer. We saw it in the flood. God is the God of the both/and. He gives. He takes. He is still God.

Job 13: I Got Questions for the Manager

By the time we get to chapter 13, Job is fully in it. And I feel him. Verse 2, he reminds his friends again... “I am not inferior to you.” Then verse 3? I nearly stood up out of my chair: “But I desire to speak to the Almighty and to argue my case with God.”

You ever been so hurt that you didn’t want comfort... you wanted answers? I’m not nearly as blameless as Job, but I’ve had moments where I wanted to step to the customer service desk of heaven and say, “Hi, yes, I’d like to file a complaint.”

Then verse 5 comes swinging: “If only you would be altogether silent! For you, that would be wisdom.” Translation: SHUT UP. And that’s Bible.

Though He Slay Me…

Then we hit Job 13:15 “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.”

Let me tell you something—I’m trying to live this verse. I don’t know that I’m doing it well. This chapter of my life is requiring a different level of trust, and it’s forcing me to kill off parts of myself that no longer serve where I’m going.

But something hit me when I sat with Job’s story.

All the things Job lost... his wealth, his livestock, his children (and Lord, the children)—those things didn’t make Job. His faith did. His character did. His ability to cry out to God with honesty did.

And look, Job is in it. He’s not faking strength. He’s real. He’s breaking down like a $5 shoe from Dollar Tree. And the question is:

When life breaks you down like that… who will you be? Where will your friends be? How honest can you be with God?

It’s easy to say we have faith when life is cute and the bills are paid and the blessings are flowing. But when it’s ashes, grief, and confusion? That’s when it counts.

Maybe one of the takeaways from Job is this: Do you trust God to make an avocado from your proverbial guacamole? Like, can He make something fruitful out of the mash? Can He still be God in the chaos?

...AndJessLikeThat, I don’t have the answers.

But I do know this: Job’s story gives us permission to cry, to question, to be undone—and still be faithful.

[derangedanomaly]

yugioh anon here again for another imagine :3 saw the post where it turns out they’re only nice to us cuz chaos accidentally got em on a metaphorical leash but i have already gotten attached so face the wrath of blade angst comfort <3

You’d been here for about a month or so, sitting down on a very fancy gothic sofa. It was a contrast to the dull interior, so it must’ve been Chaos attempting to get Nightmare to show his interests more. You only figured out it was Nightmare’s because in bright red ink on the side it reads, “LMAOO NIGHT STOP BEIN AN EMO”. You have a hunch that Blade wrote it. Speaking of, scanning the room he is nowhere to be found. It IS late night but he’s normally still bouncing around. Ace has a book held in his hands as he eagerly tells Ted about a suspenseful plot point that adds onto his earlier theory. Ted seems vaguely interested, but the popcorn is a good motivator to keep him there. Nightmare and Chaos are chatting back in the kitchen. Chaos had been testing out a new recipe and while Nightmare vehemently denies supporting anyone in anything, you can see a smile twist onto his face when Chaos explains how proud he is of his new creation.

… You aren’t sure if they’d notice you leaving. As a new member, nobody had really taken the chance to get to know you. Sure, they are civil and conversate with you but there isn’t a real connection. Chaos is a lovely fellow, but he can’t force everyone to ask about you or how you feel. Crying here would be humiliating. You get up, footsteps thunking less on the carpet than they would on the floor. It doesn’t matter if you’re friends or not, you’re here for a job! You’re not there to make buddies with everyone, it doesn’t mat-

A sound snaps you out of your spiral. Muffled sounds, broken and purposefully hushed. When you do fully hear them, they remind you of how you sounded when you broke your leg. It was violent crying and whimpering coming through that door. What was strange is that the sign had read “Blade”. Blade. He was funny sometimes, a bit of an ass to you but he was an ass to everyone it seemed. Watching anime with him was a fun way to kill time. Thinking about it, you’d not seen many of the other residents chat with him. Chaos, sure, but Ted frowned when he came by and Ace would get up and leave the room sometimes! Nightmare criticizes everyone because cultivating a garden of negativity is all he seems to do. He was like you. He was new even if he’d been there for so long. You knock on his door gently, hoping he’d even listen.

“Blade? Hello?” You whisper, calling out with concern.

No response comes. You expected as much.

“Blade, please? I know we don’t talk all that much but I’m willing to reach out. It.. I know how it feels to be left out, likely not as deeply as any of you but I still understand.” An irritated groan is all you get in response. Acknowledging you is an upgrade from ignoring, probably!

“You don’t have to let me in. I just want you to know you’re not gonna be alone. Not anymore, okay? I think that you’re a fun and silly person but that isn’t all you are. You’re far more than the goofy one in the group. You’re skilled in many things. Battle, listening to others when you want to, dealing with Nightmare’s irritating ‘suggestions’ on what we can do better. I’m willing to bet you’re a bright individual too. That you can get lonely like anyone else. That you’re a complex person who isn’t just one thing. I’m not leaving you behind, okay? Not just because we’re technically a team, but because I care.”

No response. You quietly sigh, but hearing a sniffle and another start of a whisper back shuts you up.

“Alright.. You’re sappy as hell, you know that? Still, I’m up to talk.” He’s reaching back and extending his worries. You smile. Perhaps you’ll both have a friend.

AHH THE WAY I DROPPED EVERYTHING I WAS DOING WHEN I SAW YOU REQUEST ME!!

I swear I'm in love with your imagines! ><

You're always on point with the characters personality, and always super creative! I love this! ^^

Keep blessing me with masterpieces like this, and I'll personally draw something special for you! :D

[dcrkfcngs]

cont here !! @anemia-rp

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

It was the familiar scent that Syaoran had grown to love. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he watched Syaoran reach over to blindfold the plush bear. Observing him lie down on him brought back the comforting feeling of his weight. "I hope Ted doesn't mind me stealing you," he said, whispering a gentle apology to the bear. Fingers gently rubbed the small of his back as he looked into his eyes. "Am I? Do you want me to let you go?" he asked, fingers tracing along his jaw.

When they started spending nights together, Syaoran never expected it to become such a routine. There was something about the other person that made it hard for him to settle for occasional meetings. He also enjoyed the excitement in Rena's eyes when he showed up at the door. "Someone has a crush?" he playfully teased.