#(<- gripping a sink and staring into the mirror)

[colonelarr0w]

Gojo knew that you absolutely adored his eyes, and in turn, he began to adore them as well.  

At multiple points throughout his life, Gojo would stare daggers into his own reflection. His hands would grip the sides of the sink, knuckles turning white from how tightly he curled his fingers.  

Your eyes are a curse, he would tell himself. They prevented him from proper rest, working on overdrive and spoon-feeding him information that he never truly wanted. The abilities and techniques of others constantly swarmed his mind, drowning out his own thoughts.  

That was before he met you. 

That was before you held his face in your hands and gazed at his eyes with such adoration that he felt himself melting on the spot. Before your soft lips parted to whisper to him, "Your eyes are gorgeous." 

From that point forward, he told himself that his eyes were gorgeous. He looked at them in the mirror with love, not with that burning hatred that he had known for so many years. He takes a second to admire them now in the morning, running the tips of his fingers against the skin underneath his eyes, smiling faintly to himself.  

Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. 

He hears you say it to him every time he lifts his blindfold and catches a glimpse of his reflection. He can feel the ghost of your hands over his cheeks, how your thumbs stroked his skin and how your lips pressed to his closed eyelids.  

But you're not around anymore. 

It had been months since Gojo heard your voice, or felt your touch. Your last mission had ended in you never returning home – a fact that Gojo struggled to stomach. But shockingly, his hatred for his eyes never returned.  

"Satoru! There you are!" 

He pauses, feet suddenly feeling as though they were being weighed down by bricks. The heads of the transfigured humans he'd killed fall to the ground with dull thuds. He turns on his heel, heart dropping to his stomach.  

It's you. 

Your lips are turned upward in that soft smile that he had kissed so many times. You tilt your head at him, eyes opening as your smile begins to fade.  

His eyes roam over your figure, drinking in every detail about you and committing it to memory … not that he had forgotten anything about you in the first place.  

Gojo's Six Eyes kept repeating over and over again that it was you. You were alive … standing right in front of him as if nothing bad had ever happened to you.  

In that moment, at that very second … 

… he had never hated his eyes more. 

#colonelarr0w #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo x reader #gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk drabble #jjk angst #gojo angst

[haikyu-mp4]

To deserve you

warning! reader is feeling “fat”. I had a discussion with a friend about how a lot of people only associate feeling fat with feeling ugly and wanted to write a self-indulgent comfort piece that didn’t do that.

word count; 538 – f!reader, originally wrote this for Kirishima (mha)

Bokuto had never looked this insulted before, and you weren’t sure if you should laugh or cry.

It started when he got home from practice, quickly coming into the bedroom to kiss you before he planned on showering. It was date night, so he had to get ready quickly. “It’s the one that matches my hair! I love it!” He whistled when he saw you standing in front of the mirror in a gorgeous silver dress, eyes taking their sweet time appreciating your body before meeting your eyes. Or at least he tried to meet your eyes, but you looked insistently at the wall behind the mirror with a light frown.

Bokuto looped his arms around you and kissed your neck and shoulder, but was left blinking unsurely when you awkwardly loosened his grip and removed his hands. “Are you ready, baby? Do you need anything?”

“I think maybe we shouldn’t go out tonight. I’m not feeling well,” you say, turning around to face him.

“Baby? What’s wrong, are you sick?”

“I just feel like I’m-“ your voice cracks slightly as you look over your shoulder at the mirror. Your fiance was known for his thick muscles and well-maintained physique, and today you just felt like everyone probably thought he deserved better than you. “I’m too fat.”

“For what?”

“For you.”

There it was, the most insulted you had ever seen him look. He frowned and puffed out his chest. “For me? Do you think I’m weak? Not manly enough for such a perfect woman? Is my love not unshakeable enough?”

He leaned closer as his hair seemed to droop on his head. There was a hint of playfulness in his questions, but you could still see that he was hurt by your words. However, you knew you were entitled to feeling this way and this was not the time for you to comfort him. It made you sigh. “Kou...“

You often spent time comforting and assuring him, and now it was his turn. Bokuto took a deep breath and pulled himself together, moving his hands to hold you again, slowly so you could deny him if you wanted to. You didn’t. “If you want to join me for some workouts or change our meal plan to feel better, I’ll follow you every step of the way, but there is no way for you to be too much of anything for me. There is literally no part of you that I don’t find insanely attractive. I work hard every day to deserve you.”

At first, you were letting out small giggles as his touches smoothed over your curves when you finally allowed him to, but as he kept talking, you were left staring at him in awe. He finally wrapped those strong arms around you, making you flustered enough to hide in his chest and sink into his comforting warmth. “I love you. You’re the man of my dreams.”

“I love you too.” He lifted your hand and pressed an affectionate kiss on the back of it, then the top of your head. Bokuto will remind you every day how perfect you are to him if that’s what it takes. “Being loved by you is my proudest achievement.”

masterlist

#bokuto koutaro x reader #hq #haikyuu x you #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu bokuto #hq bokuto #bokuto koutaro #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu #haikyu

[wetpillowprincess]

God I have been scrolling thru ur blog for hours and my entire hand is wet from how long I’ve been edging and how badly I want to come. I’m laying with my legs spread wide and I’m afraid if I move or breathe I’ll come and the fun will be over. I want to lock eyes with you at a party and sneak off to the bathroom and fuck each other hard and fast with our clothes half on, your dress pulled down around your waist and your hand twisted in my hair, burying my face in your chest. You moan into my hair to keep quiet as I wrap my arms around your waist and spread my hands across back and leave marks all down your torso. Without taking my attention off of your tits I would hike up your dress and push myself in between your legs as I lifted you up onto the sink. You’re leaving marks on the mirror and no longer trying to quiet your moans but we don’t care, because I’m three fingers deep and your wetness is pooling in the palm of my hand. I kiss you hard on the mouth and you grope at my chest zealously as I keep us balanced upright. My fingers pump in and out of you rhythmically, and the sound of your wetness makes my vision fog up with sheer disbelief at the perfection of the moment. For a minute I watch, entranced, as your mouth bites itself and fall open with gasps of pleasure, until you thread one hand through my hair and the other interrupting the palm fucking you, gently guiding my mouth to your cunt. I stare at it as if dumbstruck by an angel, your thighs framing it on either side like wings. It sings it’s siren song and I am a desperate sailor, happily swimming towards my demise. I grip my hands around your waist to keep you steady, and what I feel as I cover your clit with my tongue and lips is not biology but magic, not pleasure but God. My own cunt is numb and cold from the wetness and buzzing of pleasure that has been building since the second you walked into the bathroom behind me, and my knees buckle from your sweet and earthy taste. You barely keep in a scream as I slide my tongue inside you, and your legs snap around my head, drawing me in closer than possible. I suck and lick and kiss and edge until my jaw is nearly locked, but like an avalanche, my chin and cheeks are wet with squirt and cum, and you grip the wall and mirror behind you to brace yourself as you unconsciously grind harder into my face. Before you even cool down you bring my cum soaked mouth to yours and lick inside. I finally fall to my knees and you come with me, draping yourself across my body and burying your face into my neck with kisses and nips. Your hands touch and grope every inch of me and my back and your knees on the cold hard floor means nothing to either of us. I loop my fingers through your hair not to guide you but to feel you, to feel the muscles on your scalp move as your mouth works at my chest, stomach and hips. Your fingers barely brush the edge of my underwear and the world goes quiet. With the same eyes you first watched me dance with, you watch me now as I throw my head back in pleasure as your jaw works at my pussy. I cum quickly but you still kiss me there because you are hungry too. After, you don’t bother moving. You rest your cheek against my naked pelvis and i thread my fingers through your hair draped over my thigh. Our dresses are piled up and discarded but before we fall asleep we help each other get dressed, making one person jobs for two people. I kiss your shoulders lightly as I zip you up, and you kiss my nose as you pull the dress over my head, giggling from exhaustion and disbelief at what we just did. We don’t bother to touch up our hair or your shade of lipstick smeared onto my face because when you take me home, we’re just getting straight out of it.

holy fuck you deserve your pussy ate the fuck out for this. anon...you're so sexy and i'm so wet because of everything you said.

#lesbian nsft #sapphic nsft #wlw nsft #lesbian #wlw post #dirty anons #dirty asks

[legallydistinctloolooland]

i see your "Angel not knowing Husk is into guys & pining from afar" & raise you "Angel having a feeling/knowing that Husk is into guys & pulling all the stops in Gay Melodrama cause he thinks he isn't Husk's type"

#huskerdust #angel hearing Husk disclose one [1] iota of information on a past lover & being like 'oh come the fuck ON' #Angel thru gritted teeth staring at himself in the mirror gripping the sink: It Is FINE If We Stay Just Friends #I Need More Friends Anyway #Angel being like ''i will just bury this feeling deep within me until either IT dies or I do'' #meanwhile Husk is like. ''Ah yes surely Angel can pick up on the flirting I've been doing lately now that he's opened up'' #is Husk successfully flirting & Angel just doesn't get it or is Husk's idea of flirting so incredibly subtle it is impossible for anyone #to pick up on? You decide!

[wild-moss-art]

your wip doesn't look bad it's just unfinished

#art philosophy tag #gripping the edge of the sink staring at myself in the mirror #(im just being melodramatic. but rly)

[mistymonster]

one more clover.... i finished :(

#undertale yellow #clover #uty clover #utdr #safe utdr #i am actually ill. #[gripping the sink and staring at myself in the mirror] uty isnt real and it cant hurt me

[michaelsheens]

really wish someone had warned me that my body image issues and insecurities would get so much worse after losing a significant amount of weight lol

#been hyping myself up for over an hour now to go outside wearing a - gasp - tshirt #staring in the mirror gripping the sink: it's okay that you have a tummy it's okay that you have a tummy it's okay that you have a tummy #weight talk tw #body image tw #idk ask to tag please #eena.txt #tbd

[katabay]

crasso has +100% immunity to any and all rumors, but he draws the line at anything that might cause people to think that ciceron is the father of either of his kids. anyone else would be fine, but he draws the line at ciceron on account of Disliking Ciceron So So SO Much

so!! I finished the first draft of bad governance! which means now I get to edit everyone's dialogue and sometimes during the course of editing, you come across a scene that accidentally sounds like a B plot to a teleserye (you know how they can get). like, I know i have to cut it from the final draft, but it can live on as a comic for my own amusement

the historical dynamic this is based on is extremely funny to me btw

Plutarch, Crassus

Publius Crassus - ‘optimus adulescens’ and his unfortunate career, Ireneusz Łuć

unintentionally this gets into some historical parentage drama, cicero made about publius' (peter, in this story) father being someone other than crassus

Plutarch, Cicero

(the running bit for bad governance is that no one is entirely sure what's going on with crasso's household. crasso calls marcus and peter his sons, but marcus rotates between calling crasso 'dad,' 'kuya,' 'tiyo,' and 'nanay.' no one in that house clarifies anything to anyone else.)

#bad governance the series #republikang romano remixed #ANYWAY that's where ive been for the last week #i had to do. research. on the government for a minute. and also pull up martial law records. this story gets. uh. grim in places #so we gotta. hold on to the levity while we can. (<< said by me. gripping the sink while staring into a mirror) #(bro i was doing research on a famine my mom lived through and i want the marcos admin 2.0 to walk into the ocean immediately) #you might also wonder what crasso's gender is if you follow along with my posting elsewhere. great question! #komiks tag

[koi0boi]

hey, don't be sad, licht jekylland todoroki alright?

#pov me talking to myself staring into the mirror white knuckle gripping the sink #servamp

[seraphex]

did yakko go to jrweek for the reasons im thinking or am i being unreasonably desperate again

#hex.txt #gripping the edge of my sink staring into mirror shaking and crying SHES GONE GIRL!!!!!!

[phaginof]

well if you’re wondering the evil teenager in my brain did pick up on “you stay awake seething about a lot of things” 👍🏼

#gripping the sink staring into the mirror. these men are in their THIRTIES they bought and designed a FOREVER HOME TOGETHER #on all levels except physical they are MARRIED #get ahold of yourself. #dan and phil #dan and phil games

[the-mjolnir-owner]

#thor #I should be working bye #thor has the gritted teeth optimism #everything is gonna turn out okay even if I have to bite and claw and gnash my way through it #thor gripping the sink staring at himself in the mirror #I'll make it ok even if it kills me

[a-libra-writes]

Same anon from a while ago who talked about the reader who isn't very musical/artsy, but learns for his sake!! I have to tell you about this idea I've been brainrotting over for Rocky or I WILL explode into a million pieces. A headcanon from me to you in these trying times 🤲.

So I like to imagine that because Rocky is a poet at heart, he and his s/o would exchange love letters filled to the brim with poems. It probably starts because the reader comes up with a poem for him, but is WAY too embarrassed to read it aloud or recite it, so they write it down and hand it to him at the end of a date/at the doorstep before quickly rushing inside. He opens and reads it in his car and he is WHIPPED!!!! He absolutely treasures it, and in exchange, writes a poem of his own for you. So it becomes a habit of exchanging love poems, keeping them somewhere safe and rereading them on days where one or both of you are too busy to be able to meet. He absolutely keeps them stashed somewhere safe and rereads them CONSTANTLY, it makes him so unbelievably happy that you go out of your way to learn something new all because you know how much he loves it. The quality doesn't matter to him in the slightest, he is just overjoyed that he found someone who will indulge in his interests. Like I am so obsessed with this deranged cat you have no idea

Anyways, since you make so much amazing content I figured I'd give a little bit of content back to you 🤲 take care!

AHH this was so sweet to receive in the middle of work, I read it several times before finally answering tonight.... YES i hadnt even thought about exchanging letters and notes but its SO SWEET i am screaming. throwing myself on the floor.

like imagine hiding sweet notes and love letters in his violin case!!!! or telling Rocky to reae it only when he's feeling down!

he is absolutely whipped and knows it and loves it, i swear. i will fight about this. he loves ur bad poetry so much. especially if youre shy about it. its ok he'll still shout it from the rooftops!!! (probably when you arent around) and/or make songs out of them! *screams*

#*gripping sink staring into mirror* im normal about a homeless murdering fiddler cat i am NORMAL ........ #lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #anon headcanons

[surreal-duck]

good news i can draw again bad news im getting attached

#im not a finep im not a finep im not a finep im not a finep im not a finep (said while gripping the sink and staring into the mirror #dont look too hard at the background please #yuzuru fushimi #enstars #duck scribbles #doodles #ghostic treat house......... why is it good..... get these earworms out of my head #was gonna draw the closeup part instead but the clock halo was tempting #ensemble stars

[crystalromana]

finished Unnatural History last night and I keep thinking about if we had gotten an alternate "blonde" Clara (since Name of the Doctor is clearly inspired by).

Blonde Clara, party girl, sugar baby, "I just got back from Spain", tiny purse, stilettos

I just see her following Eleven out of the TARDIS and he's chattering away a mile a minute and she's trying to light a cigarette. She clicks the lighter and he spins around O.O there would be a parallels to Bells of Saint John to make it really pop.

Also I mean Missy creating a perfect companion Clara would honestly hit harder then just finding her. Or just lingering ambiguity of did the Doctor cause this? Did Missy? Was it just her jumping into his time stream?

Eeeeeh?

#Unnatural History #Clara Oswald #Doctor Who #Clara being TOOOOTALLLY normal about this #gripping the sink and staring into the mirror toooootally fine and normal #Honestly instead of doing it in one episode it could be layered out into series 8 #with flashes of blonde Clara's life happing occasionally like the Missy scenes #Posts for a niche audience

[sgtjamesrogers]

Been Too Unkind

Rated: T | roy x jamie | post episode: 0308: We'll Never Have Paris [also on ao3]

Roy’s alarm goes off at 3:40 am the Monday after their Sunday match right on schedule, and when he rolls over to his nightstand and switches it off, the next notification is a reminder from his calendar. 

After his eyes adjust he sees ‘PHOEBE DAY’ in all caps, with three swords emojis and a snake emoji after it. Roy had let her pick out the emojis. 

“Fuck.” He sits up out of bed in the dark, fiddling thick-fingered through his phone to press Jamie Tartt’s contact and then ‘call’. It occurs to him, his brain slowly waking up as he listens to the line ring, that he could have sent a text. Jamie is always awake and ready to go now when Roy shows up for training, these days. 

Too late, Jamie’s already picking up before Roy can think too hard about it. 

“...Coach?” He yawns into the phone from the other end. “You’re like, forty minutes early. And calling me. You don’t call me. Did you get hit by a car on your way? Nah, no you didn’t. You’d still show up, wouldn’t you, holding someone’s bumper and saying summat like ‘Move your ass Tartt, I have some new weight training for you to do’.” 

He sounds sleep-raspy but still manages to tip some more gravel into his voice for his Roy impression. Tragically, it’s not half bad. 

“Was that supposed to be me?”, is what Roy says out loud. “You made me sound like Eeyore.” 

“Ain’t that you?” Jamie responds breezily, the sound of a tap running water into a glass somewhere in the background. “Anyway, what’s going on? I haven’t even mixed my pre-workout yet.” 

“Oh, right,” Roy says, and then continues gruffly, “I’ve got my niece today, she’s off school. We’ll have to cut training short.” 

“Can’t you just strap her into a baby bjorn and we’ll take her with?” Jamie asks, the clatter of his blender bottle like a cup full of Yahtzee dice. “She’s like, two, isn’t she? How much could a toddler weigh? Two stone at max, I bet.” 

“No?” Roy says, making a face. “Add five years to that. She’d hate it, and her legs are too long.” He shoves his sheets off, his free hand automatically feeling out the muscles above his knee like he’s making sure he has enough gas in the tank of his car. They feel loose enough, so he hefts himself out of bed.  

There’s a long pause before Jamie smacks his lips into the phone receiver, the prick. Roy can almost smell the neon green sour whatever of his pre-workout. “Hold on, I might have something else.” 

---

Fair is fair: the pedicab driver is easier to bribe than Roy expected. 

Or perhaps ‘easy’ isn’t exactly the correct term, seeing as Jamie’s pocket ended up roughly five hundred pounds lighter by the time the driver seemed satisfied enough to hand over the cab to them, followed by a warning that he had a GPS marker tacked on, so ‘no funny business!’ 

“What funny business would we do with a cycle rickshaw anyway?” Jamie asks, turning to put his words over one shoulder.

The little shit’s not even out of breath yet; pedaling with his elbows propped lazily on the handlebars as he prepares to make a righthand turn at the next intersection. 

“Oh, I dunno, scamming tourists hundreds of pounds for fucking taxi rides while playing whatever this is—” The inlaid speakers on the passenger wagon are vibrating faintly as they play a hellacious club remix of Karma Cameleon. “—at top volume with stupid flashing lights and feather boa trim, that sounds like funny business to me, fucking HELL!” 

The wagon of the pedicab lists dangerously to the left side as Jamie takes the corner too quickly, the shiny silver Jaguar behind them honking repeatedly and at length. As soon as Roy feels like he’s not going to slide right out of the cab and go rolling across the pavement like he’s an extra in John Wick, he twists around to give the Jag’s driver the finger. 

“If you get me killed, I’m killing you next,” Roy says shortly, checking his phone. A quarter to nine. “Take a left up here.” 

Unfortunately for Roy, Phoebe is just as ecstatic as he thought she might be when they pulled up. 

“Uncle Roy! I always wanted to ride in one of these, Mum always says they’re not for us, they’re for fleecing tourists.” She hops up into the wagon of the pedicab next to Roy, bouncing a little with excitement on the seat. 

“That’s exactly what they’re for,” Roy says. “Tartt’s gonna pedal us around as part of his training, then we’ll get late breakfast at McDonald’s. Sound good?” 

Turning around on his bicycle seat, Jamie gives her a jaunty little salute and a grin. “I’ll be your driver for today, miss. Any musical requests or sights you wanna see, you just let me know.” 

Phoebe looks from Roy to Jamie skeptically and back again. Roy helplessly remembers every time he’s complained about Jamie Fucking Tartt while utilizing every curse under the sun, as well as making up some of his own curse words. Like a deranged Looney Tune. He gives her a wincing sort of smile in return. 

Roy’s niece turns primly back toward Jamie. 

“Do y’have any Little Mix or Jorja Smith?” 

---

They make it through the DNA album and get partway into Salute before Roy takes pity on Jamie and has him stop in front of the McDonald’s on Eden. It’s not quite mid-morning and there’s a shambling group of uni students already queued up inside, looking so violently hungover for a Monday at 10 am that even Roy feels a little nauseously sympathetic. 

Roy sends Jamie inside and attempts to send his card with him, but Jamie waves him off with a roll of his eyes. 

“Put that away old man, I’m good for three McMuffins,” he laughs before heading inside to join the crowd. Roy doesn’t realize until after Jamie’s walked off that he didn’t even try to fight him on it. There’s something a little discomfiting about that, but Roy can’t exactly put his finger on why. 

“Is he your new Keeley?” 

Roy whips around to look at Phoebe so quickly that he feels a crick in his neck. She’s looking up at him with a squinting expression, not quite unimpressed so much as mystified. 

“No one could replace Keeley,” he says quickly, something like a little minnow of panic swimming through his guts while he looks at her. 

Even the fucking abstract concept of Keeley brought up unexpected is calling to mind standing in the Nelson Road car park and feeling words rolling out of his mouth like vomit while he asked for details he did not need, because he’d let himself think that assuaging his own culpability was more important than her privacy. If he hadn’t deserved her before, he certainly didn’t now.  

Roy takes as deep a breath as he can, and rights himself. He looks at Phoebe sideways. She deserves to have a Keeley, even if he doesn’t. “Is that what you think I’m doing?” Just like Jamie, she rolls her eyes at him. 

“That’s not what I mean. Mum says old people don’t really use ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’.” Her expression goes a little disapproving. “Boys can like boys, Uncle Roy. Don’t be silly on purpose.” 

Roy puts his hands up in exasperated surrender. “I know that boys can like boys. Girls can like girls, for that matter.” 

Phoebe crosses her arms. “Obviously. Keeley and Jack took me to the Science Museum last weekend. Her new Uncle Roy,” she adds, confidentially. 

Closing his eyes, Roy counts to ten. Considers praying. “You didn’t call her that, did you?” 

Worryingly, Phoebe doesn’t address that question. Instead, she looks inside the McDonald’s, and Roy follows her gaze. Jamie’s waiting for their food, and while Roy and Phoebe look on he visibly checks their order number on the ticket in his hand and compares it with the orders on the overhead screen. They watch him do it three more times in the next minute, as if he’s concerned he might have forgotten their number. 

“See! You’re smiling!” Phoebe accuses him before he can look away. He looks down at her and resists the urge to clap a hand over his own mouth. 

“I’m allowed to fucking smile,” Roy grumbles. 

She crosses her arms, her earlier prim expression returning. It reminds him of Keeley when she knows she’s one hundred percent correct and is being horribly polite about it while she waits for Roy to figure it out. 

“He’s different than you said,” she hedges. “He hasn’t been a selfish moronic cunt or a shallow fucking idiot this entire time.” She pauses. “There was one more you used to call him a lot, but I can’t remember it. It was really good, too.” 

“You should probably forget the first two as well,” Roy says ruefully with a sigh. “...alright, he is different than he used to be. I’ll give you that.” It’s something that Roy knows in an abstract sort of way, but having his niece call it to his attention brings back that discomfited feeling from earlier. 

Before he can get any more words out, Jamie’s back and distributing wrapped sandwiches. He pauses when he hands one off to Roy, tilting his head. 

“Why’re you looking at me like I just shot your dog?” He shoots a horrified look at Phoebe as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “I mean—” Jamie attempts a smile as he reaches back into the bag and offers her a bottle of Tropicana. “Orange juice?” 

“I like this one,” Phoebe says decisively to Roy, nodding at Jamie as she accepts it. 

After breakfast, they head to the park and give the pedicab a rest. Phoebe sprawls on the grass reading The Phantom Tollbooth while Roy has Jamie run drills in the springtime overcast sunlight, and Roy feels prickly with awareness in a way he hadn’t before. 

It’s as if his eyes are independent of his brain, and they just keep noticing. The bunch of Jamie’s shoulders. The tendons that leap out at the back of his hands as they flex. The wrinkle of his nose as he uses his shirt sleeve to wipe his face. 

Roy’s not quite angry that he’s noticing all of this, but perhaps it’s frustration that it’s happening now. He’s had all the time in the world—from their shared locker room to now—to see these things and now his brain is treating them like an I Spy sort of puzzle book. 

“Show me that one again,” Roy says after he’s sat next to Phoebe to check in on her reading, “It needs to be quicker.” 

“And I thought you weren’t even paying attention, Coach,” Jamie tosses out with a grin, but dutifully runs through it as directed. 

Roy wishes he wasn’t paying attention. 

---

“Alright, what do you say to Tartt, then?” Roy prompts as she exits the pedicab and starts hopping up Roy’s front steps. The midday sun is high overhead as the clouds part for a few minutes, and Roy figures he ought to make her lunch from home after having fast food breakfast. 

“Thank you Jamie for pedaling us around and also for the McDonald’s,” she sing songs. Her clear plastic backpack clunks against her back as she waits for him at the door, hopping on the balls of her feet. 

Jamie grins as he gives her the same cheeky salute from this morning. Roy tries not to look at him too hard where he’s sprawled across the handlebars again. “You are very welcome, a girl with good music taste is always welcome in my cab.” 

“You don’t have a cab,” Roy grouses as he follows after her. “You half-borrowed, half-stole this one.” He’s halfway up the steps and expecting a joke, a retort, even a goodbye—anything but a hand on his elbow, halting his movement. 

Roy looks back at Jamie. Down at the hand on him like it’s a wet tentacle wrapping around his arm. Back up at Jamie. 

He’s not even bothered, the fucker. He just points down at Roy’s shoes. 

“Laces are undone. You can’t afford a fall, grandad. That’s when they all start going, you know. Real dark ‘beginning of the end’ business.” Jamie lets him go, and Roy relaxes. He’s in the clear. 

Jamie takes a knee at Roy’s feet. Bending forward, he grasps Roy’s dirty shoelaces and makes them into bunny ears before he ties them neatly and double knots them. 

While he’s bent over, Roy can’t stop staring at the tiny short hairs at the back of Jamie’s neck, at the barely there tan line from a necklace, at the faded roots of his highlights where they’re grown out from the crown of his head. 

Roy’s hands flex at his sides. 

After neatly and unnecessarily retying Roy’s other shoe, he looks up at Roy with a grin that crinkles his eyes. Roy feels like only weeks ago (months ago?), the sight of it made his blood boil and made him assign Jamie adjectives like ‘conceited’ or ‘arrogant wanker’.

Now he sees it spreading over Jamie’s lips and feels like he’s missed a step walking down the stairs. 

“There, all safe now.” 

Roy has never felt less safe, somehow. 

#ted lasso #roy x jamie #royjamie #jesse writes fic #my fic #grips the sink and stares into the mirror......... Who Am I