#Ted lasso tickle fic

[rosiesramblings]

Like Riding a Bike

Fandom: Ted Lasso

WC: 1.4k

A/N: Hello!! It's been a minute!! Sorry about that. Turns out my new job is actually insane. On the plus side, I am getting a ton of overtime lol. ANYWAY, thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this fic, prompted by anon :) Can be read as platonic or pre-relationship.

“For grandad!”

Jamie’s shout echoed across the shadows of the park, and before he knew it Jamie had Roy balanced carefully on a perfectly-legal, not-at-all-stolen, authentic Amsterdam bike.

“Alright, now head up, hips square, aaaaand… pedal!” To his credit, Jamie did not laugh when Roy seemed to fall to the side in slow motion. He didn’t. Okay, maybe his lips twitched a little bit, but Jamie could easily blame that on a muscle spasm after all the exercise he’d done that day.

“It’s alright, good lad, good lad, right back on,” Jamie cheered, channeling his Mummy when she taught him to ride a bike as a sexy little baby. Roy did not seem to appreciate the encouragement the same way baby Jamie had, pushing grown-up Jamie back with a growl as he swung his leg back over the seat.

Clearly, Roy needed some extra help. This time, Jamie planted one hand on the back of Roy’s neck, and the other steady on Roy’s waist. Roy was tense underneath his fingers, but, Jamie figured, he was entitled to a little tension when he’s facing shit from his past. Losing his Grandad really fucked him up, and Jamie wasn’t going to begrudge the man his feelings, no matter how Roy tried to choke them into submission.

“Don’t need my fucking hand held,” Roy growled, undercutting his statement when Jamie let go and Roy immediately toppled sideways. “Fuck!”

“Alright, keep your trousers on, old man,” Jamie put his hands up in the universal ‘do no harm’ gesture. “Let’s try again, come on.” 

Roy gave a long suffering sigh, rolled his eyes so far back that Jamie was pretty sure he got a good look at his own brain, and swung his leg back over.

Jamie, trying to be a good friend, lightened his touch since Roy clearly wasn’t a fan of Jamie touching him in the first place. 

If possible, Roy got even more tense. “Oi!” He barked at Jamie. “I said don’t fucking need you for balance!” He claimed, scrunching his shoulders like Jamie always did when Sam wiggled his fingers under Jamie’s chin.

Now, Jamie wasn’t what anyone would call a genius. He wasn’t really book smart; the letters moved around too much for him to want to unscramble them. Because of this, people were constantly underestimating him, at least in the brains department. Look, Jamie might not be winning the Know Bell Prize or some shit any time soon, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. He knew what it looked like when a poor sod was ticklish and doing his damned best to hide it.

Jamie bit down on his tongue to hide a mischievous smile. “Look, mate, you don’t have to like it, but you need me until you can at least get a few meters on your own, yeah? C’mon, let’s do this, old man.”

Roy grumbled what Jamie figured was an assent, and Jamie placed his hands just firm enough that it could reasonably be interpreted as keeping Roy balanced, and not as a quest to get Roy Kent to laugh. Holy shit, did Roy giggle? This was going to be so damn fun.

Under Jamie’s light touch, Roy instantly tensed back up. Jamie risked a tease. “C’mon, mate, you’re never gonna keep your balance when you’re this stiff. You gotta loosen up a little,” Jamie squeezed Roy’s neck, and was rewarded with a growl that Jamie would bet his entire trainer closet was covering up a chuckle.

“You can fuck right off if you’re gonna keep talking instead of teaching,” Roy bit out.

“Right-o, Roy-o,” Jamie said cheerfully. “Look straight ahead, not at your toes, just like football, yeah? Otherwise the only place you’re going is down.” Jamie subtly moved his hand a little higher so that it was resting on Roy’s ribs. Roy made a sound like all the air had been punched out of him.

Jamie took his hand from Roy’s neck and used it to cover his smile. God, this made all the four am training sessions more than worth it. 

Instead of putting his hand back on Roy’s neck, Jamie decided to up the ante, and wormed his fingers under Roy’s armpit.

This seemed to be the last straw for Roy, who gave a shout and buckled to the side. Jamie went down with him, figuring the jig was up, and started playing Roy’s ribs like a goddamn piano.

“Shit - fuck - you shihihiitfucker - dahahahahahammit Tahahartt!” Roy broke, low, growly giggles (giggles! This was the best day of Jamie’s life.) and tried to curl away from Jamie’s fingers.

“Awww, what’s the matter, mate? Could it be the the big, bad, Roy fucking Kent is as ticklish as a little lad?” Jamie goaded, sneaking a hand underneath Roy’s hoodie and scribbling at his stomach.

Roy tossed his head back, a forced grin on his lips. Jamie was sure if his eyes were open there would be murder in them.  “Ihihihi’m gonna fuhuhucking KIHIHILL YOU!” Roy roared, his back arching.

“Roy, mate, this is fucking golden,” Jamie crowed, his smile splitting his face. Roy thrashed hard, harder than Jame was expecting. 

Jamie knew he was on borrowed time, so he wormed both of his hands into Roy’s underarms, and he was not disappointed.

Roy Kent. Fucking. Howled.

Jamie couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “Oh my god, this is worse than I thought - mate, this is a fucking liability! How are you supposed to be ‘here, there, and every-fucking - woah!”

Quicker than Jamie could blink, Roy flipped their positions, and was looming about Jamie like a fucking werewolf. And looking at Jamie like he was a fucking steak.

“Roy, mate, it’s all in good fun, yeah? We don’t really have to -”

“Oh no, we abso-fucking-lutely have to,” Roy growled, a smile still in his voice despite the eyebrows he was giving Jamie.

That was all the warning Jamie got before Roy wrecked his shit. 

One hand went to Jamie’s hips, kneading like he was baking fucking bread or some shit. The other hand spidered over Jamie’s tummy, which was arguably worse.

“ROHOHOHOHOHOHOY,” Jamie screeched, tossing his head back, a smile splitting his face.

“Fucking what?”

“TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES.”

“I’d fucking well hope so,” Roy said, ruching up Jamie’s shirt in one smooth motion and scribbling across bare skin. “You’d better get used to this, cause we’re gonna be here for a while.”

“SHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT,” Jamie cursed, shaking his head back and forth.

“No? No, we’re not going to be here for a while? Or no, you can’t handle any more tickles? Cause I’m about to prove you wrong on both accounts,” Roy said as the hand squeezing Jamie’s hip moved down to torture his thigh instead.

Somehow, Roy’s growly voice saying ‘tickles’ made it tickle infinitely more. Jamie was no stranger to being tickled - since it was no longer ok to hit him, his teammates had to find other ways to get him to shut his mouth. But Roy was on another fucking level. And Jamie was losing his goddamn mind.

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE,” Jamie was not above begging.

“You want to see something that always gets Phoebe?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHO!”

“Too bad,” Roy said, and leaned down to blow a fucking raspberry above Jamie’s belly button.

In the tiny part of his brain that wasn’t going insane from the tortuous sensations, Jamie imagined telling his 10 year old self that one day he’d be lying down in a park in fucking Amsterdam, getting the absolute shit tickled out of him by his childhood hero. If Jamie could have laughed any harder, he would have.

“ROHOHOHOHOY,” Jamie wailed.

“You ever gonna try that shit again?”

“PROHOHOHOBABLY,” Jamie answered.

“Yeah, knew that was probably too much to ask,” Roy grumbled. “You gonna try that shit in front of anybody else?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO,” Jamie promised.

“Fucking sure?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHEHES! PLEHEHEHEASE ROHOHOY!” Jamie begged, on the verge of insanity.

“Alright,” Roy said, and finally ceased his tickling.

Jamie curled up in a ball, tugging his shirt back down. He wiped the tears from his face, still giggling.

Roy ruffled Jamie’s hair. “Come on. I’m going to ride a bike tonight even if I blow out my other fucking knee.”

All Jamie could do was groan through his giggles.

[altschmerzes]

🌹🌹 Wriggle up maybe some of Jamie's trauma?

boy howdy there is so much of that to go around. salutes.

specific content warnings under the cut along with the clip. it's not particularly intense, but it's upsetting and emotional. from the part of the fic set between seasons 1 and 2 and re: roy's retirement. it's a bit of a...... well. a lot of a long clip but i think we've come to expect that from me at this point lmao.

content warnings for the scene: jamie is living alone with his father in manchester at this point and his internal state is... not good. there is some like. it's not exactly outright violence, but it's rough contact that jamie doesn't want, kind of mocking not-affection.

--

Jamie is alone in his room with the door closed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he’ll be noticed or stopped if he tries to leave and just fuck about in the park for a few hours until it’s late enough to go to bed when he hears it. The segment transition music of his father’s favourite sports network is a distinctive and familiar sound, a regular feature of life that’s gone back and forth from Manchester to London and back again, staying the same even as most everything else changed. Half the time Jamie doesn’t even register it anymore, it just is. Today he does. Today he hears it because he’s paying attention to the flat, tracking the sounds on instinct. And because Jamie hears the segment transition noise, he hears what comes after it.

The segment hosts are talking about Richmond. They’re talking about Roy. Jamie closes his eyes and pulls at the front of his shirt, pinching the fabric idly between his thumb and forefinger and tugging. He hears press conference and major announcement and knee injury and something about those words, the combination of them, has Jamie pulling himself up off of his bed and out into the hallway. Every inch of him is exhausted all the way down to the core but he has to go, compelled for reasons he can’t explain to walk into the living room.

Standing in the doorway, Jamie watches over the back of the couch, over his father’s shoulder, as Roy appears on camera and starts talking. Starts crying. The words themselves are a blur, only a few coming through clearly as Jamie listens, sick to his stomach and struggling to breathe all the way in - team of doctors, continuing degeneration, announcing my retirement. Roy sits far away in London and speaks through tears through choppy inhales and shuddering exhales, and on the couch in front of Jamie in Manchester, James laughs.

Jamie’s father tips his chin up and laughs, his head tipping side to side, obviously tickled to bits by what’s happening on the screen. The press conference goes on, but it’s even harder to hear now through the sound of that laughter. It’s not loud - it’s amused chuckling and not full-belly guffaws, but it may as well be blasting on surround-sound speakers for all that Jamie can hear anything else past it.

“Oh, Jamie, lad, get a load of this shite,” James says. He’s noticed his son in the doorway, waving a hand over the back of the couch and gesturing at the screen. “My, what a shame. Roy bloody Kent, going out like this. Used to be a man, that one, and look at him now. Jesus wept.”

Frozen in the doorway of the room, Jamie stares at the television screen. Guilt rises in his throat, threatening to choke him, and brings with it a whole host of other things he can’t or doesn’t want to name. This is his fault. This is all his fault.

There’s a mobile in Jamie’s hoodie pocket, and a note in the bottom of his schoolbag with a phone number on it. His fingertips itch to go and find it, to text Ted Lasso and tell him that he didn’t mean for what happened to happen. Maybe if Jamie begs him to, Ted will tell Roy that Jamie is sorry, that he’s so sorry, so fucking sorry. But he doesn’t. He can’t.

Turning and looking over his shoulder, James must see something in Jamie’s face that he hadn’t been able to hide - not that he was thinking clearly enough to try just at the moment. When he speaks, James’s voice has climbed into a mocking register, pitchy and singsonging with ridicule.

“Aw, what, is wee little Junior gonna get all weepy about that sad old has-been?” A sharp snort of laughter punctuates a rhetorical question that drips with casual, habitual scorn. “Hey, I mean, at least he was something. More than you can say.”

Beyond the thick and shuddering mass of emotion already packing Jamie’s chest too bursting there’s no room for anything more. The insulting reference to his own injury, the one that had ended his career before it began, doesn’t even make his surgically repaired knee throb with phantom pain the way it usually would have done. Jamie just keeps staring at the telly, watching Beard join Roy on-screen to field questions from reporters, ignoring his dad entirely.

Even fixed as he is on the programme, though, Jamie can’t help but track the man’s movements when he rises. James moves in his peripheral vision, always the most important thing to watch in any room, walking towards the hall and directly by Jamie. As he walks past, he reaches out and scuffs his hand through his son’s hair. It’s rough and abrupt, a mockery of affection that knocks Jamie off-balance and into the wall. There’s only the faintest echo of almost-pain but the adrenaline it spikes down his spine is as if he’s been shot all the same.

Once James is gone, Jamie doesn’t move. He knows that he should, that he should go back to his room or leave the house or do anything else, but he can’t. All he can do is stand there with his heart thudding hard in his chest and the crushing sense that he is all alone in the world and he fucking deserves it suffocating from the inside out while he stares at Roy’s face on the telly and wonders what the fuck is wrong with him.

[thisismysecondrodeo]

hi, big fan!! first and foremost, I agree that we do not talk enough about the hands of JS!! playing off that, would you consider writing a ted/reader fic where an extremely touch-starved reader is fascinated with ted's hands and playfully baits him into tickling them? those hands teasing and kneading in search of the best ticklish spots is 😳😳😳 a LOT and goofy silly playful theodore lasso is my kryptonite!! (thank you for your time and consideration!! I appreciate you!!)

AN: big fan I can't 😭 the fact that anyone reads and enjoys what I like is insane, thanks for reading and for the suggestion!

Rating: Mature

Tags: Fluff, Romance, Tickling, Dedicated to everyone that has a thing for Ted's hands lol, Touch-Starved Fic masterlist

-

You and Ted had been on 4 dates so far and you knew after the first one that you couldn't wait to get him into bed. It wasn't that you only wanted him for sex—you enjoyed every second you spent listening to him tell stories, sharing bites of dinner, making him laugh and laughing in return—it was mostly that it had been a long time since you'd been in bed with anyone at all, especially not someone as kind and attractive as Ted.

Ted, however, wasn't making any sexual moves. Sure you'd kissed at the end of every date, but it was always public and relatively chaste, not nearly as heated as you'd like. Thankfully, though, he didn't leave you wondering if he was interested, his intentions were apparent: Ted was the kind of guy to court. To take things slow. To bring you flowers on your third date and put them in a vase for you after he walked you home. He was perfect and you felt almost insecure about how much you really wanted to jump his bones. Especially on a night like tonight, where the two of you were strolling in the cool night air, his long lithe fingers woven between yours. He gestured with his other hand as he spoke and you could take your eyes off the motion.

He's got the best hands, Jesus, I just want him to—

"Want me to what," Ted smirked, and your eyes widened as they moved from his hand to his face and you realized your inside thoughts were no longer inside.

"Ah, nothing! Nothing, what were you saying about—"

"What were you saying about my hands," Ted teased, holding his palm towards you like he was going to give you a high-five. You were so embarrassed you wished you could retract your head into your body like a turtle. Ted was smiling, but he could see how embarrassed you were and cut you some slack, "I'm just messing with you. What do you say we head inside, warm up and put on a movie?"

You smiled, gratefully nodding and Ted tugged you in the direction of his place. You willed your palm to not sweat in his and tried not to kick yourself for being so obvious that you wanted his hands on you. Though Ted had seemed nothing but pleased that you felt that way if his cheeky smile was anything to go by. And maybe it wasn't all in your head when he let you into his apartment that the two of you were physically closer to each other than you'd been before, a hand on your lower back as he ushered you into the kitchen, his chest against your back as he leaned up to get some mugs.

"Why don't you go find us something to watch and I'll make us some hot chocolate," Ted offered and you agreed, but turned back quickly to look at him.

"Extra whip cream?" You batted your eyelashes playfully and Ted grinned, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose.

"Yes ma'am."

You found a romance movie neither of you had seen and you settled into the couch, an arm's width from pressing your body to his. Everything in you wanted to set your drinks aside and climb into his lap but you restrained yourself—barely—and tried to focus on the movie.

Finally done with your drinks, you took the opportunity to lean forward and put your mug on the coffee table, leaning back ever closer to Ted's warmth. Ted pretended not to notice but moved his own mug to the side table, and rested his arm along the back of the couch.

In the movie, the lead guy was tickling his romantic interest, the two of them tossing and turning on top of an overstuffed duvet and you chuckled slightly.

"What," Ted asked, shifting to look at you.

"I always find scenes where someone is being tickled so...odd."

"Odd how?"

You shrugged blushing a little when you realized your silly observation had Ted's full attention, "I mean, I'm not really ticklish, so it all seems a little dramatic I guess."

"No way," Ted exclaimed and your eyebrows rose at his enthusiasm, "you're telling me you've never found yourself in the middle of a tickle fight, just gigglin' away?"

"No, but I take it you have," you laughed, the two of you now facing each other, the movie long forgotten. Ted raised a hand but seemed to think better of it, returning it to his lap. "Go on," you goaded him, "try it for yourself."

Ted's large hands immediately went for your ribcage, fluttering against your sides and it felt lovely but you weren't laughing. His hands went up towards your armpits and he watched your face closely, but just the expectation that he was waiting for you to laugh with that goofy, happy-go-lucky expression made you smile.

"Ah, ah, there it is," Ted pointed at your mouth with one hand, his other still on your side.

You shook your head. "No way that doesn't count! That's not a giggle. You're just being cute and I smiled!"

"Oh, I'm being cute am I?" Ted had a shit-eating grin and you looked away, unable to contain your affection for him, but he got your attention again. "What about here?" He brought his tickling fingers up to your neck, accidentally hitting a very sensitive spot. A high whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it and Ted raised one eyebrow.

Without a word, Ted leaned in and pressed his lips to the same spot his hands had found, just behind your ear and you gasped. He continued to press kisses along your neck as one of his hands moved down, "And what about here?" He kneaded his hand into your thigh, firm but not painful and you couldn't help but moan. You wanted his hands everywhere.

"Gosh, darlin', that's even better than ticklish," Ted sat up and grinned down at you, his eyes shining with lust.

"I'm glad, but you know I think I have a few more areas you might want to try," you flirted boldly and the two of you laughed as he tugged you off the couch and towards the bedroom.

[singaroundelay]

FIC: Parents are Like Instruction Manuals, Or Trent Crimm Meets his Mum-in-Law

Whelp, here it is. The penultimate fic for Season 3. It's completed because I wanted to get the whole thing done before tonight's finale airs. (and hey, get your feels all ready for the finale?) Get your tissues for the end, you're gonna need 'em.

TITLE: Parents are Like Instruction Manuals, Or Trent Crimm Meets his Mum-in-Law PAIRING: Trent Crimm/Ted Lasso RATING: Mature SUMMARY: One Dottie Lasso comes to Richmond like a whirling dervish. Trent is beyond tickled to meet his future mother-in-law boyfriend’s mum — even if it leads to the hardest conversation of their relationship. Whatever happens next... is up to Ted. EXCERPT: [Ted] MAY DAY MAY DAY

[Ted] RED ALERT

[Ted] SAVE YOURSELF

If there's one thing Trent has learned, it's that three texts in short succession are never a good thing from Ted. Three in all caps either mean the end is nigh or to stay out of the bathroom until one smell or another dissipates. (Oy did he learn that lesson the hard way.) But since Ted left their flat about five minutes ago, he wagers it's more the former and less the latter.

And if it's the latter they're going to have a long discussion about etiquette.

He doesn't reply immediately, instead surveying the wardrobe for the perfect shirt. Maybe the soft dark denim one Ted picked out because it had a sort of Western flair to it. Trent loves it because it's the sort that he has to roll up the sleeves and there's that touch of mirroring between them; Ted loves it because he gets to stare at those aforementioned forearms all day.

Continue Reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47542063

[daydreamgoddess14]

Patience

Luke Alvez / Penelope Garcia

Garvez Masterlist

Full Masterlist

My first Garvez fic! I hope I've found their voices... I've spent a long time in a Ted Lasso hole so this is my first venture out of that security blanket.... This is in response to a prompt from my 200 followers celebration which came from the lovely @darcyfangirlsfrequently who requested "I never meant to fall in love with you, I just did" & "when you fall, I'll always be right there to catch you"... Let's get to it, hope you like it! 💜

~~~~~~

It was a late night by the time everyone had filtered off home. They’d stayed as long as possible to enjoy being in each other's company again. Dave doted on them all, happy to be back with them. Once the ladies had squeezed onto the small sofa together with Tara’s long legs draped across the others, Will migrated to join Dave and Luke in the kitchenette.

“S’good to get this back.” He gestured with his glass,

“Family.” Luke nodded. 

“Well I hope we don’t get separated like that again.” Dave said a little louder, hoping Emily would overhear.

“Let’s see what the next few weeks bring, Agent Rossi,” she warned with a smile, “no promises.”

“But Pen, you’re coming back for real, right?” Tara asked.

“We’ll see guys, I need to think about it. Not sure I’m ready to let all that…. Ughh into my brain again.”

“Hmmm, I hear you on that.” JJ agreed, tucking her head into the crook of Penelope’s shoulder. At some point, Will managed to extract her from the sofa and to the front door, both of them dishing out hugs, kisses and I love yous as they left. Tara followed soon after, sharing an Uber with Emily.

“How is it that even with fewer people, the goodbyes take longer?” Emily laughed, pulling Dave into ‘just one more’ hug. When they’d gone, Dave insisted on washing up the last few glasses while Penelope split the last of the wine into hers and Luke’s glasses. As he left, he held Penelope’s face between his hands,

“I missed you,” she told him softly.

“I know sweetheart, I’m coming back slowly.” He tells her, his voice thick with emotion.

“Good, because my life is incomplete without a David Rossi in it.” She hugged him tight before letting him move on to Luke, stepping away to wipe a stray tear away. Dave patted Luke’s cheek gently, muttering something she couldn’t hear, and hugged him. As the door closed softly, she handed Luke his glass. “I swear, we are not splitting up again. My heart can’t take it.”

“You gotta come back then.” He tells her lightly, “we can’t do it without you.”

“You managed just fine,” she brushed him off. He laughs sharply.

“We so did not. We were a mess without you.”

“I’m not sure I can do it, Luke. It’s… too much. No one should see the things we’ve seen.” She points out. He knows she’s right.

“It’s about balance. Like I said, you saved lives - you can’t just dismiss that. I get that it’s hard, but when you fall, I'll always be right there to catch you.”

“We get through it together.” She reasoned, harking back to his previous rallying support. 

“We get through it together.” He repeats, clinking her glass with his own.

“I still can’t believe you know that Emily Dickinson quote.” She scoffs.

“Hey! Ever the tone of surprise with you.” He chuckles, finishing his drink. “I should get back to Roxy.” They linger by the door, the hugs feel more natural when the others are around as a buffer, when they’re alone there’s an awkwardness, a hesitancy. But those are blurred with the wine they’ve been drinking all evening and he envelopes her in a tight, all-encompassing embrace. She can smell the cologne on his collar and the earthy tones of his shower products. “So when Em calls you next week, you’ll think about whatever she says?” He asks quietly, his breath tickling behind her ear. The sensation sends shivers through her body, he’s holding her so closely that he notices and it causes her to pull away just a little.

“I promise I will consider whatever it is she comes up with.” She acquiesces. He nods in satisfaction and presses a warm kiss to her cheek.

“G’night Penelope.”

“Night Luke.” She watches him down the corridor, leaning on the doorframe.

“Hey, Pen?” He turns and calls out just before the stairs, she’s about to shut the door but stops to look at him, “If you’d ever consider a do-over on dinner…” he shrugs casually, but there’s a tightness in the way he holds the handrail, “might be a nice idea?” It might be the wine, but she can’t help the smile that breaks out across her face. 

“I’ll think about it, newbie.” He laughs and bounces down the stairs, out of view.

She does think about it, it’s just there’s so much else to think about as well - Emily offers her a full time return to the BAU and she has to consider what that means for everything else she’s worked on for the last three years. Also, if she goes back to the BAU, does that mean dinner with Luke needs to be parked? Penelope is torn, even on her first day back - which should be a happy occasion - she’s got Luke in the back of her mind. The situation with Tyler had forced her to confront her feelings for him, he was an open book - his disappointment when he’d found out about Tyler, supporting her after the shooting - regardless of how he felt… she’d seen every emotion cross his face and it only made her feel worse that she’d brushed his feelings aside for so long. Of course she liked him. She loved him, just as she did the others. More, maybe? Emily senses her distraction,

“Hey, you ok?”

“Yeah! Yes, I’m fine. Just weird being back, that’s all.” “Good weird?”

“Oh, sure. Sure!” Her eyes remain on Luke down in the bullpen.

“Something you want to talk about?”

“He asked me out again.” She says quickly, quietly. “Well, kind of. He said a do-over might be a good idea? Is that the same thing?” Emily can’t stop the corner of her mouth from twitching up, a half hidden smile.

“Yes, it’s the same thing. And yes, it would be a good idea I think, for both of you.”

“Really?” Penelope can’t help but feel a little incredulous.

“Really! I know we didn’t get a chance to debrief after your date,” Penelope rolls her eyes, of course Emily would refer to a post-date girl talk as a debrief, “but I think you both got so caught up in nerves that you forgot the most important part,”

“Which is?”

“That you’re already friends. That you’ve known each other for so, so long, been there for each other and supported each other. You already have a natural shorthand with each other, you already know so much about each other. The date was never to determine chemistry, Penelope, but I think you both forgot that?” Penelope thinks over Emily’s words. Thinks back three long years ago when she’d been on her best behavior, made sure she didn’t drink too much, didn’t laugh too loudly or speak too fast… when she’d stripped back her personality to its bare bones. When she wasn’t actually being herself.

“Oh my god.” She whispered. 

“There it is.” Emily muttered, mostly to herself. Penelope was on her feet in an instant, smoothing out her dress and hurrying to the door. She navigated the stairs carefully in her heels and marched to Luke’s desk where he was on the phone. She stood and waited, toes tapping softly on the carpet, her fingertips beating the same pattern on her crossed arms. He acknowledged her with an easy smile and… carried on talking. Eventually, she gave up and turned to perch on the edge of his desk. He eyed her curiously and covered the receiver with one hand,

“Shall I come and find you?” He whispered. She shook her head, determined to wait. He appeared to get the message and she got the sense that the call was wrapping up. The second the phone was placed back in the cradle, she gripped his hand and pulled him to his feet, dragging him out of the bullpen and down the corridor to her office. He closed the door carefully behind him and watched her pacing the room, “everything ok?” he asked softly, “first day blues?”

“I wasn’t myself.” She admitted at last. “On our date, I was…”

“Quiet. I didn’t get to hear your laugh. Your real one,” he adds. “You talked like we’d never met before.” 

“You knew?”

“Of course I did. I figured you were nervous, I know I was.” Her pacing slows so he takes a couple of steps closer, “You weren’t my -,” he stops, “you weren’t yourself.”

“What were you going to say?” She whispers, “were you going to say my Penelope?” He nods. He never lies to her, she knows that. 

“Look, I never meant to fall in love with you, I just did, and I know that you don’t feel the same -”

“You love me?” He laughs,

“Penelope, baby I’ve been in love with you for years. Years! And, that’s ok. It’s ok if you don’t return it.” He’s smiling, so calm, so at peace with his love that it takes her breath away. She stops. For once, she shuts down her brain, and she just stops everything. She does what she should have never stopped doing, and she listens for her heart and her gut to guide her.

“I love you.” It’s barely a breath, barely above a whisper and it’s aimed at the government issue carpet under her feet, but suddenly, she knows. “I love you.” She looks up at him, he’s still smiling.

“Yeah?” She nods, closing the small distance between them and reaching up to press a small, chaste kiss to his lips. His arms circle her waist, bringing her even closer and holding her steady. He kisses her back, their lips slotting together perfectly. There’s the tiniest whimper as he brushes his tongue against hers and he chases the sound, determined to hear it again. When they step apart, barely apart, breathless, she smiles shyly.

“I should have just done that three years ago.” She admits.

“Would have saved a lot of time.” He agrees with a laugh.

FIN

[veryblushyswitch]

Don’t know what’s happening but I’ve been so motivated when it comes to hcs and fics-

Like I’ve been spewing out stuff a lot this past week and I’m almost done with my If You Told Them You Liked Tickling part two for Ted Lasso! Also just wanted to thank everyone for all the support with the stuff I write I love you guys 💖

[believemetheodore]

Northern Attitude pt. 5 (complete)

Ted Lasso x Rebecca Welton

Divorce is hard. it doesn't matter if you're the one who got left, or you're the one doing the leaving. When an unexpected blizzard puts a dangerous twist in Ted's hiking adventures he's rescued by an axe-wielding, lumber-chopping, blonde angel. Oh, and there's only one bed.

Warnings: divorce mentions, mentions of Ted's dad, mentions of Rebecca's dad, implied sex, let me know if you want me to add anything.

Fic navigation

Ted works on instinct more than thought with Rebecca. He feels free as they fall into bed together again. He can't say he's entirely sure about what he's doing, but he's positive that if this is the last time he gets to hold her like this he's going to remember it. Determined to live this moment in such a way that it won't ever feel like a loss. 

A part of him whispers at the back of his mind, scratching at the door and hoping to squirm its way into his conscious mind. A fear of loss, a fear of being too much. He’s terrified by how much he wants her.

Whatever happens, he won't allow regret or grief to touch it; he won’t let his fears taint this memory. He’s moving forward. He’s doing better. For himself-- for Rebecca too. She deserves better than she’s been given. She deserves, attention, support, love, and affection undivided and without conditions; and if this slice of time is all he has to give her that? He’ll be damned if she receives anything less. 

In the morning they aren't much more than a tangle of limbs. His mind is awake but his body is tired and entirely comfortable being held hostage by Rebecca's arms and legs. Ted’s eyes follow the paths of Raindrops sliding down the window, silently refereeing races between them. He keeps score of their wins and losses, drawing invisible tally marks across the skin of her back. She burrows further, under the covers, and impossibly closer to him. Blindly seeking heat in her sleep. 

He measures his pulse, convinced that his heart might leap right out of his chest. He calms his own breathing, syncing it with Rebecca’s deep, slow, inhales and exhales. The memory of the tide lapping at the sand during trips to the beach fills his mind, he hears his own laughter, Henry’s face bright with a joy that only children can manage to carry. 

In his mind, he counts the shells they collected that day, the same way the two of them count sheep to fall asleep. And somewhere in that inventory, Ted finds his eyes drifting shut again. 

Her fingertips tickle, brushing nonsensical shapes and letters across his chest and collarbones. Her lips feather light in their mission to scatter kisses. Ted doesn't bother to stop his growing smile, how could he in this private bubble of incandescent freedom. 

His left hand catches hers, halting its journey south. He swears he feels her pouting, but she laughs when he takes his turn doling out kisses, starting with the pads of her captured fingers. A gentle scratch of his mustache across her skin results in barely contain giggles from Rebecca. Ted revels in her amusement. Honoured to be privy to so many parts of her personhood; having seen her chop and lug wood, care for him so diligently when he was only an injured stranger, and now melt against his side.

“I have a son,” he blurts out.

It's not a confession. It wasn't a secret. But the words feel like they've shaken something. Shifted the tide. Four words that carry with them all his hopes and dreams, and all his biggest fears. A Pandora's box sorta situation. 

“I have a goddaughter,” Rebecca says, she smiles but Ted can see the complexity of something more in her eyes, the urge to say more lingering on her tongue. He wants to listen.  

“What's her name?” Ted ventures when the silence between them threatens to deafen.

“Nora. She'll be thirteen this year,” Rebecca answers without hesitation, “what's your son’s name?”

“Henry. He just turned nine,” Ted's smile grows again, and he rolls over to face Rebecca, “he's getting so big--sometimes I worry I'm going to blink and he'll be off to college. And while I'm sure he's going to do great things, I wish I could keep him a kid forever”.

There's what looks to be a pinch of hurt across Rebecca's face, but she takes a deep breath, and Ted can feel her long limbs stretching out beneath the sheets. It reminds him of a lion puffing up its main, an attempt to appear bigger, more confident. He decides that the silent pep talk suits her. She's definitely a lion. 

“I only managed to get reacquainted with Nora last year,” Rebecca explains, “she was six the last time I saw her-- I let Rupert isolate me, and then I isolated myself further. It wasn't fair to my friend Sassy. It certainly wasn't fair to Nora”.

“Doesn't sound like it was very fair to you either,” Ted all but whispers.

Ted’s learned to realize that Rebecca is far harder on herself than she is on anyone else. He can see it in the way she takes on half the blame for emotional aches and pains he’s sure are only Rupert’s. He wonders who taught her to bare that blame. 

Rebecca’s silence feels like enough of a response to his statement; proof that there’s more than what meets the eye when it comes to the psyche of the woman in front of him. Without words, he understands why she seems to stuff it all away behind walls and fences, but he feels them crumbling when she lets her eyes meet his again. 

“For what it’s worth,” Ted speaks, his fingers resuming their invisible artwork up, and down her spine, “I’d bet you’re a fantastic godmother. And I’m still holding out hope that you might be a magical one at that.”

She laughs, so he continues, “How neat would that be if this whole time you’ve been out in the woods doing fairy-godmother things? Turning chipmunks into coachmen, and pinecones into carriages?” The sound is infectious, and his own chuckles start as just a smirk growing as loud and as silly as hers by the time he’s run out of fairy-godmother activities to add to the ridiculous list of a skills. 

The passing of two days feels like two hours, and Ted holds off until the last possible minute to say his goodbyes. He knows the roads will be dark for his drive home, but he couldn’t care less. Sunset rests at the top of the trees and they stand leaning against his car, in the gravel parkinglot. 

“You should text me,” Rebecca says, pulling her flannel jacket closer around her. “I thought you didn’t get cell reception out here?” “We got cell towers put in. Turns out campers have a habit of falling off trails, and getting lost. If they have a signal it’s easier to get help… and hopefully, it makes the quiet seasons less lonely for us who live here year-round”. 

“I feel like you might be flirtin’ with me”. 

“And so what if I am?” “You might regret it. I can be quite the texter-- might call and chat your ear off as well,” Ted shrugs his cheeks aching from smiling. “I’ve had worse company,” she smirks, “text me anytime”. 

He kisses her before he leaves, and the feel of her hand on his cheek lingers, and his phone feels like it’s burning a hole in his pocket with the urge to text her as soon as he gets to his first rest stop. 

At home, his bed feels too big. Too empty. Too cold. He still hasn’t texted her, and he decides to wait until the morning. He knows she was genuine in her invitation to message her anytime, but the fear of being too much still sticks in his throat. His chest feels tight, and he wills his eyes shut, convincing himself to count sheep for another night. 

Ted remembers believing that time moved faster when he was asleep. Six years old and bundled up in his coziest Christmas pyjamas, asking to be tucked into bed at 4:00 in the afternoon so that Christmas morning would come quicker. He wishes now that he’d been correct in his childhood reasoning, that shutting his eyes tonight might bring the next time he could see Rebecca any closer. 

His phone lights up on the nightstand. Goodnight, Ted. I hope you got home safe. 💜

The last few weeks of spring bring late-night conversations, and daily good-morning texts. He sends puns, and pictures of some of the art Henry makes at school. She shows him what she’s made for dinner and daily updates about the nest of baby bunnies near her cabin. He listens to her plans for the park’s summer programming and supports her new tree planting initiative, volunteering himself and Henry to plant saplings in the summertime. Nora comes to visit her and is happy to be put to work chopping wood, and scouting with her godmother. 

The summer sun is hot and leaves Ted’s cheeks, and shoulders tinted pink. The lake is a refreshing break after a long hike, and Henry insists on learning how to swim on this trip. Rebecca cheers from the narrow pebbled beach, her wide-brimmed hat protecting her from the light; and she’s positively glowing in her tank top and denim shorts. 

“I’m gonna teach you how to swim the same way my dad taught me, alright kiddo?” Henry nods eagerly, holding tight to his father’s arm. 

The water is shallow enough for Ted to stand, and deep enough for Henry to learn to kick and puddle. With the support of Ted’s arms under his chest and belly Henry gets used to going through the motions and gets comfortable floating. 

“Do you trust me?”Ted asks. 

“Of course,” Henry says and Ted slowly lowers his arms until the boy is swimming entirely on his own. 

“Dad, I’m doing it! Dad look!” Henry shouts swimming a lap around Ted. “I see ya bud! I see you,” Ted promises as Rebecca films the moment for him to keep forever. 

The fall rolls in heavy, all dark clouds and rainfall, the cold seeping in. September feels like a punch to the gut. 

He tells her about his father. About the day he lost him, the gap in his heart he’s never been able to fill back in, and the shattering sound he’ll never be able to forget. Rebecca tells him about her father, and the day she caught him cheating on her mother. She tells him about the constant suspicion she’s harboured since that night, and the anger she wishes she could shake. 

They talk about the odds, how the same date could’ve been so life-altering for both of them, albeit in different ways; what are the odds they found each other? They fall asleep miles apart, sharing their beds with cellphones propped up on pillows, the sound of the other’s breathing lulling them to sleep. 

November comes with a new wave of daily autumnal-themed puns from Ted. 

He boasts about his ma’s pumpkin pie and Rebecca sends photos of the trees changing colours.

“My work contract is expiring soon,” Ted tells her one night. “Oh, do you have the option to renew?” “I do. But I’m not sure I want to. I’m thinking about taking some time off. Look for something new”. “That sounds lovely. Are you going to travel?” Rebecca asks. “Sorta. There’s this park I’ve grown quite fond of, I was going to inquire about renting a cabin…You don’t know anyone who might have a place I can crash at do ya?” 

“I might know a place,” she teases.

“What did the acorn say to the ground?” Ted asks, his arms winding around her while she makes her morning tea. “What are you on about?” she’s still half asleep, and he buries his face against the side of her neck, leaving a kiss behind. 

“I’m falling for you”. 

Ted watches her set down her mug, turning to just stare at him. Silent. Blinking. And then, “Oh my god! You arse! Of course, you'd be the first to say I love you with some folksy little pun!” She smiles despite herself, his face held in both her hands, “you're incorrigible!” 

He hears the swing of her axe before he sees her. The swoosh of air before the echoed thud as it collides with the tree trunk. The tree she’s picked out is perfect. A smidge under six feet, with full brunches. The best Christmas tree he’s ever seen, though Henry would remind him that he’s prone to saying that about every Christmas tree they’ve ever had. 

“Can I help?” He asks as he gets closer. She pauses, lowering the axe and stretching her back, “I’m just about done here. But you could make me a cup of tea”. She grins, accepting his kiss. 

“That, I can absolutely manage,” Ted promises before adding, “I made you biscuits”. “I thought you were waiting for Henry to get here?” “Ah, but those will be Christmas biscuits”. “And the ones you made today-- on Christmas eve, they aren’t?” “Nope!” Her brows furrow, as she tries to understand him, “What are they then?” “These? These are ‘just because’ biscuits,” he shrugs. She can’t help her smile at his antics, “Just because?” “Just because I love you”.

[fickle-tiction]

hi, I love you!! do you feel inspired in general to write ted lasso fics!!!! because!!! you and rosie are giving me heart palpitations!! IF SO and if you're accepting prompts, are there certain characters or w/e that you'd be more willing to write than others? I have approximately 4594853 ideas but want to make sure any requests are also tailored to your interests, if you're open to TL prompts!! ❤️_❤️

Oh my godddddd i love you too!

I want to say yes SO BAD because Ted lasso is my everything right now (well. Tes Lasso and my 100th rewatch of New Girl) but I know I'm never actually going to get around to writing it because I have a bad case of brain rot. I've been stuck on 3 WIPs for months now:/ you can always send some in, but again they'll probably never get written because I am a human pile of garbage at the moment. BUT Roy getting tickles from just about anyone (*cough*Keeley*cough*) would be my bread and butter tbh. I'm not crazy about group tickles, like the whole team going after someone. But I'd devour any head cannons or ideas you wanted to send 🥹

[lemoncupcake]

that's so cute!! and your christmas sounds so nice :D we also have dinner with family (grandma, aunts & uncles, etc) on the 24th and then on the 25th we go to my grandma on my dad's side of the family and have dinner again :))

what are your favorite taylor swift lyrics? (i forgot to say last time by the way, but 'right where you left me' being your no 1 song is so valid!!) do you associate any songs with characters or ships?

and who are your current blorbos?

x - secret santa

yours sounds nice too! we have very similar christmases haha

oh damn. that's a hard question. so, all of right where you left me, as you can imagine (and good for you for having good enough taste to realise it's Very Valid lol). it's not only my fave taylor swift song rn, but also my fave song point blank. i can't even tell you why i like it so much, i just do. like, the whole song just tickles something in my brain, i can't explain. some other taylor swift lyrics i like, under the cut bc i have no moderation:

"i knew you / leavin' like a father / running like water"; "how long will it be cute, all this cryin' in my room? / when you can't blame it on my youth / and roll your eyes with affection"; "salt streams out my eyes and into my ears / every single thing i touch becomes sick with sadness / 'cause it's all over now, all out to sea"; "oh, goddamn / my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand / taking mine, but it's been promised to another"; "i'd kiss you as the lights went out / swaying as the room burned down / i'd hold you as the water rushes in"; "the drought was the very worst / when the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst"; "who could ever leave me, darling / but who could stay?"; "and you can't see me wanting you the way you want her / but you are everything to me"; "and it took you five whole minutes / to pack us up and leave me with it / holdin' all this love out here in the hall"; "could've loved you all my life if you hadn't lеft me waiting in the cold".

i do associate some songs with specific characters or ships, but the great thing about me (sarcastic btw) is that even when a song i'm obsessed with doesn't line up with any characters or ships, i just make up au fics to think about that fit those songs! lol anyways, here are songs that actually fit imo, even without me having to think up aus: olicity + dancing with your ghost by sasha sloan, olicity + i think he knows by taylor swift, olicity + the other side by ruelle, olicity + wildest dreams by taylor swift, oliver + i'll be good by jaymes young, malec + i get to love you by ruelle, izzy + soldier by fleurie, shirbert + invisible string by taylor swift, delena + in my veins by andrew belle, brio + you know me too well by nothing but thieves, brio + love and war by fleurie, kanthony + let it all go by birdy & rhodes.

my current blorbos: felicity smoak from arrow, alec & izzy lightwood from shadowhunters, kate sharma from bridgerton, beth boland from good girls. other characters i love from other shows, in case you don’t like any of my blorbos (i don’t get why you wouldn’t, but ya know, some people don’t have taste lol): amy santiago from b99, rebecca welton from ted lasso, eleanor shellstrop from tgp, alina starkov from sab, anne shirley from anne, annie edison from community, lorelai gilmore from gilmore girls, kate bishop from hawkeye.

[trialbystory]

Favorite color: Indigo & Gold

Favorite flavors: Cola, Orange, Apple

Favorite music: Symphonic/Power Metal ( Within Temptation, Blind Guardian, Sabaton, etc), Classic Rock (Rush, ACDC, & Led Zeppelin in particular), Sea Shanties (mainly The Longest Johns)

Favorite movie: the 2008 live-action Speed Racer

Favorite series: Bakuman, Leverage(including Leverage: Redemption), Wednesday, RWBY, Ted Lasso. And branching into print media Megatokyo, Wheel of Time, Circle of Magic, and Locked Tomb

Last song: Say My Name by Alex Brightman & Sophia Anne Caruso from Beetlejuice (The musical, the musical, the musical)

Last series: Last series I watched an episode from was Heels, last series I finished a season of was either Ted Lasso or RWBY.

Last movie: I don't actually watch too many movies, so I think it was technically the virtual watch party I had with some friends for Rocky Horror Picture Show just before Halloween (or I've possibly watched my bootleg copy of Beetlejuice the musical since then, Desert Bus always makes November kind of a blur)

Currently reading: Warbreaker by Brandon Sanderson, also on my third pass of The Locked Tomb series while I wait for book 4 to come out

Currently watching: Deciding on starting a rewatch between Leverage, Bakuman, and Code Geass

Currently working on: Spirit of Competition's next chapter, a 5-part WhiteRose story I've been (very) slowly picking at that will be called The Hammer & Anvil Song, and early/planning stages for an untitled DWR fantasy-set story, an untitled Weiss/Ilia/Cinder (I think I'm gonna calll the ship Prismatic Blizzard since I haven't seen an established name) fic based around magic and/or alchemy, and a Wenclair fic vaguely inspired by the Locked Tomb but not a 1for1 AU like SoC is for Arcade Spirits. Oh, and I'm crocheting an Eeyore scarf for my mom for winter holidays. I'm supposed to tag people. Tagging people makes me feel awkward. How 'bout you just take a swing at this if it tickles your fancy. I definitely won't use it to farm new music/book/fic recommendations to add to the relevant TBR piles.

GETTING TO KNOW YOU — answer the questions below, then tag nine others that you would like to know better.

TAGGED BY : @lemusegallery

TAGGING: @asexxxualauthor @freeusemuses @bxrninglegends @royleteas @shichishi-chii @gytech @tokufan400 @firestormmaidenanddragon @raunchyremnant

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑(𝐒): Violet, Crimson, Emerald

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑(𝐒): depends on what the thing is but generally: chocolate, Cherry, and Green Apple

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂: mostly cinematic orchestral music, jrock, metal, celtic

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄(𝐒): Star Wars (I-VI), LOTR, some Batman movies, MCU (Until Endgame), The Godfathers I-II, Harry Potter movies, Ip Man (1-4), Mel Brooks movies.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: Avatar TLA/LOK, BBC's Merlin, Naruto, Fairy Tail, One Piece, Bleach, Bkue Exorcist, FMA:B, Demon Slayer, Fate, Scrubs, plus many more

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: Day of Fate cover by Gladius

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: How I met your Mother

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄: Captain America: the First Avenger

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆: nothing (I don't do much reading)

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆: Phineas & Ferb

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍: Muse and Au information.

[rosiesramblings]

Attitude Adjustment

Fandom: Ted Lasso

WC: 1.3k

A/N: Hi! It's been a minute! I hope you enjoy this RoyJamieKeeley tickle fic - can be read as platonic or romantic. Prompted by an anon who asked to see Roy and Keeley wreck Jamie. Enjoy!

That saying about waking up on the wrong side of the bed was fucking stupid, Jamie thought to himself as he grouchily sucked at his morning protein shake through a stupid plastic straw. Was probably going to end up floating in the ocean, killing a baby sea turtle or some shit. The straw, not the saying. It was too fucking early for this.

“Oi,” Roy said, nudging Jamie’s foot with his own, startling Jamie out of glaring into his shake. “You’ve been a right fucking brat all morning. What the hell is your problem?”

“Maybe you’re my problem, grandad,” Jamie bit back waspishly.

Roy raised an eyebrow, taken aback. “Jesus, fucking sorry for fucking caring.”

And now Jamie was pissed at himself. Roy hadn’t done anything wrong, and Jamie still managed to snap at him. He really was a fucking prick.

Jamie turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen, figuring that removing himself from the presence of another human was probably for the best. He flopped down on Keeley’s giant fluffy couch and slurped obnoxiously at his protein shake.

A few minutes later, Keeley herself came traipsing down the stairs. Her lips quirked up as she took in the scene in her living room.

“You better have taken a shower before laying on my nice couch,” Keeley warned with a smile. “I don’t want it smelling like five-day-old footballer feet.”

“Fuck off, I fucking showered already,” Jamie grumbled.

Keeley arched an eyebrow and cut him a look that made Jamie squirm, but she didn’t answer him back. Instead, she walked into the kitchen, where Jamie could hear her talk in low tones to Roy.

That pissed him off even more. Probably talking about him behind his back, Jamie thought sourly. Commiserating on what a jackass he’d been acting. Well, fuck them. Jamie was allowed to have bad days too. He wasn’t fucking Mother Theresa.

His downward thought-spiral was rudely interrupted when Roy and Keeley plopped down on either side of him. Keeley threw a leg over him so that he couldn’t get up.

“What the fuck?” Jamie asked, squirming like an angry worm.

“When’s the last time you had a proper cuddle, Jay?” Keeley asked sweetly, pushing Jamie over into Roy.

“A prop - I don’t need a fucking cuddle,” Jamie hissed as Roy brought his arms up to circle Jamie’s chest. 

“Course not, babe,” Keeley said. “I’m sure the lack of recent physical contact has absolutely fuck all to do with you being such an arsehole today.”

“It doesn’t.” Jamie insisted, still trying to maneuver out of their holds. In response, Roy held him tighter, and Keeley leaned down to rest her head over his heart. 

And oh. That was pretty nice. 

Jamie stopped squirming.

“There we go,” Keeley cooed, making Jamie’s ears go red. 

“Fucking finally,” Roy muttered as Jamie slowly relaxed into him. Jamie let out a little growl, but didn’t otherwise protest.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that. A Roy-Jamie-Keeley sandwich. Roy’s arms strong around Jamie, making him feel safe but not trapped. Keeley acting as Jamie’s personal weighted blanket. At some point, Keeley brought a hand up to run her fingers through his hair, which made Jamie go boneless. He was practically half asleep the next time Keeley spoke.

“Now that you’re no longer in danger of biting our heads off,” Keeley said. “I think we should do something about the attitude from this morning.”

“I agree,” Roy rumbled from behind Jamie.

Jamie sighed and hung his head. “‘M sorry I acted like a twat this morning. Made a right tit of myself.”

“Yeah, you did,” Roy said mildly. 

“And so we figure a retroactive attitude adjustment couldn’t hurt,” Keeley said, mischief creeping into her voice.

“Retro-what?” was all Jamie was able to get out before Roy’s fingers dug into his rib cage.

Jamie shrieked and arched his back, instantly 100% awake. “Shihihihihihihihiit!”

Keeley giggled and fluttered her nails across his tummy. “I think this still counts as physical contact, right Roy?”

Roy growled, but Jamie and Keeley could hear the smile in his voice. “Brat deserves it, I’ve had to put up with his grumpy arse since four this morning.”

“All of Richmond thanks you for your service,” Keeley said, mock-serious.

Roy spidered a hand down Jamie’s side to squeeze at his hips. Jamie wailed, drumming his heels on Keeley’s soft cushions. “What’s wrong, Tartt? Ticklish or something?” Roy growled.

Jamie could only laugh.

“Wanna see something that really gets him?” Keeley asked. “Used to go bonkers when I’d do this after getting my nails done.”

At Keeley’s words, Jamie’s eyes widened and he started babbling. “Nohohoho, ‘m sohohohorry! ‘M sohohorry, ‘m sohohohorry, pleheehehehease, Keheheeleh, not that.”

“Don’t worry, he loves it,” Keeley grinned. And hey, she didn’t have to expose him like that. “Help me get his shirt over his head.”

Between the two of them, Roy and Keeley maneuvered Jamie’s shirt so that it was bunched around his elbows, leaving Jamie's upper body dangerously exposed. He shook his head back and forth, giggling as Keeley started wiggling her fingers.

“Ready, JJ?” Keeley teased.

“Nohohhohohoho!” Jamie snickered.

“Too bad,” Keeley said as she oh-so-lightly fluttered her nails up and down the insides of his biceps.

Jamie, to borrow Keeley’s phrase, went bonkers. He went silent for a minute, like his system was rebooting. Then, it was like he came back online all at once. He let out a scream-laugh that had Roy snorting, and his struggling doubled.

“‘M SORRY ‘M SOHORRY ‘M SOHOHOHOHOHORRY,” Jamie cried, seemingly stuck on the one phrase he thought would get them to stop, or at least move spots, Jesus Christ.

“Damn, almost makes me feel fucking bad for him,” Roy called over his laughter. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

After a few minutes, Keeley lowered her fingers to scribble at Jamie’s underarms, which was still bad but not quite as torturous as his biceps. Roy held his arms up with one hand and spidered his other hand across Jamie’s tummy. Jamie felt Roy’s chest expand as he took a breath, and barely had time to realize what that meant before he felt Roy blow a raspberry on the back of his neck.

“ROHOHOHOHOHOHOY,” Jamie cackled, goosebumps popping up on his skin from Roy’s horrible, horrible stubble. “YOHOHOHOU NEHEHEHEED TO SHAHAHAHAVE.”

“Oh, do I?” Roy asked, purposefully rubbing his face across the sensitive skin of Jamie’s neck.

“FUHUHUHUHUCK YOU,” Jamie belly laughed, tears running down his face. 

“You going to stop being a prick?” Roy asked, one finger finding Jamie’s belly button and making him yelp between laughter.

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHES,” Jamie cackled.

“Are you sorry for snapping at us this morning?” Keeley asked, drilling into his upper ribs.

“SOHOHOHO SOHOHOHORRY!” Jamie laughed desperately.

“Alright, alright. Let’s not kill him, Keels,” Roy said, stopping his assault and helping tug Jamie’s shirt back into place.

“Softie,” Keeley scoffed, but she stopped ticking as well, brushing Jamie’s disheveled hair back from his face. “You alright, Jay?”

“Yeheheheah,” Jamie said, a tired smile painted across his face.

As Jamie’s laughter slowed to soft giggles, Roy rested his palm on Jamie’s tummy and rubbed slow, calming circles, careful to use enough pressure not to tickle. Jamie giggled out a contented sigh.

“Better not fucking fall asleep on me, Tartt,” Roy growled softly. Jamie and Keeley shared a smile before Jamie let his eyes slip closed, both of them knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Roy wouldn’t move a muscle if Jamie took a nap on him.

A few moments later, Roy proved them right.

[hacash]

I’m waist-deep in other fic ideas, but I love the idea of one of the team (probably colin, unless stated otherwise all my character fics are colin fics) actually having always known he was attracted to men but realising mid-season that he actually fancies women too and may well be bi, and oh Huh, that’s definitely a New Thing

absolutely zero biphobia or angst, just colin melodramatically flopping around on the sofa going ‘for fuck’s sake, I already went through one sexual awakening and subsequent coming out, now I have to deal with all that fucking faff all over again and in my mid-twenties too? too much effort, can’t be bothered’ while isaac pats him on the head and makes copious cups of tea

[belmottetower]

Can I just say you're my favourite writer for the Ted Lasso fandom?? 😊🥰 Every time I see your name pop up in my email it's a delight!

I have a headcanon I wanna run by you if you'll indulge me for a moment, I'm very interested in your perspective on it 👀👀.

The reason Jamie gives for not getting a secret Santa gift doesn't make sense to me, like I could see an initial confusion if he'd never heard of it before but he should have known that he was expected to do SOMETHING, and season 2 Jamie would've asked someone if he didn't know what he was supposed to do (I love that season 2 Jamie actually asks for help, insert "y'know what that is? Growth" meme here 😭❤️). BUT I think the reason he gives is probably what he thinks other people would accept as a reason that makes sense for him, and he's just using it as a smoke screen! My personal headcanon is that he thought Santa would STAY SECRET and he didn't realize they would be giving their gifts all publicly and he's embarrassed for people to know what gift he brought. Not sure what gift it would've been, but with everyone else gifting booze I could see him being embarrassed about literally anything that wasn't booze 🤔. No one else is really talking about this but that scene just doesn't settle right in my brain. Do you have any thoughts on what gift he may have purchased in this version of events? Or do you have a different idea of what was happening there?

Sorry for the monster ask lol but I love how you write Jamie's thought process! (I know this isn't in the form of a prompt, but if you answered in mini fic format I would be positively tickled!!)

Jamie knows what Secret Santa is, of course he does. It’s just, well. He hadn’t realised they’d be giving the gifts out publicly, and now his feels way too personal. Nearly everyone else so far has handed over a bottle of booze. Moe had knitted a scarf, sure, and Colin had seemed pleased by it, but there had still been a moment of “is this weird” before he’d hugged Moe and Jamie doesn’t want that for him.

The day after the Dubai Air protest all the main papers had carried photos of their protest, mostly in the Sports section, but the Guardian had actually had it on their front page. Jamie had seen it while out buying a coffee the next day and he’d bought a copy. It had seemed important, a reminder of him doing the right thing, supporting his teammate in something that meant a lot to him.

And then he’d gotten Sam in the Secret Santa and it had seemed perfect. He’d had the front page properly framed - after checking that the Guardian was the kind of paper Sam might agree with politically - and wrapped it nicely. 

But now, well, it feels too personal to give out in front of the rest of the team. What if they think it’s weird or cheap of him? So it’s a relief when Ted finds him a bottle of whisky and they all help him wrap it. He knows they think he’s an idiot for not knowing what Secret Santa is, but better than any awkwardness in front of the team.

Sam seems chuffed by the alcohol anyway, and he sticks the bow that Keeley had added at the end to the top of his head, so Jamie makes it through without any embarrassment. At the end he hangs back and waits for the room to empty out before digging his original gift out of his cubby and tucking it into Sam’s. He doesn’t want it to go to waste, and he’s pretty sure Sam won’t guess it’s from Jamie. That done he heads out to his car ready for the drive up to Manchester and Christmas with his mum. He’s definitely gone overboard with her gifts, but she’s used to that by now, barely puts up a token protest or anything.

[ticklishpeter]

introduction !! ♡

hi, all !!  i figured that i should officially make one of these so here i am !! 

my name is laur, i’m 25 years old, and i use they/she pronouns !  i am a lee-leaning switch when it comes to tickling ( even though i hate to admit it bc i’m a Top kufgjdh ) and i adore thinking about my fav characters being ticklish / tickled <333 🥺

if i don’t know you v well, i DO NOT want any random messages about personal tickles / asking for pics / teases / nsfw etc but i totally encourage messages from all ppl about sharing headcanons / fics / just chatting n being APPROPRIATE buddies !! if you’re ever feeling unsure about anything, pls feel free to message me about it; it’s totally fine ! ♡

my fandoms:

the marvel cinematic universe ( including runaways + xmen ! )

the umbrella academy

schitt’s creek

sex education

the office

ted lasso

community

new girl

how to get away with murder

american horror story

— my fics!

[quillerqueen]

Not a Universe Goes By (9/31)

(a series of fic(let)s for The Ted Lasso AU-gust challenge) #9: Reboot / Fresh Start

If this ain't some elaborate prank, then it might actually be Ted's worst nightmare yet.

He woke up as usual, got dressed to the soundtrack of Heavy Hater ("he'll never let it go, believe it"), and weaved through the usual maze of morning traffic and commuters, knocking on the familiar door just in time for Biscuits with the Boss.

Except the box he fished out of his messenger bag was blue, the biscuits were raisin cookies, and the person behind Rebecca's desk wasn't Rebecca at all.

Becky Badleigham was her name, and she was a petite brunette who disliked tea and the Spice Girls, and had not an iota of humour or the teensiest fondness of eyerolls or sarcasm.

When he bounded downstairs halfway to a panic attack, he found a beardless hipster best friend talking the kitman's ear off, a surly goth PR manager who barely acknowledged him, and someone who sure looked like a Roy Kent in tweed but went by Elroy Essex and sounded like a pretentious version of Shakespeare without all the fun bits.

Then Ted walked out onto the pitch and suffered a small stroke because all his players seemed to be strange inverted versions of themselves and nothing made sense anymore.

It's like he'd slept wrong and woken up in a parallel universe. Maybe he's Led Tasso here—maybe everyone else at Nelson Road has turned into their own alter ego. Maybe he hates it—maybe for the first time in a long time, he doesn't want to bounce back or look for positives.

He just wants his family back.

"...Ted? Teeehd!" Blonde strands tickle his cheek before her lips land a soft peck there, her voice heavy with sleep as she kicks off their blanket. "We're going to be late, love—and then what will your boss say?"

"Heck, I can't wait to find out," Ted grins, happy as a clam—

—because ain't this life he's got here just goshdarn perfect?

[keeley-jones]

Oh, Shut Up and Kiss Me

My Secret Santa present for @karenvvick ! Happy Holidays, I hope you like your present!

In which Richmond’s Secret Santa party turns into some mistletoe madness for Keeley and Rebecca. 

Words: 1.8k

*note: I don’t have an AO3 so I’m posting here! I’ve never written Ted Lasso fic before, but I hope you enjoy it! The main ship in here is Keeley x Rebecca but there’s some Jamie x Dani bits as well!

The air in the AFC Richmond locker room always crackled with something: tension, joy, maybe a bit of both. Rebecca Welton was used to the static charge of the place, the sparks zipping around the space after a victory or fizzing out after a loss.

But on Secret Santa day? The whole place was fucking electric.

Every player was grinning from ear to ear. Laughter echoed off the walls, loud and warm. The smell of champagne and every player’s cologne tickled the noses of everyone in the building. Isaac sat in the center of the room in his velvet Santa suit, leading the gift exchange with his usual confidence and charisma. So far, the event had ran smoother than the Themes; from Sam gifting Roy a faux-leather jacket (“Better for the environment!”) to Jamie gifting Sam a custom, bright-green pair of Jordans, to Jan giving Colin enough packs of Guinness to last him until Easter, the men had all given and received perfect gifts for one another.

“Alright lads,” Issac said. “While there’s no way anyone can top the sexy sweater Bumbercatch knitted for me, we do have to keep this party going. I believe it’s Dani’s turn next.”

Dani Rojas eagerly stood up, clutching a large, beautifully wrapped rectangle in his hands. “Thanks, Captain,” he said. Dani’s dark eyes quickly scanned the room before finally landing on the gelled, slick head of Jamie Tartt. Dani’s grin doubled in size as he walked over to his teammate. “Feliz Navidad, Jamie Tartt!”

A small smile formed on Jamie’s lips before he had a chance to stifle it. Richard and Colin scooted closer to the edge of their seats as Jamie took the gift from Dani, their hands brushing briefly. Jamie’s fingers slowly tore apart the wrapping paper, the light of the locker room reflecting off his rings, to reveal…

“A framed Rolling Stones 1976 tour poster? Signed by Mick Jagger?” Jamie cried in delight.

“You always say if we were a band and not a football team, you’d be him,” Dani replied. “So I looked all over the internet to find you something with him in it!”

The team all clamored closer together, peering over the shoulders of Jamie’s camo jacket. Jamie looked up at his teammate, his friend, his brown eyes growing softer and full of something that looked a whole lot like affection. “Thanks, Dani,” he said softly. “This is so thoughtful. Really, really sick, mate.” Jamie handed the poster to Sam, who delicately examined the signatures alongside Zoreaux.

“That’s really his autograph!” Sam hissed.

“I know!” the goalkeeper replied.

Dani stuck out his hand, expecting Jamie to just give it a quick shake, nothing more in the way of thanks. But Jamie Tartt did something he was getting very good at; surprising everyone. He pulled Dani into him, wrapping his strong arms around the taller man. Any and all distance between the two of them had vanished.

“Thank you,” Jamie whispered.

Before Dani had a chance to reply, Ted Lasso entered the room, clapping his hands together with so much force the pom-pom on the end of his Santa hat bounced against the back of his head. “Now, even for Dani Rojas, that’s a mighty big smile. I must’ve missed some present.”

“Coach, come look at this!” Sam said, and Ted joined the eager team in admiring the gift. Jamie and Dani finally broke apart, but neither one of them stopped smiling.

Rebecca looked on the event from her perch in the coaches’ office doorway with pride and, she had to admit, love. These young men felt like her family, and seeing their unfiltered happiness made her heart swell. She knew how much joy gift giving could give to someone better than anyone, and seeing how much time and thought the Greyhounds had put into each other’s presents threatened to make her mascara course down her cheeks.

“This is the only team event Roy’s ever smiled at,” a familiar, melodic voice said. Startled, Rebecca turned to see a smirking Keeley Jones leaning against the opposite side of the doorframe. She stapled her green sweater-clad arms across her chest. “Oi, did I scare you, Rebecca?” Keeley asked, concern overtaking the teasing in her voice.

Rebecca exhaled shakily. How on Earth was she supposed to admit to her best friend that, yes, she was frightened, but not by her sudden appearance? No, Rebecca was scared of a simple fact. It was embarrassing to admit. It was like being afraid of knowing the sky was blue, grass was green, and Ted loved barbeque sauce.

Rebecca was in love with Keeley. And it terrified her.

And it wasn’t like Keeley Jones was a frightening woman; quite the opposite, in fact. Keeley was everything that was good in the world. She was sunshine kissing your face when you breathed in the fresh morning air. She was the bubbles in pink champagne that tickled your throat and left their sweetness dancing across your tongue long after your glass was empty. She was the stranger who paid you a compliment, the first star you saw when you looked up at the night sky, and the most beautiful woman in the entire world.

It wasn’t like Keeley was taken. She and Roy had decided they were better off as friends, and Keeley had been thriving in her single state.

It was that Rebecca and Keeley had built such a strong, comforting friendship together over the last two years. 700 days of late night texts, gossip sessions in Rebecca’s office, shopping trips that turned into pub crawls, movie nights, and just knowing that they were each other’s person, the first one each woman wanted to tell their good news to. How could Rebecca want to shatter that by telling Keeley the truth about how she felt?

“No, you didn’t scare me,” Rebecca finally managed to say.  Keeley’s flawless eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but before she could ask whatever question was forming in her head, the team erupted into cheers. The women turned to see Higgins wheeling in a cart full of cupcakes. Coach Beard and Nate were hot on his heels, the former clutching a bottle of vodka and the latter holding an enormous bag of plastic cups.

“Holiday shots, bebee!” Coach Beard proclaimed.

“I’ll drink to that,” Roy grumbled.

The men quickly formed a semi circle around Higgins and the coaching staff, cupcakes and shots all making their way into the hands of each player.

“Wanna go to your office?” Keeley asked suddenly. “Not as much testosterone in there.”

Rebecca laughed, tilting her head to the left in an indication for Keeley to follow her. The ladies left the locker room, but the sounds of the mens’ laughter followed them all the way up the stairs. Outside of the windows, snow fell lazily, the white flakes taking their time on their descent down to Earth. The practice pitch looked as if it had been covered in powdered sugar. Rebecca plugged in the string of Christmas lights Higgins had strung up around the perimeter of the place, casting the entire room in a pink glow.

“I see you’ve finally learned how to decorate,” Keeley teased. Rebecca rolled her eyes playfully as she headed for her bar cart.

“Champagne, Keeley?” she asked.

Keeley gave her a look that said, ‘c’mon, seriously?’ Rebecca poured the sparkling liquid into two flutes. Despite how much her hands were shaking, she didn’t spill a drop. Her heart refused to stop screaming. Sirens cried out in her head, warning her. What if you tell her how you feel, and it ruins everything? Rebecca stifled the thought and the sirens as she handed Keeley the flute and settled next to her on the couch.

Richmond’s head of PR eyed the team’s owner. In the soft pink glow of the Christmas lights, Keeley looked like a miracle. Rebecca took a gulp of champagne, the bubbles popping in her throat, and before she could take another sip, Keeley moved closer to her, so close that her knee brushed Rebecca’s. The cells inside Rebecca’s bloodstream burst at the contact, fire licking at her skin. Even through the layers of Keeley’s leggings and Rebecca’s dress pants, that minuscule point of contact sent Rebecca’s pulse skyrocketing.

Keeley gulped, tearing her gaze away from her knee. Her eyes darted around the office, the space suddenly too warm. And that’s when she saw the small, leafy plant taped to the ceiling, right above her head.

“Rebecca,” she whispered, pointing a red-painted fingernail at the ceiling. “Mistletoe.”

Rebecca felt the air rush out of her lungs. She had definitely not taped that up there, but she remembered Higgins and Ted coming out of her office just a few days ago, tape in their hands and smiles on their faces. Damn them.

“Look at that,” Rebecca managed, taking a generous sip of champagne.

Keeley smirked, and the champagne pooling in Rebecca’s core suddenly turned molten. “Did you put that up there?”

“Oh, God no,” Rebecca protested, setting her now-empty flute on the table in front of them. “Mistletoe is pointless. If you really wanted to kiss someone, you would ask them yourself, not use some tacky plant to do so.”

“Oh yeah?” Keeley moved towards Rebecca. The distance between the two women was too close and too far all at once. “Go on and show me, then.”

Maybe it was the snow that swirled through the frosted air outside the glass. Maybe it was how the soft light of the room reflected the desire, the beauty in Keeley’s eyes, but before she could listen to her head, she finally listened to her heart. Rebecca kissed Keeley gently, her lips barely touching the other woman’s, but just enough to show her yes, I want you. I want this. Every atom in Rebecca’s body froze as Keeley deepened the kiss.

Keeley tasted of champagne and lipstick, and oh, how Rebecca never wanted to forget what it felt like to kiss this miracle of a woman. Sparklers shimmered in her veins and sent golden light rushing through her entire body. The atoms inside of her began moving again, colliding with her bones and her racing heart and the fireworks eclipsing any thoughts still in her brain-all but one.

Holy fucking shit, Keeley Jones is kissing me.

When the women broke apart, they touched their foreheads together, gasping for the air they’d lost in the kiss.

“Holy shit,” Rebecca whispered.

“Holy shit is right. I knew you were a good kisser,” Keeley replied.

Rebecca laughed in spite of herself, drinking in the smile that stretched across Keeley’s beautiful face. “So you’re saying you’ve thought about kissing me?”

“Oh, every fucking day,” Keeley reassured her. Rebecca flushed, but she savored the heat burning in her cheeks. She wanted so desperately to bottle this moment, to have some tangible reminder that this pink-hued, magical memory really did happen. But just kissing Keeley, just staring at the beautiful woman in front of her, that was enough for her. It would always be enough.

“Merry Christmas, gorgeous,” Keeley whispered seductively, pursing her lips out into a glossy, playful pout.

“Oh, shut up and kiss me again,” Rebecca teased. Keeley giggled, but wasted no time in fulfilling Rebecca’s wish. The snow continued to fall, the women continued to kiss one another, and all was well in Richmond that frosty, holiday night.