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#roy isn't in the picture

harunayuuka2060 · 2 months

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Che'nya: You don't have baby photos, nya? *has been hanging out with them since he went silly from a catnip* *was looking for a baby album of them*

MC: No.

Che'nya: Why? Neige was an orphan, but he still has pictures to show.

MC: Neige is beautiful. And I'm ugly.

MC: No one would be interested in taking a photo of me.

Che'nya: How about your mother, nya?

MC: ...

MC: You could say she took a photo of me once.

Che'nya: See? There's still someone-

MC: So she would recognize me and leave right away if she sees me on the street.

Che'nya: ...

Che'nya: Darn it. *takes a photo of them and sets them as his wallpaper*

MC: ...

MC: Are you going to use that to scare off someone from touching your phone?

Che'nya: No, nya! :3

Che'nya: It's so I can appreciate your cuteness every day nya! *happy grins*

MC: ...

MC: You will get nothing but nightmares.

Che'nya: Nightmares are scared of cats nya~. :3

Rook: Ami masque has found a new friend! Isn't that great, Roi du Poison?

Vil: ...

Rook: Roi du Poison?

Vil: I heard you the first time, Rook.

Rook: ...

Rook: *sly smile* Are you not liking the situation?

Vil: I am not jealous, Rook. If that's what you are trying to imply.

Rook: Non! *chuckles* I wanted to say that you might be feeling lonely.

Vil: Ha. If I wanted MC to be here, it would only take a simple text message from me.

Rook: *chuckles* Bien sûr. There's no doubt about that.

Vil: Hmph.

Vil: *looking at his unread messages*

Vil: ...

Vil: *just then, he received a reply from MC*

MC - Vil, I apologize for not replying to you. I will be at your house in less than 15 minutes.

Vil: ...

Vil - I will wait for you.

MC - Alright. See you later, Vil.

Vil: *smiles*

MC: *has arrived at Vil's house and sees him standing at the entrance, waiting for them*

MC: Vil?

Vil: You said you would arrive in less than 15 minutes.

MC: Ah, yes. I'm sorry about that. I had to bring a customer home at the last minute.

Vil: It doesn't matter. It's getting cold. We should get inside.

MC: *nods* *then faintly hears the shutter sound of a camera*

MC: *immediately turns their head to where the sound came from*

A paparazzi: !!!

A paparazzi: That ugly thing couldn't possibly hear me, right?

A paparazzi: Still, I need to move places.

MC: Good sir, do you have any legal reason why you are hiding behind the bushes?

A paparazzi: Ah- *lets out a terrified scream*

Vil: *watches MC dragged the unconscious paparazzi out of the bushes*

Vil: ...

Vil: *smiles* You've caught that paparazzi off guard.

MC: ...

MC: *holding the camera*

MC: Vil, this person has been here for a few hours now. How come you didn't notice?

Vil: No. I knew he was there all along.

MC: Huh?

Vil: It's my little punishment to you for not replying to my messages.

MC: ...

MC: Vil, you shouldn't have done that.

Vil: Why? Is it wrong for me to want you to be worried?

MC: ...

MC: I will never neglect your messages again.

Vil: Good.

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst vil #twst chenya #twst rook #twst vil and mc series 1

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brookheimer · 1 year

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such a brilliant fucking choice for the Cycle Of Abuse Show to have the primary abuser die not even halfway through the final season. i keep seeing people being like 'finally siblings banding together without logan!' as if the point of logan dying here isn't to show that it's not just his presence that ruins them but his absence too -- his sudden departure without time for closure or healing. for three seasons we've been desperate for these fucked up people to get away from their father and now they have, and everything will be worse. their father is dead, and everything is worse now. removing the abuser from the picture does not end the cycle of abuse. the death of the abuser is not a band-aid let alone a cure. the only way for the siblings to actually escape the cycle is to heal on their own terms but, both in life and now in death, logan roy has made that impossible.

#so much to fucking say. god #succession #succession spoilers #succession s4 #logan roy #100 #500 #1000

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batbusiness-schooldropout · 1 year

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Jason: Bruce used to do this thing that really pissed me off

Roy: Used to?

Jason: Shut it! Anyway he used to have this picture of Dick and me hanging in the hallway and he'd tell his dumb rich people guests "Look that's the first time Dick ever hugged Jason. Isn't just the cutest?"

Roy: And was it cute?

Jason: No! That's not what was happening in that picture at all! What happened was I had said something and Dickhead decided that he had enough of my attitude and it was time to be an only child again

Roy: So that hug?

Jason: Was Dick trying his damnest to tackle me to the ground

#batfam #just siblings being siblings #based on real events #dick grayson #jason todd #red hood #nightwing

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murderouswidowsmatter · 1 year

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It's so true to point out how important it is for Jamie's arc for him to take accountability for the leak but not enough people are talking about how he doesn't even need to apologize. Like he goes out of his way to say it's never the victim's fault when he hears about the leak. But it's clear that to him, this innocence doesn't apply to him. It's no more his fault for getting hacked that it would be Keeley's if the video had been stolen from her.

Jamie still sees himself as in the wrong, though. So much so that when he goes to apologize to Keeley he also babbles on about not believe Roy and Keeley's relationship at first. This information isn't even relevant to what happened, but he still goes out his way to mention it— correcting himself from when he said he deleted all the pictures immediately. He has to point out that he brushed off the seriousness of their relationship and was therefore irresponsible with the pictures.

Jamie now would never think they were dating to make him jealous and he's clearly embarrassed by it. Spilling this tidbit feels like he's building a case of why he is in the wrong. It's not just "I'm sorry this video of yours was stolen when I was hacked." It's "I'm absolutely at fault here because I picked a bad email password, I was too stupid to delete the emails alongside the stuff I saved from them, and I didn't believe in your relationship (nevermind that that isn't related to how the video was leaked)." Jamie, it seems, doesn't victim blame unless the victim is Jamie.

#jamies newfound willingness to be vulnerable just keeps showing us how fucked up he is #first the story about losing his virginity in sunflowers and now this #i wish keeley had been more insistent that he didnt need to apologize #but i also realize how much she needed that #ted lasso #keeley jones #jamie tartt #keeley x jamie

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royboyfanpage · 2 months

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Okay, let's talk about Ollie's experience with fatherhood.

I'm an Oliver Queen apologist forever, but I think that there's a tendency in fandom to go one of two ways- "absolutely perfect dad, no flaws whatsoever" or "evil abuser who shouldn't be within six miles of a child". This isn't an Ollie exclusive phenomenon, a lot of characters and topics do fall into that black-and-white mindset. But the thing is- Ollie doesn't have to be either extreme. Particularly with Roy, who most of the debate centres around, Ollie wasn't perfect! I think there's such a rich discussion point in terms of young Roy's relationship with Ollie, so much more than just That Panel. Because, in my interpretation, Ollie absolutely cared about him, absolutely saw him as a son, but also the idea of being a father is something that deeply terrified him. The idea that this literal child being dependent on him made it feel more real, if that makes sense. Coming to terms with the fact that he was responsible for another person's life was difficult for him, and so he put up this wall- hero and sidekick. A conceptual dynamic, one that's not based in reality. He can keep that distance between himself and Roy and decide what that means, he doesn't have to be a father because that word has so many strong connotations, but he can still express that he cares about Roy, in his own way. That's why he always calls Roy 'Speedy' even out of costume, that's why his first thought is that Roy's undercover in Snowbirds. He can focus on being a good mentor to Speedy, which will have a trickle-down effect to being a good guardian to Roy, right?

Unfortunately, kids' brains don't work like that! Especially not a kid who's already lost two fathers. Roy needed a stability in his teenage years that Ollie just wasn't able to give at that time. He didn't see "Ollie's nice to me as Speedy because he loves me and doesn't know how to show it", he saw "Ollie's nice to me as Speedy, which means I'm only good as Speedy". This, at least in my opinion, is a major factor in Roy’s later self-esteem issues. Roy’s constantly underestimating himself as a hero, constantly comparing himself to Dick, and pushing himself 24/7 to improve because he internalised the idea that if he’s good, if he’s the perfect hero, then he’ll be loveable. He can’t be bad, he can’t fail, he can’t back down because if he does, he’s nothing.

It’s absolutely not Roy’s fault, but also this doesn’t mean that Ollie’s an evil neglecting abuser, either. Even the best parents fuck up, and Ollie was by no means the best parent. He took in Roy as a sidekick, as a buddy, and then never really found a way to combine the ideas of sidekick and son. He assumed that Roy would be able to interpret meanings behind gestures, which is something that Roy seems to struggle with even into adulthood. I’ve talked about it a fair bit, Roy’s absolutely someone who relies on the explicit, but he’s also not someone who’ll ask for clarification, which has caused conflict in his relationships time and time again. And while it's something he has gotten better at as he's gotten older, a 12-18 year old Roy would absolutely not be able to read Ollie's motives.

And Ollie's fear of fatherhood isn't something exclusive to Roy, either. Sure, he'd gotten better at it by the time Connor and Mia entered the picture (speaking as an oldest child myself, we are the guinea pigs of parenting, I was my mum's sibling), he absolutely still expresses this with them. I mean, just look at his face when he finds out Connor's his son.

That's the face of a man who's just had the crushing weight of parenthood slammed down onto him again, the moment Connor stopped being an ally and started being his responsibility. He's scared, because Ollie absolutely does not see himself as a good father for someone to have. This was very much present during Roy's teenage years, but particularly since this is post-Snowbirds. Both in terms of Roy developing a drug addiction and in terms of Ollie's own initial reaction to it, he immediately spirals. And, since we've already established he does not know how to process things, he lashes out at Connor.

And as for Mia, he's definitely matured significantly by the time she comes into the picture, and compared to with Roy he's a lot more open with his feelings. However!

He still won't explicitly accept the responsibility of fatherhood! Despite acting like a father to Mia in every way through his actions, he still won't use his words! Even though in the issue following, he expresses a paternal protectiveness over her.

And I think Mia's HIV diagnosis is maybe one of the biggest examples of his distancing himself and hiding his feelings, particularly when Connor asks him how he's feeling about it.

He's so fine, so totally fine, trust him when he says he's fine, totally not freaking out. He's absolutely not terrified for his not-daughter, no way.

Ollie has this fear that if he gets too attached to his kids, he's gonna end up failing them. If he keeps a distance from them, then he can't blame himself when they get hurt. Is this good parenting? No! Absolutely not! But this is also the man who dresses up as Robin Hood and who chose to die rather than lose his arm. This is not a healthy man.

But he tries, he tries so hard, even if it's in his own way. And he recognises when he fucks up! And he tries his best to mend it later on!

He's not the best at showing his kids that he loves them, but he's so proud of Roy when he becomes Red Arrow. He comes back to life to save Connor. He stands by Mia's side when she gets diagnosed and becomes Speedy. He's not a great dad, but goddamnit he's trying to be.

In conclusion, no, Ollie is not the perfect father. He's deeply flawed, and his own emotional incompetency has been and always will be a point of conflict between him and his kids. But he's not some uncaring abuser, either. He's trying.

#oliver queen #green arrow #connor hawke #roy harper #red arrow #arsenal #speedy #mia dearden #arrowfam #dc comics

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romeulusroy · 1 year

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Being The Youngest Roy Would Include: Pt. 1

A/N: This I'd solely based on this fic, which I am in love with :) There is no gif of all four of them that isn't sad!!! 😭

Warning: addiction/addiction mention, abuse/neglect

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include: Pt. 2

You were an accident. Your siblings made jokes about it your entire life, but there was some truth to it. Logan didn't want anymore kids, he didn't want the kids he had, but you were born regardless of what he thought or wanted

Your mother had a short fling with Logan between Lady Caroline and Marcia. They were married, sure, but that didn't really mean anything, and they divorced shortly after you were born

Your siblings were already out the door by the time you came along, but they still adored you, especially as a baby/toddler

The few pictures you have of your childhood, you're surrounded by your brothers and sister, all of them wanting to hold you and play with you

They really do love you, in their own ways

Connor especially loved you. It's his favorite thing in the world to be a big brother fatherly figure to you and Ken and Shiv and Roman. He was so lonely when it was just him. Now he has you guys 💕

You grew up watching your siblings fight and argue and bicker as a means of showing their love, though Connor tried his best to show you what real love was (aka not just swearing at one another)

He didn't want you growing up the same way he had, ignored and terribly unloved. He never wants you to feel the same way he did, does

"Bitch."

"Whore."

"Shiv, Rome, not in front of y/n."

Roman took it upon himself to steer you clear of certain friends of Logan's, friends like Mo, who weren't to be trusted around children. Whenever you asked why, he'd give you some non-answer answer and tell you to get back to your blocks

"Babies play with blocks."

"Then your crayons, I don't know- whatever."

Kendall always had something sweet for you when he has a meeting with Logan. You weren't allowed sweets, not around your father, but Ken could always sneak you something. Even as you got older, and you reminded him you weren't a little kid anymore, he never forgot your favorites

"You know I'm not five anymore, right?"

"I know, I know, just take it."

Whatever kindness they showed you, it could never equate to the love of your parents, especially your father, neither of which were affectionate people

You were an angry kid. Your father wasn't exactly the most loving. In fact, you sensed that he hated you for as long as you could remember. That made you mad and disappointed in yourself, like you'd done something wrong. Like you were born wrong. So you'd lash out. You broke things, you screamed and cried, you hurt yourself in the process, you did all you could to get his attention, and still nothing worked. Nothing.

Rather, it was Shiv who held a frozen bag of peas on your bruises, who wrapped bandaids around your broken skin, and reminded you you were only hurting yourself, the two of you watching the housekeeper sweep up glass or patch up walls, whatever mess you made. She didn't like seeing you like this, knowing it only enraged your father instead of getting the response you were looking for

"Y/n, why do you keep doing this?"

"I don't know."

"There's gotta be a reason."

There were hundreds of reasons, but you didn't have the words for it yet, so you'd shrug, feeling lighter having gotten it all out

You were grounded a lot, for days at a time, your father banishing you to your room when he was sick of dealing with you. It only made you more upset. Nannies quit constantly, so a lot of the time, it was up to him to deal with your antics. Your mother, when she was home, stayed far from either of you, feigning a headache

You didn't have the words to explain all this, so you made a mess of your room. Tore things apart, broke everything in sight. If it wasn't your body that was hurting, it was the things around you. Eventually, he got rid of everything but the dresser and your bed. Everything else was bare. You'd kick and thrash and yell, but you were too afraid to leave

He didn't have to lock the door, though. All he had to do was stand in front of your door for a few minutes, not saying a word, and that was scary enough to get you to stop, at least for the time being

None of your siblings knew about this. When you were grounded, Logan never let them near you. It wouldn't be until years later that Ken or Con even suspected anything like that when you made a passing comment

He saw your out-of-control emotions as weakness. He tried to get your mother to help, blaming her family genes, but she was out of the house long before you got yourself under control. She moved on with her life, leaving you with him to go abroad, live the life of luxury with her flavor of the month. She had no interest in being your mother, deciding you'd be better off with him

One day he called you into his study. You knew you'd done bad. You'd thrown another tantrum in front of his investors, in front of friends, and that was the last straw. Tabloids were already talking about the cuts and bruises you gave to yourself, accusing Logan of abusing you. He was completely embarrassed by your behavior, your newest Nanny dragging you out before any real damage was done. Still, you knew that crossed a line. You were sick with worry. You'd only ever been in his study a handful of times, mostly sneaking in when he wasn't home.

Logan gave you the only advice you'd ever receive from him: Quiet down. It was vague and angry and not very helpful, like most of his parenting ways

Soon after that, you had your first drink. You weren't sure what it was, or why you wanted to try it, only that Roman had left it unattended and wouldn't notice, that it made your family a little bit better so why couldn't it help you?

It was the first time in a long time everything had gone quiet. This fury that sat in the middle of your chest has shrunk. You felt like you could breathe and think without wanting to explode. Without wanting to burn the world down. It didn't taste good, at all, but it helped

You figured this is what he meant. This is what he wanted. It wasn't a lot, not enough to get you drunk, but enough to quiet every mean thought in your head

After that, you found your new way to cope. The tantrums stopped. You were rewarded with your things back. Your nanny remained skeptical, but everyone else saw this is a good thing, a phase you'd grown out of. Shiv especially found relief in this, the sight of those bruises and gashes and cuts enough to make her scared what you were going to do next

Your mother believed it was the strict parenting style of Logan that straightened you out, even happier with her decision to leave you behind

From then on out, you were sneaking anything you could. From your father, your siblings, off the silver platters at parties and dinners and meetings. No one noticed when an extra glass went missing. They barely noticed your existence

Your tolerance grew the older you got, and the anger came back. This indescribable fury caused fights between you and Logan, rarely between you and your siblings. Those moments were the worst, when you couldn't bite your tongue. The alcohol could only do so much, so you turned to other things to take that last edge off

Kendall had coke, you could get weed at school, there were a surplus of pills in the bathroom cabinet. Whatever it took to quiet down, whatever it took to take that edge off, to stop acting this way, you figured it was the right thing to do

Your teens were a blur, a mass, of bad ideas and forced photo opportunities. Going to clubs until the sun came out, calling cars to pick you up, changing just in time for a family dinner to discuss shareholders or to schmooze with old friends of Logans. Always polite, always present, even if you were a million miles away

You weren't sleeping a lot, but you didn't need to. The uppers kept you awake, the downers kept your skin from crawling, the booze leveled everything out

#headcanon #succession headcanon #connor roy #connor roy x reader #connor roy headcanon #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy headcanon #shiv roy #shiv roy x reader #shiv roy headcanon #roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy headcanon #roy siblings #roy sibling reader #logan roy #logan roy headcanon #logan roy x reader

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dairy-farmer · 15 days

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Jason feelings about Tim swung between resentment, bemusement and begrudging admiration. Nowadays he didn't really consider them to have a relationship beyond their violent history, and Tim dropping in to help out with whatever trouble the nosy fucker figured Jason had gotten himself into.

Jason didn't know how to feel about that, so as with many other things he decided he was pissed off.

Shit talking his "family" with Roy was usually pretty therapeutic. Roy had been listening to Jason's rant about "daddy's perfect, pure little soldier" for a while with a growing smirk. Maybe he thought "exposing" Tim would make Jason feel better. Give him something to degrade him with in his own mind.

However, when Roy told him all about how easy Tim had been for him- how he'd only needed to flatter him a bit and tell him how mature he was to get Tim to blush all over and spread his legs like a slut-

All Jason could feel was rage, and he had to storm off before he smashed Roy's smug face in. Apparently that's what it took to awaken his big brother instinct. At least that's what he thought until he noticed he was rock hard.

!!!!!! roy bragging about how 'easy' tim was and thinking it'll make jason feel better by assuring him that bruce's perception of his precious little third robin was nowhere near accurate. telling him about the things tim had let roy do to him all because roy was a little nice to him, about how tim had let roy fuck him without a condom, to cum deep inside him, to degrade him and snap pictures of him to jack off to later. how little timmy had no self respect and let someone like roy put it in him because he was a little slut.

only jason isn't happy to hear about roy's tales and all the times he bent the little robin over or had him come over to his place so he could get off to a hot little mouth around his dick.

then!!! jason thinking he's angry because its his big brother instinct kicking in and that why he wants to kick roy's ass!!! only for him to notice he's hard and realize its not because he's a protective big brother- it's because HE wants to be the one who fucked tim!

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #jaytim #roytim

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eeveebitches · 8 months

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phone. || Roman Roy || smut

Pairing: Sub!Roman Roy x F!Dom!Reader Summary: You and roman talk over the phone, stuff happens along the way

Word count: 2.115

18+ only! More under the cut,

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Sub Roman, degradation, pillow humping, phone sex, implications of jealous/possesive roman

A/n: as DJ Khaled said, "another one."

_______________________

It's unusually dark in Roman's apartment.

You squint your eyes, looking around for any sign of him, hand busying itself to locate the light switch. "Romes?" There's no reply, and as you finally manage to switch the lights on you realize he isn't here. The shoes he usually keeps sprawled by the door are missing, as well as the scarf you had given him for his last birthday.

You shrug off your jacket and hang it, noticing how Roman's lighter jacket seems to be missing as well. Cautiously, you walk around the empty space. You take note of the way he left his cologne on the coffee table without its cover, and as you go to his bathroom you see his aftershave is uncrewed, too. He was clearly in a rush.

His bed is messy, as it always is when he's left to deal with tidying the sheets himself. You chuckle at the shirt of yours peaking out from under his pillow. It takes a lot of mental strength for you to not snap a picture for future teasing material, and instead kick your shoes off.

His scent surrounds you as you nuzzle into his goose feather sheets. The scent is sharp, and woody, and clearly trying too hard to be noteworthy. But deep in those harsh, overpowering scents of desperation, you smell the chamomile from the 'calming room sprays' he always claims to be buying ironically. You also smell your own perfume, and with enough focus you can even smell hints of the vanilla of the soaps you use.

The sudden ringing of your phone startles you. You fumble a bit trying to remove your phone from your pocket, smiling as you realize it's the tiny devil himself calling.

"Romes?"

"Don't 'Romes' me, where in shit's name are you?" he immediately grumbles out, not giving you a second to trade simple formalities.

You can't help but laugh at him. "And hello to you, too. What do you mean, 'where am I'? Where are you?"

He groans, then mumbles something far too incoherent for you to pick up over the phone. "Uh, at your fucking apartment? Did you seriously forget about me that fast? I'm seriously regretting hooking you up with that new job, since you're now apparently too cool for little ol' Romes." After a few seconds of processing his words, you frown. "Wait, what? You're at my apartment?"

"Okay, yeah, you totally forgot, and I just embarrassed the fuck out of myself for breaking and entering. Nice knowing ya, I'm gonna go jump into a river or some shit," he mumbles underneath his breath. Even through the phone you can tell he's pacing around. "Can you even swim?"

He scoffs at that. "The fuck kinda question is that? You don't ask a guy about to take a cyanide pill if he's well versed in medicine, do you? Twisted bitch." Your frown deepens the more you listen to him. "Roman, we were supposed to meet at your apartment, you do remember that, right?"

It's completely silent on the other end of the line for a few seconds. Then, "Oh fuck off, you are not at my apartment right now. Just admit you forgot and let me go cry-jerk myself to sleep in your bed," he huffs out, trying to fight back the strain in his voice.

"Romes, I'm laying in your bed right now." He laughs at you, clearly doubtful, but as he quiets down you get the feeling he's starting to believe you.

With his phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear, Roman looks down at the pillow of yours he's holding. It's a long one, for your neck or something, and he relishes in how much it smells like you. "So what, we're at each other's apartments, laying in each other's beds, like total fucking idiots?"

You can't help but snort at that. "You're the idiot, since I'm at the right apartment. Also, way to go snitching on yourself. You better have removed your shoes before getting in my bed," you say, tugging at a bit of string connected to one of Roman's pillows.

"Yeah yeah, my shoes are off. I am gonna piss on all your furniture, just so you know. I need to mark my territory as the alpha and all that," he jokes, swiftly unzipping and shuffling out of his pants. "Oh, I'm also gonna sleep here because I can't be fucked to call someone to drive me back. Your bed is comfy as shit, anyway."

You let out a humored chuckle, quickly putting the phone down and removing the top layers of your work clothes to leave yourself comfortable. The sound of his voice is small, so after getting settled back in you grab the phone and place it right next to your head.

"Sorry, was getting comfy, what's up?"

Roman lets out a low whistle. "So basically stripping naked? That's hot. You should take pictures of your boobs or something and send them to me," he says, his clutch on your pillow growing tighter as he continues, "we could have hot and heavy sex over the phone, like they did in the 60s when FaceTime and pocket pussies weren't a thing."

"I'm down if you are," you reply as casually as you can, despite the fact that the idea of it excites you. Roman seemingly chokes on his own spit at that, coughing for a few seconds. Ad he clears his throat, he awkwardly unbuttons his blouse as he keeps the phone flush against his ear.

"Oh yeah? What're you wearing, then?" he asks in a try-hard sultry voice. It's hard not to laugh at that, but you manage. "A 17-inch strap on with LED lights, what about you?" Roman lets out a forced moan in reply. "God, that's fuckin' hot. I'd see my insides glow all kinds of pretty colors and shit," he forcibly continues moaning out.

With his blouse fully unbuttoned he shuffles it off, ignoring the fact that he somehow is already getting riled up. Maybe it's the fact that he's surrounded by your presence, or maybe it's the fact that your voice is dangerously near your ear.

Whatever it may be, it makes him move a shaky hand down to his length, applying a singular squeeze to himself and fighting back the hiss he wants to let out. "Seriously though, can you at least try to hide the fact you smell my shirts while you sleep? They're just sticking out," you chuckle out, tugging at the shirt you had previously spotted.

The silence on his end is oddly tense as you fully pull the shirt out, and you quickly realize why.

"Roman... do you actually cum on my clothes?"

He lets out a quiet 'fuck', keeping a solid hold of his cock through his underwear as he realizes he's been caught. "Shit, I-- yeah, I do, sometimes," he weakly stutters out. You tut at that, heat pooling in the bottom of your panties. "So, what, you jerk off sniffing it and thinking of me, or...?"

Roman's breathing slows, turning into weak pants that you can pick up on your end. "I, uh, yeah." A devious grin tugs at your lips as you shimmy yourself to a more comfortable laying position.

"What do you think about?" It's a simple question, really, but the way Roman gasps through the phone makes it worthwhile. "I dunno, just-- fuck, things," he struggles to groan out as he rolls to lay on his side, the pillow he was clutching automatically slotting between his legs.

His cock throbs with need, but something about using your pillow seems too much, even for him. Your shirts, and the occasional pair of underwear were one thing, but your bed felt so clean. Roman didn't want to be the one to make it-- make you dirty.

"Do you think about me touching you?" You hear him mumble out a small 'yeah' in response. You respond back with silence, quietly urging him to keep talking.

His clutch on your pillow tightens, knuckles turning white. "I think about you hugging me, 'cuz you always do when you see me," he whines out, as he continues fondling himself with his one hand while the other keeps its hold on the pillow. "You always, uh, squeeze? And you just smell really good, which is nice, I guess."

"Is that all?" You smile at the whine Roman lets out. "Whatever, I like other shit, too," he mumbles out, trying his hardest to practice restraint.

"What's 'other shit'? Like last week at that fundraiser in the closet, did you like that?" you coyly ask him. The drawn out moan he lets out at the memories is like musicto your ears. "Uh-huh," he weakly moans out, the muffled sound of fabric shuffling causing your mind to race with thoughts of what he's doing.

Roman's hips start a hiccup-y rhythm, attempting to grind into his own touch as he thinks of that night. You had toyed with him all night, dishing out casual yet flirty touches to whoever was there, shooting him a wicked grin any time he caught sight of it. When he had dragged you into a closet to try and stop your little show, you had demanded he went on his knees and apologized for his behavior.

By the end of it, Roman was a sweaty mess as he ground against your leg, trying desperately to keep quiet as you taunted him. Just thinking of how nasty you were to him that night, despite you gracefully letting him use you to get off, sends his head reeling as he gasps at his own touch.

You snicker at the desperate noises he's making. "Are you touching yourself Roman? In my bed of all places? You have no shame, do you?"

"None," he whimpers out, pulling down his drawls to let his reddened and leaking cock spring out, smacking against his stomach. "Are you using your hand to get off? You sick, fucking puppy?" Roman groans out a quiet 'yes' as he carefully strokes himself at an unsteady rhythm. "I w'na use your pillow, can I-- fuck, can I please use y'r pillow?" He gasps out deliriously.

The shocked laughter you let out through the phone is genuine as you realize he's really into this. "Seriously? How fucking disgusting can you be, asking for my pillow? Was using my clothes to jerk off not enough for you, creep? Go ahead and use it if you're really that much of a degenerate."

He immediately places the pillow on the bed and goes to lay on his stomach, moaning as his dick makes contact with your pillow. He doesn't waste any time, immediately picking up in thrusting speed as he revels in the friction the pillow gives against his cock.

"Oh my god, you're actually doing it. Rutting into my pillow like a dog in heat, absolutely fucking revolting," you hiss against your phone, "y'know I have cameras in my room? I could easily send everyone you know the footage of you fucking my pillow like a flithy pervert. You'd like that, anyway, freak."

Roman's moans grow louder by the minute, every one of your poisonous words shooting straight to his cock. "Fuck, 'm close," he groans out, sweat rolling down his forehead as he desperately chases his release. "Are you seriously going to cum on my pillow, Roman? You're a genuine embarrasment, god."

His breath stutters before he lets out a gutteral moan, ropes of cum shooting onto your pillow and most definitely permanently staining it. "Jesus fuck, Roman, you're a legitimate freak," you giggle out through the phone as he slowly comes to, pants coming out muffled as he buries his head into the unused pillows.

"What the fuck, man," he groans out, phone still held against his ear. You let out a chuckle, glancing at the time on your phone and realizing it's gotten quite late. "You doing okay, Romes?"

He lets out muffled noises of confirmation. "Yeah, just fuckin' tired now. Thanks for the, uh, phone sex. It was great."

"Go clean yourself up, Romes. And just put the pillow somewhere in my bathroom, I'll take care of it." He lets out a small whine, awkwardly tucking himself back into his underwear before shuffling to your bathroom. "You're legit going to be the reason I die an early death. I'm gonna fucking, cum my brains out or some shit," he mumbles out as he drops the used pillow on the ground, grabs some wipes and cleans himself up a bit.

"Sounds like a great way to go out," you hum out in reply.

"Of course you'd think that."

#female reader #roman #roman roy #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader #roman roy x reader smut #roman roy x you #romulus roy #succession #succession hbo

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willalove75 · 11 months

Note

Keeley bring the biggest shipper of Rebecca and reader ☺️

Love this! Thank you so much for the request!💕💕

"Hi babe! . . . My day has been going very well, how's training been? . . . Really? Well that's not surprising. . . I would love to go to dinner tonight! . . . 7? . . . Perfect! . . . See you tonight, I love you!"

Keeley hangs up the phone and you look over her as you lay across the couch in her office. A small blush creeps across her cheeks as she looks down at her phone, smitten with the conversation you presume she just had with Roy.

"You two are so fucking cute."

"Oh stop." Cocking your eyebrow at her, she reconsiders her statement. "I guess we are pretty fucking cute, aren't we?"

"Uh, yeah?! I forget how much I hate being single until I see you two together."

"We should find you someone!"

"Where? On Bantr? No thanks, I've had a lifetime of shitty Bantr dates in less than six months, I'm good."

"Okay, then how about a bar or a club?!"

"I don't know, I hate going out to clubs and I can't imagine I'd find anyone at a bar that isn't looking for a one night stand."

"Hmm..." Keeley hums as she thinks. She pulls out her phone and starts scrolling. "You're looking for a girlfriend, yeah?"

"Yup."

"Any preferences?"

"Not really, I mean I like tall women, blond or brunette I guess, I don't know."

Keeley's eyes widen and she stops scrolling.

"How about age?"

"I mean, I'm not dating someone who's like, 70, or like, 21. Preferably someone at least my age."

"But you don't care if they're older than you?"

"No, not really."

"Keeley Jones you are brilliant." She says to herself. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I know the perfect, mature woman for you. Tall, blond, fit as fuck, she's older than you but I think you two would be perfect for each other."

"Who?"

Keeley turns her phone and you see a picture of Rebecca on her screen.

"You're fucking with me, right?"

"No! You two would be so great together!"

"Keeley! Rebecca?! She is so far out of my league it's embarrassing."

"She is not! Plus, I know she's also been looking for someone and you two already get on great."

"Don't get me wrong, Rebecca is amazing, but why on earth would she want to date me?"

"First of all, you're fit as fuck and you're mature well beyond your years. Secondly, you'd be surprised, Rebecca's taste in women is not what you would expect. Come on, let me at least set you two up on a date!"

"Double date, with you and Roy."

"He'll hate that, but deal!"

"Now shoo, I have some calls to make!" Keeley says, pulling up Rebecca's contact info and calling her.

You head back into your office and plop down into your chair. Keeley is setting you up on a date with Rebecca?! What is happening?!

About 15 minutes later Keeley waltzes into your office with a shit-eating grin on her face.

"Tomorrow night, 6pm!"

"She said yes?"

"Of course she did!"

"Keeley did you tell her who you were setting her up with?"

"Oh look at the time, I have to run!" She says, dashing out of your office.

"Keeley!!"

The following night you, Keeley and Roy get to the restaurant and are seated at your table. Keeley and Roy sit next to each other, leaving Rebecca's seat open next to you. Keeley's face lights up when she see's Rebecca walk into the restaurant.

"She's hereee!" Keeley says.

The knots in your stomach contract, you don't think you've ever been this nervous for a date before. Especially since you know who your date is, but for Rebecca, it's a blind date. You're terrified she's going to see you and laugh out loud and leave. Keeley gets up and pulls Rebecca into a big hug. After taking a deep breath, Roy gives you a nod and you stand up, turning towards the both of them.

"Rebecca, you know y/n, your beautiful date for the night. Y/n, you know Rebecca!"

To your surprise, you think you see Rebecca's face light up when she sees you. A beautiful smile crosses her face and you quickly look her up and down, admiring how her dress perfectly flaunts every curve on her body.

"Y/n, well this is a wonderful surprise!" She says, pulling you into a hug.

You swear you feel like your heart is about to jump out of your chest when you feel her against you.

"You look beautiful." You shyly say.

Rebecca smiles at you, looking into your eyes for a moment.

"Thank you love, you look beautiful as well."

A faint blush crosses your cheeks and the three of you take your seats.

"So was this a blind date for you as well y/n, or was I the only one Keeley was trying to surprise?" Rebecca asks, playfully side-eyeing Keeley.

"I didn't know she didn't tell you until after she already made the plans yesterday." You say.

"Why am I not surprised?" She says with a laugh. "But I was pleasantly surprised to see you, so it seemed to work out pretty well if I do say so myself." She says, flashing a smile your way.

"You two are going to get married, I already know it." Keeley says, matter-of-factly. Rebecca rolls her eyes at her and Keeley continues. "What? I'm serious! I can't believe I didn't think of this before! You two are perfect for each other, just you wait. I know I'm right!"

Both you and Rebecca laugh at Keeley's antics and smile at each other. God she is so beautiful. Her green eyes draw you in, it's hard for you to look away. You finally peel your eyes away from hers before you stare for too long and make it awkward.

Throughout dinner the four of you laugh and chat, you get to know Rebecca a lot better and she gets to learn more about you. The more you learn about her, the more you're inclined to think that Keeley might be right about you two suiting each other.

Keeley tells an embarrassing story of you from when you two were at University together.

"Keeley oh my god no!" You laugh and cover your face with your hands, hiding away from everyone.

"What?! It was too funny, even you think it's hysterical!" She laughs.

"Oh it's okay!" Rebecca laughs as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you into her a little to comfort you. Peeking up, your eyes meet Rebecca's and she playfully scrunches her nose at you. "Holy shit she's so cute." you think to yourself.

The rest of dinner is filled with more laughter and good conversation. Rebecca sneaks off and pays the bill and the four of you decide to walk around a bit after dinner, not quite ready to end the night.

As the four of you walk in pairs down the street, Keeley is walking alongside Roy, their fingers intertwined, and you're walking next to Rebecca. Looking back towards Keeley you don't see the crack in the sidewalk and you trip. Before you're able to fall, Rebecca grabs you and keep you steady.

"Are you okay?" Rebecca asks, you hear the concern in her voice and it makes you swoon a little.

"Yeah, I'm good, I didn't see that. Thank you for saving my ass." You say with a laugh.

"Good, I'm glad you're not hurt." She says with a smile. Her hand travels down your arm and finds yours. A light blush crosses your cheeks as you feel her fingers slide between yours.

The two of you gently hold hands for the rest of the walk, neither of you realizing that Roy and Keeley fell a little ways behind you, giving the two of you some privacy as you chat.

Making your way back to the restaurant, the four of you regroup and talk a little before heading home.

"I must say, this was probably the best blind date I've ever been on." Rebecca says, smiling at you.

"Agreed, even though it really wasn't a blind date for me." You say with a laugh.

"Much better than that last Bantr date you went on a few weeks ago, right?" Keeley asks you.

"Uh, yeah, like a thousand times better."

"Oh no, what happened there?" Rebecca asks.

"She was just fine, a bit of a wet blanket honestly."

"A bit?" Roy says. "She was fucking miserable. I wanted to jump into the river just to get away from her and we only met for five fucking minutes."

You roll your eyes at Roy, which definitely annoys him.

"The both of you have shit taste in dates. The last guy you were seeing that we went out with wasn't much better than that wet blanket." He says, looking at Rebecca. "What is wrong with the both of you? You both deserve someone who makes you feel like you've been stuck by fucking lightening. Don't you dare settle for less."

Both you and Rebecca stand there taking in what Roy just said, your fingers still intertwined.

"And for the record, I Keeley knocked this one out of the fucking park." He says, pointing between the two of you.

Keeley is beaming as you and Rebecca look at each other. She gently squeezes your hand and you smile up at her.

A few weeks go by and you and Rebecca have been on a couple of more dates. As Friday rolls around, you're looking forward to your date with Rebecca, she's coming over to your flat for the first time and you're planning on making her dinner. Just after lunch your cellphone starts ringing, you pull it out and see Rebecca's name on your screen.

"Hey!"

"Hi." You can immediately tell from the tone of her voice she's upset.

"Is everything okay?"

"I feel awful, but something came up and now I have to be stuck in the office all night. I'm so sorry, I was really looking forward to tonight."

You can't help but feel disappointed, but you also know how demanding her job is so you understand.

"Hey, it's okay, I get it, no worries at all. We'll just reschedule, okay?"

"Okay. I'm so sorry y/n."

"It's okay! I know it's not your fault."

"Thank you. I have to run, I'll call you later to reschedule?"

"Of course, and absolutely! Don't work too hard, you deserve to give yourself a break once in awhile."

She chuckles on the other end of the line. "I'll try to keep that in mind. I'll talk to you later, bye."

"Bye."

Sitting back in your chair, your phone is resting against your chin with a disappointed look on your face, you see Keeley walk in.

"Oi, what's with the sad face?"

"Oh, nothing, Rebecca had to cancel tonight."

"Oh I'm sorry babe, what happened?"

"She's gonna be stuck in the office because something came up. I feel bad, part of me just wants to show up and keep her company but I don't want to intrude."

"She would love that!"

"You think so? You don't think she would be annoyed if I just show up unannounced?"

"Not at all, I think she would be so excited! What were your original plans tonight?"

"I was gonna make us dinner at my flat."

"Babe you should take the date to her!"

"You think so?"

"Yes! Absolutely!"

"I'll think about it, thanks Keels."

As the day winds down you shoot Rebecca a text before you pack up your things.

How's is going over there?

Ugh.

That good huh? Lol

I'd much rather be getting ready to see you. I'm sorry again.

Hey, it's okay. I'd much rather be able to see you too but I understand. No worries, I promise.

You're amazing, you know that?

I can very easily say the same thing about you 😉

Cheeky.

Hehe 😜

Packing up your things with a smile on your face, you decide to follow Keeley's advice and take the date to her. After saying goodnight to everyone, you rush home and quickly whip up dinner. Tossing it into takeout containers and along with the bottle of wine you bought and a few cups and plastic cutlery, you put everything into a bag and head over to Nelson Road.

Walking into the building you're greeted by the security guard at the front.

"Hi, I'm here to see Rebecca."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Uh, no. It's more of a surprise visit." You say, holding up the bag with a small smile.

The guard gives you a look.

"We had dinner plans, but she got caught up here, so, I decided to bring it to her." You say, shyly.

"Do you know how to get to her office?"

"Uh, I actually don't."

"Down that way, take the staircase on the left, her office is at the top of the stairs."

"Thank you."

Walking down the hall, you admire the display cases filled with Richmond's history. You get to the staircase and make your way up to her office.

Her office door is closed, you put your ear to the door to see if you can hear anything and although the noise is faint, you can hear her inside. Gently knocking on the door, you hear a "come in." She sounds a little annoyed, so you take a deep breath and slowly open the door.

Stepping into her office, Rebecca's face changes from a "who's bothering me right now?" look to a happily surprised look. Her usually pristine hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail, she had kicked her heels off and her legs are curled under her on her desk chair and her glasses are perched on the bridge of her nose.

"Y/n, what are you doing here?"

"I felt bad that you had to be here so late, and I figured you probably didn't eat yet, so I brought you dinner."

Walking up to her desk, you can see her eyes gloss over, as if no one has ever went out of their way for her like this before. She stands up and puts her glasses on her desk and walks over to you. Even without heels she still towers over you. Closing the distance between the two of you, Rebecca wraps her arms around you and pulls you in for probably one of the best hugs you've ever had in your life.

"Thank you." She says softly as she holds you.

"Of course."

Pulling apart just a little, Rebecca cups your face with one of her hands and looks into your eyes with wonder.

"What?"

"Nothing," she says, shaking her head. "it's just, no one has ever done something like this for me before."

"Are you serious? Never?"

"I don't think so, if anyone did, it was a very, very long time ago."

"Well anyone who had the opportunity to do something like this for you but didn't sucks. This is the least I could do to help make your day a little better."

"I adore you."

"I adore you as well Rebecca."

Looking into Rebecca's gorgeous green eyes, you find yourself getting lost in them. Everything around you disappears when you look into her eyes, you feel your heartbeat begin to race as you wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her closer to you. Rebecca bends down towards you and you close your eyes. A bolt of electricity shoots through your body when your lips finally meet for the first time, you truly feel like you've been struck by lightening. Her lips are soft and warm against yours, just like you had imagined them to be. Nothing about this kiss was disappointing to you, you almost never wanted it to end.

When your lips finally part you look into her eyes again with a smile on your face.

"You hungry?"

"Mhm."

She leads you to the couch and you pull out the takeout containers, the cups, cutlery and the wine from the bag.

"This smells amazing, what is it?"

"I made your favorite."

Rebecca looks at you with another look of surprise.

"You did?" She says in disbelief.

"Yes! You told me what it was a few weeks ago and I stored it in the back of my mind, so when we were talking about having dinner at my place I decided that's what I was going to make. And since we couldn't eat at my place tonight, I figured bringing our date to you was a close enough second option."

"You're amazing." She says, pulling you in for another kiss. Rebecca kisses you a little harder this time and you kiss her back, matching her energy. Her stomach growls and you two part before the kiss gets any steamier.

"Eat, I'm sure you're starving."

Rebecca opens the container and closes her eyes when she inhales.

"This smells wonderful."

"I hope it tastes as good as it smells." You say with a laugh.

She loads up her fork and brings the food to her lips, you see her pupils dilate when it makes contact with her tongue.

"Fuck me!" She says, covering her mouth.

A little taken back, you let out a giggle and you feel your cheeks blush.

"I guess that means you like it?" You playfully say.

"Mhm." She says as she chews. "This is fucking delicious. You made this?"

"Yup! I like to cook, I've never made this before, but I'm happy with how it came out." You say as you start to dig into your meal.

Picking the bottle of wine up from the table you gesture to Rebecca.

"Wine?"

"Fuck yes, please."

You giggle and pour the wine into two cups and hand Rebecca hers.

"What shall we cheers to?" You ask.

"To a wonderful date night, with my wonderful girlfriend."

Your heart leaps out of your chest for a moment.

"Your girlfriend?" You ask, a little in shock.

"Yes, well I'm not seeing anyone else, are you?"

"No, not at all."

"And I don't plan on seeing anyone else for a long time." She says with a smile.

"Neither do I." You smile back at her.

You cheers and take a sip of your drinks. The rest of the night is filled with laughter, a good meal, wine, and Rebecca still managed to get some work done. Even when she had you curl up into her lap while she sat at her desk.

Both you and Rebecca decided to keep the officialization of your relationship under wraps for a few weeks while you both got into a groove.

Keeley asked you to tag along to Richmond for a meeting, which you happily agreed to. Not only did you enjoy the people that worked there, you got to see Rebecca, which was always something you looked forward to.

The two of you walk into Rebecca's office and you see Roy, Ted, Higgins, Coach Beard, a couple of the players and Rebecca.

"Hello my favorite Richmond peeps!" Keeley says as you walk in.

"Hi!" You say, waving to everyone as you all greet each other.

Rebecca walks straight up to you and wraps her arms tightly around you, you both relax in the embrace. It's only been a couple of days since you last saw each other, but you both hate not being able to see each other every day.

"Hi love." She whispers as she holds you.

"I missed you." You whisper back.

When you two finally part you turn to see that everyone is staring at the two of you, Keeley with a shit-eating grin on her face. You feel your cheeks turning red and Rebecca looks down at you and sees you blushing. She wraps her arm around you and holds you close.

"Oh for fucks sake just admit it." Roy says, breaking the silence.

Rebecca rolls her eyes and looks at you, you nod at her with a smile on your face.

"Alright, fine, we're together. Happy?"

"YES!" Keeley screams. "I'm so fucking good at this!"

Most of the people in the room cheer and a few groan as a couple of the players hand money to those who were cheering.

"Did you guys seriously make bets on us?!" You ask.

"Fuck yeah," Roy says, taking money from Isaac. "it was easy money too."

"Well, I'm happy for ya boss, you two seem mighty smitten with each other." Ted says.

"I'd say so." She says, looking down at you.

"Me too."

Rebecca cups your face and kisses you in front of everyone, you feel your cheeks burning in her hand but you kiss her back as everyone cheers.

#rebecca welton x reader #hannah waddingham #willalove75 #rebecca welton #rebecca welton fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #wlw fanfic

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002yb · 4 months

Note

jason and roy have a longstanding guys being dudes thing where they text each other pics of their gnarly bruises and not too serious wounds so that the other can be like “woah, i can see the tread pattern of the boot just from the bruise!” because these things are cool and gross in the way that dudes find irresistible and here is a guy who will valorize it without all the you should have been better undertone or smothering worry and it escalates until one day when jay gets a fingernail ripped off and his first thought after all the danger and blood is ha! this beats roy’s thing from last week and like they are somewhat aware that its kinda abnormal but their text convos are a safe space free from shame or judgement so its all good until someone gets a glimpse of pure gore followed by a winky face emoji when jason goes to open his phone

Just gonna casually bring this around to something more dickjayroy, because of course I would. All the above, but:

Dick and Roy running a mission together and, while successful, isn't without casualty. It's nothing they won't survive, but they're a little fucked up. Dick more so, but he's a scrapper. He'll survive the wait for first aid while Roy takes some sick and sleazy mirror pics for his boy Jaybird. It's all good.

Dick might be a little concussed and bleeding on Roy's couch, but Roy can't not share the road burn that stretches up his arm and shoulder.

Roy hearing Dick call for him from down the hall. Just a thoughtful check-in of, 'You okay?' Like Dick in his current state of wooziness and pain has the wherewithal to come help Roy if needed. The thought is sweet.

The fact that Dick would find the resolve to help Roy even as Dick is s t r u g g l i n g is mildly horrifying though, so.

Some cute banter as Roy sends his message off, calling out to Dick that he's good but also for validation that Roy looked cool while he was skidding across asphalt earlier. He was, right?

Pffft, Dick trying to be playful/teasing when he agrees, but he's so fucked up that it comes out sounding more genuine than anything and Roy is ;U; as he settles in to take care of his friend. Helping Dick out of the top of his costume only to pause because - wow.

Just Dick lacking all self-awareness. He's hurt. He's tired. He's got someone he trusts looking after him, so. Dick just slouches on the couch, head tipped over the back of it. Boneless. Dazed. Chest and abs a beautiful sight - all toned muscles heaving with shallow breaths, and like. Dick being hot is nothing Roy blinks an eye at, nah. It's the ugly, weeping wound in his side that does. Blood stained and irritated and already showing signs of bruising crawling up his ribs.

Of course the camera comes out. Of course Roy sneaks off a picture to Jason (it only shows Dick's wounded torso, even if Dick's scowl is handsome and deserves to be seen by more people than Roy lol).

Anyway, Dick joking about if Roy got his good side. To which Roy snickers because Dick is all good sides; but yeah, for sure.

Then Roy proceeds to actually tend to Dick's injury. Cleaning, stitching, distracting. Dick being a model patient, disturbingly still although he's sweating through all the pain. Seemingly ignoring Roy, only he'd never. Because whenever Roy stops talking Dick opens his eyes to look at him until Roy starts talking again.

Just Dick finding comfort in the sound of his friend's voice ahhhhhhhhhh. ;A;

In which a Roy and Jason ask becomes entirely Dick and Roy omg. This happens every time but in my defense they're perfect, so.

While Roy's hands are all bloody from patching Dick up, a reply comes through on Roy's phone. Roy telling Dick to check it for him.

Which leads to a little coy game of, 'what's your password?' and 'hah! like you don't know,' and 'if it's not my birthday idk if i'll recover,' and 'bull. what's your password?' 'the day we met ;)' which it isn't, Roy would discover later. Which would lead to lots of laughs and play fighting and it'd be cute af.

Anyway, Dick checking the message and seeing that the picture Roy took of him went to Jason, of all people. Jason - who has no idea who he's looking at.

Letting Dick read the texts is top tier distraction plan, on Roy's part. Also, it ends up being funny.

Just Jason being genuinely confused because he doesn't know about all of Roy's missions and stuff. So he's just like, 'hot damn.' 'i know that's not you who's mr.man?' and extra stuff about the actual injury with Jason trying to figure out what happened and being all thirsty because he'd take a bite fr

And it makes Dick laugh and ow, but it's so dumb

Dick taking the cheekiest photo with Roy that shows how he's stitching Dick up and tbh? Roy thinks it's criminal the sort of devastation Dick can cause when Dick tries. In that same vein, he's just as devastating when he doesn't try. That's neither here nor there though.

Roy cackling as they send off the photo and watching through titters at the ensuing silence, the indication that Jason is texting before he disappears before coming back again and going away.

Something something with Roy and Jason being fascinated by injury and gore. Meanwhile, Dick is all there for the emotional damage and injury through flustered feels. He's w/e about a bleeding wound, but blood rushing to Jason's cheeks in a blush? That's what Dick would want a picture of.

Commence Roy and Dick having their own text conversation that is entirely photos of just that LOL.

Roy's just living his best life and he deserves it.

#dickroy #dickjay #jaydick #royjay

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devotioncrater · 1 year

Text

its about the passage of time and how we see it show up in the character's relationships with one another in the background

roy and jamie have been training together at 4 AM for seven weeks, now so in-sync that they're communicating telepathically

trent has put a picture of his daughter on his desk and his body language is more at ease around everyone. he stands closer to higgins, he leans back in his chair with his hands behind his head. the coaches — roy in specific — want him to give his two cents because they value his input and are inviting him into the group. they show this by being fully themselves, making monkey noises akin to the barking diamond dogs call

keeley and jack have known each other for seven weeks and in that time before they got together, it's established they get on well, that they click. going out to lunch and then to richmond matches together. the flipside in keeley's world is how shandy went 180 from working alongside her to working against her due to the bantr grudge. that outburst shandy had when she was fired didnt happen out of nowhere — that was seven weeks of resentment built up

rebecca's been hanging onto that green matchbook from ola's for at least eight weeks. two months of her spinning her wheels about what the psychic said to her, possibly longer. no wonder she's frazzled, she's experiencing a mid-life crisis triggered by her mother's psychic tish. it's almost to an obsessive point, understandably though. her fixation on the reading is a manifestation of her feeling out of control and grasping for a higher meaning/force/power to reconcile how her life was stolen from her by rupert's abuse. i think she blames herself for what happened to her, and wants to prove to herself it's not her fault. she isn't her mother. it was in the cards it wasn't her it was fate it wasn't her

#anyway! this show makes my mind go brr brr brr #ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #rebecca welton #trent crimm #keeley jones #roy kent #jaime tartt

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 10 months

Text

Something There (Chapter 5)

8.0k words

Roy Kent x Reader

Warnings: Language, some angsty talk about retirement, adults getting drunk, drunken spiciness🌶️🌶️🌶️

Author's Note: My fingers kept typing without me so this came out a bit longer than I intended. Also, I don't tend to write spice or smut, so hopefully this isn't too awful 🫣

And major thanks to @agentstarkid for the Broncos joke! 🩷🩷🩷

Series Masterlist

Keeley Jones was persistent, I had to give her that. When she’d originally asked about helping me find a dress for the charity gala, I gave a little “Yeah, sure”, figuring she was just being polite. Instead, she hounded me until I set aside the Wednesday afternoon before the event so she could turn me into her personal Barbie doll. Lucas pouted when I asked him to take over training, complaining that he wanted to be there for my “Cinderella moment”, but he agreed once I promised to let him pick me up for the event so he could be the first to see the finished product.

As though she expected me to bail, Keeley marched out to the pitch at our appointed meeting time, promising to send Lucas lots of pictures as she pulled me off the field; my players, knowing where I was going, whistled and hollered boisterously, calling for me to “find something pretty!”

“Back to work!” I barked, unable to hide the grin on my face, pleased that they were comfortable enough to tease me.

We walked briskly through the building, with Keeley listing off all the stores she wanted to take me to, asking me about what colors I liked, and stalking through my Instagram to see what kinds of dresses I’d worn in the past. I was so immersed in looking over her shoulder and pointing out what I liked about certain outfits, I didn’t notice someone in my path until I’d crashed into them.

“Fuck, sorry,” I yelped, looking up.

Roy Kent raised those thick eyebrows at me as I took a step back. “Cutting training early?” There was an edge of teasing in his voice, an almost friendly tone.

“We’re going dress shopping,” Keeley announced, a Cheshire-cat grin on her face. “This one needs something for the gala.” She poked Roy in the chest coyly. “You’ll be there, right, Roy?”

He rolled his eyes. “Like I have a fucking choice,” he mumbled. He returned his gaze to me. “Your players ready to be auctioned off like pieces of meat?”

I shook my head. “Oh, we’re not doing that.”

“I’m sorry?” His brows furrowed in confusion.

“I told Rebecca that selling dates with women felt kind of gross.” I wrinkled my nose. “So, we’re sponsoring a silent auction instead. Season tickets, signed jerseys, that sort of thing. Some of the gals pitched in for things like trips and wine tastings. I even got some of your guys to sign things to auction off.” I couldn’t help but grin. “My personal favorite item is a ball signed by the 1991 U.S. women’s team. Had to call in a few favors for that one.”

To my surprise, Roy chuckled. “Does that include Brandi Chastain?”

I scoffed in surprise. It was the second time now that he’d shown off that he remembered my poster. “Why yes, it does.”

Keeley was watching us with far too much interest. “We should get going,” she hummed, tearing my attention away from Roy. She quirked an eyebrow at the gruff manager. “Roy,” she started slowly, her voice playful. “What do you think Bucky’d look sexy in?”

We both choked on her question. I gave her a wide-eyed stare. What the fuck, Keeley?

Roy, just as red-faced as I knew I was, seemed to be looking everywhere but my face. “What? Fuck, I dunno. Why the fuck would I know?”

“Just thought you’d have an opinion,” Keeley purred. “We’ll see you later.” She linked her arm through mine and tugged me onwards.

Unable to help myself, I glanced back at Roy, who was staring after us, mouth slightly open. When he saw me looking at him, he shook his head violently, as if trying to rid himself of whatever thoughts ran through his mind.

I wondered if he could see how deeply I was blushing.

“The fuck was that?” I hissed to Keeley as we made our way to the parking lot, where Keeley’s sleek little convertible was waiting for us.

She shrugged casually. “What? Just wanted a man’s opinion.”

I snorted as I climbed into Keeley’s car. “We don’t need a man’s opinion.”

“Babe,” Keeley said in a patient voice. “Number one, wanting a man to think you look good doesn’t make you a bad feminist, alright? Number two-” Her eyes lit up as she pulled out of the parking lot. “-don’t you think Roy’s mad fit?”

My face warmed. “What, do you think he is?” I wasn’t sure why the thought made something in my stomach twist.

“Oh of course. Roy’s gorgeous,” she giggled. “We used to date, actually.” She eyed me carefully, as if gauging my reaction to that piece of information; I did my best to keep a neutral face. “But we’re much better as friends, trust me. He’s actually one of my best friends now.”

“Oh.” Why couldn’t I say anything else?

Keeley continued. “He’s a great guy. Like, I could write a glowing letter of recommendation to any potential partner.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Anything you want to know?”

“Why would I want to know anything about Roy Kent as a boyfriend?” I scoffed, maybe a bit too much protest in my voice.

Keeley’s voice was suspiciously sweet. “Oh, no reason.”

“Hi, Coach Kent!” A few voices called as Roy strolled onto the pitch.

Roy gave a curt nod to the passing Whippets. They were nice women, very friendly, great athletes, got along well with his Greyhounds. But they giggled at him. Well, a couple of them did. Mostly Samara Scott and Kira Malone. Sometimes a few others. He wasn’t sure why, or even when it started, but when they crossed paths with him there were raised eyebrows and knowing smirks and whispers and giggles. It couldn’t be an “isn’t he cute?” thing; these ladies had no problem telling the Greyhounds to their faces when they thought the guys looked good, offering compliments the lads were more than happy to reciprocate.

No, it was as if the Whippets knew something. Or at least, they thought they did. Roy just couldn’t figure out what the fuck it was.

“Oi, Lucas.”

The assistant coach stopped mid-step to turn to Roy. “What’s up, Coach?”

Roy shuffled his feet as he watched the Whippets disappear into the building. “What’s up with your team?”

Lucas tilted his head. “How d’you mean?”

“They…” Roy felt stupid saying it out loud. “They always fucking giggle when they see me.” His face was warm with embarrassment.

“Oh.” Lucas laughed, adding to Roy’s frustration and curiosity. “No, you don’t want to know.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. I have an entire team snickering like children every time they see me. Fuck’s going on?”

Lucas gave a dry chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Well, I mean, it’s only a couple of them giggling,” he pointed out. “And, I mean, I dunno, not to stereotype, but you know how women can be. Mysterious and shit.”

“Lucas.” Roy’s voice was stern; it was obvious the man knew more than he was letting on.

“It’s because they can’t giggle at their own manager.” Coach Beard’s voice made Roy nearly leap out of his skin; when had he become so fucking jumpy? Beard went on. “So, they’re giggling at you instead.”

Roy’s frown deepened as the Greyhounds straggled onto the training pitch. “Right, but why? What the fuck is so damn funny?”

To everyone’s surprise, Nate spoke up. “Well, you know, some of the players… they think you and-and Coach Buck…”

“What about me and Coach Buck?” Roy felt himself beginning to fume, suspecting what direction this was headed in.

“The two of you want to shag,” Jamie chirped as he strolled by.

Roy reached out and grabbed the back of Jamie’s shirt, choking the striker a little as he yanked him backwards. “What the fuck did you just say?” Everyone except Beard looked nervous now.

Jamie cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt. “You and Coach Buck,” he blurted out. “Everyone thinks you fancy each other.”

“We. Don’t. Fucking. Fancy. Each. Other.” Roy growled out each word slowly, emphatically. “Can’t fucking stand each other, you all know that. So, knock this shit off. And tell the Whippets the same thing, alright?” He raised his voice. “Laps until you puke. GO! WHISTLE!”

Lucas cleared his throat as the Greyhounds began running. “Um, Coach Kent, can I go now?” He jerked his head towards the building. “Kind of got my own team to work with.”

He regretted speaking up when Roy whirled around on him. “She hates me, right?” Roy’s voice was low; he wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to be right.

“Uhh…” Lucas squirmed. “I mean, she probably wouldn’t be sobbing uncontrollably at your funeral, but she probably won’t be the direct the cause of your death either.”

Roy wasn’t quite sure what to do with that answer. “Right.” He blinked at Lucas, who offered up what he hoped was an innocent smile. “D’you think we should shag?”

“Gotta take me to dinner first, Coach.” Lucas nudged him and winked. He chuckled at Roy’s amused expression before turning to walk away. “See ya later.”

Roy shook his head. He wasn’t quite sure what the fuck everyone was on about, but he knew it was going to be all he could think about during training.

As we wandered through department stores, I realized that Keeley was very much in her element. Between her modeling and PR experiences, helping a friend find a flattering dress felt like something Keeley could do in her sleep. In the time it took me to find one dress I thought might look good on me, she had already grabbed about a dozen.

In our third store, Keeley declared she knew I’d find a dress here. I wasn’t so sure, but her confidence dared me to defy her. So, I hung up the dresses she had chosen in my fitting room and peeled off my sportwear in favor of sequins and lace and satin.

She demanded to see each dress, taking photos to send to Lucas, whose quick responses had me grumbling, “Who’s running my fucking practice?”

It was starting to get frustrating. I was attractive as hell; I knew I had what Keeley called a “bangin’ bod”, thanks to years of working out. And it wasn’t as if I’d never dressed up. I’d been to awards banquets and charity events, even the fucking White House. I liked dressing up and feeling pretty. But for some reason, this stupid gala had me scrutinizing every single dress I tried on.

“Here, babe, I’ve got one I think you’re going to love.” Keeley threw another dress over the door.

Wondering if I would ever find anything I genuinely liked, I tugged it on and took a tentative look in the mirror. Fuck.

“Keels, you should add personal shopper to your resumé,” I hollered, unable to contain my grin. I turned this way and that, amazed by the view. Black. Strapless. Plunging neckline. Tight. And a gorgeous thigh-high slit that perfectly straddled the line between tasteful and indecent.

When I stepped out of the fitting room, Keeley’s jaw practically hit the floor. “Oh, I am brilliant!” she squealed. “Give us a twirl, I’m gonna send Lucas a video.”

Feeling almost princess-like, I did as Keeley asked, blowing Lucas a kiss at the end. When Keeley showed me the video, I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my lips.

“Wonder what Roy would think of this video,” she hummed, eyebrows raised.

My smile faded. “Why the fuck would you show Kent that video?”

She shrugged, her slender fingers tracing the exterior of her phone teasingly. “I won’t. I want him to get the full effect when he sees you walk through the doors on Saturday.” Her face softened. “He thinks you’re pretty,” she added.

“Does fucking not.” Could she hear my breath hitch?

“Well, I think he does,” she backtracked. “Pretty sure he has a crush on someone, and I’m pretty sure it’s you.” She grinned. “Could hardly keep his eyes off of you at your first match. Can’t really blame him, you looked gorgeous, all sexy and badass.” She gave me the onceover. “And when he sees you in this, well…” She winked at me. “Game over, coaches.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “If I tell you to fuck off, can we still grab dinner after this?”

“Oh absolutely, my treat,” she assured me, steering me back into the fitting room so I could change out of the dress. “But I’m definitely not fucking off about this.”

Roy frowned at the mirror. He hated the gala. Well, he liked the open bar and free food. He almost enjoyed the spectacle of watching his friends get auctioned off now that he was safe from the meat market. And he didn’t mind opening up his wallet to help underprivileged children. But fuck, he hated dressing up. The red carpet. The dancing. The well-to-do pricks who felt like he owed them his time just because they inherited their money or made it in the stock market or some other posh shit while he earned his by kicking around a football.

And now he hated the way he criticized his reflection and the way his mind wandered to her. What would she be wearing? Keeley had taken her shopping, so something stunning, no doubt. Not that she needed a dress to look gorgeous. His heart hammered in his chest just seeing her in her running shorts and sports bra after work. Maybe he’d actually have that heart attack Keeley had mentioned when he saw her at the gala.

And what would she think when she saw him? Roy thought he was still a good-looking guy. Sure, maybe a little gray here and there, and he hadn’t had defined a six pack in years, but he was still attractive. Women still liked him. And with his black suit and hair almost managed and beard freshly trimmed, he thought he looked pretty fucking good.

But why the fuck did he care if she thought so? What the fuck, Roy?

He spent the whole ride over to the venue trying to turn his focus to other things. Work. The auction. Yoga. Phoebe’s most recent school play. His upcoming dentist appointment. That phone call from Ted that he needed to return. That phone call from his mother that he would not return because she’d just ask him if he was seeing anyone lately.

But his stupid, stupid brain just kept wondering what she would be wearing and what she would think when she saw him.

As soon as the car stopped, Roy handed some cash to the driver and hopped out. Just like every year, there were the fucking paparazzi, lined up to take pictures and shout asinine questions at people who just wanted to get inside and grab a free drink.

He stood at the edge of the red carpet, watching Rebecca pose for photos, so much more poised and confident than she’d been her first time hosting the gala on her own. Roy felt a surge of pride as he observed his friend; he’d seen her grow so much over the past few years, and she’d helped him to grow as well. He hated the idea that he’d been disappointing her lately with his behavior. He promised himself he’d do better. Do things the Richmond way.

“Lookin’ good, Coach.” Jamie clapped a hand on Roy’s shoulder; behind him stood Dani, whose arm was wrapped around a dolled-up Whippet, and Colin, who held hands with Michael.

“Fellas,” Roy greeted with a curt nod. He warily eyed the red carpet, knowing he couldn’t avoid it for long, before his eyes wandered in the direction everyone was arriving from.

“Bucky’s not here yet,” the Whippet- Esme?- pipped up when she noticed his lingering stare towards the line of cars. “She texted me that she’s running a bit late.”

Roy narrowed his eyes at her. “Not sure why I need to know that,” he mumbled. Not wanting an answer to that, he turned around for his annual speedwalk down the red carpet, calling out various combinations of “fuck” and “no” and “you” to the reporters.

He was finally inside, safe from the reporters, but not safe from the knowing looks of his friends and colleagues. Against his better judgement, he approached Keeley at the bar, who greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t you look lovely,” she murmured, giving Roy the once-over and straightening his tie. When he rolled his eyes and grumbled nonsense under his breath, she shook her head. “No, really, Roy. You look quite handsome.”

“Thanks,” he managed. He quickly gave a drink order to the bartender, then leaned against the bar, watching as people wandered in, everyone dressed to the nines. He had just turned to grab his drink when he saw Keeley perk up.

“Lucas! Bucky! Over here!” She waved towards the entrance.

Roy bit back an annoyed groan, then turned around and bit back a definitely-not-annoyed groan.

Fuck.

Arm in arm with Lucas, the Whippet’s manager strolled towards the bar. And, probably to no one’s surprise, she was fucking gorgeous. Hair down and wavy and framing her face angelically, looking better than any model Roy’d ever dated, lips red and so fucking kissable, she was wearing the hell out of a black dress that- for a brief moment- Roy thought would look damn good on his bedroom floor.

What the fuck?

Roy turned his attention to chugging his drink as fast as he could, hoping the answer to what was wrong with him was at the bottom of the glass. He found no answers there, but at least he was able to stop himself from ogling the beautiful manager as she approached.

“Babes, I told you that dress would be perfect!” he heard Keeley gush as she hugged the American. “And you, Lucas, very dapper.” She elbowed Roy, urging him to face the Whippets’ coaches. “Don’t they look great Roy?”

He finally had to force himself to look at her. She gazed up at him expectantly, her red, red lips slightly parted, eyes a little wider than he was used to seeing. Roy ignored the annoying feeling that they were being watched by more than just Keeley and Lucas.

“Coach Kent,” she greeted shortly. Her eyes searched his, as if she were asking him to take the lead and set the tone for their interaction.

“You… look… nice,” he managed, wondering if she could see his eyes straining to avoid trailing down her figure, the way he often let them wander during their silent evening runs on the treadmills.

She nodded. “You too,” she replied, fingers fidgeting on her clutch. “I, um, like your suit.”

Roy unconsciously licked his lips. “Thanks. I like your…” Fuck, he just noticed the slit. “Dress,” he finally blurted.

Her shy smile was almost enough to make Roy squirm. “Thanks.” She cleared her throat and patted Lucas’s arm. “Let’s go check out the silent auction before we sit down.” Her eyes returned to Roy. “See you guys later.”

In spite of himself, Roy watched her walk away, letting himself appreciate the way her dress hugged her figure as she walked. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten Keeley was leering at him.

“Oi, Kent,” she teased, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Pick your damn jaw off the floor.”

He brought his hand to his chin, realizing his mouth was indeed agape.

Fuck.

Fuck Roy Kent for looking so fucking good, I thought as Lucas and I perused the silent auction. It didn’t take a psychic to know he’d be in all black, but I hadn’t expected my knees to actually go weak at the sight of the man. I tried to tell myself it was because I was nervous that he’d start an argument about the silent auction or something, but deep down I knew it was because the stupid, feral part of my brain wanted to tug Roy by his black tie and take him straight to my apartment.

“See anything you like?” Lucas hummed, shooting me a not-so-sly wink when he caught me glancing over mt shoulder.

I gave a casual little shrug. “The 1991 ball is pretty awesome,” I murmured coolly. “Might put down a bid.”

Lucas elbowed me sharply. “You sure you wouldn’t rather bid on R-”

“Luke,” I warned in my most dangerously low voice, giving his tie a tug. “I will grab one of those butter knives and cut your tongue out if you finish that sentence.”

“So violent,” he tsked. “The two of you really are a match made him heaven.”

Before I could make another threat, Rebecca hurried over and wrapped me in a hug. “You came!”

“Of course,” I laughed, squeezing her back before letting go. “It’s in my contract.”

She winked at me. “You’re damn right it is.” She gave Lucas a quick kiss on the cheek. “You two look great. Americans clean up very well, apparently.” Her gaze lingered over the silent auction tables. “Excellent job with this, by the way. I took a quick peek, there’s already some big bids being put down.” She laid a hand on my arm, giving me a squeeze. “I’m very proud of you.”

And I knew she didn’t just mean the auction.

“Now then, you two are at table nine.” She gestured towards the tables, where people were beginning to settle for dinner. “You, me, Keeley, and all the coaches.”

“All the coaches,” I echoed, forcing a tight smile. “Of course.”

When we approached the table, I tried to make a beeline for the open seat next to Coach Beard, but Lucas immediately engaged Beard in conversation and stole the seat. That left just the spot on Lucas’s other side- next to Roy.

It was like everyone at Nelson Road had conspired to force Roy Kent and me into close proximity.

He gave me a curt nod as I sat beside him. “You decide who I have to dance with yet?”

Oh. Right. My team had won the charity game; I got to pick someone for Roy to dance with during the gala. I hadn’t even given it a single thought, assuming he wouldn’t bring it up and hold himself to our bet.

“Still thinking on it,” I answered. “Any requests?”

He gestured towards a nearby table, where an older woman was blowing kisses to a perturbed Jamie. “Not that old bird,” he hissed. “Won me in the auction one year. Had to go on a date with her, and it was the worst night of my fucking life.”

I couldn’t help myself. “You shag her?”

To my amazement, a smile appeared on his face. “Look at you, speaking our English. Maybe there is hope for you Yanks after all.”

I ignored the butterflies that appeared in my stomach. “But if I pick her,” I clarified slowly, “you will dance with her?”

His glare was playful. “Now, why would you go and ruin all our progress? We almost tolerate each other now. If we were any friendlier, Rebecca’d give us a fucking raise.”

Dinner was surprisingly painless and unsurprisingly delicious. I found myself actually enjoying chatting with Roy Kent. He pointed out the rich people at other tables and told Lucas and me horror stories about some of the auction dates he’d gone on.

“Oi, Coach Buck.” Jamie Tartt knelt down next to me, wearing a very stylish suit and a serious expression.

“Hi Jamie,” I greeted. “You look nice.”

He nodded. “I know.” He glanced up at Roy, who was rolling his eyes, before turning back to me. “Wanted to ask… How well d’you know your players?”

“Um, pretty well, I guess.” I frowned. “Why?”

His pretty face turned shy. “I was wondering about Kira. Is she… a Denver Broncos fan?”

My frown deepened. I knew Kira better than most of the Whippets; she’d played for me for one season before coming to England and playing for Arsenal for a couple of years. I wracked my brain for this random piece of trivia that was apparently very important, according to the look on Jamie’s face. “Well,” I started slowly. “She grew up near Pittsburgh, so she probably likes the Steelers. Don’t quote me on that, though.”

Jamie cocked his head, eyebrows furrowed. “The fuck does that mean?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “He’s not asking about football,” he muttered. “He wants to know if she likes men.”

“Oh.” I turned to Jamie. “Yeah, Kira’s into men.”

The beaming smile on Jamie’s face was infectious. “Mint. Thanks, Coaches.” He planted a sweet kiss on my cheek, then turned to Roy, eyebrow quirked teasingly.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Roy growled.

With a “Right, right,” Jamie practically skipped back table six, where he scooted his chair a smidge closer to Kira Malone’s; the pleasure on her face was visible even from where we sat.

“What the hell was with the Denver Broncos crap?” I asked Roy.

He shrugged. “Lasso shit,” he mumbled. “You’re better off not knowing, trust me.”

Surprisingly, I did trust him. “Alright, I know who you’re dancing with.”

Roy grimaced. “It’s the pervy old woman, innit?”

“Nope.” I pointed to table six. “Jamie Tartt.”

His laughter brought a deep blush to my cheeks. “You’re fucking vile.”

This had to be Roy’s favorite thing about being a coach. Sure, it was a gift to get to still be close to the game he loved so much. And yeah, helping players grow and become their best selves was fulfilling and shit.

But fuck, he loved getting to watch the auction and not be one of the prizes.

He whooped and hollered along with everyone else as each Greyhound took the stage, enjoying the alternating horror and delight on their faces when they saw the people who’d won them. There was something very sweet about witnessing Colin’s surprised expression when Michael won him, and he couldn’t resist adding to the particularly flirtatious hollers when Kira Malone placed an unsuccessful bid on Jamie Tartt.

Once Rebecca declared the auction a success and reminded everyone about the silent auction that would be continuing throughout the evening, people began moving to the dance floor. Good on his promise, and without prompting, Roy grabbed Jamie Tartt by the back of his shirt and dragged him away from Kira Malone, determined to get this over with.

Even above the music, Roy could hear a familiar laugh as he swayed to a fast song with Jamie, who, after his initial confusion, danced with genuine enthusiasm. Even Roy couldn’t resist cracking a smile when his former teammate asked Roy to give him a twirl- which, to everyone’s surprise, Roy obliged.

Once the song ended, the two men shook hands warmly, and Roy sent Jamie on his way to go ask Kira Malone for a dance.

Roy found Coach Bucky at the bar, sipping a drink. “Satisfied?” he asked.

“Extremely.” He tried not to focus too much on the way her lips looked wrapped around the little black straw.

“Good.” He stood next to her, leaning against the bar. “Can’t believe your team got out of the live auction. Such a double standard.” He hoped she could hear the teasing in his voice.

Her chuckle told him she did. “Well, when my girls make as much money as your boys, then we can talk about double standards.”

Roy shrugged. “That’s fair.” The two of them stood there, side-by-side, watching their players mingle and drink and dance. Roy wondered if she was also remembering that night at the club, the night that set the tone for all of their interactions. He felt kind of stupid when he remembered it; he should have been polite and asked her to dance. Things could be so different.

“Babes, come dance with us!” Before Roy could get the courage to do it himself, Keeley had come over and grabbed the American by the hand.

She turned and placed her empty glass in Roy’s hand. “That better be full when I get back,” she called over her shoulder as Keeley dragged her off.

She was coming back.

Maybe it was the alcohol in his system, but Roy found himself unable to keep his eyes off of her. The way she smiled, the way her hips moved, the way she looked in that dress. He let his mind wander to places he’d been avoiding since that first day in the changing room. Wondering what it’d be like to kiss those red lips, to have her arms wrapped around him, to see her in his bed. He liked those thoughts, despite what he’d spent months telling himself. He really liked them.

Not sure what to do with those thoughts, Roy distracted himself by pulling Beard over and chatting about nothing in particular, not really caring that his assistant coach could see his wandering eyes.

As the night wore on, she did eventually return, a few times actually, and Roy had a fresh drink ready for her each time. She’d stand by him and sip her drink, they’d talk about mundane things like the songs that played or the Greyhounds and Whippets that danced together, and they’d both wonder if the other could feel the tension between them that grew with each round of drinks they shared.

Late into the night, Keeley approached the managers, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Hey, you two,” she greeted carefully. “I’ve got a killer idea.”

Roy eyed her warily. “What?”

“Rebecca and I thought it’d be cute if our two managers shared a dance. Nice little photo op.” When she saw their faces sour, her voice turned stern. “Especially since they completely and totally owe me one.”

Right. They’d ruined her photoshoot.

“Fucking fine,” Roy muttered, as if the idea didn’t make his heartrate quicken. He downed his drink and slammed the glass on the bar, almost hard enough to break it. He held out his hand to the manager, whose sudden doe-eyes made his mouth go dry. “Let’s go.”

To his surprise, she didn’t protest or make a snarky comment. Not even a playful one. Instead, she took his hand and followed him to the dance floor; he wondered if her fingers also tingled the moment their hands touched.

Roy wasn’t sure if the fact that it was a slow song made things better or worse. But he did kind of like the way her hands rested at the nape of his neck, and he didn’t entirely hate the way her lower back felt under his hesitant grip. And he didn’t mind too much when she took his left hand in her right, holding them close to his hammering heart.

Three minutes. It was three minutes of her body pressed close to his, of letting himself stare at her and not caring that she or anyone else could see, three minutes of wondering what was going through her mind and hoping it was the same kinds of things he was thinking.

And those three minutes ended entirely too soon.

“What time is it?” she murmured absently. Seemingly without hesitation, she grabbed his wrist and held it up so she could see his watch.

“Scared your carriage’ll turn back into a pumpkin?” he teased, his mind begging her to stay so Keeley could force them to continue dancing.

She shrugged, eyebrows raised. “Dunno. Was kind of thinking of calling it a night.” After the longest three seconds of Roy’s life, she added, “What about you?”

He nodded. “I mean, the guys call me grandad for a reason,” he joked. “It’s way past my bedtime.” He gulped. “Should we share a taxi?”

The ride to Roy’s house was surprisingly short. He probably didn’t even need to take a cab and most likely could have walked home. But part of me- probably the drunk part- felt glad he did.

When the car pulled up to his house, he gripped the door, then hesitated. His eyes bore into mine as he said the last thing I ever thought Roy Kent would say to me: “Want to come in for a drink?”

I was pretty sure I surprised both of us when I offered up a small “Yeah.”

He paid the driver, helped me out of the car, and laid his hand on my back as we walked up to his front door. It dawned on me that, aside from our silent after-work runs in the weight room, this was the first time we’d ever been alone together.

Not a big deal, I told myself. Just two colleagues sharing a drink. Late at night. Looking really fucking attractive.

A few months ago, I would have expected his house to have a bunch of upside-down crosses and a few coffins and skulls lying about. Instead, I found his house to be almost… cozy? There were photos of his sister and niece, a couple of plants, even a record player in one corner with vinyls stacked next to it.

Maybe he really deserved the “grandad” nickname.

I settled myself on the couch, placing my clutch on the coffee table that held far too many books to be tidy, but not enough to look cluttered. Roy disappeared into what I assumed was the kitchen and immediately popped his head back in.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he said softly, an embarrassed grin on his lips. “I invited you for a drink, but all I’ve got is a fridge full of beer, half a bottle of tequila, and a brand-new bottle of scotch. Apparently, I am a shit host.”

“Scotch sounds good,” I assured him, for some reason unwilling to give him any excuse to send me home.

His smile told me he wasn’t going to. “Scotch then.” He nodded towards the record player. “You could put something on if you want,” he offered before disappearing again.

Feeling amused and curious, I went over and began perusing his record collection. It was a mix of old and new albums, all kinds of genres, some pretty surprising. I was looking at the back of one when Roy returned, holding two glasses.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Sam Cooke?”

He nodded as he sat down. “My grandad was a fan,” he explained. “That one was his, actually.”

With a small hum, I put the record on, the music immediately reminding me of my own grandparents. “Were you and your grandfather close?” I asked as I joined him on the couch, taking the glass he offered me.

“Very.” He took a sip of his drink. “You were close to yours, right? You mentioned him in your first press conference. Gave you your nickname.”

He remembered. “He was my best friend,” I murmured, leaning back into the couch. “Loved soccer and wanted me to love it too.” I let my finger trace the rim of my glass. “Saw me go to the Olympics. Didn’t see me become a coach.”

Roy studied me carefully as I took a drink. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

He hesitated, as if trying to figure out how to phrase it. “Why the fuck are you retired? You don’t have my excuse of being old as shit. Fucking Rapinoe’s barely retiring, and I know for a fact she’s older than you.”

A dry chuckle escaped my lips, amused at his less than gentle phrasing. “I love soccer more than breathing. What d’you think would keep me from playing until I die?”

“You got hurt.” Not a question.

“I got hurt,” I confirmed. “Took a really bad tackle in an international friendly. Fucked my ankle.” I stuck out my chin, refusing to look pitiful in front of anyone, let alone Roy Kent. “They told me that with surgery and rehab and a lot of work I could play again, but I would never be the same. Eventually playing would destroy me, and I’d make it worse and fall into that ugly cycle of injury and rehab and becoming more and more useless on the field. And I refused to keep playing and keep getting hurt and becoming an easy target for commentators. So, I retired and became a coach. Stayed useful. Did it on my terms.”

Roy let out a sharp breath. “Fuck. Well, you’re less stubborn than me, I guess. I fell into that fucking cycle and kept playing and let myself become a fucking joke because I was too fucking proud to retire with dignity.”

I shook my head. “I was just a different kind of stubborn. Refused to play if I wasn’t at my best. Gave up the one thing I ever truly loved because I couldn’t do it my way.”

“We’re just a couple of stubborn pricks then,” Roy declared, lifting his drink.

I tapped my glass to his with a clink. “I don’t think anyone at Richmond would fight us on that.”

“Even if they did, we’d argue with them.”

“Definitely.”

We sat in silence, staring at our drinks, clearly not sure how to speak to one another for this long without shouting.

He finally opened his mouth. “D’you ever miss it?” His voice was softer than I’d ever heard it.

I nodded solemnly. “More than anything. You?”

“More than I miss being able to walk up the stairs without having to take a break,” he joked, clearly trying to avoid the heavy direction we were heading in. Noticing our now empty glasses, he silently picked them up and carried them to the kitchen. “Oi,” he called. “I have a fucking awful question for you. Whatever we say doesn’t leave this house, alright?”

“Can’t have anyone figure out we’re capable of getting along,” I teased. “We couldn’t get away with our screaming matches anymore.”

His smirk was wide when he returned. “Exactly.” He handed over my drink and resumed his seat, his serious expression returning. “D’you… ever hate your players? Because they get to keep playing and you… don’t?”

Fuck. I’d never heard anyone voice the bitterness I silently felt so perfectly before. “It’s awful,” I admitted. “Because I adore them. And I’m so fucking proud of them. But sometimes I feel so envious, y’know?” I blinked, refusing to cry in front of Roy Kent. “It’s like time keeps moving and I’m just frozen. It’s so damn hard to go from the top of the world, being the fucking champion of the world, to sitting on the sideline, watching other people live your dream. Faking smiles when all you want to do is fade into oblivion.”

“But you just can’t fucking stay away from the game,” Roy murmured, reading my mind. “It’s like a first love. You can never quite get over it.” He sighed heavily. “So, we linger, we stick around, and we figure out some way to be useful, even if it kills us.”

“And when it does kill us,” I added, “they’ll just keep dribbling around us.”

His dark laugh eased the pain this conversation held. “Oi, I promise to move you out of the way. Give you some fucking dignity. Promise you’ll do the same for me?”

I smirked at him, determined to help him lighten things up. “Dunno if you’ll be able to move my body. I hear your knees are shit.”

“Fuck you,” he replied, the expression on his face telling me that, for once, he didn’t really mean it. “Alright, another question.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “Do you miss, I dunno, being the hot young thing?”

Doing my best Roy Kent impression, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Fuck you,” I repeated. “I’m younger than you, Kent. And I have it on good authority that I’m still pretty hot.” My expression naturally softened when I saw the laughter in his eyes. “But I know what you mean. Everyone wants the cute young athlete, no one wants the exhausted manager. A lot less options when you’re not the shiny new thing anymore.”

“Well,” he started slowly, “you are the shiny new thing at Richmond.”

I gave a little hum. “Not with the other Whippets around,” I pointed out. “I noticed Jamie Tartt and Dani Rojas started poking around my office a lot less once my girls arrived.”

Roy studied me carefully for a moment. “Do you… want their attention?”

I nearly choked on my drink. “Fuck no,” I laughed. “I might still be young, but I’m old enough to not want to date guys like that. Not that I don’t think they’re sweet,” I quickly added. “That’s just… not what I’m looking for anymore.”

The silence returned. Something in the way he looked at me had me blurting out the first thing that popped into my head.

“Keeley mentioned that, um, the two of you used to date?”

After a moment of shock, he nodded. “Oh. Yeah. For a bit.” He took a long drink. “That’s all completely over. We’re good friends now, but neither of us want to go down that road again.” He paused before continuing. “Not that it was a bad relationship. It was great, actually. We just grew apart. And we’re honestly much better as friends.”

“Oh.” Just like when Keeley talked about it, I couldn’t figure out what to say. Or why I was so interested.

“And we’ve both moved on,” he continued, as if he was trying to convince me. “She’s had a couple of relationships since, and I…” He looked at me carefully, watching me take a drink of my scotch. “I’ve moved on,” he repeated.

I crossed my legs, not sure if it was me or the alcohol that purposely did so in a way that took full advantage of the slit in my dress. “Well, that’s nice. That you two remained friends, I mean.”

“Yeah.” His eyes were on my exposed leg. “Friends.”

“I would say we’re on our way to almost being friends, wouldn’t you?”

He grunted in response. “Maybe.” He turned his body to face me, something heated in his eyes. “D’you need some more scotch?”

I smiled at him and mirrored his posture, reveling in the closeness it provided. “Not sure I should keep you up any longer. Bedtime, remember?”

“I don’t really have a bedtime,” he admitted with a laugh. “Just wanted to get the fuck out of there.” He paused, letting his hand drop down onto the back of the couch so his fingers ghosted over my bare shoulder. “Getting a little sick of everyone watching us all the time.”

My heart skipped a beat at his touch. “I take it you’ve been getting some teasing?”

“They don’t fucking stop, do they?” He finished his drink and put down his glass with a thud. “All this ‘shag it out of your system’ shit. It’s fucking sexual harassment.”

“That’s what I told Lucas!” I set down my glass, ignoring the last couple of sips left in it. “Even Keeley was going on and on about how you were going to love this dress on me.”

His lips curved upwards. “I do love that dress on you.”

My words got caught in my throat. Hell, I didn’t even know what those words were going to be. All I knew was that Roy Kent was staring at my lips and his fingers were grazing my shoulder and that he was still wearing his jacket and that I suddenly wanted to see it on the floor.

His eyes reflecting the same uncertainty and heat that I felt, Roy leaned forward and captured my lips in a forceful kiss. The hand on my shoulder moved to the back of my neck as his other hand gripped my thigh where the dress split open to reveal most of my leg, as if the dress was conspiring along with everyone else at Nelson Road. My own hands tugged at his suit jacket, shoving it off his shoulders and tossing it aside, before returning to his shoulders to pull him closer to me.

There was a surprising gentleness to the way he pushed me back until I was horizontal on the couch, Roy propping himself up to keep his full weight off of me. My hands moved to his face, amused to find that his beard was much softer than I’d expected it to be. Somewhere in my mind- the part still capable of coherent thought- I scolded myself for expecting anything about how his beard would feel.

As his tongue skimmed against mine, the record came to a halt; neither of us seemed to care, instead choosing to fill the living room with the sounds of our heavy breathing and soft moans. Kissing Roy Kent was delicious- he tasted like scotch and smelled like expensive, spicy cologne and felt like everything I never knew I needed.

His mouth moved away from mine to find every bit of bare skin and planting rough, wet kisses on every inch he could reach, giving me butterflies in more places than just my tummy. When he finally decided to take advantage of the neckline of my dress and bring his lips there, I mumbled, “Will you argue with me if I ask you where your bedroom is?”

He looked up, grinning like a devil, eyes darker and more intense than their usual soft brown. “Only if you slow me down.”

He managed to get us both to our feet without breaking the embrace, albeit with a bit of a stumble. He kept his mouth on mine as he tugged me through the house and down the hall, where I relieved him of his tie and began fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, while his hands roamed the back of my dress, searching for the zipper.

As we crashed through his bedroom door, he managed to rasp against my lips, “Are you too drunk for this?”

Feeling just short of desperation as I squeezed him impossibly closer, I shook my head. “Just drunk enough. You?”

“Just drunk enough.”

That was all either of us needed to hear. His shirt was suddenly unbuttoned, and my dress was on the floor. We had enough sense to carelessly remove our shoes and kick them to some corner of the room before tumbling onto his bed. When his shirt was tossed aside, I gave an involuntary gulp. This wasn’t a new sight; I watched Roy run without a shirt regularly. But tonight? Tonight, I got to reach out and let my fingers run through that dark curly hair, giving a little tug that had Roy hissing against my neck and grinding his hips into mine.

“Take your pants off, Kent,” I groaned before smashing my mouth into his again.

“I think you can call me Roy now,” he mumbled, for once doing as he was told.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, desperate for more, more, more of him. His skin was blazing hot against mine as his hands explored here, there, everywhere. I marveled at how good it felt to have this man pressed so close to me, amazed that we’d lasted this long without falling into bed together.

His mind must’ve been in the same place, because he mumbled, “Wish I’d known this is what you meant all those times you told me to get fucked.”

“Fuck you, Roy,” I whispered jokingly as my hand slowly travelled lower, towards the place I knew would be the hottest to the touch.

“Thought that was the plan,” he replied, hips bucking slightly when I began toying with the waistband of his boxers.

I buried my giggles against his lips. In the back of my head, behind my usual contempt for this man and his snark, behind my ever-growing need for him, some little voice whispered, He’s funny. Roy Kent is FUNNY.

There wasn’t much time for me to focus on that, however, as Roy’s hand found my own underwear, giving a playful little tug. “This alright?” he breathed, as if we weren’t both on fire with wanting each other.

“Just do me one favor,” I murmured, bumping my nose to his, an impossibly chaste gesture compared to what we were about to do.

“Fucking anything,” he groaned. The- was I really seeing this?- affection in his eyes told me he truly meant it.

I pressed a heated kiss to his lips, where I mumbled, “Don’t fucking call me Bucky.”

He laughed, and, for the first time, he whispered my name.

And he whispered it in my ear for the rest of the night.

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#roy kent something there #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent smut #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

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shivroythinker · 1 year

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so this is something i've been turning over in my head for a few days and i'm not sure if it entirely makes sense but one of the aspects of shiv's character that is especially interesting to me is how incredibly warped her concept of love is. this is something i feel like all the roy siblings have issues with to some degree, but i think it's an especially pronounced part of shiv's character because we see so much of her relationship with tom over the course of the show.

like. i am of the belief that shiv does love tom. she really truly does, none of her behavior with regards to him makes sense unless we can take that as fact. the issue is that for shiv, love and cruelty cannot be untangled. they are two sides of the same coin, and of course they are, because when has she ever known love that was not also cruel? on more than one occasion she seems genuinely surprised that tom was hurt by something she said that to the average person was like... obviously hurtful. but that isn't incompatible with love for her. she is perpetually caught in the center of a tornado of her own feelings and they are so overwhelming and confusing that she can't see past the dust and debris and realize the havoc she is wreaking on others.

on the flip side of this, shiv is also unable to reconcile the way she's treated by tom with what she understands love to be. in the first two seasons especially, tom is so doting and loving and full of praise and compliments and reassurance. he is the picture of a man in love with his wife. but to shiv, this isn't what love looks like, it makes her uncomfortable, and of course it does because when has siobhan roy ever known unconditional kindness as anything other than a manipulation tactic or a guilt trip or a way to further one's own position? of course she clocks that tom is using her to get to power. after all, why else would he show her kindness? why else would he be gentle? love like that is not given to her unconditionally! it always has a price! she was weaned on poison! i want to fling myself into the abyss!

#once again i will not be reading this over or editing it so it makes more sense we shivpost like men #dont take this too seriously but also it is so serious #shiv roy #succession #tomshiv #shivposting

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