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#ted lasso tv
robert-deniro · 10 months
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- I know a lot of people are shit-talking your hair online.
- They’re WHAT?
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bibastibootz · 10 months
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1x03 🤝 3x12
"Pass me the ball! Pass me the ball!! Me, me, me! I want the ball! Pass me the ball, please!!!"
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milfloverobisanya · 9 months
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royjamie as textposts (part 2/?)
[part one here]
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tinylilemrys · 8 months
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it's not a real hyperfixation until i make the live from snack time post
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casismybestfriend · 10 months
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ted and trent — "wins and losses" — insp
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robottheodorlasso · 10 months
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Don’t Touch
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TRENT CRIMM, THE INDEPENDENT
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nollimet · 2 years
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Those first few Richmond press conferences had Ted pinned like a bug
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alloftheimagines · 11 months
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roy kent | just friends
MASTERLIST | TAGLIST | KO-FI
words: 3k
warnings: strong language because it's roy fucking kent, mentions of alcohol but not intoxication, bad date experiences with rude and not nice people, including comments on reader's body.
single parent!reader (they/them, bi/pan) x uncle roy in which he is your best friend and go-to babysitter when you have an awful date that ends early. protectiveness, hurt/comfort, and a heated confession ensues.
prompt: Roy Kent x Reader, Friends to lovers?
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You’ve never been more relieved to be home, even as the sound of screaming children drifts from your house. You press your forehead against the cool door, taking in a deep breath. “Past their bedtime. Again,” you mutter, but your best friend allowing your daughter to have a late night with his niece, Phoebe, is the least of your worries after what you just experienced. 
Horror. Pure horror. 
“Oi!” you hear the deep, gritty voice of Roy Kent echoing down your hallway. “Come back ‘ere and do my other hand! Can’t be walking around with only one set of fucking nails painted!” 
Giggles follow, and you smile despite yourself. They give you the energy to open the door finally, and you step in to find your hallway lit brightly, Phoebe flying out of the kitchen with chocolate smeared across her face and bright blue nail polish in her hand. 
“Don’t be getting that on my carpet!” you warn, alerting everyone to your presence. 
Your daughter, Maisie, skips out next, waving. “We’re painting Uncle Roy’s nails!”
“Lucky Roy!” She’d been calling him “uncle” for the past year, though neither of you is related to the footballer-turned-manager. Maisie picked it up from Phoebe, and Roy hadn’t seemed to mind, since you’re practically best friends anyway. You’re constantly trying to tire the kids out with play dates at one another’s house, or else exchanging babysitting duties so one of you can have a free night. Of course, Roy isn’t a single parent like you, but he watches Phoebe enough that you’ve formed a bond over the years, one that stemmed from your shared love of your chaotic children. 
That bond has blossomed into something much more than you bargained for, though. After all, he is Roy fucking Kent, and his rough exterior matched with his hidden, softer side was always going to be your downfall. But since he’s been in and out of relationships and never made a move, you’ve let the small crush lie, trying to distract yourself with dates. 
Terrible, terrible dates.
Like the one you had tonight. 
“You’re back early.” Roy emerges last, leaning against the doorframe as he blows on his wet-varnished nails. “It wasn’t the one who speaks like someone’s pressed fast-forward on the TV remote again, was it? I told you they’re a loser.” 
“No. No, it was someone far, far worse than Fast-forward Frank.” You sigh and try to ignore the flickering in your chest, because gruff footballer Roy Kent is currently being pampered by two ten-year-olds and seems to be enjoying every minute. 
“Fuck,” he deadpans. “I’ll grab the wine.” He wanders back into the kitchen. 
You huff again, kicking your shoes off your aching feet and heading into the living room, where the girls are painting one another’s nails. It was at least nice to snuggle up on your couch and watch, legs curled under you. They’re arguing, of course, but you’re good at tuning that out most of the time. 
“You look very nice, Y/N,” Phoebe compliments. “Are you dressed up for my Uncle Roy?”
“No.” Even so, your cheeks flush, and you can’t help but hope he noticed your appearance before you left earlier. In fact, you’d been wondering all through dinner why he’d pursed his lips, jaw ticking, as he’d looked you up and down with shiny, dark eyes. It hadn’t exactly been the look of a man who lusted after you. More the disapproving stare of a father about to tell his child to go and change. “I went on a date.”
“What’s a date?” Maisie asks.
“14th of April,” Phoebe answers confidently. You smirk, glad when they return to their own little world. 
“Right girls,” Roy says as he comes in. “Go and play upstairs, now. We’re talking about adult stuff now.”
“And you should be in bed,” you remind, because you suppose that one of you has to be the responsible parent, and it certainly isn’t him.
The kids groan but trudge out of the room, leaving you in peace. Somehow, that’s even worse. You don’t really know why; you’ve had lots of awful dating experiences, but tonight, you’re just… exhausted. You don’t want to have to keep searching for something that most people find without a problem. You don’t want to meet new people who you don’t connect with, don’t even really like, just because the alternative is sitting at home with only a child for company, or sometimes Roy. 
Roy places the wine on the coffee table and raises his brow. “Go on then. Tell me what was wrong with this one.” 
“It’d be quicker to tell you what’s right. They started by telling me to put a blanket under me in their car so I wouldn’t scuff their leather seats. And then when I told them I had a kid, they looked me up and down and said ‘ah, yeah, I can tell. Have you looked into cosmetic surgery?’” You wrinkle your nose as Roy scoffs. 
“You’re joking!” 
“I wish I was joking.” You rest your head against the couch cushion, closing your tired eyes. “They tried to order a salad for me after that. I told them fuck off, I’m having the garlic bread. They didn’t like that.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Do you have their address?” Roy is already scrambling to get up, and you aren’t sure if he’s joking or not. 
You roll your eyes and tug him back down. “Stop it.”
“I’m not fucking joking. Where does this wanker live?” 
Okay, you realise. Not joking. His jaw is clenched, brows even more furrowed than usual. You’ve seen him angry before, but never… seething. It rolls off him until you yank him down a second time. 
“I don’t need you to beat them up. I need you to drink wine and tell me I’ll find the right person one day.” You pout as you pick up your wine glass, only half-joking.
His nostrils flare, but he settles down. “You will find the right person,” he reassures. “People are just dicks. You deserve better than all that shit.”
“I wonder sometimes,” you admit. “Nobody wants a single parent. I’m a package deal, and… well, there’s a reason I’m still single after all this time.”
“Oi.” He nudges you, draping his arm around the back of your couch so you smell his aftershave. You turn into the warmth, the comfort, though there is so much space between you still. More than you’d like. In another life, he might have been the one you were looking for. In another life, you weren’t searching for a good, healthy, passionate love, because you’d found it long ago, in the schoolyard where you met. 
But you’re in this life, you remind yourself, and you’re a far cry from the people Roy has dated before. It’s clear you’re just friends. You always will be. 
You lift your brows, waiting for whatever lecture he’s about to give you. 
His eyes pierce yours. “Don’t even bother going there. You and Maisie deserve the fucking world, and fuck anyone who isn’t going to give it to you.” 
The words pierce your heart, and something damp and warm trickles from the corner of your eye. A tear, you realise too late. 
Roy sighs, the rough pad of his thumb brushing it away. You’re not surprised by his gentle touch, though most people might be. You know him too well to think him anything other than tender-hearted and caring to his core. 
“Don’t get fuckin’ upset over that prick. Please, sweetheart.”
“No. I’m not.” You sniff, feeling pathetic. “I’m just overwhelmed. Tired. That’s all.” 
His touch drifts to your hair, brushing through the strands and tucking a few behind your ear as your eyes flutter shut again. You could stay like this for a long time. For forever. He has no idea just how much you need him, how much better things feel when he’s around. It would just make sense, you and him — if you took away his fame, at least. You love one another’s kids. You’d become family over the years. You trust him with every fibre of your being as the one steadfast person you can count on. 
“Y’know, you’re the person I’d call in the middle of the night if I needed to bury a body. Or if I thought there was a ghost in my house or something,” you admit. 
His face crumples. “Ey?” 
“Just…” You lean into him, burying your cheek against his chest. “You’re the only person who hasn’t let me down or left me.” 
His movements are stiff as he wraps his arms around you, but he melts into you quickly, holding you to him until you’re not sure where you end and he begins. You hear his heart echoing in your ear. Feel the prickly bristle of his beard against your skin. It’s the safest you ever get to feel, and it’s rare you allow yourself to be so vulnerable. But tonight, you can’t find a reason to keep pretending. 
“I never would,” he whispers. “If it was me, if you gave me a chance at a family like yours… I wouldn’t fucking waste it. They’re idiots, all of them. You and Maisie are precious. You deserve the best. Don’t stop until you find it.” 
You pull away, pulse racing. It’s never felt right to address your feelings before, and perhaps tomorrow you’ll regret it. Maybe you’ll lose him, even, but you believe him when he says he isn’t going anywhere, and you have to know…
“What if I already have?”
His frown lasts for minutes, hours, as he looks down at you. And then you see it dawn on him, and you don’t want to hear how this story ends. You don’t want to be rejected twice in one night. You stumble up. “Forget I said that. I had a couple of drinks at the restaurant, and I’m all… loopy. I’m going to get some snacks. Are you hungry?” The drinks were non-alcoholic, but he doesn't need to know that.
“No,” Roy says. 
It’s all he gives you. The message has been delivered loud and clear. He doesn’t want you. Tears sting your eyes as you leave the living room, heading into the kitchen. You catch your reflection in the window and almost break down entirely. You’re an idiot, and you’ve gone and embarrassed yourself in front of the one person you can be yourself around. 
You grab a tissue, drying your tears, but fresh ones fall all the same. 
And then your back prickles and you know he’s followed you. 
“Oi,” he breathes gently, tilting your chin up as he reaches you. “What are you getting upset for?”
“I’m not,” you lie pathetically, looking anywhere but at him. “You can head off if you want. I can watch the girls tonight and drop Phoebe off—”
“Can we just rewind a minute? Do you… Do you think that you and me…?”
“No! God, no. No. No, no, no.”
“Oh.” He nods, leaning back on his heels. "So no then?"
“No!” 
“All right, I fucking get it.” He lifts his hands as though they might wipe it all away. “I just thought that’s what you were saying before, on the couch. I thought…”
“You should stop thinking, Roy.” You offer him a flustered smile, your face burning. “Honestly, let’s just forget about it.”
“Right. Fine.” More silence. And then: “What if I don’t want to?” 
“Don’t want to what?” 
He shrugs. “Forget about it. What if… we’ve both already found the right people?” 
Your body is electricity now, and you can barely breathe. “What… do you mean?”
He scratches his stubble, lowering his gaze. “Well, I could take you on a date. I’d be much better at it than the losers you’ve been seeing.”
You’re caught off-guard, hands trembling, “Is that what you’d like?”
“Well, I did. I mean, I’ve wanted to. I just… you’ve already said no. Several times. So I suppose I got my answer, and that’s that.” 
“Well, I didn’t think you saw me that way. You’ve never asked before. Is this, like, a pity thing?”
“Fuck no!” he blurts too quickly. “I mean, no. 'Course not. And you’ve never mentioned it before either, by the way. You’re always going on all these fucking dates. When was I supposed to ask? Between Fast-forward Frank and that fucking woman obsessed with her pet ferret?” 
You blink, puzzled. “I mean… if you asked, I wouldn’t have gone on dates with Ferret Fiona.”
He throws his hands up in the air. “Now she fucking tells me.”
You don’t like the implication that you’ve been the one holding him back. “Well, it’s not like you’ve ever tried, is it? I mean, I’ve been single for years and you’ve never made a move, even before all this online dating palaver! And you’re not exactly easy to read, by the way. You’re always frowning, even when I’m trying to bloody well impress you! What was I supposed to think? That you fancy me when you always look like this?” You moulded your expression into a big, dramatic, brooding glower and hope it encapsulates everything that is Roy. 
He crosses his arms over his chest, looking angry now. Proving your point. “Oi! I don’t do that with my lips,” he points out. “And you’re always talking about how badly you want to find someone when I’m sitting right fucking here! That’s mixed signals, mate.”
“It was me hinting! Hoping!” you shout. “I was just waiting for a sign, or something, but you never treated me like anything more than a friend!”
“Because I didn’t want to be like that creepy Allen bloke you dated last year! He was your friend too, if I recall!” 
You sigh, realising the conversation is going in circles. You look at him. He looks at you. Both of you are breathless, wild-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and you know you’ll always remember the way he looks, standing in your kitchen, infuriated and perhaps more open than ever before, because you see it now; that dark look in his eyes was never a guard, never a sign of being just friends. It was want, need. 
It was everything you already feel. 
“Why are you two arguing?” a meek voice interrupts. You both look to the door to find the girls hovering in the hallway. 
“We’re not arguing,” you assure quickly. 
“It’s adult stuff,” says Roy at the same time. 
“We don’t like it when you argue,” Maisie says. “Especially when you’re supposed to get married.”
“What?” you question sharply, turning red all over again. 
Phoebe nods as though corroborating Maisie’s story. “We’ve planned it all. It will be next June at McDonald’s, and Uncle Roy will bring you flowers, and we’ll all have milkshakes afterwards.”
You put your head in your hands, peeking through your fingers and surprised to find that Roy is smirking. “Sounds like a shit wedding, Pheebs. Where’ve you got this idea from?” he says.
“Well, Mum said you two will end up together because you clearly fancy Y/N and it is invevitable.” 
A laugh bubbles in your own throat at her attempt to say inevitable, though you’re still too stunned to speak. 
“See?” Roy whispers. “Everyone else knew. It's fucking invevitable.” 
You shiver, lowering your hands to meet his gaze properly. It’s soft and intent, nothing like the anger of a moment ago. 
“All right, girls,” you say. “Get your pyjamas on. We’ll be up to say nanight in a minute.”
You usher them away, closing the door to when you hear their footsteps on the stairs. You’ve never been more aware of his presence, the fact it’s just the two of you — you don’t even know who you are without the kids jumping about, sticking their noses in. 
“Have I fucked it all up?” he asks finally. 
“No. Have I?”
He shakes his head. 
“Then what now?” you question. “What does this… mean?” 
“Well…” He leans against the counter, fidgety as he smiles again. “I’ll take you on a decent fucking date for starters. No kids, and no more of whatever the fuck this argument was.”
The thought leaves you feeling cracked and seeping with excitement, though you try to play it cool. “Okay. That’s a good plan.” 
“Right. Good. Then… are you free Friday night?”
You inch closer to him, timid suddenly. “I don’t know. My usual babysitter is busy.”
He rolls his eyes and tugs you toward him so that your torsos collide, and then his fingers curl around the nape of your neck and you can think of nothing but the way his lips look, and what it must feel like, having them between your thighs, beard grazing your skin. 
“You’re an idiot,” he rasps. 
“Takes one to know one.” You lick your lips, then his mouth his on yours, rough and ready and desperate. You let him in, let his tongue explore your mouth. You know you shouldn’t. The girls might come back in, might already be listening, but you’ve wanted this for so long. 
You both have. 
You’re breathless when he stops, his hands lingering just above your belly as he bites down on a groan. “If I don’t stop now, there’ll be trouble.” 
You’re not willing to let go, though, and you rest your hands on his chest as you kiss his jaw. “And?”
“And I’ve waited a long fucking time to do this properly. Give you the care,” he kisses your nose, “you deserve. Sweep you,” another kiss, this time at the outer corner of your eye, “off your fucking feet. So I’m going to.” He steps away. “Friday. Seven. Find a new babysitter, and make sure they’re free all night.” 
With that, he steps away, leaving you wanting more. 
“Uncle Royyyyy!” Phoebe is calling. “Will you read us a story?”
He grins, kisses your forehead, and then is gone. You’re not sure your knees will hold you up if you follow, but you listen to him talking to the girls, making them laugh, and you have never felt more right, more complete. 
You’re a fool for thinking anyone else could be perfect for you when the man you love has been here all along.
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jopzer · 8 months
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— no video games before bedtime. unless it's animal crossing. that shit's fucking soothing.
(pt. 2) (pt. 3)
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doridraws · 8 months
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i miss my babygirl 😫
online store | twitter | instagram | portfolio
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robert-deniro · 11 months
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“Hey Coach, there’s been a mistake. I got me.”
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bibastibootz · 10 months
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best of Roy x Keeley x Jamie in "Mom City" 💖💜💙
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milfloverobisanya · 9 months
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afc richmond during richmond v. west ham [3x04] as textposts
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rosie-tyler · 10 months
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Top 10 Ted Lasso episodes according To IMDb
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casismybestfriend · 11 months
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ted lasso — silly huddle cheers
bonus:
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