#there's no good reason for this to be roy

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Bedroom Eyes Like a Remedy

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader 3.6k words (kind of a long one!) Warnings: Language, lying/sneaking around, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, fluff & flirting, some spice, mentions of drinking, "locker room talk", protective dad

Staying up all night with a professional footballer sounded good at the time, you reasoned with yourself as you stifled a yawn. But now, walking down the hall to grab one of the coaches a breakfast sandwich, you were almost regretting it.

Almost.

You were nearly at your destination when a hand grabbed your wrist. When you whirled around, Roy was smirking at you.

“You busy tonight?” he murmured in place of a greeting.

Melting at the sight of him, you leaned against a wall and batted your eyes flirtatiously. “Depends, are you making me an offer?”

Roy bit his lip and shrugged. “Homemade dinner. Horribly expensive bottle of wine.” He leaned in close to whisper in your ear, “Finish what you tried to start last night.”

He definitely noticed the way your thighs pressed together at his suggestion. “Sounds like a plan, Kent.”

He opened his mouth to say something else-

“Oi, Kent!”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your dad was striding down the hall, head tilted at the sight of you and Roy clearly in the middle of a conversation. Oh hell, did he notice the way your eyes were wild for the midfielder? Did he catch Roy’s tiny step back to put distance between you? Shit, did he see Roy whisper suggestively in your ear?

Roy stood like a soldier at attention as your dad approached. “Weight room,” your dad said sharply.

“Coach.” With a nod to your dad and not a second glance at you, Roy walked briskly down the hall in the direction your dad instructed.

You tried to sidestep to get back to your task, but the sound of your dad clearing his throat had you freezing like Roy did. “What were you and Kent chatting so intensely about?” The question came out slowly, as though he was dreaded your answer.

“A book he recommended to me,” you blurted out quickly. Roy and you suggested books to each other from time to time; your dad knew that well. “Kent wanted to know how I was enjoying it.” You shrugged. “Sorry for keeping him from training,” you added, hoping your face was innocent enough to convince your dad.

He nodded, a slow nod, processing your words. “You two seem to be quite chummy lately,” he observed. “Smiling at each other, whispering in corners.” He narrowed his eyes. “Anything you need to tell me?”

You were thrown back to being a teenager, caught coming home past curfew, caught with a boy in your room, caught with alcohol on your breath. Each of those times, you had been honest with your dad. Each of those times had concluded with a firm but loving conversation, a hug between father and daughter, a better understanding of each other.

But not this time.

“No,” you lied. “Just being friendly. But I won’t distract him from work anymore, I promise. We’ll save our chats for after practice.”

A small shove from your dad told you that you were off the hook. “Alright,” he conceded. “But be careful with Kent, alright? I don’t have to tell you about his reputation. Not that he’d be daft enough to go out with you.” He let out a light chuckle, one you returned with a weak smile. When he caught the absolute mortification on your face, his own grin dropped. “Because you’re my kid,” he clarified firmly. “And Roy Kent knows better.”

Apparently not, you thought to yourself. “Dad…” You cleared your throat. “D’you think it would really be so bad if I… if we…”

“Don’t.” Your dad’s voice was a sharp knife to your abdomen. “Come on, love. You know how these guys are. Talented as hell, but not boyfriend material.” He shook his head. “I know you probably think he’s a nice guy, he’s good-looking and famous, but you’ll only wind up hurt, and I’ll wind up in an awkward situation here.” He smiled at you. “There’s plenty of other fellas you can go after. Leave Roy Kent and the rest of them on the pitch.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, missing the distressed look on your face. “Think you could grab me a breakfast sandwich too?”

You pretended you weren’t struggling for air as you nodded. “Sure, Dad.”

The knots in your stomach from your conversation with your dad were still there that night as you stood in front of your closet. No one likes lying to their parents, you reminded yourself as you pulled out your favorite dress, the one you usually saved for clubs and birthday dinners. But sometimes, a girl had to do what a girl had to do. And what you had to do was dress yourself up and go see Roy Kent at his flat, even if it meant looking your father in the eye and lying through your teeth about going out with your girlfriends.

As you drove the now familiar route to Roy’s, you were struck by the realization that your alibis had one thing in common: your recently neglected friends. Shit, you thought. You needed them to be in on your secret if you were going to keep this up. You fished your phone out of your bag and quickly dialed the friend whose name had slipped out of your mouth a lot lately.

“She’s alive!” Angela shrieked when she answered.

The chuckle you let out was tinged with guilt. “Hey,” you greeted. “Sorry for falling off the face of the earth.” You cleared your throat, trying to figure out where to start. “See, there’s uh, this guy-”

“He must be fit to have you forgetting your friends,” she teased.

A dreamy smile crossed your face as you thought about the sight of Roy in the changing room. “He is,” you assured her. “But… he’s also kind of a secret.” You sighed. “And I’ve kind of been using you as my excuse to leave the house to see him.”

Angela tsked at you jokingly. “Dating a guy Mum and Dad don’t approve of? Naughty girl.”

“Well, Mum might approve if she got to know him.” You paused for a long moment. “But Dad-”

“He’s not a footballer, is he?” Angela laughed. “Let me, guess, you finally shagged Roy Kent?”

She’d meant it as a joke; all of your mates knew how much you drooled over the midfielder. They teased you constantly. But they also knew your dad’s feelings about his players, having heard his warnings first-hand once you had all grown up and found yourselves looking at his team in a new light. They knew his one rule for hanging around Chelsea FC was staying away from the fellas. And here you were, his own daughter, completely breaking that rule.

“I mean…” You let out a deep exhale. “I haven’t shagged him yet,” you explained pathetically. “I’m actually on my way to his flat now for…” Your face was burning hot. “That.”

A choking sound came through the phone. “I’m sorry,” Angela scoffed. “You’re sneaking around with Roy Kent?”

You paused for a moment. You could tell her you’re joking, that you’re seeing some nobody and you just want to keep things private. But shit, you had to tell someone. “Yes,” you quietly confirmed.

There was a long silence on her end; for a moment, you worried that she’d hung up to call your father and tell him everything. Finally, her voice returned. “Well shit,” she laughed. “Good for you, girl!”

The breath you’d been holding flew out of your mouth. While Angela promised to help keep your secret, you arrived at Roy’s place. After agreeing to get together soon so you could give her all the details, you hung up, satisfied that you had at least one person in your life who was happy for you and your relationship with Roy Kent. Not that you considered this a relationship relationship, you quickly scolded yourself. Maybe fling was the better word. No, that didn’t quite cover the way Roy looked at you while eating hot dogs the night of his photoshoot. Romance? Sure, you told yourself. This romance with Roy Kent.

Roy was certainly feeling romantic, it appeared. He greeted you with a slow kiss in the doorway before taking your coat and purse from you and ushering you inside. A couple of candles were lit in the otherwise dim living room, and from his stereo you could hear soft music playing. He took your hand and led you to the dining room, which up to this point was just the room you passed through on your way to the kitchen. Tonight, however, the table was set for two, with candles and wine and a vase of flowers sitting on a white tablecloth. You eyed the tablecloth carefully; you wouldn’t have thought of Roy Kent as the type of man to own a tablecloth, if you were being honest.

He must have caught the way you blinked in surprise at the setup, because Roy cleared his throat as he held out your chair for you. “Figured, my first time making you dinner, might as well do things properly,” he mumbled as you sat down.

“It’s lovely,” you assured him. You stared at him, with his hard expression and twitching fingers. “Thank you. Really.”

A pleased look twinkled in his eye as he turned to the kitchen. “I hope you’re hungry.” He returned with a pair of plates accompanied by a heavenly smell. “It’s, uh, a pesto gnocchi,” he explained as he set the plates on the table.

As the two of you tucked in, you stole a glance at him. He had a hard look on his face, stony and expressionless as he stared at his plate. But when you looked at his hands, you caught the way they twitched and fidgeted, betraying how… nervous he was? Excited? You hoped happy was somewhere in the jumble of emotions it looked like Roy was feeling.

Just as you were trying to decide what to say to break the quiet, Roy looked up at you, eyebrows scrunched. “The fucking candles aren't too much are they?” he blurted.

A soft smile graced your lips. Nervous, you decided. Roy was definitely nervous. “Everything is perfect,” you murmured, feeling bold enough to touch his hand. “Especially this food. Holy shit, who knew Chelsea’s superstar could cook?” You smirked at him. “I bet you learned to cook just to impress women, Kent.”

He rolled his eyes as the corner of his mouth curled upwards. “Fuck off, I actually enjoy cooking.” He chuckled and added, “But yeah, it does seem to be…” He bobbled his head. “Impressive.”

You decided to shove down the pang of envy at the idea of other women, gorgeous models and famous actresses, sitting in this same spot, eating this same dish and drinking the same wine from the same glass. Instead, you focused on the warmth of Roy’s eyes as he gazed at you. “Well, consider me impressed.”

You tried to think of the last time you had such a perfect date. It wasn’t as if you went out with losers; the guys you dated were always good-looking enough, smooth enough, smart and clever enough. Most of them were decent enough in bed. They knew the right places to go and the right things to say. They were fine. Hell, some of them were even great.

But none of them were Roy.

Roy who rolled his eyes playfully and told stories that made you laugh and made faces at you when you called him a prick. And gazed at you with the softest brown eyes known to man and offered up small smiles when he listened to you talk. And asked about a million times if you liked the food and made sure that you had enough of the wine that you knew the campus pub would never carry.

Roy Kent was nothing short of the perfect date.

The empty plates lay in front of you for a long time, ignored in favor of chatting about football, university, mates, books, everything and anything either of you could think of. While telling you about being a kid in Sunderland, Roy eventually trailed off, clearly preferring to lean his elbows on the table and smile gently at you in the candlelight. You wondered if you had the same look on your face, a look full of fondness and bliss that carried words that felt far too scary to even entertain.

“Thanks again for visiting me last night,” you murmured, tracing the rim of your wine glass. “I think you should climb through my window more often.”

 He chuckled lightly and reached out for your hand. “Well, if it gets me more dinners like this, I might have to.” He leaned forward, his rapidly moving eyes betraying the calculations he was doing in his mind. “Especially if… you want to continue from last night?”

Every inch of your skin burned in anticipation. “That… sounds like a good idea,” you breathed. You bit your lip gently. “You’ve seen my room. Guess it’s only fair you show me yours, right?”

“Right.”

This wasn’t the first time Roy Kent had taken a woman to his bedroom. Not by a longshot. Just like this wasn’t your first time letting a guy lead you to his room. But something about this felt… different. There was something in the air, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, as you held Roy’s hand and walked through his posh apartment. Something thick and heavy that you could feel in the tips of your fingers and the pit of your stomach.

But you didn’t dwell on whatever that something was. Not when Roy Kent was lying in bed on top of you, his mouth on yours, demanding your full attention. Your hands pulled and tugged at his shirt, already desperate to get him out of his clothes. He seemed to be thinking the same thing, because his own rough hands were shifting the skirt of your dress upwards. In a tumble of soft moans and even softer giggles, the two of you managed to remove each other’s clothing until you were both down to your undergarments. With only his boxers and your favorite pair of panties between you, Roy’s hardness rubbed against your heat sinfully, providing you with more of the friction he’d begun to give you the night before in your bedroom.

“Fuck,” you groaned as he bit and licked at your neck, not caring if he left little marks on your skin. He rocked against you lazily, a preview of the pleasure you knew you were in for. When his tip brushed against your clothed clit, you let out a sharp gasp. “Fuck, Roy.”

He stilled for a moment, smirk against your skin. His chuckle hit your ears like music.

Shit, had you done something wrong? “Everything alright?” you breathed.

Roy lifted his head, smile wide on his face. “I’ve just realized… I haven't heard you say my name since the day we met.”

Confusion flooded your face as you tilted your head at him. “What the fuck are you on about?” You couldn’t help but return his grin with a quizzical smile of your own. “I say your name all the time.”

“Nope.” He shook his head emphatically, his scruff tickling your bare skin. “You always call me Kent. You never call me Roy.”

The two of you blinked at each other, both trying to remember an instance, any instance, where you’d used his first name. Hell, now that you thought about it, you didn’t think he ever said your name either; it was always ‘princess’. It was nothing short of ridiculous, now that you thought about it properly. You were in bed with the man, practically naked, and you’d never even spoken his given name before or heard him use yours. As if you both came to the realization at the same time, you burst into fits of laughter, pressing your foreheads together the way you had in your bedroom the night before.

Once your giggles died down, Roy stole a kiss, a long, affectionate one. “I like how you say my name,” he mumbled against your lips. As he spoke, his hand snaked between your bodies, travelling down your figure until he reached your panties. With a smirk, he began sliding them down your thighs. “Bet I can make you say it again.”

For once, you didn’t tease or playfully argue. Because for once, you had to admit that Roy Kent was completely and utterly correct.

~

Once you’d caught your breath, you glanced up at Roy, whose chest you were resting on. He looked so blissful and gorgeous like this, with his bare chest and flushed face and dreamy eyes. Some part of you- alright, all of you- wished you could just stay like this all night, curled up against him.

But you didn’t think that was an option.

“I should get going,” you murmured, starting to sit up. “You've got training tomorrow and all.”

Roy’s firm grip around your middle pulled you back down to him. “You can stay,” he urged. He narrowed his eyes at you teasingly. “Unless now that you’ve gotten me in bed, you’re done with me,” he joked, as if he knew you were fighting not to suspect the same thing of him. “Because I don’t know about you-” His arms pulled you close. “-but I would like to repeat that a few times, princess.” He planted a kiss to the top of your head. “The whole date, I mean,” he clarified. “Good food, good conversation, good sex…” He raised his eyebrows at you. “Not a bad deal.”

Although his voice was light and full of teasing, you didn’t miss his meaning: Roy wanted to keep seeing you. While you weren’t totally sure what that would entail- going public, being exclusive or not, putting labels on things, telling your dad- you knew you were in. You would be in for anything this man suggested so long as it involved the two of you spending time together, in and out of the bedroom, sharing smiles and kisses and jokes and your bodies. Whether or not it was smart, you knew you were seriously falling for him. And the realization was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

“Yeah, Roy,” you hummed, kissing his bare chest as he held you tight. “It’s a pretty good fucking deal.”

~

It was nearly four in the morning when you tiptoed back into your house, thanks to the alarm Roy had been thoughtful enough to set for you. It had been a challenge to remove yourself from his arms and his warm bed, and an even bigger challenge removing yourself from his lips when he insisted on walking you to your car. It was almost silly; you’d be seeing him in a few hours, but he kissed you like he was a soldier saying a final goodbye before shipping off into the unknown. Then again, it wasn’t like you could act like this during training, not under the gazes of an entire football squad and coaching staff and one very protective father.

Later that morning, that protective father walked down the hall beside you with a pensive look on his face, as if he wanted to say something, but never opening his mouth. He’d done it the night before, when he watched you walk out in your little dress and giant heels. And he’d done it this morning, before finally asking what time you’d come in and if you’d had a good time with the girls.

Roy wasn’t in the changing room when you began organizing your father’s desk for the day. He’d mentioned something to you about going in extra early, since he was already awake, so you assumed he must be in the weight room already. Perhaps it was better; no chance of your dad seeing you exchange goofy smiles this early in the morning.

Your dad was reading over a report when you saw him perk up at a conversation going on in the changing room.

“-Kent totally got some last night,” a young striker was saying.

“He say with who?” the defender he was speaking with asked, his voice dripping with gossipy curiosity.

A soft chuckle wafted into the office. “Nah. He didn’t even say anything happened,” came an admission. “But you knew Kent. He’s got that dopey smile and he keeps stretching his back, the way he always does after- ahem- strenuous activity.”

The defender laughed. “If he’s not saying anything,” he mused, “it must either be someone really fucking famous, or it’s something serious. Kent always kisses and tells.”

“Just don’t tell Coach’s girl.” Your dad tensed at the mention of you. Your eyes remained trained on his desk, as if you couldn’t hear a word from the changing room. “She’s been mooning over Kent more than usual lately, poor kid.”

“I think she’s a great gal,” the defender countered. “If Kent wasn’t… Kent, then maybe she’d have a shot.”

The two players continued their coarse chatter as they left the changing room, speculating who the mystery woman could be and recalling some of Roy’s more memorable conquests. Your dad looked over at you, mouth in a straight line and eyebrows raised. You simply blinked at him, refusing to be the first to say something, lest you betray yourself.

“See?” he finally said softly. “Leave. Him. On. The. Pitch.”

“Yes, sir,” you murmured as he turned back to his report. You quickly tugged at the sweater you wore, hoping its high neckline would hide the hickeys Roy had left you with the night before.

Taglist:@gee72sstuff@book-of-roses@kissykissymouth@emmy2811 @hart-kinsella @klaine-92@dearvoidgoodnight@misshall14@issieruby@royal-sunflower@kissmekent @itswhateveripromise@slaymybreathaway@darkmagazineblaze@larascorneroftheworld@infinetlyforgotten@caught-the-feels@rae4725@sisinever@cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @dd122004dd @veryprairieberry @spacecluster

#roy kent bright baby blue #Chelsea!Roy #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 imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

[princesssmars]

i love your shiv nsfw fic!!! you're so good at writing them, could you write another shiv roy x female reader smut fic? it's so hard finding them these days

no strings

a shiv roy x reader.

you're time studying abroad is nearly over, and you luck out with a job working for a luxury boating service. this summer the billionaire roy family is vacationing, and the youngest daughter gives you an exciting proposal.

wc : 1.391

contains : fluff. semi angst. smut. talks of fxfxm threesome. exhibitionism : tom watches you and shiv go at it. oral and penetrative sex (receiving).

a/n : anon why did i literally have a dream with tom and shiv the night you sent this...and you are so right why is the shiv tag so dead omg i came a year after the show ended thinking i’d be fed 💔 also thank for saying i’m good every time i write smut i laugh bc i’m a big baby.

when you signed up for a summer job, you sure as hell weren't expecting this.

at least you had the excuse of this not being a very croatian or italian custom. coming here to study was something you did on a whim, and wouldnt be the first time you made a crazy decision just because, you still had flashbacks to the time you skinny dipped with people who you had just met at a bar an hour earlier.

thankfully over the years your exploring ways had toned down to a reasonable amount. after all, you couldnt be a luxury stewardess who was always getting in to trouble. the clients did insane background checks, seriously, one old bastard asked what it was like going to such an average kindergarten.

but for now, it was fine. it paid well, you only had to serve rich pricks for a few days at a time, and it was helping pay off your student loans. plus if you bat your eyes at the right people you got a considerable tip.

your coworker and friend, petra, suggested you do a little more for some extra money, but you shrugged it off with a laugh each time. the last thing you wanted was to have some crazy millionaire getting too attached to you and causing trouble in your normal life.

but your final semester has ended, you’ve made plans to move back home to jersey at the end of the summer, and that only leaves you with a few more jobs until you’re done with this job. you tried, you really really tried to keep your wits about you, but one of the clients is contacting you before the family lands to the boat with an offer.

a threesome. with her and her husband. no strings attached.

the service you worked for normally declined telling you the names of who your team will be working for, even going as far as to lock your phones on the boats to make sure you weren’t posting them during their private time.

but even you, now living halfway across the world, knew about this family. the roys, owners of one of the biggest media conglomerates of the past era. it was hard not to see reports in the morning from atn news, or the insane amount of advertising you’d see about their international mediterranean cruises.

(well, after their recent scandal about sexual misconduct in the fucking senate, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be seeing too many ads anymore.)

you were sure it was the daughter of the family calling you, recognizing her voice over the phone and being confirmed when she met up with you before she got on the boat. she was gorgeous and a little scary, enjoying the scent of her perfume when she slides the nda over to you to sign.

it was exciting, working on the boat and seeing her eyes occasionally trailing your figure. maybe it would’ve been more enticing if every time her husband looked at you he didn’t look like one of those hanging cat posters. shame, he was cute.

you’re cleaning up one of the tables after the family had eaten a crazy short dinner. you’re still reeling after witnessing how dysfunctional these people were when your phone buzzes on your pocket, courtesy of shiv pulling a few strings. the text from her is just her cabin number and a time that’s ten minutes ahead. short and to the point.

when you knock on the door you can hear a conversation on the other side come to halt, fast footsteps coming to the door before yanking it open. you’d seen her earlier in the day but got did shiv look gorgeous, ginger hair framing her face as the soft lighting of the room illuminated her bare shoulders.

she’s smiling at you, all sickly sweet as she leads you into the room before locking the door behind you, telling you to just sit on the bed. the bed is large and soft, and your mind wanders about how these people can have whole hotel rooms on the ocean and still be so unhappy when a throat clearing knocks you out of your thoughts, the husband sitting in a chair across the bed to your left. he gives a little smile and a wave and you do it back.

“this is tom. he’s just gonna watch us for a while, ok?” she checks in with you, crossing her legs as she sits next to you, softly moving your hair behind your shoulder. you nod. “good. tel us if you don’t like something.”

you try to nod again but her palm is on your cheek and bringing your face to hers, soft lips kissing you like she’s starving. her tounge is in your mouth, and when you try to move your body to sit on her lap she’s pushing you back, resting your back on the bed. you can faintly hear the fabric of tom’s clothes as he moves on his seat.

she urges your pants down your legs, barely waiting for you to kick off your shoes before she’s rubbing you through your panties, biting and nipping at the skin of your neck as you left out small moans into the air.

“sure you don’t wanna touch her, tom? she’s so soft, so pretty.” she licks a line up your throat and to your mouth, swallowing your moan in her mouth. her husband doesn’t reply and you don’t dwell on it for long. you’ve heard of exhibitionists before, looks like her husband is one of them.

you bite her bottom lip and revel in the groan you feel in her mouth and chest, your own muffled noise escaping when she stuffs a finger inside you. she’s using her thumb to rub at your clip while she thrusts, pulling away from the kiss to look at your face.

it feels good but it’s not enough, which you make clear when you beg her under your breath to give you more of anything. thankfully she doesn’t seem to be in a teasing mood, not thanking any time to push her second finger inside of you.

“oh, fuck-“ your leg kicks out and you fist the sheets as you focus on the pleasure. it’s clear she’s done this before, skilled in the way she hits your g spot at just the right angle and rubs your clit. her head turns to likely look at her husband, while yours flops on the bedsheets.

you’re so distracted you don’t notice them having a small chat, mind on cloud nine. you do notice when she dips her head to kiss your chest that’s exposed after she unbuttoned your shirt, then dips lower, and lower, and lower-

when you feel her mouth circle your clit in your mouth you let out an airy moan, feeling the ball in the pit of your stomach grow. she eats you out just like she kisses you, sloppier than you expected for someone that’s looks as polished as she does. her hands are squishing the fat of your thighs, and when she shakes her head from side to side in your pussy you cum, trying to soundproof your moans into your arms as the other clutches at her head.

she helps ease you down from your high, placing kisses on your clit and your thighs and even cleaning you up with her mouth as you let out fast shaky breaths. you’re given maybe a few minutes of relaxation before she’s tugging your pants back up, buttoning up your shirt before giving a quick pat to the top of your thigh.

“that was fun, huh?”

you laugh, nodding your head since you can’t find the words. you push yourself up on your arms, staring up at the woman above you as she smiles down at you. your eyes drift to her husband who’s still sitting on the armchair, face flushed and taking in quick breaths like he’s the one who just got fucked instead of you.

“yeah, yeah it was fun.”

you collect yourself, fixing up your hair in the mirror on the wall as shiv leads you to the door.

“saw in your file you’re from jersey. maybe we’ll call you sometime once all this shit blows over, yeah?”

this summer couldn’t end fast enough.

#succession hbo #succession #succession x reader #shiv #shiv roy #siobhan roy #shiv roy x reader #siobhan roy x reader #tom wambsgans

[actuallyalright]

You Had A Bad Day

Frustration radiated off Gary Neville. Today was an absolute nightmare, the kind that made him want to scream and bawl his eyes out. He could almost picture the terrified look on Carragher's face if he did unleash those emotions, which would be the only silver lining to this whole mess. But Gary held it in. No screams, no tears. Just clenched fists buried deep in his pockets, eyes squeezed shut, and his head tilted back as if in silent prayer to the ceiling.

The thoughts in his head rattled around frantically, overwhelming him. He tries to focus on his breathing. A therapist of his had taught him about box breathing. Inhale for four, hold for four, exhale for four, hold for four – with each repetition,his body softens.

He feels a bit better. Until he opens his eyes and sees Carragher’s face, inches away from his own, looking at him curiously. Gary startles upright and screeches, “Dick!” Carragher smiles a little and takes a step back.

“You okay, mate?”, asks Carragher, his voice a little lower than it usually is. 

Gary nods in the affirmative. “All good,” he mutters.

Carragher's gaze lingers for a beat too long, silently scrutinizing him. Gary, desperate to deflect attention, fumbles for his phone and buries himself in composing an email, blinking back the traitorous tears that well up again. 

*

They walk out of their shared dressing room at Sky, towards the MNF studio and it’s the quietest walk they’ve ever shared. No last minute thoughts about the prepared pieces, or arguing over a silly detail, nothing. Carragher is all too aware of the silence but doesn’t break it. Gary, on the other hand, can’t hear the silence over the cacophony in his head. 

*

The show is going well, Gary thinks. Carragher does most of the talking. Roy does most of the glaring. Micah does most of the laughing. And Gary does most of the listening.  He can sense Carragher looking at him when Roy and Micah are talking and he doesn’t look back. He finds that he wants to close his eyes and look at the darkness behind his lids again. When it finally ends, he shakes everyone’s hands, and Dave gives him a funny look and tells him to, “stop working so hard”. 

Gary’s stomach churns. He smiles politely at Dave, anger beginning to simmer in his blood. 

A hand squeezes his shoulder and Gary turns to see Carragher by his side. “We’re headed to the pub. Roy’s buying!” 

Roy grunts a strange sound but doesn’t refute Carragher’s claim. The four of them walk towards the dressing rooms together, and the corridors echo with Micah’s booming voice drowning out all the other voices. Carragher walks in step with Gary, his hand still around Gary’s shoulder and Gary still wants to cry but doesn’t feel like screaming quite so much anymore.

* Gary is at home in his pajamas when he finally allows himself to cry. He turns on the television; an old cricket match, India versus Australia, fills the screen. Maybe the pub, with the camaraderie and distraction of his mates, wouldn't have been so bad after all. Maybe it would have distracted him. Nah. He would have probably depressed everyone. This was for the best. He lied to them but with good reason. 

“Sorry, I can’t ‘av drinks tonight – got the kids tonight, Emma’s got a thing and they’re staying over at mine.”

Nobody could argue with that. Although Carragher had looked at him as if he couldn’t believe his ears. Stupid scouser. He needed a drink.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself to the kitchen, the weight of his steps echoing in the quiet house. As he began to make himself a drink, the doorbell rang, shattering the fragile peace of his solitude. Irritation flared within him. Who could it be at this hour? Didn't people have any manners anymore?

Gary considers ignoring the doorbell, retreating further into his cocoon of misery. But curiosity gets the better of him. Who could possibly be knocking at his door at this hour? He opens the door and finds a silver haired scouser with a light smile on his lips. 

"Jamie?" Gary's voice wavered with surprise as Carragher breezed past him into the house.

"Kids in bed, then?" Carragher's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Gary’s ears turn pink and he begs his body not to betray him. “Yeah. I was just making meself a drink. What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d come give you a hand with the kids since Emma’s at her thing.” He looks at Gary evenly and Gary starts walking towards the kitchen again.

“All under control, Carragher. Maybe find some other kids to take care of?” 

Carragher chuckles, “You’re a terrible liar, you know?” 

Gary's cheeks burned. "What'll you have to drink?" he deflected, eager to change the subject.

“I’ll have what you’re having.” Gary now really wants to scream again. He mumbles under his breath and goes towards the fridge when he hears Jamie break out into hysterical giggles. “Is this your drink, mate? A h-h-h- hot chocolate?”

Even with his head stuck in the cold fridge, Gary can feel his face burning up again. He doesn’t respond and continues to move things around in the fridge. 

He feels himself being steered away from the fridge, a pair of hands gentle on his waist, the fridge door clicking shut softly behind him.

He makes another hot chocolate and hands it over to Jamie who accepts it with no further comments. They stand in the kitchen, the only sound the quiet clinking of spoons against ceramic.

Gary doesn’t know where it comes from and why he chooses that moment, but the words slip out of his mouth before he realises what he’s saying.

“I got asked to step down as Salford’s CEO today.”

Jamie’s hand, holding the mug, freezes mid-air.

“There was a board meeting and – “ Gary's voice cracks, choked by a sudden wave of emotion. He trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

In a heartbeat, Jamie is by his side, gently taking the drink from his hand and setting it down on the counter.

He pulls Gary into a hug and holds him tight, running a hand up and down Gary’s back.  A choked sob escapes Gary’s lips, quickly followed by another, and then another. Jamie rocks him gently. His lips brush against Gary’s temples, and his fingers find themselves drawing little circles at the back of Gary’s neck.

After a long moment, when the ragged gasps for breath subsided, Jamie pulled back slightly, his hands cupping Gary's face.  His eyes, usually filled with mischief, are now tender with an emotion Gary did not have guts to name.

"Alright, mate," Jamie says, his voice low and gentle.  "Let's hear what happened."

#carraville #gary neville #jamie carragher

[bitchthefuck1]

It's kind of funny that Kendall and Shiv are both equally delusional about their ability to charm people for business and somehow think they can do it even though they choke almost every single time, whereas it's like the one thing Roman is consistently good at despite being the "least legitimate" option.

I think part of this comes down to the fact that Shiv and Kendall both have very clear ideas of the versions of themselves they're trying to be and the images they're trying to project, and they're trying so hard to be seen that way that they end up coming off as a little desperate and off-putting. Meanwhile Roman "knows" that there's something wrong with him and he's worthless, so he doesn't get sucked into the trap of trying to force people to see his idea of himself and instead molds himself into whatever he thinks the other person wants from him because that's the only way he can compensate for "being him," which works very well in the short term but also means he's the least capable of maintaining any relationship for very long because he has no sense of self.

#this was going to be a joke about kendall consistently failing to charm anyone that isn't stewy (and still for some reason thinking he's #good at it) but then i thought about it too hard and started connecting dots #but it is really interesting on a character level to analyze the different ways the siblings act when they're trying to win someone over #kendall and shiv will try to find common ground but they always end up pushing too hard and overplaying their hands because they're #focussing too much on wanting to get the person to take them seriously or see them the way they want to be seen #and roman will test the waters a bit but not say anything definitive until he get the person talking and can see what it is they want #and then just says whatever it is he thinks they want to hear #which also makes a lot of sense with the abuse dynamics since he was the one most likely to actually get hit so the goal is to just make #sure dad never gets angry at you and tell him whatever you need to to avoid that because the consequences will be worse #anyways its 2 am here you go #succession #kendall roy #shiv roy #roman roy

[geneticdriftwood]

dick and roy; a collection

outsiders (2003), #11, 12, 13, 16, 21

#look. we talk a lot about the 'erotic butch and sundance' line. and for good reason! #but i do think we're sleeping on 'lennon and mccartney in tights having a marital spat' #anyways what this really shows is that grace choi is the funniest person on the team and knows what's up #(that's a lie i actually think indigo is the one with the best one-liners. also i'm still emotional about her death) #outsiders 2003 #outsiders (2003) #dc #roy harper #dick grayson #dickroy #roydick #outsiders #mine: dc

[smoothshine]

mustang.exe has stopped working

#royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fanart #fma fanart #smoothshine draws #yes i spent an embarrassing amount of time on a meme and yes it will happen again #also can we all pretend Riza is wearing a skirt totally not because i got tired but because eeehh reasons?? okay good #meanwhile Roy is experiencing having 0 and 1000000 thoughts at the same time #and Riza is having a stand off with his tie #she wanted to be a good useful lieutenant and now she's too far gone into the task to admit defeat

[littlefankingdom]

~ World's Finest: Teen Titans

Guess who is gonna be in trouble with his dad because of his friends'bs?

#donna troy #teen titans #karen beecher #dick grayson #roy harper #wally west #kid flash #robin #wonder girl #speedy #bumblebee #dc comics #I love how Dick and Bruce's relationship is so father/son coded in this series #like Bruce is a protective dad who doesn’t trust his son's new friends and wants his baby safe #and Dick understands his reasoning but he also wants to have fun #and Bruce grounding Dick for disobeying him while also saying Dick made the good decision #it's just for the principle that desobeying dad is bad it's such a parent behavior #my ramblings

[zabiume]

i try not to think about zangetsu and ichigo too much because. well. they make me scream but honestly, i think about how ichigo doesn't know how to love without setting himself on fire, and that, at the heart of it, he's so afraid to lose anyone that he'd martyr himself for an absolute stranger without question (even if he tells rukia he's no superhero, he goes on to heal his enemies, explicitly tells them to dodge his attacks, looks at them with compassion for their causes – even if their goals clash with his own). ichigo does not know how to shut off the interconnectedness he feels between himself and another, which is insane because his love for others is always to his own detriment. as much as he loves people, he's also punishing himself (almost atoning for his own weakness that cost him his mother). to ichigo, there's a humiliation in being protected, but deep down....he desires it.

it's interesting that zangetsu says "tensa zangetsu is you" here, not just because of how it factors into ichigo's series-long struggle of accepting zangetsu (shiro) as a part of him, but also because of the dialogue that comes immediately after:

we just learned that zangetsu is ichigo, essentially, so zangetsu wanting to protect ichigo isn't just the self-healing quincy mechanism or the self-defensive hollow mechanism....it's ichigo wanting to protect himself. ichigo says his whole "i will protect everyone" shtick so often in the series that it's easy to overlook this, but i think ichigo himself knows this is not sustainable. it's a heavy burden to bear, but the whole time he's screaming, "i want it! i want to bear it!" (<- this will make up for the fact that i am fundamentally a weak and horrible person! look how strong i am!)

meanwhile, on the inside, he conjures up a power that, deep down, wants to protect him. i don't mean to say that ichigo is disingenuous when he says he wants to protect people, but i also think he wants to let people in and he isn't really sure how to do that without taking it to extremes. (notice how he tries to keep rukia, orihime and chad – some of his closest friends – out of the loop to protect them, so much so that he ignores their own takes on the matter and ends up unintentionally demanding that they "prove" themselves to him). he does this to his own sisters!

and all these characters tell him repeatedly what zangetsu tells him: they're here to help him, they want to share his burden, they want to fight alongside him in battle, they want him to lean on them and get their clothes dirty. it might be true that nobody loves his people more than ichigo does, but the opposite is also true: nobody loves anyone more than ichigo's allies love him.

for him to recognize and accept their love for him, and for him to accept his own desire to be vulnerable with those he shares a heart with, he first has to recognize zangetsu. his own soul. the blade IS me, with all its complications and darkness and insecurity, and the surge of that is so powerful it dries up an entire ocean!!!!

#the zangetsu-ichigoisms of it all...i wish i could be normal about them <3 #ichigo kurosaki #i miss the good old days when we used to go ages without seeing him and then he'd be back and i'd go :))) he :))) #much to the annoyance of my sister who hated him lol. could NEVER be me he's like a cousin to me #he's my [logan roy voice] number one boy #actually i don't miss it. i really hated it when we went so long without seeing him lolol it was one of the reasons i waited #for the entire tybw arc to drop before i actually read it

[findafight]

I think the better version of the Roy and Jamie fight should have been cut like canon except when they stand in front of Keeley's door all bedragled she should be like "you gonna tell me what happened? You fight over me?"

To which Roy says no

And Jamie gingerly touches his nose and says "ah, no. But he did come at me like Heath Ledger in that cowboy movie."

Keeley's going ?????? but invites them in. They all get around the table and sit down with frozen peas etc.

And Roy is sighing. Says "what Jamie is trying to say is we've been talking--"

"and doing better things with our mouths..."

"and we realized that while we... Both still have... strong feelings for you... We also have feelings for each other."

Jamie grins behind the peas. "Romantic, like."

Roy grumbles etc but doesn't deny that. So Jamie continues "so we thought, maybe, since we like each other, and we love you, and you have, in the past, liked both of us individually, maybe... Ah. Maybe you'd like us together?"

"the... Three of us?"

"yeah"

"yes"

"oh." And Keeley is sort of stunned because it still absolutely looks like they got in a fist fight and being propositioned a throuple wasn't something she was expecting. "But then... Jamie why is your nose bleeding and Roy's shirt ripped."

"he's clumsy" says Roy.

"Told you, kissed me like Heath Ledger in Brokeback Mountain, nearly broke my nose. Then I lost my balance, grabbed his shirt, and fell into a trash bin and got all icky."

"sorry about that"

"don't be"

And Keeley finally goes "okay! Well, since you didn't beat each other up like I thought you might've, how about you both get cleaned up and we can... Talk more?"

Which leads to all of them smiling or grinning in some way (because lbr hurt nose or not Jamie would be grinning like mad) and all hustling upstairs, which is where the scene ends.

#heath ledger almost breaking jake Gyllenhaal's nose in that scene of brokeback? iconic. very royjamie to me #royjamiekeeley #roykeeleyjamie #royjamie #ted lasso #ted lasso show #roy kent #keeley jones #jamie tartt #rkj #tbh that scene felt weird to me for a number of reasons. like good for keeley kicking them out but ;-; we couldve had ot3 moment #ot3 #finda's rambles

[babysgarage]

i'm on season 2

#succession #roman roy #shiv roy #kendall roy #i'm not gonna tag con this was supposed to be funny but idk if it'll land #my art #i'm not good at this but i keep trying for some reason #like that picture of a beaver building a dam out of empty containers or idk

[sweettarttt]

i just know jamie’s spotify wrapped would be insane

#i feel like he would listen to the most random shit #like definitely some vapid pop crap but then throw in like 10 random songs from every single genre that he’s just obsessed with #and he would have a reason for all of them that he would explain in great detail #roy let’s jamie pick the music ONE time #the first like 5 songs are normal but he definitely would pick things ironically just to annoy roy or make him laugh #except that he would actually start liking them #like WAP #or Good Lookin by dixon dallas #essay in the tags sorry #jamie tartt #royjamie #ted lasso

[nooooough]

#give me one good reason i shouldnt punch you in the face #spooky month #carmen spooky month #streber spooky month #pump spooky month #ooga Booga spooky month #bob velseb spooky month #happy fella spooky month #skid spooky month #kevin spooky month #ignacio spooky month #frank spooky month #lila spooky month #roy spooky month #eyes of the universe spooky month #dexter erotoph spooky month #rick hedony spooky month #Jaune spooky month #radford spooky month #mr wonder spooky month #mr clown spooky month #sr Pelo #edit #meme

[comicchats]

Green Arrow (2023) #7

#Now this is ironic #green arrow #roy harper #batman #bruce wayne #oliver queen #arsenal #Seriously; are we forgetting the whole fight between Roy and Oliver? #Like the entire reason Jason and Roy are such good friends? #I love you Oliver but this is hilarious

[palms-upturned]

Tbh as a cane user it’s a little funny to me that Harry gets shot in the leg (and potentially the shoulder) and then has to just. Continue w his Jamrock shuffle. Sounds like a wheelchair situation to me, but damn, nobody had even a spare cane for the guy? Crutches, perhaps? Couldn’t even like go out and get a particularly large stick? He reopens his wound just by taking a nap and having a nightmare, and then if u try and let him catch his breath you’ll just trigger the idle animation where Cuno makes Harry give him a piggy back ride 😩 and then you can’t even do drugs about it or Jean will bully you. How about I shoot YOU in the shoulder and the thigh and see how well YOU do even trying to MOVE without fourteen different substances in you, hm?? Anyway I think there should be a cane in the game with +2 Pain Threshold (pain management) +1 Volition (soldiering on) -2 Hand/Eye Coordination (hands full) and +1 Half Light (improvised weapon)

#disco elysium #meg talks #many thoughts head full #my hc is that harry’s health and injuries give him a reason to at least consider retiring from the rcm #me every time i think abt the ‘’good’’ endings: here’s how harry can still quit— #anyway it’s interesting how harry has like. A Hole In His Leg #and is described as having mobility issues bc of it Obviously #but it just has to be brushed over in order to continue the game #lena talks abt accessibility issues in martinaise and roy talks abt his own chronic issues from the radiation #even kim is visually impaired and deals w some shame around that bc of ableist bullying from his childhood #but the player character is dealing with some sort of brain trauma AND a weak heart AND chronic pains AND (at least) one bullet wound #and supposedly still has the stamina to run all around martinaise #u could say it would be too difficult/expensive to animate harry walking w a cane #or that it would limit how many things harry can have equipped simultaneously #but well. that’s just sort of ironic in a meta way to me #that the game touches on ableism but still considers it a hassle to put the player in the shoes of a disabled person #even tho… that’s p much what harry is

[jamiesfootball]

Are you still doing the WIP thingy?

If so maybe.……….maybe? Or hope? Or stop? Or blue?

I found all four!

Maybe

Her head tilted ever so slightly as she studied him. Roy refused to let his grip on the arm of the chair tighten under the weight of scrutiny. Maybe it was supposed to be like this, the wait of her silence asking unspoken questions while he slowly but surely carved himself open, holding up the pieces for her examination.

Hope

"'Cept about ten minutes in, I'm really on a roll, and I'm partway through telling her a story, and she stops and asks me why I said... Christ, I don't even remember now. It was just a joke, but she took it really seriously. Like she was concerned about why I was talking about meself that way." Roy made a noise in his throat. Hoped it communicated 'I'm listening' instead of the futile lack of control that was churning in his stomach.

Stop

At nine. He was fucking nine. Phoebe was weeks off from turning nine, and Roy still didn’t trust her to know when to stop eating ice cream before it made her sick. And maybe that was a little unfair to his niece, who had improved a bit on that front--she'd start watching him warily around the second scoop, when she knew he was about to take it away... She was so fucking small. He'd never send her away at nine. But you would if she really wanted to, said the same voice that always let her enjoy the second scoop. If she really wanted to, if she wanted it more than anything in the world... No, the rebuttal hit him in the face like a bucket of of ice water. The truth of it trickled in shivers down his spine. No, I'd move with her.

Blue

“Is that tweed?” Jamie asked curiously, and Roy prayed to whatever god would listen to spare the world from Jamie Tartt experimenting with woven fabrics . Isaac rolled his shoulders; the suit jacket whimpered where it circled the bulk of his shoulders. “Sure is. Sustainably sourced, too.” The intrigued glint in Jamie’s eyes warned Roy that sometime soon on a morning run he would be held hostage by a very annoying tangent. Sam, a normal person dressed a stylish blue silken suit, surveyed Isaac's suit thoughtfully. “The tailoring is wonderfully done.” He said nothing about Jamie’s outfit. Smart lad.

#thank you for this! #it was honestly such a long day - I was in need of a good reason to open my docs #i hope you enjoy! #fic: oh god you're gonna get it (you have not been given love) #writing progress #roy kent #jamie tartt #phoebe kent #isaac mcadoo #sam obisanya #dr sharon fieldstone #ask box is always open

[jamietxrtt]

🌹🌹🌹

ohhhh thank you so much!!! here's a snippet from the wip i'm working on now >:3

.

With his head tilted to the side like this, Ted has a perfect view of the woods outside the window. 

The world outside is almost tauntingly serene. The window is open, and Ted can feel the inviting breeze from outside, the one that rustles the leaves and gets the animals all in a fuss, coming in and soothing his blistered mind. The cicadas are back on their chirp. The sun’s just starting to set, orange and purple and blue all mixed together in the sky, but the wind is warm. It cools Ted’s feverish skin without chilling him to the bone.

As he’s watching, two figures emerge from the woods. Jamie’s voice is as loud as ever, carrying easily on the wind and up to Ted’s window. That’s to be expected. What’s a little more unexpected is the laugh it pulls out of Roy in response-- a sharp bark of a thing, strong and crisp. Roy reaches out toward Jamie, and a brief moment of worry passes through Ted-- but Roy is only winding his arm around Jamie’s neck gently, ruffling his hair until the younger man pulls away, pouting and preening in response.

Of course. Roy reaching towards Jamie has only meant affection, and not violence, for years now. This is nothing like those early days.

Ted finds himself smiling at the thought. If only those two men that he met all those years ago could see where they are now-- Jamie squatting alongside the dirt path, looking at something on the ground, a bug or a rock or whatever’s caught his interest, and Roy standing above him, the fondest smile he’d never let show if he knew anyone was looking stuck smack dab in the middle of his face.

Those two really are the best of friends, now. It’s more balm than the wind, more balm than the sunset.

Ted closes his eyes, and sighs.

send me a rose or a word to get a snippet from my wip!

#snip snip #ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #thank u so much for the ask!! sorry i didnt answer it earlier tumblr didnt notify me of it for some reason :( #i'm very excited about this wip :) its gonna be so angsty and good #^ sort of scared to put main tags on my writing i feel like i haven't done that in so long ASLKFJLSKDFJSLDK #but i like seeing other ppls snippets in the tag so