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bizbat · 3 months

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Those Jason crush hcs were so funny (obvi they were cute too) butJason getting so embarrassed he tried to crawl outside with 4 bullet holes and half his blood outside his body was such a mood. Me too dude. Can we have some more of him being delulu about his crush? It was so deliciously embarrassing and funny. What would happen if his wifey/husbando was just boldly was like- “Jason we're not dating, why would you think we were? We're not even having sex?”

EVEN MORE! When They're In Love Headcanons - Jason Todd

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Fem terms used for reader.

~ Mild smut alluded to but nothing explicit.

~ You can find parts One, Two, and Three here!

~ You can find more of my works here.

~ This is gonna be mostly fic bc I am running out of ideas lol. This took an inappropriate amount of time to write omg

~ Jay is kinda toxic so Tw: Unhealthy Relationships Dynamics, mentions of having children, slight violence, Jason is a freak and reader is tired.

By now, I've made it clear that this man is deep in the delusion.

But I haven't really gone into detail in what I mean by that.

I mean he'll say something teasing in jest, and if you reciprocate that energy even the tiniest bit, he will take that and run with it.

Though that's not even solid, bc if you take everything he says literally, he'd still think you're playing along.

Jason could make a joke with someone and not gaf about their response, but you could say the exact same thing as the person he joked with and he'd get heart eyes.

So far, I've kinda been writing with an oblivious reader in mind but a reader who knows all of Jason's delusions would pretty interesting lol.

You'd probably overhear him talking to Roy or Dick about your "date" last night.

Read: He broke into your apartment while you were at work and surprised you with chinese takeout when you got home.

I think if you confronted him about his delusions, he'd be willfully ignorant, and act like he doesn't know what you mean.

~ Drabble Starts Here. ~

Lian seems so happy, you can't bring yourself to be the bearer of bad news.

You're sat beside the little girl at her even littler table, the handle of a plastic teacup loosely gripped between your thumb and forefinger, your pinky high up in the air. The smile on your face is sincere as she mindlessly babbles, pouring sugar water into your cup.

You can't help but grimace when she encourages you and her stuffed animals to drink up, and you can't help but feel like the girl is being somewhat malicious when she seemingly starts interrogating you, only to push the cup of surgery water back to your lips whenever you to to answer her litany of, frankly, over-personal questions.

Some of the questions you don't mind, they're about as pure and unassuming as the pink princess tiara laying crookedly atop her head. It's when she asks if you and Jason are gonna get married and have babies with the most deadpan face you've ever seen on a child, that finally makes you choke on the (syrup) water.

"Excuse me?!" You ask, wiping away the mess on your face with a embroidered napkin and desperately trying not to hack up the rest of the beverage, undissolved grains of sugar still residing in the back of your throat. "Why would we do that?" You manage between coughs.

Lian glances towards Jason, who is sat at the table across from the two of you, his knees tucked up to his chest, as he hides his face behind his miniature teacup, though it's mostly ineffective, as the cup looks like a shot glass in his massive hand. Lian innocently looks back to you, as if you were the one who'd asked the more confusing question.

"Uncle Jay said you were dating. Isn't that what happens when people date?"

You crane your neck as you slowly turn your head towards Jason, who is avoiding your ice cold gaze like his life depended on it. "Oh, really?" You ask Lian through gritted teeth, though your gaze is solidly planted on Jason. "Did he now?"

"Mm-hmm," The small girl cheerfully nods her head, the dark braids framing either side of her face swinging from the force of her enthusiasm. "He told me you guys were gonna have a bunch of kids so I could have more people to play with!"

You can't help but stare incredulously at the child as she explains. By now, Jason's put down the cup, giving up at his attempt to hide behind it and simply covering his mouth with his hand, sitting silently like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs as he waits for you to start chewing him out. But it never comes.

"You are, right? I really want more friends." Lian's pleading is almost enough to make you change your mind and agree right there. Almost. As if sensing that she hasn't fully convinced you, Lian continues, going on and on about how she would be a really really good big sister or cousin if you had babies, or how much she's always wanted to go to a wedding, and how pretty you'd be as a bride, and-

She knows better than to continue when you gently raise your hand, as if you're silently saying "That's enough, Lian, please stop talking." You do feel a little remorseful as the girl's once happy demeanor changes to a shyer, more somber at the apparent rejection. You sigh and roll your eyes, finishing of the tiny cup of, what is now, pure sugar. "Maybe someday, Lian."

You put your hand up again, bracing her for the next part of your sentence when you see her start to get riled up again. "But absolutely no promises. Uncle Jay and I need to have a very important conversation later about it, though." That's enough to please Lian, as she goes right back to asking you other invasive questions that have nothing to do with your love life.

Jason, though happily surprised by your answer, stays silent over the next few hours. He honestly forgets you were ever even mad at him to begin with. It's not until you leave and the sky turns that familiar dark red, that you punch Jason in the arm as hard as possible, which, in all honesty, he can't really feel.

Though he does wince and hold his arm in the place where you hit him, to keep your ego intact if nothing else.

"What was that for?!" He dramatically gasps, pouting as he rubs the "sore" spot on his upper arm. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recognize it's kinda cute that he plays into your delusions. Just a little.

"Why would you tell Lian of all people we're dating?!" Your hand subtly clenches by your side, though you try to hide the slight pain punching him gave you, at the end of the day, Jason was raised by a detective. "Why would you even say that when you know it's not true?!"

"First of all," He starts, grabbing your hand. "I tell everyone we're dating." He starts soothing your sore knuckles as he tugs you towards your apartment building. He's so confident as he speaks it's genuinely bewildering. "And second, we are dating."

When he sees the utterly gobsmacked look on your face he continues. "We go on dates," (he just shows up at your home once a week. "We get gifts for each other," (he got you a stray kitten he rescued off the street and he steals your underwear). "We have sex-"

"Okay, number one: No we don't," You say, holding your hand out in front of you just like you did with Lian. "Number two: No we don't," You can almost see his eyes glaze over. He listens to every other thing you say, but when you're telling him your not together? That's when he tunes out.

"And number three: that only happened once!" It comes out a harsh whisper. Your face and ears feel hot with embarrassment, but Jason just shrugs. "Three times, actually, but who's counting?" Jason has a sweet, intentionally dopey looking smile.

You're left speechless by his demeanor. "Just kiddin' . . . I'm counting." He thinks the awkward, bewildered silence is hilarious. So he just keeps talking. "I mark it down in my calendar . . . Celebrate it once a month . . . Might get the dates tattooed."

"Jason." You interrupt.

"Hmm?"

"Go home." He looks over and realizes you're both in front of your apartment door, having talked the whole way. Again, he shrugs, pulling a spare key out of his pocket and moving to unlock your door. "Oh my fucking g-"

"What?" He stops, holding up the key midair. "What's wrong?" "Jason," You groan, rubbing your temples. "Why do you have a key to my apartment?" By now you shouldn't be so surprised, but you are. "Oh, this?" He hold up the key, equally confused that you would even ask. "I had one made when we started dating. How did you think I get in for our dates?"

He can almost smell the exhaustion wafting off you at this point. "Plus I live here."

"Jason you don't-"

"I'm just busy! I know, I know, I should be home more, but when I'm blah blah blah." No longer unused to his inane ramblings, you unlock the door and push past him. You don't even stop him when he follows you inside, still going on about his delusions. You just roll your eyes when he takes of his shoes and jacket and tosses them aside like they he really does live there.

"You shouldn't make dinner, you've had a long day, we can order-"

He's interrupted by yet another sigh. "Jason," you begin, plopping down on the couch. He shuts up and listens intently to every sound coming from your mouth. "I just . . ." You sit up straight. "You don't live here, you're a stalker, and we are not dating." Jason nods as you talk, slowly, as if he's taking in what you said.

"I . . . I understand. I really am sorry I've upset you, but," He kneels on the ground in front of you, gently placing his hand on your thigh. "I am not a stalker." He's incredulous, and you're tired. At this point, what more can you do beside oblige him and his delusions. You sigh again, a deep, deep sigh that instantly drains you of the rest of your energy and makes you deflate into the couch. "Okay, Jay," You say, undressing as you stand and begin walking back to your room. "You win, you're my boyfriend. Goodnight."

Jason just happily nods as he watches you walk to bed. "Yeah, yeah, I win." He's just happy you finally came to your senses. "Night!" He happily calls after you.

#bizbat #dc #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd fluff #jason todd headcanons #dc x reader

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lolahasmoxie · 5 months

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NYE (J.T.)

Sooooooo...

@powderblueblood and her 200 Cigarettes prompts.......yes.

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x reader

WARNINGS: fluff, emotions

PROMPTS:

"You need to find someone that likes you the way you are."

"And who would possibly like me the way I am?"

"Those clothes and my clothes would look good on my floor."

"He said what?"

Jamie followed you to the bar at Ola's. The restaurant closed early and is now hosting the Richmond New Year's Eve party. You poured yourself a shot of whiskey and downed it without flinching as you told Jamie about your date.

"He said, and I quote, "You're nice and all, but I could do better," and then I left the party."

"What a complete fucking prick!" Jamie said; you simply shrugged your shoulders as you grabbed a flute of champagne from a server.

"At least he was upfront. Saved us both the trouble." Jamie can see the mask you're putting up; it's not the first time he's seen you do it. Never let them see you hurt your own personal motto. He wants to kill this guy.

"C'mon, forget that dumbass. Come join us at the table; the boys will be happy to see you." You glance over at the tables and see the boys with their respective dates. The passing of intimate kisses and touches makes your heart yearn for something that, at this point, you're not sure you'll ever have. It's too much.

"I'm just gonna be a wet blanket," you say with a shrug, and Jamie can see your eyes become glossy. "I'll text you when I'm home. Happy New Year, Jamie." You give his hand a quick squeeze, and then, before he can say anything, you're gone.

"Where's she going?" Keeley asks, and Jamie turns, his mind still trying to process what happened. The fact that one moment you were standing in front of him looking so fucking pretty, and then you were gone.

"She just left; her date at that party went really bad."

"Shame," Keeley hums as she sips her champagne. "I have a question, though."

"What?"

"Why the fuck are you still here instead of chasing after her?"

"Why would I do that?" Jamie straightens up, putting up his own mask as he tries to pretend that he hasn't been pining for you since returning to Richmond.

"Because even a blind man can see you're desperately in love with her, the poor girl," Roy interjects as he stands beside Keeley. "Question is, when the fuck are you gonna grow a pair and fucking do something about it?"

Jamie stares at them both for a second before he turns and runs full speed out of the restaurant.

You have yet to get far. Your flat is pretty close to the restaurant, so instead of trying to flag down a cab, you opted to enjoy the brisk winter air. The streets were pretty busy, and you tried to keep the tears at bay as you passed happy couples and groups of friends on their way to ring in the new year.

The sound of shoes running on the pavement sent your heart racing, and you reached for your keys as they got closer. You hear someone call your name and turn around, shocked to see Jamie running to catch up with you.

"Jamie, why are you following me?"

"I had to tell you something, and it couldn't wait." His gray eyes look into yours, but he remains silent. You sigh before gently interrupting him.

"Look, I just wanna go home. I'll see you on Tuesday." You turn around, and Jamie is again watching you walk away from him. He can hear Keeley and Roy yelling at him in his head, and he takes a deep breath. He's not going to let this moment pass him by. He can't stomach starting a new year without telling you how he feels.

You hear the footsteps again, and you say a "hey" when you feel Jamie pull you by the arm to look at him.

"You're not the problem."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Not just tonight, but every bloke who's made you feel like you aren't the most amazing person on the planet, they're the problem. Not you." Your jaw has dropped, and you know you're looking at him like a deer in the headlights.

You can't help but scoff. "If I'm not the problem, pray tell me, how do I fix it? Tell me the solution, Jamie."

"You need to find someone that likes you the way you are." You scoff again. You hold Jamie's gaze as you step closer to him. You hope he can't see how ready you are to crying.

"And who would possibly like me the way I am?" Your voice wavers, and Jamie feels his heartbreak at your admission. Your gaze drops to your shoes, and Jamie takes a tentative step forward.

His hand gently lifts your chin, and you wait for him to speak. It isn't until he raises his eyebrows, your mouth drawing into an O, that what he's saying dawns on you.

"You?"

"Yeah, silly girl." He says with a light chuckle. His thumb wipes away an errant tear before he cups your face with his large, warm hands. You reach out for the lapels on his jacket, holding tight as

"But, you're Jamie Tartt. I'm just..."

"Fantastic and kind. You were nice to me even when I was being the worst asshole on the planet. Not to mention that you're absolutely stunning. Pretttiest girl I've ever seen."

"Jamie,"

"I'll be good to you. And even though I'm probably gonna fuck up now and again, I promise it won't ever be intentional. There's more, but I just really wanna fucking kiss you right now."

You blush at Jamie’s words and when you see his gaze dip to your lips. You had wondered many times what kissing Jamie would feel like. You had thought about it at work while chatting with Keeley and Rebecca and kissing unremarkable men. Nothing you had conjured in your head could hold a candle to the real thing.

His full lips are pillowy and soft, and he holds you firm and secure. He moans when your tongue traces the seam of his lips, your hands pulling him in closer to you as onlookers pass by with knowing giggles.

When Jamie finally pulls back for air, his breath catches at the sight of you. Swollen lips and the far-off dreamy look of someone who's been snogged properly, he doesn't know who to thank for the vision in front of him.

"Back to Ola's?"

"My place?"

You both stop after interrupting each other. You both chuckle, but it takes Jamie a second before he realizes what you asked him.

"Your place, you sure?" You give him a cat-like grin, your hands still on his lapels.

"I don't really wanna go back with the boys, do you?" Jamie shakes his head, to hell with the boys. Fuck em. His mouth makes an O shape when you pull him closer by the lapels and lean to whisper in his ear.

"Good, because those clothes and my clothes would look good on my floor." You kiss his nose softly, and Jamie rewards you with a beaming smile. "Then tomorrow, you can buy us breakfast."

Jamie could cry when he hears you say tomorrow. "I'll buy you breakfast every day for the rest of our lives if you'll let me. Now," He takes your hands in his. "I'm gonna do something that I've been wanting to do for too damn long."

"And what's that?" The look Jamie gives you is nothing less than sin incarnate. A hungry predator eyeing up its prey. There's no hiding your gasp when he leans in to whisper in your ear.

"I really hope you don't have plans tomorrow, love, because I plan on making sure your neighbors know exactly who I am. Now, why don't you lead the way?"

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n

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thetarttfuldickhead · 5 months

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“Hang on,” Jamie said, sitting up on his elbows and frowning down at Roy. “You broke up with Keeley ‘cause you thought she was too good for you, right, and you’d only make her miserable.”

Roy glanced up from his book. “Yeah?” he asked slowly, wondering where the hell this was going.

“Yeah, but you haven’t broken up with me, have you?”

What the fuck? “… no?”

Strangely, that didn’t seem to be the good news someone who’d cried from having his dick sucked by Roy not twenty minutes ago ought to have found it, because Jamie scowled. “So what, you don’t think I’m too good for you, then? Like, Keeley is, but I am not? We’ve been together for over a year, mate. Ain’t you worried about making me miserable?”

Something icy cold grabbed hold of Roy’s heart and squeezed hard. “Am I?”

“What?” If Jamie had rolled his eyes any harder he’d have dislocated them. ”‘Course not, don’t be an idiot, man.”

“What the fu— Then why— Do you fucking want me to break up with you?”

“Jesus Christ, Roy,” Jamie scoffed, “I said don’t be an idiot, didn’t I. ‘Course I don’t want you breaking up with me, you’re the love of me fucking life, you arsehole, what the hell are you even on about.”

Roy closed his eyes. Roy counted to ten. Roy reminded himself that he absolutely didn’t want to break up with Jamie, and didn’t want to strangle him either. “Then what,” he asked in as level a tone as he could manage (which wasn’t very), “is your fucking problem?”

“Nothing,” Jamie said defensively, even as he shifted to drape himself over Roy’s chest and press his face against Roy’s neck. Automatically, Roy put an arm around him, pulling him closer and running a hand through the still-damp hair. “Just wondering why you don’t think I’m good enough to break up with, is all.”

Fucking hell. Roy shook his head slowly, wondering once more at the aburd irony of him falling head over heels for Jamie Tartt of all people. Wondering if he ought to tell Jamie about the effort it took not to run screaming the other way for fear of fucking this up too.

Some other time, maybe. Not tonight.

“I think you’re a muppet,” he told Jamie bluntly instead, “and far, far too good to break up with, all right? Now go the fuck to sleep before I fucking change my mind about that.”

A snicker then, followed by a happy sigh as Jamie curled impossibly closer. “You wouldn’t.”

No. Roy fucking wouldn’t.

#it’s himbo!jamie hours #sorry not sorry #also it was supposed to be ALL crack #didn’t mean for roy to have actual feelings about it #but here we are #jamie tartt #roy kent #royjamie #ficlet #my stuff

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 months

Text

Sunshine's Shadow

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader, Dick Grayson/Reader Genre: Slow burn smut? Porn with plot? Like eventually??? Word Count: 7,600 Read on Ao3 Part 1 of 2. Summary: You had powers of darkness that made you feel unwanted your whole life. Jason Todd was the first person to convince you that your darkness was sunshine. After his death, you went to Dick for comfort and started a relationship with him. And then, Jason came back. A/N:

I'm practicing writing again to prepare myself for the last chapter of Red Who? I'm not too happy with how I wrote this, but I'm hoping to start improving again along the way as I write and learn all over again. Also, I am not familiar with Titans! I know Jason never really joined? I just winged it I'm so sorry. I also aged up Jason's death here. I think the timeline is a bit messy pls forgive me.

Jason knocked on your door.

“Come in,” he heard your soft, muffled voice.

You were sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. You had soft instrumental music playing in your room. The table lamp was switched on on your bedside table, but the room was still dark.

“We’re getting ready for a spooky movie tonight,” Jason said, closing the door behind him and approaching you. “Care to join us this time?”

Your eyes darted from your phone to his, and you pursed your lips in hesitation.

“No thank you, I’m fine here,” you said and brought your attention back to your phone.

Jason sighed loudly and sat on the edge of your bed.

“Why don’t you ever join us?” he asked, “We’re the Teen Titans. We’re a team. You should join us for more team stuff besides official missions.”

You simply stared at Jason. He sensed that you had more to say but was hesitating opening up. So he got up and sat next to you. “You can tell me.”

“The room is dark, isn’t it?” you asked.

The question surprised Jason. “I mean, I guess? So what?”

“That’s me, Jason. You know how my powers work. This- this curse. The shadow I emit makes everything dark and gloomy, even if it’s a sunny day outside. And no one likes someone who brings darkness in a room,” you avoided his eyes and started picking at a hangnail on your finger.

“That’s why you won’t hang out with us?” he couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you hated us or something.”

“What?” you looked at him incredulously, “How could I? I was afraid that you all hate me for being so depressing.”

“Has anyone told you that before?” Jason asked. He didn’t know much about where you came from, but he knew that you went to a lot of different schools and orphanages. An outsider, not unlike himself.

“The kids were always scared of me,” you confessed quietly, “They refused to play with me. That was fine, but then soon after they would bully me. Make fun of me, push me down, kick me. Reminded me again and again that I was a freak.”

For some reason, Jason always had the urge to protect you, even though you were slightly older than he was. Now that urge was stronger and he wanted to hurt anyone who hurt you, to shield you from all that negativity.

“Well,” he began, “I don’t know about those assholes, but whenever I see you, I never saw darkness.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Really!” he insisted, “I see a girl who likes to read, and who likes music. I see you smile whenever Roy and Jackson bicker. And when Wally does that thing where he starts vibrating when he eats? And on the field? The way you protect everyone, the way we can all trust that you have our backs.”

Jason held your eyes. “I don’t see any darkness. In fact, I see sunshine! Because whenever you’re around, it makes us all feel warm and safe.”

He saw the way you were trying hard to not let the tears brimming your eyes fall. “You’re not lying.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“Of course I’m not,” he confirmed. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“I guess not,” you sniffled, “I can tell when people lie. And you have never lied to me.”

“What do you mean you can tell when people lie?”

“I don’t know. It’s sort of always been a thing I could do,” you shrugged, “I don’t join in conversations, so I just observe people, and I can sort of tell what they’re thinking or when they’re lying.”

“Ah, I think I know a thing or two about that,” Jason smiled fondly.

“Thank you, Jason,” you expressed.

“No problem, Sunny,” he grinned, “I’ll call you that from now on. To remind you.”

Jason thought that he saw you blush in the dim light. “So what do you think? Wanna join us for spooky night? I mean, your shadow would even be helpful. It’ll create the spooky ambience we’re all looking for.”

“Is there popcorn?” you grinned.

***

You dumbass, you thought.

The rain had you soaked and shivering.

Jason Todd, you absolute asshole.

The smell of wet dirt was overpowering. Your team stood with you despite your shadow engulfing them in darkness. Roy had his hand on your shoulder.

The white petals stuck to the polished wooden casket as it was lowered into the ground. Your heart had already broke, and you had gone through the stages of breaking down, sobbing uncontrollably, not being able to sleep for a week after they told you the news. Right now, you felt nothing but emptiness.

The casket hit the ground with a dull thud, and you heard the wet footsteps of others leaving the grave. You looked up at the crowd. Dressed in black, you saw some familiar faces. Clark Kent and Diana Prince were with Bruce Wayne, standing in solidarity. A fiery red color caught your eyes, and you saw whom you knew as Starfire. Tall, confident, and radiating with a soft warm glow- everything that you wished you were. She was next to Dick Grayson, and your eyes made contact with blue ones, ones that reminded you of Jason.

Dick gave you a sad smile.

“I heard you’re not going to continue with the Titans anymore,” Dick broke the silence. The rain was still pouring, pounding on the glass window of the car. “Where do I drop you off?”

“East End, along Murphy Avenue,” you replied. You watched two droplets on the window fall down, racing against each other. “I have some boxes left in the Tower, but I don’t feel like seeing them today.”

“Are you going to be okay on your own? You’re not even 18 yet.”

“I’m turning 18 in three months,” you rolled your eyes. “And I already got a job.”

“Oh? That was quick. What job?”

“Private investigator,” you responded, “Lot’s of scandals in Gotham. It’s quite easy to get a job if you’re half decent.”

“Pay well?”

“Well enough.”

Silence again. Dick made a turn.

No word was said until he stopped in front of the apartment complex. Unknown to you, Dick made a mental note to check the apartment out.

“Thanks, Dick.” Something stopped you from leaving the car. Something warm. Ah, it was Dick’s hand on yours.

You looked over and stared into his bright blue eyes. “I’m here for you. Anytime of the day or night. Text me, call me, whatever. You’re not alone.”

It was his expression. The pain and grief and sincerity in his eyes. A hint of desperation, even. By now, your talent for reading people had developed, and you could tell more than just basic emotions. Dick didn’t want you to leave him alone.

Your pulse quickened.

“Would you… Like to come in?” you asked.

Dick was surprised. His eyes darted downwards in a look of… guilt? And then- “No, it’s alright. You said you wanted some alone time. Go settle down first, then maybe you can give me a house tour sometime.”

Then he gave you the grin. Dick Grayson’s charming, heart-stopping grin.

You left the car.

THREE MONTHS AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD

You spent your birthday alone, ignoring the invitations from your ex team members. They all wished you happy birthday, and sent you voice notes of them singing. They said they wished you were there with them, and that they hoped you were well. You replied with a simple thank you.

The apartment you made yours was bare. The walls had no art, and the TV was unplugged. What was the point? Your darkness would have made the art on the walls difficult to see and it was not like you were planning to invite anyone over.

A couple of case files sat neatly on the dining room table, where you did your work. Your name had spread by word of mouth after your first client three months ago, and now you occasionally received texts from unknown numbers, asking for discretion and offering a few hundred dollars a day for a week of work.

Your phone buzzed. It wasn’t an unknown number this time.

Dick had sent you a text. Happy Birthday! Still waiting for that house tour.

You sent a quick thank you and ignored the rest of the message.

SIX MONTHS after the death of Jason Todd

You arrived late on purpose. “Sorry I’m late.”

You sat down in the booth seat opposite Dick and saw the way his eyes lit up when you announced your arrival.

“No worries,” he brushed it off. “Thanks for coming.”

“Yeah,” you grabbed the dirty menu from the table. Anything to fill up the awkwardness you were expecting. “What do you usually have here?”

“Waffles with ice cream.”

“For dinner?”

“Why not?”

Dick Grayson gave you his Dick Grayson Grin.

You told the aging waitress your order- “I’ll have what he’s having.”

“So how have you been doing? You seem quite busy now, since this dinner was postponed to two months later,” he teased.

“My work isn’t exactly nine to five, five days a week,” you replied curtly. You had avoided this dinner on purpose.

“No, no, I get it. Mine is the same,” he said. “It’s good that you have been getting lots of clients lately. You seem to be high in demand now.”

“Yeah, I am, actually,” you smiled softly to yourself, “I didn’t expect for business to move this fast. I’m mostly investigating cheating spouses and party daughters now, though. Hoping to move on to the more serious stuff.”

“Careful,” Dick warned you, frowning slightly, “Try not to get involved with the politics here. It’s messy, and dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself, Dick,” you assured him.

He paused. “Yeah, I noticed,” his expression quickly changed, “You’ve been controlling your shadow.”

Indeed, you have been working on pulling in your shadow while you were out in public, making it seem as normal as possible so you don’t engulf rooms with darkness, especially with your current state of mind.

Soon after Jason died, you found out that your shadow had grown larger and larger, directly linked to your moods. Then you noticed that it shrank when you were concentrating on your cases, leaving the room bright. So you meditated and practiced, day and night, to keep your shadow and your emotions in check. However, it was tiring to constantly shrink it for long periods of time.

“Practice makes perfect,” you replied bitterly.

“Jason used to talk about you all the time, you know?” he suddenly brought up.

This came as a surprise for you.

“Really?” you cocked your head to the side, “What about?”

“Lots of stuff,” Dick elaborated, “But mainly about how to make you feel more welcomed. How to get you to open up. What stuff to talk to you about. He considered you his best-friend.”

You had considered Jason the same. He was the first person you had truly bonded with, but you never knew that Jason had communicated with Dick about you. True enough, he always tried his best to make sure you never felt left out. You felt your throat tightened and gulped.

Your waffles arrived, and Dick immediately dug in.

“He said that he called you something,” he continued in between bites, “Sunny, right? Said it was short for Sunshine.”

You hadn’t heard that in six months.

Dick looked up at you and panic took over his face. “Shit- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your eyes this time. You quickly wiped them away and stabbed the waffle with your fork.

“No- no, it’s fine,” you insisted, “I just hadn’t heard that name in a while. And I didn’t know he talked to you about me.”

Dick looked at you with concern. “Pretty sure he had a crush on you, with the way he was always talking about you.”

You were pretty sure, too. You could read people well after all.

“What made you choose this diner?” you asked, changing the subject. “We used to come here all the time.”

“Yeah, I haven’t stepped in here since that day,” he avoided saying Jason’s name now.

For the first time since you sat down, you actually studied him, beyond the basic emotions that you instinctively saw in everyone. The slight frown, the dark circles under his eyes, the short chewed up nails, the five o’ clock shadow that was rare for Dick Grayson.

He was grieving alone.

“Whenever Jason faced a problem when he was with us, out in the field, or anything, he would always ask himself- ‘What would Dick Grayson do?’” you told him.

His eyes softened, and you could see tears start to well up too.

“He really looked up to you,” you went on, wanting to give Dick the same comfort he gave you. “His older brother. Though, he kept it quiet. He didn’t want people to notice how much he cared. You know, the whole tough guy act.”

Dick chuckled at that. “But you noticed, of course.”

“Of course,” you smiled fondly at the memory. When asked if his injuries hurt, Jason would always reply with Only when I laugh.

But he accepted the cold compresses and paracetamol you gave him.

12 MONTHS AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD

The camera shutter clicked. You checked the quality of the photo on your digital SLR. Even from across the street and in the darkness of the night, your camera caught the couple entering the motel, hand-in-hand, perfectly. This would be sufficient evidence for your client. The classic case of Cheating Spouse was going to earn you a couple thousand dollars. Frankly, you had considered rejecting the case. You only went for high-profile scandals now. But the client was desperate, and offered a large sum of money for something so easy and simple. It was difficult to refuse.

You contemplated on whether you should go the extra mile to catch them in the act. Or maybe you should just stake out in your car and catch them coming out of the motel. You took pride in how detailed your reports always were, and that was how you managed to build your clientele.

You took a sip of the bad, black coffee, already gone cold.

Peering through the zoom lens, you angled the camera up to the rooms facing the street. The movement you caught, however, was not the lights of a room switching on. Instead, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow hanging about the fire-escape in the narrow alley next to the building. You zoomed in more, and saw a familiar blue and black spandex, white eyes, and a familiar grin.

“Fuck,” you swore to yourself. Of all the places to bump into him.

You had gotten close to him since that dinner. The both of you had been texting regularly, getting to know each other and sharing stories about Jason. It helped you with your grief, and you knew it helped him too. You found out that Dick Grayson was voluntarily very expressive with his emotions, unlike his late younger brother who always needed an extra nudge.

Despite all that, you had been trying your best to avoid Dick for the past few weeks and had been giving him the excuse that you were busy. The truth was, you were scared. You knew how close you were getting to him, and right now you were lonely. So lonely that you were afraid of doing something you would both regret.

Knock, knock, knock. The glass rapped three times.

You looked over at the passenger side and saw that grin. Sighing, you unlocked the door.

“What a nice surprise,” Dick greeted you as he shut the door. “Didn’t think I would see a beautiful lady when I left home tonight.”

You rolled your eyes at his usual flirting. “I’m on a job, Dick.”

“I can see that,” he shamelessly went through your case file that was sitting on the passenger seat before he entered. “I thought you don’t take these cases anymore?”

“The poor guy was desperate, and he offered a lot of money for a simple, menial task,” you explained. “I don’t get why he doesn’t ask someone cheaper. Literally anyone could do this.”

“But they can’t do it as well as you do,” Dick booped your nose with his gloved finger.

“What about you? What brings you to this side of town?”

“Tim needed help with some training. And patrol brings me everywhere, sweetheart,” he smirked.

You noticed that your body had subconsciously turned towards him. His eyes were not visible then, covered by the whites of his mask. He was slightly damp due to the drizzle outside.

You cleared your throat. “I’m going to stake out here until they come out. Note how long they were together.”

“That could be until the sun rises.”

“Yep.”

“Need company?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I thought you needed to patrol, and help Tim.”

“Ah, you’re right,” he sighed dramatically, “I’d much rather be in this steamy car with you, though.”

“Go and help your Robin, Dick,” you chuckled, unable to resist him. “Your mentee needs his mentor, Gotham needs its hero and you’re here cozying up with a PI.”

“How irresponsible of me,” he muttered. You hadn’t realized that both of you had moved closer.

You risked a quick glance to his slightly parted lips before tearing your eyes away. He was right, it had suddenly got steamy in the car.

“Text me when you’re back? It’s dangerous to be alone at this hour,” he said before stepping out and flying off in the most flamboyant, Dick Grayson way.

I can take care of myself.

You took deep breaths to calm down and slow your heartbeat.

Maybe you were scared that you were so lonely. But a part of you knew that starting something with Dick wouldn’t be too bad.

You were just scared of being judged by Dick’s dead, younger brother.

The next weekend, you found yourself on your balcony. It was 3 AM, and you were slightly tipsy from the cocktail you made yourself. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of the wind, the cars, the occasional police siren. You made your decision.

Need you. you texted Dick, knowing he was out on patrol.

15 minutes. he replied.

Jason was dead. There was no one else who understood and accepted you almost as well as Dick did.

You waited out there in the cold for his arrival. When he did land straight on your balcony, his hair was a mess and he was panting slightly. You grabbed his face and kissed him roughly.

It didn’t matter anymore because Jason was dead.

SIX MONTHS AFTER THE ARRIVAL OF RED HOOD.

It was more difficult to control your shadow, but you tried your best. Moving in with Dick helped a bit more as compared to when you were alone, but you were constantly on edge.

He was alive, and what would he think of this? You and Dick? Would he see it as a betrayal?

Dick was having sleepless nights and was gone most of the time to help Bruce with Jason’s tantrum. Six months since Jason had appeared alive, and God knows how long before he crawled out of his grave, but he had not contacted you even once.

And you knew, you knew he was angry at you. That this whole villain arc had at least something to do with you. Even though it didn’t make sense, that you were never together, that you were nothing more than just best friends.

Somehow you felt that the rage and destruction was directed towards you.

For as long as you got together with Dick two years ago, and a whole year of playing cat and mouse with him ever since that kiss, you never had radio silence from him for this long. Two or three days was the maximum, and he would reassure you that everything was fine while you continued on with your PI business. A week long was unheard of.

Then, your phone buzzed.

I’m fine. He’s fine. Everyone’s fine.

You let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Is he back? you asked.

He’s gonna take some time off. Need to go. See you soon.

And so you didn’t sleep until Dick came back home the next morning.

“He’s so… broken,” Dick whispered above your head as he hugged you tightly.

You frowned. You didn’t like that word used to describe Jason. A person couldn’t be broken. People weren’t objects. You knew what Dick meant, that Jason was traumatized- but it didn’t mean that he was broken. Broken meant that you needed to be fixed before someone accepted you, that you needed to be functional or useful.

Broken meant that there was a state where people were whole, and you knew too well that there’s no such thing as a whole person. People just existed in different states, and each state was just as important as the other.

Jason told you all of that when you opened up to him about your past. One day many years ago, you fucked up during a mission. Your shadow had hurt someone a little too badly.

“I don’t even know how it works, Jay,” you had cried, “Sometimes it has a mind of its own and it just reacts outside of my control.”

“You saved me in the end,” Jason tried comforting you, putting his arm around your shoulder as you sat on the carpet of the empty living room.

“But I could have hurt you too,” you argued, “It could have attacked your shadow and killed you, the same way I killed my parents.”

You hadn’t told anyone about that. Only the Justice League knew.

“It was an accident,” Jason insisted.

“I’m just a broken person,” you choked. “No one should be near me.”

That was when he took his arm away and held your shoulders in both his hands, forcing you to face him, to stare into his piercing, fierce gaze.

“Don’t ever let me hear you say that about yourself ever again, got it?” he scolded you, “You are not broken. You’re like- like water. Or air. You exist in different states of matter, and each state you’re in is no less broken than the rest. You’re not broken, okay? You’re Sunny, you’re sunshine. You’re just sunshine…”

NINE MONTHS AFTER THE ARRIVAL OF RED HOOD

“Cheating spouse, undercover at Harvard, cheating spouse again…” you muttered to yourself as you browsed your cases in the living room, illuminated by a single warm light above your head. Dick would complain about the mess in the morning when he eats his cereal.

If he even comes back by tomorrow. you finished your own thought.

The blackmail material requests sounded interesting, but you always hesitated to accept the morally gray ones. You usually would go for missing or runaway children, the evidence of corruption, and the occasional journalist request for an inside scoop.

In fact, your eyes caught one such request. An anonymous journalist from the Gotham Gazelle. You received a text from a disposable two days ago, detailing a locker combination and an address. The contents of the locker were documents within a crisp and new light brown folder- a typical case file, along with a thousand dollars in cash and a promise of another two thousand after completion.

Journalists were not usually this cautious, but if they were investigating someone high profile, it was better to remain anonymous. Especially in Gotham.

You took a sip of your dark roast Arabica coffee, engrossed by what your anonymous client wanted you to get. It was already 11 PM.

Then, you heard the bell ring.

You frowned. Dick wouldn’t ring the bell to his own apartment.

Concentrating on pulling your shadow back, you walked barefoot to the door and looked through the peephole.

Your heartbeat quickened at who you saw standing on the other side of the door.

Calm down, calm down, calm down. Deep breaths.

The door clicked when you unlocked it, and creaked when you pulled it open.

You couldn’t remember when you had stopped counting the amount of days since you saw those piercing blue eyes that were so similar, yet so different from Dicks’. Now they were even more different from what you remembered. They were like battleworn armor standing in an enclosed case.

“There’s my sunshine,” Jason smiled weakly at you.

There was no chance of stopping your tears from falling down your face, so you didn’t even try. You let them flow freely as you speechlessly embraced him and felt his warm arms snake around you. The warmth of an embrace you thought you were never going to feel ever again.

He grew much taller than you. He was 16 when he died, and you were just turning 18. You had stopped growing a year or two before that, but boys kept on growing, didn’t they? He was the same height as you were the last time you saw him, but now he was at least a couple of feet taller. Did that mean he was back long before he started going as Red Hood? What did he do for two and a half years? Who-

“Don’t mean to be rude, but can I come in? I’m freezing my tits off out here,” he said. Even his voice was much, much deeper.

You chuckled and nodded, taking a step away to let him in.

You closed the door behind Jason and watched as he walked in slowly, looking around at Dick’s apartment. You noticed he paused at the dining table where you were working, and then strided to the sofa in the living room before taking a seat. You followed suit and sat next to him, not yet trusting your voice to make a sound.

“So,” he began, “You and Grayson, huh?”

Looking so intently, taking him all in, you almost missed the question.

“You’re bigger than him,” you blurted, before widening your eyes in horror at what you were implying.

Jason raised a scarred eyebrow.

“I mean- you- your build,” you quickly explained, “Your frame. Shoulders. Length. Big.”

“Length?” he smirked.

“Height!” you almost yelled.

Jason leaned closer to you and frowned. “Am I making you nervous?”

You couldn’t bear his piercing eyes, so you looked down at your hands.

“I thought maybe you never wanted to see me again,” you confessed, “I thought maybe you were angry at me, and hated me.”

“I was,” he simply stated.

You looked at him in question.

“Angry at you. For a bit,” he sighed and leaned back against the couch, “But I was angry at everyone. You were no exception. I was just mad everyone had forgotten me. Especially those I cared about.”

“I never forgot you, Jason,” you vowed, “How could I ever?”

“Then why did you-” he cut himself off, “Nevermind. I just wanted to say that I’m not mad anymore. I get it. I was dead, and everyone moved on.”

He crossed his arms and again, you noticed how large his arms were. His face was more mature, jawline more defined and square, eyes now more deep set with extra dark circles underneath them. As if your body had a mind of its own, you reached out to his face and caressed the scar across his cheek.

Jason jumped slightly in surprise at the sudden contact, but then closed his eyes and leaned into your touch.

“You have more scars now,” you pointed out, “What happened?”

You felt his breath down your wrist.

“Another story for another day,” he smiled and opened his eyes. You took your hand away, blushing at how intimate that must have seemed to an onlooker. “Where’s Boy Wonder?”

“No idea,” you shrugged. “You want something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Aw, come on, Sunny!” he got up and walked to the kitchen, “It’s a Welcome Back, Jason party. Where are the fun drinks?”

He started opening your cabinets.

“Wow, make yourself at home, why don’t you?” you shook your head and went to join him.

“Mi casa es su casa,” he sang, “At least, that’s what Grayson told me when he gave me the address. Aha!”

He found the cabinet of liquors. “Wow, I’m quite impressed by his collection.”

“That’s my collection,” you corrected him, “Dick couldn’t tell the difference between tequila and rum even if his life depended on it. I have a variety. What do you feel like?”

“You’re the bartender,” he teased, “Surprise me.”

You nodded and proceeded to make him a drink. Jason sat down at the dining table and nosily looked through your files. That was one thing he and Dick had in common, at least.

You set down a whisky sour for him and yourself before clearing your paperwork to the side, giving him the side eye as you snatched a folder from his hands.

Taking a seat across from him, the both of you dinked glasses together and took a sip.

“Strong,” he commented, “That’s good.”

You accepted the compliment silently.

“So, you don’t know where Grayson’s at?” he inquired.

“Nope,” you replied, “I know he has missions sometimes. Helps out here and there. He’s gone for two or three days before he comes back home with a new bruise or cut. I don’t ask for details unless he starts to tell me about it.”

Your chest made an involuntary squeeze that you tried to hide. There were times when you had asked Dick, and he lied to you. You had arguments over where he was, and who he was with before.

Jason studied your poker face intently, and for a second, you felt as though he was interrogating you.

He took another sip.

“How’s business going?” he changed the subject, “I heard you never went back to the team.”

“I couldn’t,” you answered simply.

“Why not?”

“Everything reminded me of you. It hurt too much.”

A deafening silence. A look of guilt. A looming darkness that grew.

“Business is great, actually,” you went on. “And I enjoy the slower-paced nature of the work.”

“Ugh, even stake outs?” he made a face, not commenting on how your shadow became slightly bigger.

“Stake outs can be nice sometimes,” you argued, “Crank down the window, put the radio on, snack on some fries. Sometimes I read, as well. I’m used to spending long hours by myself.”

“Sounds like you haven’t changed much,” he smiled endearingly at you.

“Not even physically?” you pouted, “I’ve been going to the gym.”

He laughed at that. “Yes, I’ve noticed. You look much more… Mature?”

“Are you saying I look old, Todd?” you huffed.

“So fucking old. A hag.”

You stuck out your tongue at him and laughed together, as if nothing ever changed. As if he never died, as if you never grieved for him and longed for him.

“I’m kidding,” he conceded, “You look good. Really good. Dick’s a lucky guy.”

You frowned at the last comment. “It doesn’t bother you, does it? Me and Dick?”

Another pause. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Jason knew you well, so he knew how to answer you. His statement wasn’t a lie.

You heard the jingle of keys in the distance.

“Speak of the fucking devil,” Jason whispered into his drink before taking a big gulp.

“Honey, I’m ho- oh. Jason, I didn’t expect to find you here,” Dick stood in the doorway, stunned.

“Welcome back, babe,” you walked over and greeted your boyfriend with a kiss. For the first time, Dick looked slightly uncomfortable with your display of affection.

“You guys have been hanging out without me!” Dick whined, his child-like persona immediately taking over.

That was how Dick was. You noticed it after a few times with him, how he would mask his emotions or awkwardness with his happy, warm personality. He was a people person, charming his way anywhere and everywhere regardless of any situation.

Yet, you could see through it all. The grief, the aching fatigue, and the countless battle scars.

“Was just leaving,” Jason announced curtly.

“Ngaw, don’t be like that,” Dick tried to persuade him, “Stay a little while. We can catch up.”

“There’s nothing to catch up on,” Jason insisted, “Bye.”

He glanced once at you, and then left without saying a word.

There was a stark difference between the way he was with you and the way he was with Dick. In the short future, you would come to realize that it wasn’t that he was different with everyone else. Jason treated everyone else with the cold, rough demeanor you witnessed- but never you. You were the only one who knew him as though that Jason never died.

You saw Dick’s shoulders slump in disappointment. “How long was he here for?”

“About an hour?” you answered nonchalantly, going back to your case files.

“He has never spoken to me for more than 15 minutes,” Dick informed you, “Even then he would give non-committal answers.”

“Really?” you asked, frowning to yourself. It took just a little while for the both of you to go back to how things used to be. “Maybe he’s more upset at you since you’re his brother.”

“Nah, don’t think that’s it,” Dick came up behind you and nuzzled his face in your neck. “You smell good. Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you hummed, “How was… Your mission?”

“Tiring,” he complained, “You choose a case already?”

“Maybe,” you replied, “Who was there?”

You heard Dick gulp. “Donna. Kon. Wally.”

“And?”

“Kori.”

You felt your chest tighten again. “Okay. I’m tired too. I think I’ll go to bed now.”

“You just drank coffee,” he pointed out, “You’re going to sleep now?”

“Or just lie in bed,” you responded, “Seeing Jason was… emotional.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair.

“You coming?”

“I have to patrol,” he looked at you guiltily.

“But you just got back,” you argued.

“They can cover more ground when I’m around,” he explained. “Sorry. I’ll spend time with you tomorrow, okay?”

You smiled at him and reached a hand to press on his chest. He was so committed, and that’s what you loved about him. He really, truly cared.

“Just stay safe,” you gave him a deep kiss, tasting the cola chapstick he stole from you months ago.

“I’ll see you in the morning, darling,” he breathed.

That night you lay awake in bed, staring at darkness. You let your shadow go at night, allowing it to take over the room. A buzz came from your phone all of a sudden. Another unknown number.

You tapped it open.

This is my number if you need me. J.

It had been a while since you smiled whenever you lay alone, unable to sleep.

And how did you get mine?

You didn’t actually care. You were just so happy to be texting your best friend again.

I’m just a genius, Sunny. You staying up late to work?

You contemplated your answer.

No. Just couldn’t sleep. What do you do now, anyway? Do you patrol with the rest?

Sometimes. I mostly do my own thing now.

What thing?

Another story for another time, sunshine.

I’m glad you’re back, Jay. Thank you for seeing me today. Can we hang out soon?

We can hang out whenever you want.

You were typing a reply, but was interrupted by another message from him.

I missed you lots.

I missed you too, Jason. We have to get caught up with all the slumber parties we missed.

Don’t think Grayson would be too happy with that though.

My best friend is back from the dead. He can suck it up.

I’ll see you soon then?

You contemplated again.

What are you doing tomorrow? I got an interesting case. Wanna tag along?

***

Jason’s heart broke when he found out that you were with Dick. It was a large reason why he was so angry, and why he became so destructive. But he tried to stay angry at you, tried to hate you, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. The years without you were lonely, and he tried to fill up the emptiness with rage.

It took him so long after Bruce brought him back to his senses to finally see you because he was practicing. He knew he couldn’t bear to look at you and Dick while you were together, so he practiced controlling his emotions so he wouldn’t snap and scare you away.

But when you opened the door and he saw your face for the first time in years, everything dissipated. He didn’t need to control any anger because all he felt was longing. It didn’t matter if you were in love with Dick, all that mattered was that you were there next to him.

“Okay, so,” you began as you pulled the car to a stop in a street at Diamond District. “Rupert Thorne.”

“The guy who is running for mayor?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, browsing through the documents, “He allegedly backed Hill in the previous elections, but now he is running against Hill. My client wants me to find evidence of corruption and find out who his sponsors are.”

Jason saw the way your brows stitched together as you read through the file.

It was difficult to be in the same car as you. Even though he was in the passenger seat, he felt like it was a small closet, being suffocated by your demanding presence.

“Why doesn’t he sponsor himself? Isn’t he some sort of closeted crime lord too?” Jason asked.

“I guess that’s the mystery,” you hummed, “He must have been promised something, or he must have promised something- if he wins.”

You smelled like warm cinnamon and vanilla. All Jason wanted to do was to bury his face in your neck and breathe you in. The pull he felt towards you was almost physical. He needed to stop himself from touching you, from claiming you.

“So what’s the first step?” he tried to focus on the case.

“He works in that building there,” you looked outside across the street to the tall mirrored tower. “COO of Trident Shipping Company. He’s doing quite well in popularity lately… Articles say he is modest and humble, charming, thoughtful, charitable… The list goes on. Must have a great PR team.”

Jason smiled to himself. You were starting to think out loud, a habit of yours he noticed one night during a strategy meeting with the team. So many years ago.

“Anyway, we want to see where he goes, who he meets, what he does-”

“Oh no,” Jason groaned, “You scammed me into a stakeout!”

He really didn’t mind if it meant spending long hours with you in your cozy car.

“It’ll be fun!” you tried to convince him, “We can catch up in the meantime! Plus, I do also need to bug his phone. Might need your help with that. I also have some metka, so maybe we can pollinate some lead suspects once we narrow them down and-”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up,” Jason started chuckling in disbelief, “First of all- one step at a time, please. Let’s make a structured flowchart first before you start rambling off fifty-seven steps ahead. Second of all- metka, are you fucking with me right now? How did you get your hands on Soviet Cold War tech?”

Metka or spy dust- chemically known as nitrophenyl pentadienal or NPPD- was an old and outdated, yet still effective, Russian method of marking or tagging suspected CIA agents during the Cold War by the KGB. It was a discreet powder that stuck to everything. They would tag the agents at the airport, and then anything the agent touched would have traces of the dust. Including Russian assets- spies or informants working for the CIA. They would be able to identify the traitors.

“I’m a PI,” you said smugly, “I’m resourceful.”

Yes, you were. Jason beamed proudly at you. But he said, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, how about the bug?”

“I have this-” you rummaged through your messenger bag and took out a small silver card the size of a hotel matchbox. It had the Bat sigil.

“So I assume you have Batman’s NFC card because you’re resourceful?” Jason teased. He knew the gadget well. The near field communication device allowed hijacking into another electronic device with NFC just by near contact. It could allow for cloning the device, or installing spyware.

You stuck your tongue at him childishly.

“I wonder what Batman would think of you stealing his gadgets for personal use,” Jason jested.

“Okay, I borrowed it from DIck, and it’s not like I’m using it for personal reasons. This is a highly professional operation,” you huffed, “Anyway, if you could let me finish telling you my plan. It says that Thorne is into French girls and he usually comes out for a smoke break around this time.”

“And?”

“I will be bumping into him. The NFC needs about 30 seconds of contact. I’ll slip the card in the pocket where he keeps his phone. But in case I can’t stick around to take it out, you will have to come walking behind me to pickpocket it from him.”

“Sounds good. What if he’s using his phone?”

“I’ll bump it out of his hand and apologize profusely,” you grinned. “Okay I need to get ready.”

You unbuttoned your weathered leather jacket to reveal a white top with a low neckline, giving Jason a good view of your cleavage.

“Uhhh,” he started awkwardly.

You ignored him and looked in the mirror, smearing lipstick on your lips and smacking them. Then, you ruffled your hair to give it more volume before turning to face him with a “How do I look?”

The red you chose for your lipstick matched your skin tone perfectly. And he never noticed you had a tiny cute mole on the top of your left breast. The way your hair was effortlessly messy made Jason imagine that was how you would look like in the mornings, or when he takes a handful of it while kissing you rough-

“G-great,” he complimented weakly.

If he hadn’t already died, then you were going to be the death of him.

“Oh shit, there he is,” you opened the car. “Quick, hang around a few feet behind me.”

Jason saw you strut as you approached Thorne. He was tall and handsome, and looked good for a man his age. Jason could tell that his suit was expensive. His coat was probably cashmere. He could see why Thorne was so popular. He definitely looked the part. He was talking on his phone, and he was now curious as to what you had in mind.

From down the block and in the crowd, Jason saw you pretend to talk on your phone in perfect French, rushing somewhere unknown. He didn’t notice the cup you were carrying before.

“Ah, putain! I am zo zorr’y, Monsieur!” you bumped hard into Thorne, spilling liquid all over his coat and yourself.

Thorne looked surprised, and then pocketed his phone in his coat. “It’s quite alright.”

“No, no, pleez. Let me ‘elp you,” you made a fuss. You took out a handkerchief from your bag and simultaneously shrugged off your jacket. Jason smirked to himself. No hot-blooded male would be able to resist the sight of you in a wet white low neckline t-shirt.

“Let me pay for your dry cleaning,” you worried, “Oh, putain it speeled down here too.”

You got on your knees and started dabbing the hem of his coat.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Thorne smiled and held your shoulder in a gesture to help you up.

“I am really zo zorr’y,” you looked up at him.

A flash of lust sparked Thornes’ eyes, and Jason knew you were batting your eyelashes at him from that angle. It made him want to punch Thorne square in the jaw.

“It’s really alright, madam,” he insisted, “It was my fault for standing in the middle of a busy pedestrian walkway.”

“I should ‘ave watched where I was walking,” you bit your lip and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well, let’s just both move on from this. Please don’t worry, I can get my assistants to get me another coat,” he rested his hand on your lower back as he walked you towards the street. “Here is my business card. Feel free to contact me if you need any help navigating the city. I would love to show you all the fine restaurants in Gotham.”

“Monsieur, you are too kind,” you pouted.

“I should thank you for bumping into me,” he winked, “It’s not everyday I get to see a beautiful lady.”

You pretended to blush.

“I have to go now,” he announced, “Please give me a call.”

And with that, he entered the building.

You walked towards Jason with the look of a kid who scored his first goal.

But then, facing him now, Jason swore under his breath. No wonder you managed to bewitch Thorne so easily.

Your shirt was practically see through, and everyone was turning their heads at you. He could see your black lacy bra, and how your tits bounced as you jogged towards him.

“Hells to the yes!” you celebrated, “That was more than thirty seconds. I got the card back and- what are you doing?”

Jason had grabbed your jacket and forcefully put it over your shoulders. “Let’s hurry back to the car.”

Yeah, you were going to be the death of him.

#jason todd #dc comics #batman #red hood #dick grayson #jason todd/reader #dick grayson/reader

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 8 months

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Something There (Chapter 8)

6.7k words

Roy Kent x Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, angst, mentions of slut-shaming and double standards, horrible reporters being horrible, pining, finally some fluff!!!

A/N: This is probably my favorite chapter so far, and has some of my favorite scenes I've ever written!! My heart is HAPPY!!

Series Masterlist

I understood; I understood completely.

Ted Lasso was warm, and kind, and fun. He looked at a person like they mattered and listened with genuine interest. He made you feel like he’d have your back and believed in you.

Ted Lasso was exactly what I needed.

After chatting over drinks about our backgrounds and careers, delving into our shared deep love for sports and coaching, he finally broached the subject that had been plaguing me nonstop for what felt like an eternity.

“So. How’re you doing? With all this… hullabaloo?”

He was too kind and polite to even name the hell I was living in.

A grimace crossed my face as I lifted my beer to my lips, trying to delay answering the question for as long as possible while those patient eyes gazed at me. Finally, I had no choice but to fill the silence. “I am… okay,” I finally mumbled. “Trying to just focus on the team, you know?”

Ted nodded, watching me carefully. “I completely understand,” he hummed. “Well, I mean, not completely of course. It’s mighty unfair the way they talk about you. But…” He shrugged, giving a small pop with his mouth. “I mean, they weren’t exactly nice to me when I got here. The press, the team, hell, even Becca.” His face softened at those last couple of words. “But, eyes on the prize, as they say.” He patted my hand gently, a paternal touch I didn’t realize I needed. “Now, like I said, I don’t totally understand what you’re going through. But if you need someone who has some small idea, well, I’m here.”

“Thank you, Ted,” I murmured. “I really appreciate it.”

He shrugged, turning his attention to glance around the pub. “Anytime, Clementine.”

After a moment, I opened my mouth again. “I’ve just waited my whole life for this. To be a role model, more than a pretty face that runs fast. Sometimes that’s all I felt like back when I played. And being a coach, well everything depends on my brain, you know?” Ted’s understanding nod urged me on. “And I was finally doing it. I was winning, and because England actually gives some semblance of a crap about soccer, people started to know who I was. And then…” A big breath left my lungs. “And then this… thing happens, and it’s like nothing else matters. Olympic medals, World Cups, national titles, win streaks. Nope. Everyone thinks I’m just another Roy Kent girl.”

“You’re not just another Roy Kent girl,” Ted assured me. “It might feel like it, whatever that means, but you’re not. You’re Coach Buck, for Pete’s sake.” His smile warmed all the cold parts of my heart that had developed since Keeley first showed me the photos. “And it might feel like everyone thinks so, but I can tell you for a fact it’s not true.” He pulled out his phone and showed me the freckle-faced kid who took up his lock screen. “My boy has not stopped asking about you since I got here. Kid thinks you’re the absolute bee’s knees, Coach. He doesn’t care about these stupid headlines or what you do off the field. Heck, he even told me I should ask you for some coaching pointers.”

Beer nearly shot out of my nose as I let out a thankful laugh. “Ted Lasso, you have no idea how badly I needed to hear that.”

“Sure, I do.” He bumped his shoulder into mine. “Sometimes, ya just need a reminder about why we do what we do. To inspire other people to be their best selves.” He nodded towards his phone before pocketing it. “And you sure as heck inspire this kid. And I’m willing to bet he ain’t the only one.”

I stared at him for a moment. “You know… If you want, we could Facetime him while you’re here. If you think he’d like that, I mean.”

Lasso’s smile lit up the whole pub. “He’d love that, Coach.”

“Hey, Coach. Ready for that chat?”

A growl escaped Roy’s throat as Ted entered the empty office. “No,” he huffed, turning his attention back to the playbook on his desk.

Ignoring Roy’s scowl, not for the first time since they’d met, Ted plopped himself down on Beard’s desk, eyebrows raised. “I know what you need,” he announced, leaning over to grab the phone off Roy’s desk. “Better get some bones and treats, because I’m calling the Diamond Dogs.”

Before Roy could protest, Ted had called Higgins and texted Nate and Beard; almost instantly the office was filled with the sounds of howling and barking that Roy was sure anyone who was still in the building could hear. The men assembled, closing doors and perching themselves in chairs and against walls, eyes expectantly trained on Roy, as if they already knew the reason for this meeting.

When Roy glared at Ted, the American knew he’d have to get the ball rolling.

“Diamond Dogs,” he announced, “as y’all know, our favorite junkyard dog here has been goin’ through somethin’. I bet he could use some friendly ears to bark at.” He nodded to Roy. “Coach?”

There was no getting out of this. Roy knew that. So, he might as well get it over with.

“Yeah.” He turned his chair and plopped his feet on his desk, trying to keep up his uncaring demeanor. “You all fucking know. Fucking photos, fucking paparazzi and reporters, blah blah blah.” He nodded to Ted, whose face was stupidly supportive. “There. Done.”

Nate cleared his throat. “What about you and Coach Buck?”

It was probably the harshest scowl Roy had given in a long time. “What about me and Coach Buck?” His chest felt tight just saying her name out loud.

“Well…” Nate’s eyes were on the ceiling. “I mean, the two of you were getting kind of close, weren’t you? Before all this happened?” He seemed to shrink slightly under Roy’s glare. “Weren’t you?”

“We’re not close,” Roy spat. “So, dunno what there is to talk about.”

Beard sighed and narrowed his eyes at Roy. “How about we talk about how unhappy you’ve been ever since this all went down? How about we talk about the fact that you slept with her- don’t make that face at me, neither of you have denied it- and now you both look like the most miserable people in the world? Let’s talk about that.”

Before Roy could argue, Higgins cleared his throat. “Roy, have you tried, I don’t know, talking to the poor girl?”

Was there a way to renounce his membership from the fucking Diamond Dogs? “As a matter of fact, we have talked. And she wants nothing to do with me. So, again, what’s the point in any of this?”

Ted cleared his throat. “If I may, Coach, it sure didn’t look like she wanted nothing to do with ya when I saw y’all in the parking lot.” His face was soft. “She seemed pretty grateful for your help, actually. Did everything but call you her knight in shining armor when she told me about that paparazzo.”

Roy rolled his eyes, hating the blush on his face for betraying him. “Yeah, well, that’s about all I’m good for probably.” He stared at his shoes for a moment, scrunching his nose. “Just hate seeing her so fucking miserable,” he heard himself admit quietly. “It’s not really fair, this shit. All that ‘takes two to tango’ shit, but no one’s saying a word about me. It’s stupid as hell.” Dammit, he was ranting now. “And I just want to fucking fix everything but I can’t.”

“You could be her friend,” Ted said quietly. “It sounds like she could really use more of those right now.” He cleared his throat. “You know, I told her all about how Henry just really admires her- heck, I think there might be a little crush there too- and let me tell you, she looked so relieved to hear that. We actually FaceTimed him earlier today before he went to school, and man she was almost as jazzed as he was.” Ted shrugged.

Higgins nodded. “I think she just needs to feel supported and respected right now.” He cocked his head at Roy. “Just give her that, Roy. The rest will follow.”

“The fuck do you mean ‘the rest’-?”

The sound of a door opening had the men jumping. Through the window, Roy could see Buck stroll into her office, sipping her water bottle and looking at something on her phone. She froze, as if she could feel the eyes of the Diamond Dogs on her. She blinked several times when she looked up and saw the Greyhounds office filled with men staring. With her eyes on Roy, she gave a small, awkward wave before sitting at her desk and turning to her computer.

Ted smiled at Roy. “Diamond Dogs, dismissed.”

With soft barks and yaps, the men dispersed, ready to call it a day and go home. Roy sat at his desk, staring through that window, watching her type away. He thought about what they’d said; for some reason, he felt struck by Ted’s mention of Henry. Not quite sure what he was doing, Roy stood and approached the door that separated their offices. He opened it softly, raising his eyebrows when she turned around to look at him.

“Knock, knock,” he mumbled stupidly.

Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but Roy would take what he could get. “Hey, Coach.” She wrinkled her nose. “What the fuck was all that barking?”

“Barking? What barking?” Roy entered the office and perched on Lucas’s desk, feigning ignorance as he stared at the too-pretty manager.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” she chuckled with an eyeroll. “Need something? I’m just trying to finish a couple emails before I head out.”

Roy studied her face for a moment. His gaze briefly flickered to her Brandi Chastain poster before returning to those eyes that made his insides squirm. “Would you want to come meet Phoebe’s football team?”

She blinked a few times. “Phoebe’s team?” she echoed.

He nodded, feeling good about himself for once. “Yeah. She asked me a while ago about inviting you, hasn’t shut up about you since the charity game actually.” He shrugged. “I think it’d be… fun.”

The hesitation in her eyes was heartbreaking. “Oh, I don’t know, Roy…” She bit her lip. “What if the parents don’t like me being there?”

Fuck, her voice was tiny. “If they don’t like the idea of a fucking Olympic champion watching their daughter’s football practice, they can deal with me,” he huffed. “What d’you say? Want to make me the coolest uncle in the world?”

“Well, in that case.” A genuine little smile graced her face. “Alright. Fine. I’m there.”

Leaving the Dog Track to go meet Roy and the girls’ team, I felt that familiar mixture of excitement and anxiety, the kind I got before games, or before an important meeting. It was a good feeling; I hadn’t had it in a while. My phone vibrating interrupted my reflecting on why this practice had me so wound-up.

“Hello?”

“Hey there.” I could hear Geroge’s smile through the phone. “I know it’s last minute, but I wanted to see if you’d want to grab dinner tonight?”

I cleared my throat as I started my walk towards the address Roy had given me. “Oh, sorry, not tonight, George. I’ve got plans.”

The disappointment in his voice was kind of sweet. “No problem. Anything exciting?”

Why did I feel weird telling him?

“Kent invited me to come meet his niece’s team,” I explained slowly. “So I’m heading on over to the school to go see their practice, say hello to the girls. Should be fun.” I tried to keep my voice light and casual, as if this was a totally normal thing to do.

Goerge was silent for a moment. “Oh. That’s lovely of you.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t you think it’s a little risky though? Being out like that? Someone might see the two of you, take some pictures…”

I passed a Whippets advertisement, one that had yet to be graffitied. “I mean, it’s a kids’ soccer practice. I doubt the press’ll be there,” I pointed out with a huffy chuckle. “And honestly, I don’t really care if anyone sees. What can they say about me visiting a girls’ team that they didn’t already say about me going into Roy Kent’s house?”

Another silence came, the same one that usually followed references to the fact that I’d slept with Roy; I hadn’t directly told George that I had, he hadn’t directly asked, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out. It was clearly not something George liked thinking about, and it was something I did my best to avoid bringing up. But for some reason, it slipped out now.

“Well,” he finally murmured. “I think you’ll have a good time. Should be a fun little evening with the kids… and Kent.” He paused. “Call me later?”

“Sure,” I hummed, hating the sinking feeling that I’d done something wrong. “Talk to you later.” I shoved my phone into my pocket and continued my walk, trying to ignore whatever that phone call was and focus instead on the evening ahead of me.

When I finally arrived at the school field, I realized my heart was hammering. It was kind of ridiculous; I’d done school visits and things like that. I’d spoken in front of crowds of students and young athletes. But for some reason, visiting one little girls’ soccer team had me feeling the way I did before stepping onto the field for the World Cup: anxious, unable to breathe.

But a high-pitched squeal immediately brought a smile to my face.

“Coach Buck!”

With a small wave, I approached the group of girls that were passing and warming up; immediately, I was tackled by a familiar blonde.

“Hey, Pheobe,” I chuckled, hugging her back. “How’ve you been?”

She beamed up at me. “Good! I’m so glad you came. I’ve been asking and asking Uncle Roy to invite you. And-”

“And she’s fucking here, ain’t she?” Roy wrapped an arm around Phoebe and shoved her aside. “Go warm up, you.” As Phoebe scampered away, he nodded to me. “Coach.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at him. “Coach.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly the picture of nervousness. “Right. So, I was thinking, I’d introduce you to the team, you could say a few words if you want, and maybe you could help run training? Unless you’d rather just watch. Either way’s fine with me.”

“I’d love to help.”

His face turned relieved. “Great.” He turned towards the group of girls, who were more interested in us than in their warmup. “Oi! Huddle up!” As soon as the girls were gathered around, Roy nodded curtly at me. “This here’s Coach Buck. She manages the Richmond Whippets. And, in case Phoebe here hasn’t already told you, she’s a World Cup champion and has an Olympic gold medal.” The excited buzzing from the girls had me fighting a smile- and it looked like Roy was fighting one too. “She wanted to come say hello to you all and help with practice. Sound good?”

“Yes, Coach!”

Roy raised an eyebrow at me. “Coach?”

With a deep breath, I took a step forward, willing myself to gaze at the little faces staring back with solemn expressions of excitement and awe. “Hello, ladies,” I greeted, putting on my best smile. “Roy- Coach Kent- has told me that you are probably the best team he coaches.” Their little giggles began to put me at ease. “And I am so excited to get to hang out with you today and see what you’ve got!”

The next hour was the best one I’d had since I moved to England- probably one of the best hours of my entire life. The girls were more than talented- they were enthusiastic, fierce, passionate, determined, fearless, everything I remembered being at their age. They played as if there was no such thing as losing or getting hurt. Every mistake was an opportunity to get better, every success was meant to be exceeded. By the end of practice, I knew every girl’s name and felt a tug in my heart when they called me “Coach”.

“Uncle Roy,” Phoebe hummed as he gathered the team at the end of practice. “Can we try to get past you?”

Roy glanced in my direction before shrugging. “You girls really want to play?”

The resounding YES had me wondering what ‘getting past’ Roy meant. As if she could sense my curiosity, Phoebe tugged my hand.

“You’re going to love this, Coach Buck,” she gushed. “It’s our favorite!”

The girls lined up, bouncing with excitement, while Roy grabbed a ball and jogged towards one of the goals made of a couple of cones. With the ease of someone who’d done this dozens of times, he rolled the ball to Kokoruda, who was first in line. She immediately began dribbling towards Roy and made a respectable attempt to score on the experienced player.

“Next!” he barked after kicking the ball out of bounds.

One by one, the girls tried to score on Roy; and each one failed.

“You don’t go easy on them?” I probed as I trotted over to Roy to return another ball to him.

He caught the ball with ease. “Fuck no,” he chuckled. “Their opponents won’t ever go easy on ‘em, will they? Why should I?”

Before I could concede that he had a point, Phoebe called out, “Coach Bucky! You should try!”

With a smirk, Roy tossed the ball back to me. “Yeah, Coach Bucky. You should try.”

Maybe it was being around the girls, maybe it was the cockiness on Roy Kent’s face. Maybe it was something else. “Fine, I’ll try,” I shot back, taking my place at the front of the line. I looked at the girls. “Any of you ever get it past him?” When they all shook their heads, my grin grew. “Well, guess he’s due for a loss then.”

I stood with my foot on top of the ball for a moment, just staring down Roy Kent. He narrowed his eyes playfully, a smile almost breaking through his serious glare. With a deep breath, I began dribbling, wondering when I had last just played like this. Roy jogged out to meet me, expertly trying to get the ball out of my control. We moved this way, that way; I was a bit surprised how well I was doing against him, if I was being honest.

“Not going easy on me, are you Kent?” I huffed, very aware of the way his body pressed against mine as he tried to steal the ball from behind me.

“Not a fucking chance,” he assured me, his breath tickling my neck.

With what I hoped was a casual chuckle, I found my opening, evading Roy and making my way towards the goal, a smaller target than I was used to. As I inched forward, I felt a pair of hands brush my sides, warm and playful.

Phoebe’s giggling voice interrupted the reeling in my head. “Uncle Roy, that’s a foul!”

“Right!” came a gruff voice behind me, laughing as the hands disappeared.

Able to return my focus to the ball at my feet, I sprinted forward, ankle be damned, and broke away from Roy; the ball sailed between the cones with ease, giving me that old, thrilling feeling of scoring a goal. When I turned around, the girls were cheering- and Roy was smiling at me.

“My knee’s fucked,” he huffed jokingly between breaths, hands on his hips as he approached. “That was hardly fair.”

I quirked an eyebrow at him as we started to walk back towards the team. “Oh, and what would you call my ankle?”

His smile widened. “Also fucked.”

Before I could snark back, the girls tackled me with hugs and shouts, clearly impressed that anyone could get past their burly coach. Roy eyed me over their heads, his face soft, reminding me of the night of the gala. All I could do was grin back at him, wondering if he felt the same warmth in his chest that I felt.

Roy dismissed his team, reminding them about their upcoming game, one they begged me to come watch. To my shock, a few parents stopped me to shake my hand and ask if they could get a picture of me with their daughter; that warm feeling in my chest grew with each “My daughter adores you!” or “It’s so cool that you came!” The whole time, Roy and Phoebe collected the equipment, with Phoebe watching me with great interest.

As the last of the girls left, I meandered over to the coach and his niece, stopping when I found myself looking into those brown eyes.

“Thanks, Kent,” I said, wondering if he could hear the thick emotion in my voice. “This… this was exactly what I needed.”

His eyes sparkled. “What, a bunch of little girls worshipping you?”

A snort escaped when I tried to hold back my laughter. “They didn’t worship-”

“Fuck off,” he chuckled, giving me a soft punch in the arm. “They fucking adored you. You’re their queen or some shit. Seriously-” He bobbled his head playfully. “-they’re probably planning a coup to get rid of me so you can be their coach.” He pointed to Pheobe, who was hovering nearby, obviously anxious to interrupt our conversation. “And that little traitor will be leading the fucking cavalry.” He waved her over. “Come say goodnight, Phoebe.”

Phoebe wrapped her arms around me, giving a squeeze. “Thank you for coming,” she gushed before letting go. “You know I have your poster in my room?” Her smile was full of pride. “I told Uncle Roy I wanted one, so he got one for me. It’s right above my dresser, so I can see it when I get ready for football.”

My jaw dropped slightly as my gaze shifted between Phoebe and Roy, who shrugged at me. Before I could think of something to say, he opened his mouth.

“I’ll make you a deal, Pheebs,” he started, eyes fixated on me. “You score in our next match, I’ll take you to see the Whippets, and we can ask very nicely if Coach Buck here will sign your poster.”

A lump formed in my throat when I saw the delight on Phoebe’s face. “Yeah,” I managed to choke out as I blinked back tears. “I could do that.”

There was a dull ache in Roy’s knee when he arrived at the Dog Track early the next morning, but it was a hell of a lot better than the sharp pain in his chest that seemed to be slowly disappearing. He figured he’d pop into the treatment room, grab some ice and baby his knee before getting ready for training.

When he walked through the door, he realized he wasn’t the only one that needed some tending to.

There she was, leg propped up on a chair, ice on her ankle as she scrolled on her phone. Her head snapped up at the sound of the door opening, and her face broke into one of those perfect smiles when she saw it was Roy. Without a word, they both started chuckling, almost relieved to see that the other had also overdone it the night before.

“Guess you meant it when you said you weren’t going easy on me,” she mused, watching Roy grab himself an ice pack.

He chuckled and rolled up his trackpants to expose his knee, flinching slightly as the cold touched his bare skin. “You’d fucking kill me if I did,” he pointed out. “It’d be fucking insulting.” After a moment of silence, staring at each other’s injuries, Roy opened his mouth again. “I’ll be at your game tonight,” he murmured, hoping he sounded casual.

Instead of the surprised look he expected, he swore he saw pleasure on her face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He let his eyes linger on her face. “I know the guys’ve been trying to go to as many matches as possible to show their support. Told Sam and Jamie I’d be joining them tonight. Richmond til we die, right?”

“Richmond til we die,” she repeated, her soft smile nearly stopping Roy’s heart.

Their quiet moment was interrupted by the door opening again. Rebecca stood with her hand on the doorknob, eyebrows raised at the sight of her two managers grinning at each other and icing their injuries.

“Good morning, coaches,” she greeted in a light voice, eyebrows raising slightly higher when she locked eyes with Roy before turning to the Whippets manager. “Just wanted to check in, I know you’ve got a long day. Match is at six, I believe some of the Greyhounds will be there again-”

Roy couldn’t resist piping up. “We will be.”

Rebecca didn’t bother hiding her smile as she went on. “After the match, Keeley will take Lucas to the press room, and you and I can-”

This time, the other manager interrupted her. “No.”

“No?” Rebecca blinked.

“Fuck it,” she sighed, sitting up and tossing her ice pack aside. “This is my team, right? I’m doing the press conference. Luke has covered for me long enough.”

Rebecca tilted her head sympathetically. “Are you sure?”

For a moment, those eyes turned to Roy, silently asking for his thoughts, as though his opinion mattered to her. When he gave her the tiniest, almost unnoticeable nod, she looked back at Rebecca, head held high. “Hell yeah.”

Roy had chosen the right match to come to, he realized. A 4-0 win to move into first place had him grinning with the Greyhounds as they cheered on the Whippets before they disappeared back into the tunnel. For a moment, he locked eyes with Buck, who tapped her fingers to her temple, giving Roy’s signature little salute. He saluted back, ignoring the grin on Jamie’s face. Maybe, just maybe, the two managers could grab a drink together to celebrate her win. Roy’s treat, of course. She’d more than earned it.

But first, she had a press conference to give. The Whippets and Greyhounds, intent on celebrating together, assembled in the weight room and gathered around the televisions on the wall. Roy stood right in front, Jamie by his side, eyes glued to the screen as she took her seat, red lips curled into a perfect smile.

Initially, the questions were typical post-match queries: how did she feel about the performance, what did she have to say about this error, how thrilling was that goal. And she handled them all with ease, reminding Roy of that first press conference he’d watched, where he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. But now, instead of a scowl, he almost wore a smile watching her, and he finally understood why his heart was hammering so hard. Yeah, this was good. She was good.

Until the questions weren’t good.

“Roy Kent was in the stands today,” one reporter called out. “Any thoughts on that?”

Her smile faltered as her eyes shifted away from the crowd in front of her. “Oh. Yes, the Greyhounds have been great in showing their support for the Whippets.” Her smile returned, though not as confident as before. “We’re overdue to cheer them on, so keep an eye out for us at their next match!”

Another question came at her. “What is your relationship with Roy now?”

She cleared her throat. “All the coaches here at Richmond have a great respect and fondness for one another. We’re lucky to have two great staffs that work together so well. It’s how we get wins like the one we had today, on both the men’s and women’s sides.”

Roy felt his face burn, along with several pairs of eyes staring at him. He didn’t care that she avoided the question; it was the same non-answer Keeley had given him to spout out whenever he got asked the same thing. It was the way the question came out, accusatory and aggressive, that had him frowning.

“Does your dominant personality play a role in your relationship with Roy Kent?”

There was no denying the way she scrunched her nose, fully understanding the implication. “Again, all of us coaches hold each other in high regard and have great professional relationships. Now, if you want to talk dominance, out there on the field today, Kira-”

“Speaking of Kira Malone,” a gruff voice interrupted. “She was recently seen at a pub with Jamie Tartt. Do you think your affair with Roy Kent has made the Whippets think it’s okay to run around with the Greyhounds? Is that professional?”

She began sputtering for the first time. “I would hardly call it an affair- But honestly, they’re adults, they’re professionals, I honestly-”

“And you were spotted with Ted Lasso recently,” another voice called out. “Can we assume you’ve moved on from Roy Kent?”

Her eyes widened, but she tried to recover her cool. “Coach Lasso’s a great coach. I-”

A harsh laugh rang out of the speakers. “Yeah, what does Kent think of your relationship with his ex-manager?”

Roy took a step towards the door; he knew that running into that press room would make things worse, would be a headline every paper would be running in the morning, but he didn’t give a fuck. His whole body was burning with fury as he listened to them challenge and fucking laugh at her.

A hand clasped his shoulder; Jamie was shaking his head, eyes full of sympathy, as if he too wanted to rush in and rescue her. But they both knew that she needed to do this on her own.

“Oi, is Roy why you always wear that red lipstick? Should we expect to see it on his collar sometime?”

She looked small, so impossibly small, not at all like the woman Roy had been fighting with and falling for all these months. Her defiance disappeared under their demeaning questions, her fierceness was stolen by their laughter, her cockiness was stifled by their mockery.

“What kind of example do you think you’re setting for the girls of Richmond? Sleeping with Roy Kent and all?”

That seemed to be the question that knocked the fight out of her.

“Oh, fuck this,” Roy growled, tugging out his phone. He quickly typed six little words, the first text message he’d ever sent her.

Don’t you fucking dare play nice.

Her eyes flickered to her phone, eyebrows raising; Roy knew she’d gotten his message. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting them continue to shout and shame her. Finally, she sat up tall, jaw set, and stared down the crowd in front of her.

“You know what?” she asked, her voice low and gravely. “Fuck these questions you keep asking me.” Roy was sure he heard Keeley squeak on the television. “You’re not asking Roy Kent these questions. You’re not asking if he’s a good role model. You’re not questioning his ability to manage his team.” She shook her head. “What message am I sending to young girls? Really? How about what message are you sending?”

Roy was sure it was Kira Malone’s voice behind him calling out, “Fuck yeah, Buck!”

She sat up taller now. “I am a fucking Olympian. I am a champion coach. I have won more titles and trophies and medals than this entire building combined.”

“Tell ‘em, Coach!” Jamie laughed, nodding up at her face onscreen.

Roy’s mind wandered, of all places, to his niece. To the way she adored that loud, abrasive woman, a woman who was standing up for girls like Phoebe. A lump formed in his throat as he listened; fuck, he might actually fucking cry. And he didn’t care if the Greyhounds saw the tears in his eyes. He didn’t even care about the way Jamie was staring at him; he was too enraptured by the scene unfolding on the television.

“I chose to sleep with a nice man one time, and suddenly all my accomplishments don’t matter? Who cares about Olympic gold when you’ve gone to bed with Roy Kent? What defines me is who I go home with? What message is that for the daughters of Richmond? You’re telling your girls that their accomplishments and dreams are nothing compared with what they do in the bedroom. No.” Her eyes were hard and steely as she shook her head. “Fuck this. I’m done. If I wanted to go and sleep with Roy Kent tonight, that’s my own damn business. If I wanted to sleep with any other man, or woman, or whoever, that’s my business.”

Shouts of agreement echoed through the weight room, from both Whippets and Greyhounds. A smile crept across Roy’s lips; fuck, she was incredible. If he wasn’t in love before, he definitely was now.

“What example am I setting for the girls of Richmond?” she asked with a dry laugh. “Not letting jackasses like you question our worth because of a man. That’s the example I’m setting. So if you’re here to ask about my sex life, you can fuck right off. It’s not up for debate, not anymore. It’s not what we’re talking about, now or ever. What I’m here to talk about is the fact that the Whippets are in first place and are expected to finish in the top three in our first damn season. How about you ask me about that?”

My heartbeat throbbed in my ears as I stood up, only vaguely registering the female reporters and handful of men who also stood, clapping and calling out words of support. I grabbed my phone and rushed out of the press room, not bothering to look at Keeley and Rebecca; I’d apologize to them later. I’d do whatever Keeley needed me to do to spin this. I’d offer to do whatever public appearances Rebecca demanded.

But first, I needed to get to my office to hyperventilate in peace.

As my feet did their job, carrying me down the halls, I became aware of the sound of… clapping? Cheering?

When I turned the last corner that would take me to the changing room, I finally stopped in my tracks.

Lining the hall were both Richmond teams, a beautiful jumble of smiles and applause and cheers, all watching me with affection. Suddenly, I found myself smothered with hugs and kisses and handshakes. Kira held me close, whispering in my ear about how proud she was to play for me; Jamie Tartt kissed my forehead and called me a bad-ass; over and over, Greyhounds and Whippets embraced me and offered their love and support.

By the time I reached the locker room, tears were freely streaming down my face, releasing all the emotion I’d been holding back in the press room; hell, all the emotion I’d been holding back since Keeley first showed me the photos of me and Roy.

The Greyhounds coaches stood in front of the locker room, pride shining on their faces. Beard and Nate each held me tight, murmuring about how amazed they were. Finally, Roy stood in front of me, his eyes watery as he gazed down at me.

“Welcome back, Coach,” he hummed, sticking out his hand.

I grasped his hand, shaking it firmly, unable to hold back my tearful smile. “Good to be back, Coach,” I murmured. I gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. “And thank you,” I whispered.

He shook his head softly. “Anytime.”

A pair of arms wrapped around me; Lucas was hugging me, tighter than anyone else had. “I’m so proud of you,” he choked out, crying almost as hard as I was. “So fucking proud, kid.”

With one last look at Roy, I let Lucas steer me into our office, listening to him chatter about how much he loved my little speech. I collapsed in my chair and laughed, from disbelief that I had just done that. My phone went off; George.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, wiping my face. “Did ya see me?”

“What the hell, Buck?” he hissed. “You just made things so much harder on yourself. They’re not going to forgive you for this. They’re not going to like you after this. Trust me, I know these people.”

When Lucas saw the way my face fell, he gave my shoulder a squeeze and left, figuring I needed some privacy.

I hunched over my desk and clutched my phone to my face. “To be honest, George, I don’t think I care if they like me. They don’t respect me, so why do I care if they think I’m nice?” I shook my head. “I’m proud of myself, actually. And so is my team. And so are the Greyhounds.” And so is Roy Kent, a little voice in the back of my head whispered.

He paused. “It was good,” he sighed. “You sounded great. Honestly, it was a great ‘girl power’ moment.” There was another moment of quiet on his end before his voice turned thoughtful. “You know, I bet we could do a great article about this. Give your side of things, talk all about the slut-shaming and double standards-”

“Didn’t you listen to what I said?” I scoffed, sensing someone approaching my office. “I’m fucking done talking about this. I’m not answering questions about this, ever again. Everyone knows I had sex with Roy Kent, that’s more than they need to know. I don’t owe anyone anything else.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t we grab a late dinner? Could, I dunno, celebrate your win or something.”

For the first time since we met, I had no interest in seeing George Willows. “Not tonight,” I muttered. “I just… want to go home. Sleep. Avoid Twitter.” I finally turned, realizing it was, of all people, Roy hovering in my doorway. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Not waiting for a reply, I hung up, tossing my phone on my desk before turning my chair around, raising my eyebrows teasingly at Roy. “Need something? Or are you going to send me another inspiring text message?”

He stared at me, mouth open like he was about to speak. Finally, he just shook his head and let out a breathy chuckle. “Fuck,” he breathed, stepping further into my office. “You… you were fucking something today, you know that?”

I shook my head and stood up, meeting him in the middle of the room. “Kent-”

“No.” He smirked at me. “Take the fucking compliment.” He shrugged. “I just wanted to tell you I was… really impressed today.” He cleared his throat. “On the field. In the press room. You’re a fucking great manager.” He let out a deep breath, eyes shifting around the office. “Don’t think I’ve told you that, and I’m sorry I haven’t.” He met my gaze, his smirk becoming a smile. “And I am very glad Phoebe has someone like you to look up to. So… that’s it, I guess.”

Roy Kent was looking at me with admiration. Roy Kent, who’d hated me and screamed at me. Roy Kent, who’d slept with me. Roy Kent, who asked me to speak to a girls’ soccer team. Roy Kent.

Roy Kent, who I wrapped my arms around and pulled into a hug. Not giving a shit about anything outside my tiny office, I pressed my body close to his, squeezing him tight. I buried my face in his shoulder, letting my tear-stained face dampen his Greyhounds shirt. His words, the look on his face, they were exactly what I needed.

His hands hovered over my hips, not returning the embrace, and I could hear him clear his throat, the vibration rumbling against my chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Immediately regretting my impulsive action, I pulled back, positive my face was bright red. “Shit,” I mumbled, my mind reeling from the roller coaster of emotions I was having tonight. “Sorry, I-”

Suddenly, I was pulled back to Roy’s chest, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I swore he sighed when my arms returned to his neck, and when my head hit his chest, I could hear his heart pounding, just as hard as I knew mine was. We stood there, hugging, wrapped up in whatever little world we were in, away from the press and the rumors and the judgement.

Just me and Roy.

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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 #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic

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wambsgansshoelaces · 4 months

Note

Can you do number 13 from the Pinterest prompt list with Kendall? 🥺 I feel like that's something he really needs to hear

Throw Pillow

Prompt: “I’m not going to leave you. You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again.”

Kendall Roy x Reader

summary: homegoods + a sudden relapse

thank you so much for requesting, anon!!! I’m sorry this is late, I appreciate and love you very much <3 enjoy xxx

slight tw for drug use.

Word Count: 2.117k

When he’d asked you to move in with him, it’d been barely a year into your relationship. Not that you were opposed- it was the exact opposite. The minute you met, you just knew he was who you were meant for.

His apartment is so… sterile. It’s neat, it’s barely organized, it just doesn’t feel like a home.

“That’s why I’m with you,” he says teasingly in response when you tell him one day, cuddled together on the couch. His arm is looped around your shoulder, playing with your hair, fingers scratching gently at the nape of your neck. “You can decorate however you want.”

You hum contentedly, satisfied with his answer. Your palm is stroking over his toned stomach, your eyes focused on his. He has a goofy smile on his face, his expression laden with affection. You give him a soft peck on the lips. “We’re going to HomeGoods, then.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think anybody other than Connor actually goes there.”

“Do you want me to make this house a home or not?”

You kiss again, grinning into each others mouths. You slide off the couch, Kendall not far behind. You’re stepping into the kitchen, but he’s going to grab the car keys from the table by the front door. “Aren’t we going? he asks, staring back over his shoulder at you.

“You’re actually okay with it?”

“Of course I am.” He toes his shoes on. “Come on. Let’s go.”

He waits for you to walk out before him so he can let his hand sit on the small of your back as you both go. When you arrive at the store, you can’t help but stare at him. He leans against the shopping cart as you browse the aisles, dazed smile pasted on his face. He doesn’t actually care about the decorating. He’s happy just watching you.

You have a vision for your new home with Kendall. He wasn’t too fond of overly obnoxious colors, or any color at all, but you didn’t want your apartment to be sad beige. You want it happy beige, bright neutrals, a pop of soothing pastel every so often. You both go around, Kendall just nodding along to everything you say.

“Ken, I want you to like it, too,” you tell him at one point, a bit deflated that he wasn’t as into this as you are. He rounds the cart, coming close to you. You’ve been fidgeting with a ceramic bowl you think would serve as a good key holder. He gently pries it from your hands, setting it gently in the shopping cart, and takes your face in his hands.

His thumbs ghost over your jaw as he looks adoringly down at you. “If you like it, and you’re sitting in our bedroom, or our living room, or whatever the fuck, and you’re smiling, you’re happy, then I also like it.” He kisses you in the middle of the aisle, the warmth of his lips seeping onto yours. You pull away quickly after kissing him back, suppressing a giggle as someone shuffles past the two of you. “What? Don’t wanna be seen with me in public?” he asks mischievously, fingers still tracing over your face.

You laugh freely this time, swatting him on the chest. “Fuck off.” You walk off, continuing your amateur hunt. He follows. He’d always follow. He’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.

It doesn’t take that much longer for you to finish your shopping spree. Kendall insists on paying, on funding your delusions, and he carries all of the bags back to the car. You refuse to let him take everything inside your home by himself. The two of you chatter idly as you do so, laughing, giggling, being so stupidly in love.

After everything is unpacked and you’ve decorated to your liking, he hooks his arms around your waist and collapses onto the couch, dragging you down with him. He sighs as if he’s just climbed a mountain, his hand going to sit on your hip once you press up against him. He picks up a throw you’d bought from next to him, turning it over in his hand. His fingers run slowly over the fabric as he inspects it.

“What are these, anyway?”

“They’re pillows,” you say mockingly after pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

He scoffs. “Asshole. I mean, are they just decorative? Do I have to pretend like I’m tip toeing over landmines?”

“No, use them as normal pillows. They’re cute and functional.”

His hand travels to your stomach, stroking absentminded patterns into your skin, making you feel good.

‧₊˚✩彡

One night, you’re out later at work than you usually are. Some paperwork for an issue that seems like it’s never going to resolve itself. Normally, Kendall responds to your texts maximum ten minutes after they’re sent. It’s been half an hour.

You think it’s okay to start worrying at this point.

Kendall has a tendency to overthink things to the point of instability. You just hope that that isn’t what this is. Maybe his phone died. Maybe he’s taking a nap.

You would’ve never had guessed it to be weed.

When you shoulder the front door open, dropping your keys in the new key holder, the smell hits you. Your entire life, it’s nauseated you to an extreme. It’s just such a sour, sickening smell. You can’t stand it.

He looks up at you when you walk into the living room, caught, but not caring. The windows are open, but it’s clearly not enough for the smell.

You thought he was sober.

“Where the fuck did you get weed from?” you ask icily, your anger unable to keep itself restrained.

He turns away from you, instead staring up at the ceiling, letting a huff of smoke out. He’s sitting right by a window, directing his breath out into the outside air as to not trigger the smoke alarms.

“I know a few people,” is all he says in response.

You’re pissed. Your blood is boiling. Not that he relapsed, not that he’s clearly upset at something, but because he’d forgone telling you anything about anything and took things into his own hands. “Kendall-” is all you can say before he interrupts.

“Listen, I don’t want the lecture, or the boo-hoos. I just want to relax and get rid of this fucking headache. I don’t need your nagging.”

You grit your teeth and keep your mouth shut. You’re not going to dignify him with a response.

“Whatever you want,” you say back calmly. “You’re sleeping out here tonight.”

You watch his face immediately sober, shock and panic flickering over his features. He opens his mouth to call after you, but you’ve already disappeared into your room and locked the door behind you.

You’re torn. You feel bad for what you did, but Kendall has never, ever spoken to you like that before. Even when high, or drunk, he’d always been sweet. Kind, caring. You want to ask him what was wrong. You want to help him fix it, help him out of this hole he’s digging himself into. But he doesn’t want you to. So you suppose you can’t.

You change, and the silence in the apartment is stressing you out. As the hour passes, the repulsive stench of the weed fades away. You can hear faint movement from the living room, but you don’t bother going out.

Once you’re in your pajamas and sat in bed, you deflate a little. It feels wrong without him laying next to you. Your bed was usually warm with affection, but since you were by yourself, everything felt colder and less… real. Again, you’re conflicted. You’re mad at him, but at the same time, it felt mean what you were doing.

You lay back in bed, not even the blankets warming your body. You ran cold, Kendall ran hot. You’re upset, but you’re beginning to realize you need him in bed with you for you to sleep. Maybe you’d overreacted. Maybe you didn’t. You’d talk about it in the morning.

Your resolve embarrassingly crumbled, you go over, unlock the door, and stick your head out of the doorway. Kendall’s sat up on the couch, staring down at the ground, looking like a scolded child. You slide onto the cushions next to him, and you can still smell the weed on his breath.

“Hey. I’m sorry, I was being mean.” You kiss his cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not upset with you. How about you brush your teeth and get to bed and we’ll talk about it in the morning?”

His fingers fidget with his sleeve. “Yeah. Okay. I’m sorry, too. I was being a fucking jerk.”

You go to sleep facing away from each other.

The morning comes quickly, and you wake up, your entire body stiff. You don’t feel rested, you feel like you’re missing something. You roll over to find that Kendall’s already awake, lying on his back with his hands folded on top of his chest.

Wordlessly, you scoot closer to him. You hope he’ll reach out to you, touch you, something. Your relief is staggering when he does, his arm snaking around your waist. He pulls you flush against him, his hand rubbing gently over your hip. He kisses your forehead hesitantly, then the spot between your eyebrows.

“We should talk,” you murmur to him, hand sliding over his chest.

“Yeah, we should.” You realize he’d brought a throw pillow from the couch with him, using it rather than his actual one. His free arm sprawls over himself, his forearm sitting on his forehead. “I don’t know how it happened.”

You scoff. “That’s such bullshit.”

“I mean it.” He avoids your gaze. “It’s like… I was at Waystar, and shit hit the fan, and everybody was fighting… It was my fault, Y/N. I fucked everything up. And before I knew it I was knocking on a dealer’s door. I threw it all out, though. I don’t… I don’t know why I said what I said yesterday. You don’t deserve that.” He pauses. “You deserve better than me.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to me about it? I promise I’ll always listen when you need to speak.”

For the first time this conversation, he looks you in the eyes. “I… I don’t want to be a burden. And I want to promise that this won’t happen again, but… but I can’t.” He rubs his hand over his eyes. “I understand if you don’t want to keep doing this anymore. I’m not exactly… I’m sorry.” His voice cracks as he speaks, and his gaze possesses an unusual clarity as opposed to the brain fog of last night. Tears well in his waterline, and your heart sinks. He looks away.

Your hand goes to his chin. “Kendall. Look at me.” You wait for him to listen, then continue. “I’m not going to leave you. You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise.”

His breath stutters as he looks at you. It’s as if you’ve breathed life into him again, as if his heart had stopped and your words were volts of electricity. He chokes on a sob, breaking down, and immediately pressing his face into your neck. You stay silent. He just needs a few moments, and who are you to take them away from him?

You rub up and down his spine, soft, soothing movements.

You stay like that, for a while, him buried in your skin. You don’t mind.

He’s the love of your life; you’ll be damned if he continues on feeling like there’s nobody on his side. Eventually, he pulls away, small smile playing on his lips. “Okay. I’m sorry. This was all just a mess.”

You follow him, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He returns it, oh so fucking happy you’re still here. "If you ever have any problems, Ken, just tell me. I love you. I'll never not help you." His expression melts into one of pure affection. “If there’s ever any non-prescription drugs in this house again I’m going to murder you and sell all of your organs for money.”

You feel his smile widen against your mouth as he kisses you again. Mouth still on yours, he reaches up behind his head for the throw, yanks it from under him with one swift motion, and smacks you in the face with it.

"Hey!" you yelp, snatching the throw pillow from him. He makes a weak attempt at taking it back, but you don't let him.

Laughter filling the air around you, you lunge at him. Your bed is never devoid of warmth again.

#kendall roy x reader #kendall roy x you #kendall roy #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #wambsgansshoelaces #prompt request #anon ask #requests open #prompt writing

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milfp1lled · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can you do Shiv Roy x fem!reader angst? Leaving it up to you what about

“I always want you when I’m finally fine”

pairing: Shiv Roy x fem!reader

summary: After you confessed that you loved her, Shiv had all but told you not to call her…ever. So you’re thrown off guard when you get a phone call from her at 3 am.

warnings: 18+ sexual themes,angst, toxic relationships, strong language, alcohol use

word count: 5574

notes: obviously this fic is inspired by the song, listened to an entire mitski playlist as I wrote this so do with that info what you will haha.

You were always a worrier.

Constantly fearing and expecting the worst-case scenario, a request for a simple conversation suddenly had you feeling like you were about to get horrific news and a late-night phone call usually had you spiraling.

So that’s why you’re surprised at yourself when your phone starts ringing at God knows what time, and you immediately stretch your arm out with a groan to quickly press decline. Despite not knowing whom the call was coming from, you roll over onto your side with a silent promise to chase it up in the morning.

You’d been practicing doing that recently: ‘protecting your peace’, is what the overly chipper, new-age psychologist whom you’d recently started paying thousands to “fix” you called it.

Then the vibrating starts up again…you’re not happy.

Muttering expletives under your breath you snatch the phone from your bed stand before raising it up to your ear.

You’d been tossing and turning all night and had just managed to fall asleep but of course, someone had to wake you the moment you had dozed off. You say a silent prayer at the fact that you had tomorrow off from work or else you’d be downing cups of coffee all day to have some kind of semblance to a functioning person.

"Uh-huh?" You hum, eyes half-lidded as you already start to nod off again.

"...hey, uh...I'm outside, can let me into your building?"

The voice is slurred and rambling, but you recognise it all the same, suddenly wide awake as you scramble to your feet, phone pulled away from your ear in disbelief to squint at the name on the display:

'Shiv🥕🔝'

Huh.

"What? Siobhan...It’s 3am"

Not to mention you didn't want to see her.

…You shouldn’t want to see her was probably closer to describing it.

You peer down from one of your windows and sure enough, she is standing there, arms folded across her chest and that bored look on her face, breath catching in your throat at the mere sight of her. You look for any sign of another party near her, eyebrows furrowing at the fact there is no car black car parked outside one of the neighbouring houses.

Where was the car that had dropped her off?

This was anything but the first time you'd been summoned for a classic Shiv Roy booty call. But usually, it came in the form of a "come over?” or an “I miss you” text when you think she was feeling extra mean. You'd drop everything like the pathetically devoted follower you were, opting instead to spend the rest of the night swallowing the feeling of self-loathing as the two of you would fuck each other into oblivion.

You knew the rules: It was always at some 5-star hotel; never at yours or any of her many homes- that was too personal. You were never supposed to linger after. Shiv Roy was straight to the point, and concise, she didn't do pillow talk.

One time she’d seemed particularly stressed out and you'd tried to ask her if she was okay and in turn, were promptly put in your place and shown the door. You didn’t have access to or get to see that part of Shiv (if she even still existed) anymore.

Safe to say you didn’t bother trying to fill the cold, endless silence after that.

To her credit, she would always call you a taxi, or get one of her drivers to drop you off the moment you were done, and you'd sit silently crying in the car on the way home, clasping the broken pieces of your heart in your hands, trying to hold yourself together until Shiv decided she needed you again.

Waiting for her to call, to touch you and make you whole. To make you mean something.

So naturally, of course, you were shocked to see her outside of where you lived again.

You think back to the only other occasion she’d been at your apartment, your birthday a year ago. She’d come to collect you for one of your “meetings” and had surprised you by coming equipped with your favourite vanilla bean cake from Magnolia Bakery. She seemed unusually light…happy (and definitely a little bit drunk) and even sang you an out-of-tune rendition of happy birthday that made your cheeks hurt from smiling. You’d put your favourite record on and asked her to dance with you in your kitchen and she’d rolled her eyes claiming she didn’t listen to music, you’d laughed at how ridiculous that sounded (she was always such a fucking cliché), but she’d danced with you anyway.

She’d touched you and had seen you, really seen you…but the moment was fleeting, the same cold no nonsense Shiv the moment you left for the hotel. Sometimes you think you’d imagined that day.

You’re surprised she even still remembers your address now.

“Please?” she sighs out softly

You could never say no to her.

Well-trained, you obey, buzzing her in with a sigh of resignation. What were you doing?

Moments later, Shiv twirls out of your lift into your condo with a giggle and you realised dreadingly that she's wasted. Not even the standard Shiv level of buzzed that you’d seen her at.

She looked frazzled and her hair was slightly askew, and she had one of those almost fake-looking wide smiles on her face.

“Hey Honey”

Were you having a fever dream? Maybe you’d lost it.

"These are killing me!” She groans taking off her heels and tossing them onto the floor of your foyer behind her-making herself right at home besides the fact this was her second time even being in your loft.

Actually Maybe she’d lost it.

You keep your mouth closed, not quite of what to say.

"I was at Ken’s birthday...and it was...a shit show." She explains stumbling into your apartment.

"But, I was dancing you know..." she uncharacteristically giggles, leaning in to whisper to you conspiratorially, despite there only being two of you in the entire loft.

You could smell the tequila on her breath.

You ignore her but she doesn’t seems to notice,

"In the middle of the dancefloor too”.

Shiv ,unprompted, then proceeds to give you a demonstration, not receptive to the fact that there was no music playing. You have to turn away, unable to stop yourself from cracking a small chuckle at her performance. Drunk or not, you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

"See? Just like how we used to back in our London days...Do you remember the raves and house parties we used to go to?” she exclaims unusually animated. You weren’t us yes to hearing her speak without that usual apathetic Shiv drawl.

You turn to pour yourself a glass of water, anything to keep your hands busy, not even attempting to pick up the bone she just so eagerly threw your way.

Making a forbidden reference to your past and she actually seemed to look back on it fondly? A couple of months ago, before that night, you probably would’ve chased after said bone that’s been thrown your way, practically fawning at her feet.

Was this a trap?

This inkling doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering in your chest though.

"Why are you here Shiv?" You question after a while, eyes narrowing, already knowing you were wasting your time trying to have an effective conversation with someone this drunk.

The heiress smiles sadly before throwing her hands in the air blasély,

"You called me a vampire...they can't be out in the day...can they?"

You try your best not to wince at her words and immediately fail.

"...I went to Kenfest…and not that I was looking or anything, there were so many people…but I noticed you weren't there…”

Sure, you’d received an invite to Kendall’s birthday party. But that wasn’t really your scene anymore.

"I know you Naomi are friends...I thought you’d be there but…but you didn’t go. Why not?” she rambles manically,

“I don’t care or anything, but… Kendall put you on the list s-”

"Is that why you came here at 3am? To lecture me for skipping out on "Kenapalooza?" you interrupt massaging your temples,

She at least has the decency to pretend to look embarrassed.

"I just…I miss you" she stutters, nonchalant as though this was just a standard afternoon, and you were two busy friends who’d just happened to bump into each other.

Missed you.

That dreaded feeling of realisation slowly creeps through your body.

So that’s why she was here.

What this was really about.

Fucking.

Everything was always about fucking with Shiv. Getting fucked over by her family or some other corporate big wig. Fucking you both physically or metaphorically. Fucking with you.

You feel yourself starting to get angry.

“Yeah? I’m not in the mood to be in the same room as you, let alone a quickie so your luck’s all out.”

Shiv balks at the accusation, “What? Fuck you Y/n, I’m being serious…I mean it.”

You let a laugh in disbelief,

“Oh, you mean it do you Shiv? Fuck me? Fuck you.”

"We don't have that or any kind of relationship with each other anymore...you made that very clear... "

Her jaw sets and she looks away from you, fiery stare instead directed at the pillar in the middle of your living room. You think it had the potential to snap it in half

"Oh, get off your moral high horse-you gave just as good as you got that night... " she laughs, tilting her head to the side even though none of this was really that funny.

Your blood runs cold.

You'd bared your soul to her that night. You told her you loved her, and she’d gotten angry at your confession and had shot down you in classic Roy fashion. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t have time for this. The two of you already had a good thing going but you were weak and now you had ruined it.

She was vicious.

You just weren't good enough. You never would be.

A rat backed into a corner, you’d lashed out at her, desperately hurling insults, and a couple of cruel truths at her to see what stuck. Anything to try and hurt her the way she'd hurt you.

You’d called her a megalomaniac, an emotionally repressed vampire.

"Do you remember? I know I do."

Shiv smiles a twisted grin at the haunted look in your eyes, a deer in the headlights, and smelling blood she zeroes in on your exposed weakness. Anything to get a show of emotion from you.

Sure, Shiv lived up to her name, tongue as sharp as her namesake. But she was a mean drunk and could quickly turn downright fucking cruel after a couple of shots, you knew and had seen that first hand, the fact that she'd been dancing and singing in your kitchen moments ago didn't save you from that.

She licks her lips, a predator ready to sink its teeth into her prey,

"You begged on your knees for me to change my min-"

"Just stop, Shiv. Fuck!" You yell, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and the both of you jump, the latter looking taken aback.

You never yelled. Never.

For just a second there, she looks like the scared, sad little rich girl you’d first befriended at high school and your heart sinks.

Was it worth it?

“I’m sorry.” You murmur placing your head in your hands,

Only 10 minutes into conversation, and you were already cracking under the weight of her words. You really were weak y/n.

You'd known Shiv for years now and were more than familiar with her acerbic tongue but regardless she always knew the right thing to say to push your buttons, even after all this time,

"I don't want to rehash this with you...so just go and be with your fucking husband whom you love so much Siobhan," you mumble, unable to look at her.

This time it’s her turn to wince.

"Fine." Shiv stumbles to her feet again taking an unsteady step towards your door,

“Are you not gonna call your driver to pick you up?” you ask chewing on your bottom lip,

“Why, do you give a fuck now?” she pouts mockingly,

“No, I sent him home for the night…I’m walking…just like I did to get here” Shiv hums matter-of-factly as she attempts to put her shoes back on, failing spectacularly.

She could not be serious.

Your loft was in TRIBECA... Shiv lived on the other side of Manhattan.

You think back to looking for a car that wasn’t there when she’d first arrived at your place.

Okay, so maybe she hadn't taken a car…you knew she wouldn't be caught dead riding the subway...which meant she had in fact walked.

How had she not gotten mugged?

Daughter of one of the richest men in the world roaming alone in New York?

You couldn’t let her go back out there.

You look over at the redhead and she’s still struggling to do the buckle of her shoes.

It was getting painful to watch.

“Sit down” you sigh, and she shoots you a look,

“No…you don’t want me here.” She replies tersely,

“Just… fucking sit-down Siobhan...please" you sigh, turning around to place a slice of sourdough bread into your sandwich press when she obliges, clumsily sitting herself down at your kitchen island.

If she was going to stick around, you needed her to be soberer than this.

She drums her fingers on the countertop, those beautiful blue eyes dancing around the room before she begins to spin herself around on the stool she’s sat on, a shit-eating grin spread across her face, your previous exchange of words clearly already forgotten.

She had to be,at the very least a solid 5 cosmos in.

The sight is jarring in comparison to the full corporate dinner get-up she has on, but you also can’t help but acknowledge it’s the most carefree you’ve seen her look in a while. The redhead usually had that faraway look in her eyes, like she was thinking about 20 different things at once.

She watches you cut her toastie up into squares in silence, and you reach across the table to place the it in front of her.

She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at you.

"Eat up." You state simply sliding the plate closer to her,

Shiv peers at the plate in horror, and anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you'd tried to serve her a turd on her plate, before she pushes it away from her like a petulant child, those piercing blue eyes giving you a look that could kill.

She used to love your classic grilled cheeses.

"It's not caviar or a prime cut of wagyu from Le Bernardin but I promise it's not going to kill you." You nudge teasingly, your attempts at negotiation falling on deaf ears as you’re rewarded with a scoff.

Fuck it. You press your lips in a straight line leaning down to be eye level with her, attempting to give her your own take on the classic Shiv Roy death glare.

"I’ll make you something else If you want but if you don’t eat at least something I’m going to kick you out of my apartment and onto your ass Siobhan.”

The heiress blinks a couple of times, nonplussed at being told by you of all people what to do and begrudgingly she eats up, the alcohol clearly making her more compliant than usual.

You let out a discreet breath, glad she didn't call your bluff.

The truth was that you loved Shiv so ardently that even if the circumstances were different, you wouldn’t even dream of doing that.

The last time you'd spoken she'd pretty much gutted you like a fish, letting her in your apartment was literally going against everything your brain and your therapy sessions told you to do, yet here she was.

You’d do anything for her and that was scary.

There was never any logic, or acknowledgment of your boundaries and wants when Shiv was around. That was you; Y/N the people pleaser.

But how could you help it?

Your love for her was so heavy you could feel its weight on your shoulders as you walked, it sat in the back of your mind like a stone, it clouded your lungs as you breathed...and you eventually couldn't take it anymore. You were choking on it.

You'd coughed it all up and Shiv took one look at you, at all that love, and she’d turned her nose up in disgust. It came down to it and she didn't choose you. You just weren't enough. You never would be.

You used to think about what it would be like to have her here all the time; Shiv in one of your old T-shirts, perched on the countertop cracking one of her sardonic one-liners as you cooked but you scold yourself immediately, waving the thought away with a wave of your hand.

You watch her in silence as she slowly eats, satisfied as you notice her eyes were less bleary, and she was slightly more subdued, her chaotic and abrasive drunkenness seeming to have mellowed out to her just being slightly tipsy. You could relax in the fact that you likely wouldn’t be cleaning her vomit off of your mahogany floors tomorrow morning at the very least.

You rise to your feet, wordlessly turning to head to your room, and she takes the hint and follows you.

It wasn’t like your place had a guest room anyway.

You watch her in silence as she wipes off her makeup then slowly begins to take off her bracelets…then earrings and necklace, pausing when she gets to her watch.

"…It’s been 5 months y/n…were you just...never going to call me again?" She eventually asks hesitantly, voice small.

Oh.

She didn't exactly make it seem like she wanted to hear from you.

What did you say to that?

How were you supposed to lay out a decade and a half of hurt in one sentence?

You shrug, unknowing of the answer yourself.

"We already did it enough as teens and in our 20s, so I just…I didn't feel up to playing 'friends' again with Mrs Roy-Wambsgans..." you stare at your hands so that you don’t have to look at her,

You hear her take in a shuddering breath.

"I'm not trying to be a cunt...but that's the reason why I didn’t. And our last conversation really did a number on me...after we spoke I was just so...."

Shiv nods, swallowing deeply, before turning her back to you, moving her hair to the side.

You take the hint and help her unzip her dress.

"I'm sorry..." she murmurs tears welling in her eyes as she climbs out of it, the soft green fabric falling to the floor, leaving her in her underwear.

"I know..." you breath out in exhaustion, handing her a pair of your satin pajamas.

You were so tired. Tired of hearing sorry. Tired of feeling sorry. Tired of being in love with a woman who didn't want to give you the time of day unless you had something she needed. You were tired of giving. You had nothing more to give.

"Do you remember, the night before my wedding?"

"Please don't do this to me again, Shiv." You beg in anguish,

"What you said..."

"I just said don't."

She opens her mouth again, eyes glistening,

"I begged you not to marry Tom..." you interrupt, hoping hearing the story from your own lips would make it hurt less,

"You said that I could do so much better than him...that he didn't love me as much as you did" continues Shiv

"And maybe that is true... maybe I can do better...maybe he can do better." Shiv's chest shudders and she presses her eyes tightly shut,

"But...most of all you can do better than me."

"you're selfless and compassionate...and I don't know if I can love you in the way that you want the way that you say you lov"-

"But do you?" You croak out, voice breaking,

"Love me, I mean"

Shiv falters,

"Well…what difference does it make..." she sighs dejectedly.

You slowly walk toward her, hand slightly raised like you were approaching a dangerous animal as you look into the shorter woman's eyes.

"Shiv…do you love me?" You whisper again voice catching after each word.

Shiv opens and closes her mouth repeatedly, and you wait for her to say something as she searches for the right words.

…they never come.

She looks at you, that same vague look in her eyes, lifting her hand as though reaching out to touch you but she pauses halfway, opting to put her thumb in between her teeth, biting as though physically retraining herself.

You didn’t really know her anymore, but you still recognised her tells, the puckering of her lips when she was trying to stop herself from saying something, the biting of the tip of her thumb when she was anxious.

You watch taken aback, as her face starts to twist with emotion.

You'd never seen Shiv truly lost for words like that.

She rakes a hand through her hair in exasperation.

"I...fuck" she grunts, retreating from you, as she turns to angrily wipe away a stray tear with the back of her right hand,

"You're good...too good." She sniffs eyes red rimmed,

"I'm....not a good person y/n, I don't want to tarnish you with my...me."

You look at her with a sigh before letting out an empty chuckle, looking upwards as you feel the tears, you'd been holding in start to stream down your cheeks,

Maybe it was too late for that. The damage had already been done.

Shiv suddenly turns around to look at you, eyes hardened with resolve as she quickly stalks across the room, before she straddles your lap, pressing her forehead against yours.

She leans forward, gently leaning in to kiss your tears away in a silent apology and your eyes flutter closed at the sensation, trying to burn the feeling of her touch into your memory.

She places a feverish kiss against your cheek. Then your wrist.

Then another wet kiss against that soft spot below your jaw that she knows drives you crazy and you melt into her as you reward her with a needy moan, goading her on, once again.

You just couldn't help yourself.

"Fuck...Shiv..." you mewl, arms draped around her neck,

"You like that...right?" She whispers, her tone sultry and slow but, but her movements contrastingly hurried.

Why did this feel like a test.

She knew you did.

"only thing sweeter than the sound of those moans you make is how you taste..." she husks,

"We shouldn’t..."

No matter how much you really wanted to.

"Please" she gasps in between trailing kisses down your neck,

"I want to give you everything you deserve...”

“…so much...I really want to try but don't know how."

"You were right about what you said...last time...All I do is take and take and take but it's because I don't know how to give." continues the heiress, voice wobbling.

She was crying.

"Just let me give you this..." she continues in a ragged breath, hand reaching under your top to palm one of your breasts, gently pinching your nipples and you squeeze your tear-filled eyes shut as you can’t help but find yourself arching into her touch.

"Just tell me what you want me to do to you...I just...want to make you feel good" she rasps but it’s off, her voice sounds shaky...desperate,

“This is the only way I know how”.

Sex with Shiv always was always so good, but you always found yourself feeling worse off after. You were greedy. You wanted more. More of Shiv. You wanted all of her-but you'd settle for this, doing anything to have her close.

But the want was eating away at you.

Chipping at you bit by bit until there was nothing.

Sometimes you felt like that'd already happened. Like there was nothing left to you anymore, you were just a black hole and you and your thoughts were just all Shiv.

This was a bad idea.

“I don’t know Shiv…” you sigh suddenly, begrudging pushing her hands away from you, despite the fact that they felt oh-so good on your body.

Shiv pauses, tear stained face frowning at you in confusion, as she tries to figure you out

“O-Okay well…how about…you can just do whatever you want to me?” she suggests frantically, guiding your hands under her shirt, you can feel her trembling slightly beneath your skin,

"Let just leave it.” You sniff,

She jumps out of your lap as though burned.

Sometimes your relationship with Shiv felt like a wound, and she was a vampire; that maybe she couldn’t help it, but the moment she smelt blood she'd feast on you, your affection, your infatuation. She’d always be gone the moment there was nothing more of you to devour. Each time you were left behind, desperately still clinging onto the bloody remains of the love you still had for her despite her shredding them between her teeth.

You'd been periodically drifting in and out of each other’s lives this way for the past 17 years.

First, you were 15, the quiet new girl at Sacred Hearts who'd been plucked out of obscurity to be best friends with Shiv 'the queen' Roy. You remember ducking under the bedsheets at a sleepover with her exchanging kisses and giggling, a private and exciting secret between the two of you…you were her dirty secret, even now it felt like you always would be. Then you were the 20-something London party girls who were joint at the hip: appearing oddly close to others but nothing more than friends who just happened to secretly sleep with each other sometimes.

Then there was whatever this was.

This Shiv wasn’t really your friend, or even your “lover” anymore, sometimes the term felt too warm to describe what you were doing together. This Shiv was worlds away from the one you once knew; she wore turtlenecks and silk blouses and had a sharp blunt cut bob and the insults to match.

What had happened in the years you’d been away from each other?

Who’d made her this way?

You wanted to hug her. To hold her close to you and huddle under a blanket like you had as kids for as long as she’d let you. You wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to put on the armour anymore, that you were safe, and that she could be vulnerable with you without any ulterior motives.

But now you were asking yourself whether there even was any armour to take off anymore. maybe this was just Shiv now. But then on the occasion there were those odd moments, those slithers of light, where you saw glimpses of the Shiv you once knew again; how she’d often make teasing jokes with that old sparkle in her eyes, the way she giggles, ticklish when your fingers ghost past her waist in bed, the way she’d kiss you sweetly in the moments after…how she looked at you in adoration when you came undone.

You’d realised after that that you loved her anyway. Shiv Roy: jaded rich private school girl, party girl socialite, ruthless Waystar-Royco successor…you loved them all.

But the thing was didn't know if you had it in you to keep on doing this. If your heart could take any more of this.

"So…what, are things just never going to go back to the way they were before then?" Shiv asks evenly, the youngest Roy hunching over herself as she cradles her elbows close to her sides, looking off into the distance-unable to meet your eyes.

Before what? Before she broke your heart? Before you'd kissed for the very first time? Or before you told her you loved her?

You close your eyes a sob wracking through your body, before you shake your head,

"Maybe... we need to cut our losses here...maybe this is wasting our time, and this isn't what either of us needs."

Maybe the problem wasn't other people...but just you and Shiv. The two of you weren't meant to be in each other's lives. No matter how much you loved her it wouldn't be enough.

Shiv was assured, practical, cautious and calculated: almost everything she said and did had a motive or thought behind it, even her marriage had logic and purpose and some kind of benefit driving it alongside the fact she loved him.

Shiv worked and strove toward power.

You on the other hand wore your heart on your sleeve when you were upset or emotional you cried openly and unabashedly. You drifted through life trying to find an identity for yourself outside of your rich family…you were always trying to fix things and people that couldn’t or didn’t want to be fixed, trying to worm your way into Shiv’s heart when she didn’t want you to.

You were a liability.

It was never going to work. She was never going to pick someone like you.

Shiv blanches,

"Okay well...I need you." She grits out tensely, fists tightly balled by her sides. You could see her eyes were watering again.,

She needed you.

But maybe it wasn’t in the same way you needed her. You wanted her. You wanted her with every fibre of your being.

"I need you." sniffs Shiv, so quiet and wavering you have to strain to hear her, grabbing onto you as though you might disappear,

"But you don't love me" you weep, crumbling at the realisation that she was never going to see you the way you saw her.

Shiv doesn't say anything, but you think that's all you need to hear.

She crawls into your bed, maintaining her silence as she lifts the blanket for you to climb in after her. You slide in beside her, at first back first pressed against hers, but eventually mentally talking yourself into turning to face her.

You inch forward until your noses are touching staring into those expressive steely blue eyes; cold at first glance but always swirling with emotion beneath the surface...she'd become an expert at making sure you could never tell which ones.

You think you’d memorised every inch of her face by now high apple cheeks,those long translucent eyelashes,and the freckles beneath the usual layer of makeup that you never got to see.

She was beautiful and she knew it.

Once when you were kids, you'd stared at her during the entirety of a study group, counting all of the freckles dusted on her face, and when you'd told her afterwards what you were doing she'd rolled her eyes and kissed the thought away from your mind.

You'd do anything to get inside of her mind. To know what she was thinking. Whether you truly ever meant something to her.

"My sweet, Sweet y/n." She whispers, but it a voice in the back of your head tells you it feels mocking, then suddenly you're unable to tell if her voice was dripping with sweetness or condescension.

Sweet, Sweet, stupid Y/N. Willing to risk it all for someone who would never love you back.

She was right in saying you were hers. Your heart did belong to Shiv. But Shiv wasn't yours. She never was, and she never would be.

She cups your face in her hands, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks before she pulls you into a sweet kiss that seems to go on forever and you revel in the feeling of her lips on yours, grasping onto her as though she might disappear until the kiss tastes salty from both of your tears.

It felt like a farewell.

You don't let go of her, wanting to keep the feeling of the soft warmth of her skin against yours, fingertips slowly raking down her arms, starting from her shoulders, taking time to map out each and every beautiful blemish on her skin on the way down. It reminded you that Shiv was in fact still human.

You nick your finger on something sharp and quickly retract your hand hissing as you look down to see the glimmering emerald of a ring sitting on her finger; a reminder of who you really were to Shiv: someone to pass the time with when her husband the man she chose over you, was gone.

She moves her hands out of your reach.

"You just...keep on hurting me" you whisper out dejectedly through your tears.

You felt like you'd never forgive her for coming here and making you experience this all over again. You’d never forgive yourself.

Sure, Shiv was laying in your bed...in your arms but nothing had changed.

She presses her forehead against yours, and you reach a hand up to touch her cheek, to check if she was still there physically, despite the cavern of circumstances separating you from each other, despite the emotional gap she’d intentionally forged between the two of you.

“i know…”

You let out a shaky sigh “I…I don’t know if it’s doing either of us any good to keep seeing each other.”

"I know..." Shiv wobbles out, finally allowing herself to cry freely,

You hated her. You loved her. You wished you'd never met her. You didn't quite know how to live your life without her looming presence in it.

With a chaste kiss against your collarbone, she presses her face into the gentle curve of your neck, and you wrap your arms around her to pull her against your chest.

You exhale shudderingly and press your lips to the top of her head, taking a deep breath to inhale the scent of her coconut shampoo one the last time. Eyes snapping closed you mumble a silent mantra into silky strawberry-blonde locks:

Love me, Love me, Love me.

Maybe in another life.

____

You don’t allow yourself to feel surprised as you wake up the next day and Shiv is gone.

This is one occurrence of many that you have been left reeling by the hurricane that was Shiv Roy, but it still hurts just as much as it did the first time as you feel your heart cracking.

#shiv roy x reader #shiv roy #siobhan roy x reader #siobhan roy #succession #wlw fanfic #shiv roy fanfic #shiv roy fanfiction

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carrie-organa · 1 year

Text

Here’s How I Would’ve Ended Ted Lasso

My version includes:

actually acknowledging Keeley’s importance and making Roy not a creep.

actually calling Ted out for his weird ass behavior. This guy is depressed and no one ever asks him about his horrible self esteem issues.

Here, take it before I go insane.

Ted’s Storyline

The team would talk about Ted’s decision and there would be a debate about it. Sam and Jamie agree that he should go home to his son (for different but obvious reasons). Colin and Isaac believe strongly in found family and don’t understand why Ted choosing his son has to mean him abandoning them. Jamie’s perspective is changed. They have a good point.

Rebecca’s storyline in general was odd this episode. Her constantly reaching out to Ted and him shutting her down is so stupid and at odds with their relationship.

I would’ve had Ted explain his decision when she’s giving him her “You go, I’ll go” speech. Talk about his dad and bring up the 9/13 connection. WHY WAS THIS NEVER ACKNOWLEDGED.

Ted saying that not only does Henry miss him, no one here needs him anymore. He’s given them every tool he can think of and there’s nothing left for him to do. There’s nothing else he can give them.

side note: I think this is really at the root of Ted’s issues and I’m flabbergasted that no one calls him on it. He only feels like he should stay in situations where he’s needed. He never stays somewhere because he wants to be there. He’s the traveling salesman of optimism.

Rebecca: You’re right Ted, maybe we don’t need you to remind us to have hope or to believe in ourselves. To reach for happiness. But just because we no longer need you does not mean you are not wanted. Are you happy here? Ted: It’s not that simple. Henry— Rebecca: Yes, I know about Henry, and I completely understand your concerns. I’m asking you if you’re happy here. You, Ted Lasso, the man, not the coach or the father. Are. You. Happy. Ted (bursting with it): Yes. Of course I am. I never thought I’d have an experience like this in my life. It doesn’t seem real. It feels like I fell asleep and I’m going to wake up in exactly the same place I started when I woke up. But I can’t leave Henry. I can’t abandon my son because I like my job. That’s not fair to him.

Ted’s weird detachment would’ve been addressed during the game. The team’s first half wasn’t effected by them crying over Beard’s video but rather by Ted’s refusal to coach them anymore.

Ted: I’m not gonna give y’all a pep talk. Jamie: why the FUCK not? why are you checking out? (puppy dog eyes) what did we do wrong? Ted: deer in the headlights. Turns to Beard and Roy for help. They don’t offer any. They’re wondering the same thing.

No one is disputing that there’s an issue with Ted’s situation. It hurts to be away from his son, it hurts Henry to be away from his dad. HOWEVER — the only solution isn’t to go home and leave everyone behind.

Ted makes some kind of analogy to ties in football games. Sometimes there are no-win scenarios and you just have to accept it. Roy: that’s bullshit.

The episode is about Ted losing sight of his own philosophy and the people who love him reminding him of it. Restoring his sense of belief and optimism. Telling him not to accept a no-win scenario.

The RoyKeeleyJamie of it all

Roy’s obsession with getting Keeley back when she keeps pushing him away is cringey. Someone needs to ask him why he’s being so insistent. I choose Rebecca.

Rebecca: if you don’t explain yourself right now I’m sending you to HR. I’ve never seen you act like this.

After Jamie/Keeley hug

Roy: what were you talking to Keeley about? Jamie: none of your business, mate. Roy (still an insecure bean): Are you guys…getting back together? Jamie (furrowed brows): No? I just asked if she would go on a business trip to New Zealand with me. Make sure I don’t get thrown out of the entire country hitting on the Prime Minister. Roy (unable to help himself): She’s not PM anymore. Jamie: Hm. Shame. Well, she’s still fit. Jamie makes it clear he’s not interested in starting anything with Keeley, after Mom City he knows he really needs to work on himself before he can date anybody. The perspective is very much side-eying Roy, who has decided to ignore all of his issues.

WHY HAS NO ONE ASKED KEELEY WHAT SHE WANTS.

Roy and Jamie still go to a bar. Still end up at Keeley’s door. But this time not because they were fighting over her (because cringe. even though both of them have feelings for her, they respect her autonomy). No, this time, Roy got fucking pissed and he’s being a sad sack and refuses to go home so Jamie followed him to Keeley’s to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.

Jamie: Roy, mate, let’s go home. We’ll get a kebab on the way. Roy: No, I just…I just need to know what I’m doing wrong. Please. Keeley: Roy… Roy: If you just tell me then I can fix it! Keeley: It isn’t you! (off Roy) It’s not. I promise. I just…I keep ending up in these intense, whirlwind relationships, and I can’t jump into another one again. Not yet. Not until I know it’s going to end up differently. Because I swear to god, Roy, if I lose you again (tearing up) I will not survive it. I barely survived it the first time. Roy: me too… Jamie (cannot handle uncomfortable situations): Yeah me neither, if I’m honest. (off looks from them both) WHAT? You were both so sad and quiet. Well, this one’s always quiet (gesture to Roy) but it was different. It was weird. I saw him crying in his car once. Roy: I was not crying in the car… Jamie: Yes you were! I saw you wipe a tear! Keeley: BOYS! (they’re exhausting. it’s late. she wants to stop being ambushed into these emotional conversations). something about how her type is clearly smoking hot, intense brunettes (check the math — Jamie, Roy, Jack). Preferably by a cheeky Jamie as he leads a quiet Roy to an uber.

The season has not set up Roy and Keeley to get back together. It just hasn’t. But I think it has set up Keeley to acknowledge how much Roy means to her and to explain why she’s skittish about getting back together with him right now. I think she wants to give him a chance, it’s just going to take some time.

I’d like to see a scene with just the two of them where Keeley asks him not to give up, please. Because that’s Roy’s issue, he quits while he’s ahead and he gives up because it’s easier than getting really hurt. He’s putting himself out there, and I love that because growth, but I think there needs to be an acknowledgment that he’s gone about it wrong.

Roy: I know that I’ve been a right fucking twat with all this badgering and I apologize. I know it’s all too little, too late and you’ve moved on. I do want to be friends, if you’ll let me. I just can’t handle another year where you’re not a part of my life. It’s unbearable. Keeley: It really was. Roy: If you want to get coffee sometime, or something (call back to when he asked her out in S1), just let me know. It won’t be a date. Just as friends. Keeley (nodding, equal parts relieved and disappointed): Okay. Roy walks away, they’re in the car park. Keeley calls his name and runs up to him. Kisses his cheek. Obviously there’s still something there, but they’re just gonna have a different start this time. A slow build, rather than an intense start.

Miscellaneous Complaints:

I would’ve added at least another 20 minutes to the finale. How the team reacts to Ted leaving. And I think he should leave, I think he should go back to Kansas and there should be a little time jump. Michelle tells him she knows he’s unfulfilled, Henry saying he misses visiting him in Richmond. This decision is good for literally no one when you actually see it through. It’s a nice gesture but ultimately it’s meaningless.

The way Nate is just there is so unsatisfying to me. He’s such an important character in the show and the finale paid him dust.

What happened with Bex and the other girl when they spoke to Rebecca? There was no resolution there.

BEARD AND JANE ARE NOT COUPLE GOALS. Why does the narrative simultaneously acknowledge that she straight up sucks but never give Beard the push to leave her???? I just straight up do not get it.

In conclusion, I see the vision but the execution was horrible and I don't understand how this is supposed to stick the landing. I genuinely believe they'll announce a Richmond spinoff, especially given Ted's note on Trent's manuscript. Although I do not think that the team's future is anything like the one Ted dreamt about on the plane. Those were the wishes he had for them. I look forward to reading the fics where he's dead wrong and Rebecca drags him back by his moustache hair

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #roykeeley #keeley jones #roy kent #rebecca welton #tedbecca

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