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gonzo-rella · 1 month

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Headcanons: Being Wallace Wells' Trans Boyfriend

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

EDIT: Although this fic was written with a more binary trans reader in mind, I'm hoping this fic will also be suitable for AFAB nonbinary people who are masc or male adjacent, which is where I might be at. I'm currently working dating hcs for Wallace with a nonbinary reader (which will be suitable for both AFAB and AMAB readers).

Relationship(s): Wallace Wells x transmasc!reader (romantic)

Warnings/info: Trans typical stuff, like dysphoria, transphobia etc. etc., sexual remarks, he/him pronouns for reader, headcanons were written in one sitting, when I was feeling not great. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: I've been reading a lot of Succession fics over the last few days. Last night I read a Roman Roy fic and for some reason it gave me this overpowering wave of dysphoria that I still have yet to fully recover from. Annoyingly, I have yet to actually watch Succession so this could have been avoided; I just think Kieran Culkin's hot and very gender so I couldn't resist pretending that someone with his face was my boyfriend. Reading about Roman made me think 'oh shit. Maybe I'm a flawed and pathetic little guy on the inside. But I just look like a woman who likes to kiss women and everyone treats me like a girl and uses my girl name and girl pronouns and that feels super gross and makes me want to live in a hole. Now I'm going to feel bad about that for the next few days.' So, yeah, I'm having another transmasc crisis that I'm using fanfiction to get me through. I figured Kieran Culkin started this, so I might as well write something featuring a character of his that I can actually write for. This is a self-indulgent and self-explorative treat for myself, but I hope that transmasc readers can enjoy this, too. If you'd like more Wallace stuff, trans stuff or Wallace AND trans stuff, feel free to send in a request. I really want to provide more fics for transmasc readers because you guys are super underrepresented (and, y'know, Papa Gonzo-rella wants to explore his gender a little more). Also, I swear that I will get around to watching Succession, and I more than likely will end up writing for it when I do.)

Respectfully, Wallace does not give a shit that you’re trans.

Of course, he doesn’t flat-out ignore it, because it’s part of who you are, but it isn’t an obstacle in your relationship by any means, and it doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

If you’re feeling dysphoric and/or otherwise insecure about yourself, he’ll pinch your cheeks and tell you how handsome and sexy you are.

If you’re feeling especially bad, like ‘not getting out of bed and hiding from the world’ bad, he’ll keep you company and say what he can to reassure you.

Being mushy and sincere truly isn’t his thing, so whatever he says will sound either slightly insensitive (but still pretty sensitive as far as Wallace goes), facetious or like he wants you to get over how you’re feeling so he can fuck you.

But, he genuinely doesn’t want you to feel bad and you can tell he cares, because otherwise he wouldn’t be there for you when you're feeling your worst.

Wallace is very affirming, but in his own Wallace way.

He lovingly refers to you as his lameass boyfriend.

If Scott ever compliments you about anything, Wallace will call him gay.

He will shout ‘gay’, like the Senor Chang meme.

"Hey, man, I like your shirt-"

"Ha, Scott's gay!"

"I-I'm not gay! I just like his shirt."

"What's wrong with being gay, Scott?"

"Nothing! There's nothing wrong with being gay!"

"You really need to work on your internalised homophobia, Scott. To think, my gay lover and I share a bed with a bigot."

If you’re doing anything that he knows will make you dysphoric or exacerbate your dysphoria (for example, scrolling through social media and looking at cis dudes that give you gender envy) he’ll shut it down.

Using the aforementioned example, he’ll snatch your phone off you and close the app, saying: “Nope. Make better decisions.”

And, while you’d initially be annoyed at him for grabbing your phone, you will appreciate it in the long run.

If you have testosterone shots but you’re not a fan of doing them yourself, he’ll begrudgingly help you with them.

He will make a very Wallace comment, though

“Stabbing? I didn’t know you were that kinky.”

If anyone’s a dick to you about being trans, Wallace is always ready to go with a snide remark about the other person, because of all the things you could possibly mock his lameass boyfriend for, being trans is at the bottom of that list.

(He should know, as the person who makes fun of you the most.)

Also, he cares about you very, very much and he doesn't want people being transphobic to his boyfriend.

If you’re cool with it, he will make trans jokes, but nothing ‘attack helicopter’ or ‘attack helicopter’ adjacent, because he’s too clever for that and he can come up with better material that isn’t just derivative, transphobic garbage.

If you get your period and it makes you at all dysphoric, be prepared for this exchange:

“Don’t worry. Scott pissed blood last month and cried about it and he’s still a man.”

“Did-did he go to the doctor?”

“I don’t know. He seems fine now, though.”

If you still have boobs and don’t mind them being touched or otherwise acknowledged, he will use them like a pillow.

If you decide to get top surgery, he will make the following request:

“Well, if you’re not using them, can I have them? I need a pillow that Scott won’t steal. And, he wouldn’t steal your tits, because he knows I’d call him gay for it.”

“Why are you like this, Wallace?”

“Selfish.”

Being trans doesn’t make your relationship much different from any of Wallace’s other relationships.

You’re just, for better or worse, another one of Wallace’s boyfriends.

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the-west-meadow · 1 year

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Omg literally anything w roman but if u have slots open can u do the ‘did u miss me’ prompt i’ll do anything…

god I love writing fucked-up relationship scenarios with Roman. enjoy xo

Roman Roy x Reader

prompt: did you miss me?

The days seemed longer without him. Wandering your empty townhouse, you watched the sky change from morning to dusk, whiling away the hours. There had been no word from Roman since he left for Stockholm to meet Matsson. An urgent mission, so he said. Dispatched by his father, the dutiful son went out to fulfill his task. It sounded almost romantic.

At night you lay atop your bed, remembering him. Roman kept himself locked away, so much of him inaccessible to you. In a way, you preferred it that way. There was less risk involved, fewer feelings to hurt. The word ‘love’ never came up, there was no sense of attachment or obligation. Both of you were essentially free, yet you still felt as if he was holding something back. Something dark and inexplicable.

You came home one late afternoon to find him waiting for you on your sofa. Somehow it didn’t surprise you. But it was your own reaction that caught you off guard. Seeing him there, your heart swelled almost painfully. Roman was back. The endless energy, the flippant remarks, the explicit banter. He looked across the room at you with eyes that hinted something had happened which he had already locked away.

“I broke in,” he said. “Did you know I could do that?”

You set a bag of groceries on the counter.

“I’m not surprised,” you said, shrugging off your coat. “How was Stockholm?”

“Broad questions make me deeply uncomfortable. How am I supposed to answer that? Why are you lingering in the kitchen?”

You stepped into the living room, sitting down in the chair adjacent to him. He spread his arm across the back of the sofa and looked at you. His gaze was distant, unreadable.

“So,” he said.

“So.”

“I got Lukas to make the deal.”

“Wow. How did you do that?”

“Oh, you know. Just did what I had to do.”

The sun was sinking and a heavy blue darkness crept across the room. Roman kept his eyes fixed on you. You swallowed hard.

“Well. Congratulations. Your dad will be happy.”

“I don’t think he's familiar with that emotion. But thanks.”

He stood up, slowly circling around to the back of the sofa. He leaned on both elbows and continued to gaze at you.

“What did you do with yourself without me?” he asked.

“I lost track. You were gone a long time.”

“It takes time to woo these obstinate fucks. Lukas is a real mental case. I mean, if you think I’m nuts…”

Watching him, you could feel an invisible force threatening to pull your heart in two.

“But I caught him in his element. He really came alive in the frigid northern wastelands.”

His tone was light as always, but there was something pained in his expression.

“Oh, there’s something I was wondering, though…” he went on.

“What?”

Roman's gaze wavered slightly.

“Did you miss me?”

His voice was soft, barely breaking the silence. Yet it cut through you like the sharp tolling of a bell. Your heart lurched and you almost leapt towards him. When you spoke, it was in a broken whisper.

“Of course I missed you, you fucking idiot.”

He clenched the back of the sofa with his fists, head down.

“Oh,” he said weakly.

“You didn’t think I would?”

You watched as he climbed slowly over the back of the sofa and settled into a ball with his knees drawn in.

“Not after what I did,” he said. “What my dad made me do.”

You rose and went slowly to the sofa, sitting down beside him. He wouldn’t look at you.

“I don’t care what you did, Roman. You live in a world unknown to me. I let you live there. I don’t ask questions. But yes, I fucking miss you when you’re gone. I didn’t realize how much I would.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured. “It actually hurt. I was in physical pain. So fuck you for that.”

He glanced at you. You met each other’s eyes hesitantly.

“I hate feeling things,” he said. “Look what you’ve done to me.”

“I didn’t want this, either.”

Roman gave a weak laugh. “Well, that’s nice of you to say.”

“Roman, what happened between you and Lukas?”

“I don’t think you want to hear that.”

“I kind of do.”

“You’re such a fucking masochist. I’m not telling you.”

You stared at each other in the growing darkness.

“But you’re okay?” you asked hesitantly.

“I’m fine. Seriously. I know how to handle myself.”

“Well, I don’t know how to handle you.”

A smile flickered across his face. He leaned towards you, placed his hand on the back of your head, and kissed you on the forehead. A long, lingering gesture that made your heart skip. He pulled back and his eyes glittered with a soft smile.

“You don’t have to. Just enjoy the fucked up rollercoaster ride that is Roman Roy.”

#roman roy #roman roy/reader #roman roy x reader #succession #request #angst #fluff #lukas matsson

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wambsgansshoelaces · 5 months

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Turmoil: Chapter 3

Roman Roy x Reader

a/n: idk what it is guys, but I kind of hate this chapter. I feel like I didn’t hit the nail on the head this time but instead hit someone in the face. garbage writing aside, I hope you enjoy x :,)

Word Count: 2.186k

Your new apartment isn’t much of an upgrade, but it’s still nice, and you’re confident you’ll be able to turn it into your own.

After his drunken confession in the car, Roman had cried, thrown up in the toilet, and promptly passed out on the couch. You think it’s best you let him sleep. He’s exhausted himself like a toddler unaware of their body.

You sit cross legged on the armchair adjacent to the couch, leaving you able to keep an eye on Roman. Sure, he was an asshole, but he’d had way too much to drink and you didn’t want him to hurt himself.

The only part of getting a new apartment that miffed you was the fact that Logan had made sure it was a single bedroom. When you’d asked him about it, he’d given you some bullshit about how you had to keep up appearances. You know it’s about the money, but you find it pointless to say so.

You decide that since you have to stay up to make sure Roman doesn’t kill himself in his drunken stupor, you’ll start on the paperwork for Connor’s lawsuit. If he really wants to waste your time, like Roman had suggested, he’d found the perfect way to do it. You begin drafting, Roman tossing and turning.

As you begin to fill out the same forms you had many times before, your mind floats elsewhere. What Roman had said in the car had admittedly made your heart flutter. The idea that there could actually be something between you two was something, to your dismay, that you wanted to explore. But because he was so damn drunk, you can’t take anything he said seriously. You doubt he’ll even remember anything when he wakes up.

He keeps shifting in his sleep, troubled, and from your vantage point you can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

You set aside your laptop and find a clean towelette in the kitchen. You get some ice from the fridge, chill some water, and dunk the rag into it before bringing it back to the living room.

Perching on the edge of the sofa, you gently coax Roman onto his back and drape the cool rag across his forehead after gently pushing his hair out of the way. He visibly relaxes, lips parting in a sigh.

Your heart aches a little, staring down at him. In another world, this might have worked.

But you have to stay in your current reality. And the lawsuit wouldn’t draft itself.

You don’t realize you fell asleep until you wake up the next morning. Your laptop still sits on your lap, and the stiffness in your joints is searing. Roman’s not there anymore. You don’t think he’s even in the apartment. So much for you staying to take care of him.

You find your phone on the floor. No messages from Roman, and you know the apartment is empty now. You sigh, feeling a bit dumb.

There is, however, an obscene amount of text messages from Connor. You deign not to respond, for your own mental health. Apart from Connor making you want to chuck your phone into the Hudson, there’s a message you actually find a little endearing.

At the dinner you’d asked Shiv to give your number to Greg so you two could sort things out for when you had to go to Norway.

xxx-xxx-xxxx; Unknown

Y/N,

Congratulations on your engagement, you will make a beautiful bride! I know we have some things to figure out, so I’d like to take you out for a friendly dinner. Please forward my congratulations to Roman. He has me blocked on everything.

Gregory Hirsch

You type out a response, biting back a laugh. You both agree to a casual dinner in a few days time- your treat, you insisted.

You mute Connor, who’s continued to spam you, and scroll through your emails when Kendall gives you a call. You pick up, and he asks, “Is bribery a felony?”

“Yeah, but it depends.”

“So. Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically…”

“A man owns a large conglomerate that earns him millions. A certain politician runs a campaign that, if they were to come into power, would destroy said company from inside out because of some, er, under the table acquisitions…”

“A monopoly?”

“That’s the word. This person can’t come into power, that’d ruin things. But how do you get someone to lose that’s statistically projected to win?”

“What connections does Logan fucking have?” you hiss.

“Not on here.” Kendall sighs. “Is Roman with you? He won’t pick up his phone.”

“He got completely blackout drunk last night and passed out on the couch. I don’t know where he is.”

“He’ll turn up. Don’t worry. Board meeting in two days, okay?” He hangs up. You don’t dislike Kendall at all, he just has his… own way with words.

You’re pretty sure you can get away with working from home today. You’ll have your assistant fax whatever crosses your desk while you rot on the couch.

She does. The pictures Connor promised come through, and you thumb through them absentmindedly. Some rings, a Rolex, a jade bracelet, more expensive bullshit you don’t think anyone needs. You’ll tally the prices, inflate for ‘emotional damage’ and your time, and serve the hotel.

Your assistant texts you something about Connor bitching about the jade bracelet and how it’s one of a kind and you need to get it back. You make a note to get her a fancy gift for putting up with this bullshit.

You’re happy to have a calm day to yourself. You lounge around on the couch, idly doing some work. You hear a key moving around in the lock before Roman shoulders the door open.

He falters when he sees you.

“Uh, I’m home.”

You look up at him blankly.

“What? What’s with that face?”

You sigh and turn back to your computer.

“Hey,” he whines. “What’d I do?”

“You got drunk, fell asleep on the couch, then got up and left in the early morning without telling anyone where you went.”

He kicks his shoes off by the door then comes over and flops down next to you. “I’m here now.”

“Whatever.”

“I don’t like this side of you. You’re making me feel guilty.”

“Maybe you’re feeling guilty because you did something wrong.”

“I literally remember nothing from last night. I woke up early and went to the gym. That’s it.”

“Kendall’s been trying to contact you.”

“Yeah. Board meeting.” He props his feet up into your lap. “Can we talk?”

“About?”

“Us.”

You sigh and set your laptop on the coffee table.

“I know I’m a jerk. And I know I was a dick the day we met. And the day after that. And this morning.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. “So I thought I’d atone for my sins and get you something.” He shifts, replacing his feet with his head and instead letting his legs stretch out on the couch. With one hand, he takes yours and sets it on his chest, and uses the other one to pop the box open.

You can swear you’ve seen that ring in your dreams before. It’s gorgeous- perfect, even. And it’s the right size.

“Roman,” is all you can say.

“Give me your left hand.”

You do, and he slips the ring onto your left hand’s ring finger. He inspects it, albeit lopsidedly from his vantage point tucked up in your lap.

“Are you sure you remember nothing from yesterday?” you ask quietly, your other hand still perched on his chest.

“Not a lick. Difficult day.” He shifts his gaze to meet yours. “I think, despite everything, we can be friends.”

Friends.

“Yeah.” You pause. “You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

“It’s the only thing I know how to do. Throw money at things.”

☾𖤓

The sting of Roman’s words stay with you for the next few mornings, then when you’re getting ready for the board meeting. You don’t really know why you’re disappointed. What were you expecting? Why were you expecting anything in the first place?

He’d left for Waystar much earlier than you did. There’s a weird sort of tension between you now, even after your conversation. You’re wearing the ring. You can’t bring yourself to take it off.

You finish getting ready and find yourself in the harsh lighting at Waystar. You close your eyes in the elevator, the fluorescent lighting pissing you off more than usual.

“Hey, everything alright?” Greg Hirsch nudges you gently as the elevator lurches.

“Oh, hey!” You try to snap yourself out of it, but you can’t seem to get rid of the strain in your eyes. “Yeah. Fine.”

“I know things get pretty stressful. Especially in the position you’re in. Things get quite difficult.” He glances down at you. “Um, that sounded like a threat. Which it wasn’t. I’m on your side, to be clear.”

You chuckle. “I appreciate it, Greg.” You talk about nothing as he walks you to the conference room, and he gives you an encouraging pat on the shoulder before you step in. Kendall looks like he’s about to shit himself, Roman’s face down on the table, and the few others that are there are concerned with themselves. Kendall gives you a stiff nod, his leg bouncing up and down.

“Forget how to breathe?” you ask him, trying to lighten the mood. He ignores you and keeps himself locked in his self-imposed hell. Roman sits up at the sound of your voice, pulling out your chair for you. As you settle in, the room begins to fill.

Logan Roy is late.

When he actually does decide to grace the room with his presence, it’s twenty minutes past the meeting start time. Kendall hasn’t gotten any calmer, and Roman’s chewing on his cheek. He leans towards you and whispers, “What if he knows?”

“If he knew, he’d have all our asses on the curb.” Even you’re beginning to get restless. “Does he always do this?”

“He’s always late, but never…” He’s hushed by his father hobbling into the conference room on a cane. The brothers exchange a glance you could never begin to understand, and Kendall gets to his feet.

“Sit, I’m fine,” Logan rasps. Kendall reluctantly obeys. “Don’t mind me, folks. I had an… accident on the way.”

Roman throws you a look that says what the fuck? and drags a hand over his jaw.

Thankfully, that’s all that Kendall needs. “You’re late.”

Logan scoffs. “What’re you going to do, fire me?”

Kendall swallows. “Just extending you the same courtesy that you would me.”

Frank clears his throat, and Kendall steels himself.

“I’m calling a vote of no confidence,” he blurts.

“Are you?”

“I am.”

Father and son stare at each other from different ends of the table. “You’re not.”

“That’s, uh, not how this works,” Kendall continues. “We vote in private. Then the verdict speaks for itself.”

“I’m not leaving this room,” Logan insists. “And I know how fucking corporate politics work.” His gaze sears over everyone gathered. “Did we know about this?”

He does another sweep of the room before his eyes land on you. You give a minute shake of your head.

Suddenly, he slams his hands on the table. “Fucking go on, then. Who wants me gone?”

The room is silent. You can feel your stomach churning. Roman sits tense next to you, barely moving- barely breathing.

“Let’s, uh, put it to a vote, then.” Kendall shakily gets to his feet. “All those in favor of ejecting Logan Roy from position as CEO of Waystar?” He’s the first to raise his hand, and you raise yours not long after. Three partners follow your lead. You turn to Roman.

His hands are tucked firmly under his arms. He stares blankly at the ground, seemingly dazed. You can see the emotions warring in his eyes. But you have no sympathy.

You begin to bristle, and Kendall lets out a strangled breath.

“A tie,” Kendall says deflatedly.

“I have two votes,” Logan practically shouts. “I’m going to ruin you,” he spits at Kendall. You give Roman a nasty look then push yourself to your feet.

“It’s not a tie. Nor did you win,” you begin, raising your voice as you go. “You are the subject of this vote. You are legally not allowed in this room, Mr. Roy. Any vote you cast is regarded as null and void. As your lawyer, I advise you to take your things and leave.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “I did not get a degree from Harvard Law for you to so blatantly disrespect it to my face. Your time here is over. Get out before I call the police and have them escort you.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he murmurs lowly.

“Really? Perhaps I will when we go to trial. You have quite a few hefty criminal charges hanging above your head, Mr. Roy. I’d hate to see them fall.”

#succession #roman roy slowburn #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #roman roy #succession fic #succession x reader #wambsgansshoelaces #turmoil #succession hbo #succession slowburn

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nanabrainrot · 8 months

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thinking of roman with an overstim kink, his dominating gf fucking him ‘til he shoots blanks <33

roman roy loving nothing more than a sloppy blowjob - you sucking his balls while holding a vibe to his gooch and the other hand clutching his thigh to make him stop fucking moving.

roman who bats at you when you suck him after he cums, making the vibe intensity even higher. roman who you love to fingerfuck and prod at his prostate. roman who loves to be humiliated, dominated. roman who eats your pussy after you ride him ‘til he splurges his warm cum in you, filling you to the brim with white hot ropes until it pools at the base of his dick and stiffens in his thick bush of pubes. you keep riding him even when he cums, hard and unrelenting.

roman who sucks your clit, making out with your pussy ‘til his face is sloppy with your juice and slick with his own cum around his mouth as he pathetically palms at the fat of your ass - his dick limp from exhaustion but still twitching and wet. roman who loves the fleeting moments when you’re done, his eyes glassy and teary: spent.

“y’okay, my romeo? mm? talk to me,” you coo sweet like honey into his hair as his chest rises and falls hard and heavy still - like the air burns.

a tear trickles, something close to happiness but more adjacent to euphoria.

“‘ya. m’fine.”

#roman roy x reader #roman roy x reader smut #roman roy x you smut #roman roy x y/n #roman roy x you #roman roy x y/n smut #roman roy fanfic #succession fanfic #nana writes succession #want to literally spit in his mouth #jk who said that.#overstim #roman roy #sry my b

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rosiesramblings · 1 year

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Tell the Fucking Truth

Fandom: Ted Lasso

WC: 700ish

A/N: Ok, anon requested 9 and G from this obscure media prompt list, and I KNOW that Ted Lasso isn't obscure in the slightest but nobody in this community writes for it so I am bending the rules. Enjoy!

TW for gratuitous use of the word 'fuck' and all its derivatives. Cause it's Roy fucking Kent. :)

If you made a list called, “Things About Jamie Tartt That Annoy Roy Kent,”, typed it up in Times New Roman 10 pt. font, and ordered each item of the list on top of the other, the resulting stack of paper required to contain that list would be taller than Roy himself. Probably.

The point is, there was a metric fuckton of reasons Jamie annoyed him. But the loudest, giggliest reason was currently the issue Roy was focused on.

Since the team had found out Jamie was ticklish, and since anyone with eyes could see that the arsehole was starved for physical affection, there was barely a day that went by that Jamie’s laughter didn’t echo across the pitch or the locker room. That was not Roy’s issue. Frankly, Tartt was much more palatable when he couldn’t speak for laughing. No, his issue was with the blatant, infuriating way that Tartt would deny the obvious.

“Nahahahahat even tihihihicklish!” Jamie would shriek when someone would scribble across his ribs or jam their fingers into his underarms. Like clockwork. There wasn’t a single person on the team who had gotten him to admit the truth. And, for some entirely irrational reason, it pissed Roy off.

Today was the last straw.

Tartt was literally rolling on the grass, cackling as he tried to avoid Sam’s wiggling fingers. Even though it looked like he could barely breathe, Tartt still somehow found the strength to bellow those words that made Roy want to rip his hair out.

“OI! OBISANYA!” Roy yelled as he stalked toward the two.

“Yes, Coach?” Sam asked.

“If he can still deny he’s fucking ticklish, then you obviously aren’t FUCKING doing it right!” Roy shouted, swiftly pushing Sam off Jamie and taking his place. Roy watched as panic and excitement battled for dominance in Jamie’s eyes.

“Oi, I dunno what you’re on ahabout, Coach,” Jamie declared cheekily. “Cause I’m really not even - FUHUHUHUHUHUHUCK!” Jamie threw his head back and screamed as Roy placed his hands on Jamie’s hips and squeezed.

“What was that? You got something to say?” Roy asked, teeth bared in a terrifying smile-adjacent expression.

“I’m NAHAHAHAHAT – NAHAHAHAHAT – SHIHIHIHIHIHIT!” Jamie’s smile was splitting his face so wide, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Roy scoffed. This was too fucking easy.

“You gonna admit it yet, or do I have to actually start fucking tickling you?” Roy asked.

Even as Jamie’s eyes bugged open at the threat, and even as one of Roy’s hands rose threateningly towards Jamie’s ribs, Jamie still didn’t back down. Instead, he stuck out his fucking tongue, and, well. Roy wasn’t going to stand for any disrespect.

Roy raked his blunt nails down the left side of Jamie’s rib cage as his other hand clawed at Jamie’s hip bones with renewed vigor. With both of his worst spots under attack, Jamie let out a hysterical scream-laugh that had Sam giggling from where he was still seated next to Jamie’s side.

“Admit it, and this stops,” Roy called gruffly over Jamie’s laughter.

“COHAHAHAHAHA – COAHAHA – ROHOHOHOHOHOY!” Was all Jamie could get out, but Roy knew that meant he was ready to talk. Jamie never called him by his first name.

Roy stilled his hands, but didn’t move them from Jamie’s body. “Well?”

“IHIHIHIihihihihi’m – ihihihihihi’m a lihihittle fuhuhuhuckin’ tihihihihihicklish, alrihihihght?” Jamie gasped out.

“Fucking finally,” Roy growled, heaving himself up off of the striker. Before he could think better of it, he reached out and ruffled a hand through Jamie’s hair. There. Tartt would be fine.

Sam ran a hand up and down Jamie’s arm soothingly as Roy heaved himself to his feet, satisfied. He looked around and saw that the rest of the team had apparently seen the whole thing. Which just wouldn’t do.

“What are you lot FUCKING looking at?” Roy roared, channeling some rage by picturing his sister’s ex. They all jumped and hurriedly went back to whatever bullshit drills they had been doing before the spectacle.

As Roy stalked away, he heard Sam ask, “Did you get what you wanted, my friend?”

All he got in response was a giggly hum of affirmation.

#tickle fic #tickling #tfb community #ted lasso tickles #ted lasso tickle fic #ticklish jamie tartt #ler!Roy Kent #prompt fic

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