#ch: roy kent

[tedlassosource]

#they could have framed this in any number of ways and went with the most ot3 shot

[s0ftpining]

sleepover 💅🏻

[lunar-years]

Every single week the stills get released and it’s just another picture of these 3 that looks exactly like this lmao

[dcmultiverse]

Kaldur’ahm, Wally West, Conner Kent, M’gann M’orzz, Artemis Crock, Roy Harper, Dick Grayson, Raquel Ervin and Zatanna Zatara in “Zenith and Abyss” from Young Justice: Phantoms.

[dinoscully]

Chapters: 4/5 Fandom: Ted Lasso (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Roy Kent/Jamie Tartt, Roy Kent & Jamie Tartt Characters: Roy Kent, Jamie Tartt, Georgie | Jamie Tartt's Mother, Roy Kent's Father, Roy Kent's Mother, Roy Kent's Sister, Roy Kent's Granddad, James Tartt Sr., Ted Lasso, Keeley Jones Additional Tags: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, First Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, First Time, Family, Family Dynamics, Friends to Sort of Enemies to Lovers, Flashbacks, friends since childhood, Found Family, Football | Soccer, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Jamie Tartt, POV Roy Kent, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jamie Tartt Needs a Hug, Roy Kent Needs a Hug Summary: Cartrick’s blabbering is muted in Jamie’s ears, as if he’s under a layer of blankets and he feels rooted in place, eyes fixed across the room because-

Roy.

There’s a fault line along Jamie’s chest, the jagged edges splitting his body into two separate halves, along with a heart that hasn’t felt whole for a decade and a half. Roy meets his eyes and the cavern widens, Jamie’s sternum breaking in two. It’s no wonder Jamie can’t remember how to breathe anymore.

or: childhood best friends, a study.

[steveshcrringtons]

Camilla Alexander and Roy Kent in Something Chemical - a Ted Lasso fanfic.

Camilla knew the moment she took the job at AFC Richmond, she’d be face to face with Roy Kent again. Though their blissful week in Paris many years ago was in the past, she knew that the moment she saw him again, those feelings would come rushing back. Problem was, when she came back to London, she also brought her boyfriend of 3 years with her.

The day Camilla Alexander came into his life, Roy knew he would be forever changed. She brought out a side of him that most didn’t get to see. He thought after their week in Paris, he’d never see her again. However, when he literally ran into her during her first day at AFC Richmond, he couldn’t deny that they had something chemical between them.

Tagging: @eddiemunscns @catgrant @acabecca @sgtbuckyybarnes @cas-verse @steve--harrington--gal @ocappreciation

[sighonaraa]

football kiddos au, chapter 2: roy POV is out nowwww 😁👍❤️‍🔥💯🫶

ft. more babie jamie! our queen, lord, and savior keeley jones! ice cream and hot chocolates! and roy grappling with the mortifying ordeal of loving a small child!

[its-time-to-write]

i know now it’ll pass - ch. 1

still me here

You have to understand, working at Nelson Road isn’t what everyone thinks it is. It’s a job. You’re not best friends with Ms. Welton, you don’t share inside jokes with Coach Lasso, and not a single member of the team could pick you out from a crowd. You talked to Keeley Jones exactly one time when she stumbled upon your office, lost in a hunt for Roy.

And none of that is bad. It’s not a bad thing. What it is is  good money and security to get your own one-bedroom flat as well as food on the table and whatever else you might need. You have a few friends there and your direct supervisor is nice and overall it’s a great environment. You’re not sure you could ask for anything more.

It’s just not as glamorous as people believe. 

Your friends think it’s great that you work in the same building as AFC Richmond legends like Roy Kent and Dani Rojas. They bombard you with questions every girls’ night, which you indulge with a laugh. 

As you sip your drink on the couch, surrounded by friends and giggles, you decide you live a pretty great life.

—

You don’t sleep well. You never have, and you’re concerned you never will. You’ve taken to sitting on your front steps with a blanket and a cup of tea in the hopes that it will cause your body to produce melatonin so you can get enough sleep to get through the day. Your “tea time” is usually anywhere from 2am-5am, and you’ve woken up many a morning curled up on the steps.

There are two good things that come out of tea time: the sunrise and your increased ability to cover up the bags under your eyes.

This Monday is different in that it’s worse. Much worse.

You’ve been on the porch for three goddamn hours, since 1am, and nothing is helping. You’re so tired that your eyes feel like little weights, and yet you can’t fall asleep. 

You’re leaning against a support beam with the realization that your work day is going to suck, when you see Jamie run by in the street. He doesn’t see you, what with it being 4:15am and all. Roy jogs by a few minutes later. You wince. You can tell his knee’s killing him by the way he’s running. He’ll probably take it out on the lads at training, and you find strange comfort in the knowledge that you’re not the only one who will be suffering at Nelson Road.

—

Oh god, you’re going to die. This is it, this is the end, death is imminent and you’re going to let the Grim Reaper snatch you with his scythe or whatever the hell he does with that thing. 

See, Mondays are when you get all your steps in because you’re walking all up and down Nelson Road collecting signatures and passing around documents. It’s usually pretty nice and culminates in a stop at Higgins’ office, who will offer you whatever candy he has at his desk or sometimes a cup of tea.

(He has a knack for offering the tea when you’re especially tired. You’re not sure how he can tell, but chalk it up to the plethora of sons he has.)

Anyway, this Monday you’re on your way to meet Higgins with a bundle of papers in your arms and you must have blacked out ever so slightly because you rammed straight into the team coming in from the pitch for lunch.

Documents are flying and you’re wobbly on your feet and now there’s like twenty beefy footballers helping you scramble to pick everything up while you say, “Sorry, sorry,” on repeat. 

“Not a problem, love,” says Jamie Tartt, handing you the completed stack. It’s a little wrinkled and haphazard, but all you can think about is the fact that you revealed yourself to be a klutz to the whole team. 

Girls’ night is about to get embarrassing. Especially because Jamie’s hand brushed yours for a millisecond and it caused literal sparks to shoot up your arm.

You’re frozen as they walk away, silently cursing your stupid screwed up sleep patterns. You had better get some sleep tonight.

—

You don’t. Your mind keeps replaying that touch like you’re a middle school girl who’s just discovered boys don’t have cooties. You wrestle a few hours in between 11 and 3, but find yourself on the steps again by 4, definitely not hoping Jamie runs by again.

He doesn’t.

—

Tuesday is not worse, but it’s not better. You’re eating lunch at your desk because you’ve decided never to leave it again, but unfortunately Jim in HR needs a signature and you’re the one who has to get up so he can collect it. You sigh and close your laptop. 

You’re padding to the other side of the building and congratulating yourself on the decision to wear flats today when you turn a corner and smack into something solid.

You stumble back but catch yourself before you hit the ground.

“God, I’m so sorry,” you say to Jamie Tartt’s blue eyes.

He half-grins. “Little wobbly there, innit?” he says before he’s gone.

Rats.

—

Tuesday night means you’re awake due to sheer humiliation. It’s bad enough that your celebrity crush is now Jamie Tartt, but the fact that you’ve literally talked to him twice and both times have been because you weren’t watching where you were going?

You have half a mind to email in your resignation, but as you put the kettle on for 3am tea you realize you need the stability Nelson Road provides. You’re not sure you can go back to living with three other flatmates.

Your only consolation is that there’s no way Jamie Tartt knows who you are or that his damn blue eyes are seared into your brain. 

You’ve snatched five hours of sleep this time, and you’re hoping you’ll be asleep again before the sunrise, but the odds are not looking good. It’s Wednesday, and you’re going to need all the help you can get in order to make it through the longest day of the week.

Jamie runs by again. Roy notices you under the porch light and gives a two-finger salute as he hobbles by. You raise your cup in return, grateful that he at least will have no idea who you are, much less that you work in the same building.

—

Wednesday is fine except you’re exhausted, and Laughing Liam’s goddamn laugh is making your head pound. You set a timer and fall asleep on your lunch break.

—

You take a breath. Then another. And another. Deep breaths, you remind yourself. It’s not that big of a deal. 

You skipped the porch in favor of staying in bed, with the hopes that maybe a softer environment would be more conducive for sleep. It wasn’t, and the bags under your eyes are not good. They are so not good that you can’t completely cover them. You feel so awful that you forgo tea in favor of coffee, extra strong. You down it in three burning gulps and head out the door, ready to face Thursday.

—

It gives you a headache, but you’re awake. You’re trying to kill the dull, persistent pain with some water but it’s not helping. You rest your forehead on the community water jug for a moment as footsteps walk past you, slow down, then backtrack.

“Porch girl,” says Roy Kent, recognition in his voice. 

You turn your head, still on the jug, and nod. Roy Kent nods back and grunts, “You’re up fucking early,” then keeps walking.

Ah shit.

—

Friday. It’s Friday. It’s Friday and you held off from sitting on the steps until exactly 2:37 at which point you felt that if you stayed in bed any longer, you would suffocate or go crazy. Maybe both.

You set down an empty cup of chamomile and pull your blanket closer as you inhale the crisp air. You feel something like sleep creeping up on you, so you close your eyes and finally succumb to the call.

You wake to someone shaking your shoulder and an urgent voice saying, “Oi, you dead? Can you hear me?”

You blink groggily, aware of the fact that you’ve just gotten maybe an hour of sleep and it isn’t going to be enough to get you through the day. Tears begin to slide down your face, unbidden, as you try to control your sheer frustration at being woken up.

“Oh shit,” says the voice, then Roy Kent says, “You fucking broke her,” and you think maybe you actually are still asleep and this is all a dream.

But it can’t be because the hand is still on your shoulder, and it’s warm and solid and there’s no way your subconscious would be so cruel as to have Jamie Tartt and Roy Kent find you passed out on your front steps.

Your subconscious wouldn’t be so cruel, but the universe apparently is.

You force your eyes open. Jamie and Roy look concerned.

“You alright?” Jamie asks. “Thought you were proper dead.”

“Jesus Christ,” Roy mutters, turning back to you. “Look, we’re sorry for waking you. We’ll get out of your fucking hair.”

You nod mutely as they turn and jog off. It’s not until they’re well out of sight that you realize they didn’t even ask your name.

Table of Contents

[tedlassosource]

Just up the way at Wembley, making his debut for England, Jamie Tartt!

[s0ftpining]

sunflowers and windmills 🌻

[lunar-years]

hello everyone here's my very late and very humble contribution to swiftie powerpoint night

[daydreamgoddess14]

Roy Kent / Reader Masterlist

FULL MASTERLIST

Tumblr & AO3 links included throughout.

* = Complete

🔥 = Smutty

Support System*🔥

A woman struggling through the breakup of her marriage adjusts to life with some help along the way.

Roy Kent x F!Reader, general rating until chapter 6 where it gets hottt!

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7 | CH 8 | CH 9 | CH 10 | Epilogue

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48609889/chapters/122614582

Support System: Alone Time *🔥

Spicy one shot featuring characters from the series above.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49346047

Saturday Mornings*🔥

Roy definitely doesn't have a thing for Phoebe's dance teacher. Until he does.

Roy Kent x f!Reader, smutty one shot

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48883657

Hot Water*🔥

Roy Kent x f!Reader, smutty one shot

5 times Roy turns up on your doorstep even though you both know it's a bad idea.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48985657

Red Card*🔥

Roy Kent x f!Reader, smutty one shot

It's the first time in 135 years that the Premier League has allowed a female referee to official a match... Remaining neutral is absolutely key. Plenty of fluff and smut and flirting 😏

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49032853

Complaints Procedure *🔥

Roy Kent x f!Reader, smutty one shot

Literally just 1.5k of pure filth. You accidently call Roy daddy during sex...

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49065556

Noisy *🔥

Roy Kent x f!Reader, smutty one shot

A somewhat sequel to Complaints Procedure (above).

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49137001

Deserving *🔥

Roy Kent x f!Reader, smutty one shot

Third part to the mini-series above of Complaints Procedure and Noisy. Part of the 200 Followers celebration! Prompt was Roy Kent x F!Reader with the phrase "You deserve better".

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49212319

Salvation *🔥

Meet the woman who stole Roy Kent's watch...

Part of the 200 Followers celebration! Prompt was Roy Kent x F!Reader with the phrase "What did you say?"

Roy Kent x f!Reader - general rating for now, set to increase...

CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49517506/chapters/124975360

[peterpparkrr]

Banter (Ch. 4)

Series: Banter

Pairing: Roy Kent x f!Reader

Summary: Sam has his restaurant’s soft open. You and Roy spend the night together. No! Not like that!

A/N: I cried twice during this week's episode, how are you guys doing?

(Ch. 1) (Ch. 2) (Ch. 3) // (Ch. 5)

series masterlist

"Keeley..." You singsong as you walk up to where she and Rebecca are staking a claim in front of the bartender.

"What did you say to Roy?" You ask her as you lean your face toward hers, making an effort to keep your voice low seeing as the man in question is only on the other side of this relatively small restaurant.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Keeley replies with such a convincing tone of innocence that you’d almost believe her if it weren’t for the fact that Roy Kent was staring at you with such unabashed intensity that you felt like you might combust.

"He's...looking at me," You whisper-hiss in her direction. Causing both women to look over your shoulder to where Roy is sitting with Jamie Tartt, Jamie going on about something while Roy continues to stare in your direction.

“God, he really is intense, isn’t he?” Rebecca comments as she turns back to you, sipping her drink. 

You purse your lips to keep yourself from snapping at your newfound friend. 

You know this is amusing to Keeley and Rebecca, everything about your love life is amusing to these women, but you’re having a hard time laughing about it when everyone else knows just as much about your business as you do. And how it sometimes feels like they know stuff you don’t know. 

“I need to know why all of that intensity is aimed in my direction, and Keeley’s my best bet,” You reply as you stare at your best friend expectantly. 

“Nothing! I just encouraged him to explore the relationship- friendship between you two!” Keeley defends.

“Go say hi to your new friend,” She adds as she prods at your side.

You sigh but move to say hello to him anyway.

Jamie has disappeared off to somewhere else by the time you move to this side of the room.

"Hi... friend," You greet Roy as you come up to him with an awkward smile, your hand coming up in a half-wave, half-fist bump that just makes it look like you greet people by punching the air.

Cool.

"Right," Roy replies gruffly as he frowns down at you. 

"This place is nice, I'm impressed," You comment as you glance around the space.

When Keeley had invited you and explained that one of the AFC Richmond players had started a restaurant you kind of expected it to be like most celebrity-owned establishments, completely detached from that person other than the use of their name to get people in the door. With little care for anything other than making money.

But you were pleasantly surprised, Sam clearly had a lot of oversight here as owner, he was helping deliver plates to people’s tables, checking in with the chef, and making the rounds to ensure everyone was having a good time. 

Not to mention the fact that the food looked absolutely amazing.

Sam cared a lot about sharing his culture and food. And it showed.

"Maybe Sam should quit and become a full-time restaurateur,” You comment as the man in question sneaks around the two of you with two plates in his hands.

"Don't you fucking dare put that idea in his head," Roy replies. “The team needs him.”

"You'd figure it out,” You say with a wave of your hand. “Ted and Beard are both pretty smart guys," You add with a small smile.

"And you too, I guess," You add with a sigh, smiling at Roy as he takes your teasing remarkably well given your past. 

"How have you been?" Roy asks you.

"Oh, um, good," You reply with a nod. “You?” 

“Shit,” Roy replies.

“Oh… um…” You stammer as you glance at his expression nervously. Only to see him staring back at you as straight-faced as always but with a glimmer of something behind his eyes that has your short-lived anxiety quickly morphing into relief and amusement. 

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” You reply as you hit his upper arm with your palm. 

“Yeah, glad you finally noticed,” Roy replies.

You smile up at him for a moment before a server with another platter of delicious-looking food walks past you. 

“Watching all of this food come out is making me extremely jealous, do you want to order some food to share?” You ask as you gesture toward an open table in the corner.

“Yeah,” Roy replies. 

As you move to sit down you miss the look that Roy and Keeley share.

As it turns out, talking to Roy is easy.

You’d initially been a little worried that with your nervous energy and hatred of long pauses that trying to make conversation would be like pulling teeth, but once the two of you get going you can’t stop. 

“What do you mean?!” You shout as Roy finishes telling you the story of how his ex-girlfriend stole his Rolex and sold it for drug money.

“I said what I said,” Roy replies.

You burst into laughter at the whole story. 

“Uh oh,” You mutter as you see Sam out of the corner of your eye start to put chairs up on the tables. 

And then you glance around to realize everyone else is gone except for Sam and his employees.

Keeley and Rebecca had bid you goodnight a little while ago but everyone else had still been here then.

“I think Sam is trying to very politely tells us to fuck off,” Roy replies as you pull your phone out of your bag to realize how late it’s gotten. 

And get a glimpse at a series of texts from Keeley almost exclusively consisting of emojis including but not limited to the peach, eggplant, and explosion emojis.

“Do you want to go get a drink? There’s a pub down the road that makes good cocktails,” You ask Roy when you turn back to him. 

“Yeah,” Roy replies as he moves to stand up.

“Thanks for tonight, Sam, this place is seriously amazing, it’s going to be a huge success, I can already tell,” You tell Sam with a smile as you and Roy make your way to the door.

“Good food,” Roy adds from beside you.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Sam replies with a grin. “And I hope you’ll stop in again soon.”

“Oh, we will,” You reply without even thinking about it before you head out with one last wave.

We. You said we. Putting you and Roy into a shared unit without even thinking about it. 

And you didn’t hate it.

As your brain spirals Roy switches over the walk on your other side, his hand ghosting the small of your back as he places himself between you and the road. A move that you’ve only read about in books. Or heard about on TikTok from people who apparently have better boyfriends than you’ve ever had.

The spiral pops an embarrassing story of your own into your brain.

“I once had a boyfriend who was stealing money from my wallet and when I caught him he claimed it was a ‘boyfriend tax’,” You blurted out as you glanced over at Roy. Filling the silence with your rambling.

“Your terrible ex story reminded me,” You add. 

Roy looks down at you and stops dead in his tracks as he turns to face you more completely. You stop walking too and take a step back to glance back at him.  

“What was his name?” Roy asks. 

“Br– wait, I’m not telling you that,” You stop yourself when you realize what he means. “I can’t let you go to jail for murder.”

“You don’t know that it was going to be murder,” Roy replies.

You laugh.

“C’mon,” You say as you loop your arm around Roy’s and pull him along to come with you. “Let’s go get that drink. Maybe I’ll tell you his name after I’ve had a few.”

After the change in locations you’re ready for the mood to shift and for you to down a quick drink and bug out as whatever weird truce you and Roy have going on fizzles. But the conversation continues to flow even better as the two of you share a few more drinks.

Once it becomes truly too late that even the bar crowd is starting to think Roy offers to walk you home.

"Thanks for walking me home," You tell Roy when you reach the door to your flat. "I'd ask you to come in but it's probably way past your bedtime with practice tomorrow."

"Yeah," Roy replies.

"Tonight was fun, I'm glad we were able to break the ice," You say as you glance down at Roy’s lips. Waiting for him to look at you and do the same. 

But his eyes don’t move from the top half of your face.

"Me too.”

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow- today technically," You add.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," Roy says with a small smile.

"Goodnight," You reply.

And then Roy turns on his heels and walks down the hallway.

You watch him disappear down the staircase before you turn and shove your key into your door.

"Goodnight," You mutter to yourself as you push open your door. "What the fuck?!" 

[steveshcrringtons]

Sienna Matthews and Roy Kent in Whisper in the Dark - a Ted Lasso fanfic.

Sienna Matthews wasn’t what you’d call overly happy. Sure she had her moments, but to most people she was a bit…prickly. Which is why her best friend and best friend’s boyfriend thought she would make a great match with Roy Kent.

Too bad for them, the moment Sienna and Roy met they hated each other. Both being too stubborn and too alike to realize that they’d actually get along if they just tried.

Fortunately, you don’t have to get along with someone to get into bed with them. So long as you don’t keep coming back for more…

Tagging: @eddiemunscns @catgrant @acabecca @sgtbuckyybarnes @cas-verse @steve--harrington--gal @ocappreciation

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

All Too Well (Superstar Ch 8) (Roy's Version)

And maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there

I remember it all too well

Roy figures out what he wants after the Man City celebration.

Roy Kent x Reader

5.1k words

Warnings: LOTS of language, angst, Roy being very hard on himself

I loved getting to write Roy's POV for this one! Make sure to read the regular chapter as well!

~

Roy sat in the club, annoyed. Annoyed at the shitty music that was way too fucking loud. Annoyed at the shitty colors and the strobe lights that made him even blinder than he usually was at night. Annoyed at how expensive the drinks were (even though he wasn’t even the one paying for them). Annoyed at Brittany Brett and Dario Vargas for fucking existing. But most of all, annoyed at himself for not running after you the moment you dropped his key and walked away.

Instead, he stayed frozen in place, fists clenched, wondering what the fuck just happened. It had been a great night: lots of drinking, dancing and laughing together, his hand lingering on the small of your back wherever the two of you went in the stupid, crowded club that you somehow managed to make feel less stupid.

He had planned on taking you home that night and spending a lazy morning together in bed. He’d planned on taking you and Oscar to that park that the three of you liked, then maybe walking to a pub for lunch. He’d planned on asking you if you really liked your flat, or if you’d be interested in, he didn’t fucking know, moving in with him and Oscar, since you spent most nights there anyway and most of your shit was already there. He’d planned on making a romantic dinner to celebrate, opening the champagne that was already waiting in his fridge and staying up late making plans to move in the rest of your things and getting your opinion on decorating the house that would soon be yours too.

But those plans were gone. The two of you had… broken up? No, that couldn’t be right. The two of you weren’t supposed to break up.

Roy grabbed the key from the table and stuffed it into his pocket as he stood up. This was just a fight, he assured himself. This was fine. He’d come over in the morning, key in hand, and apologize for whatever it was he did and find out what it was you needed from him. Then he’d ask you about moving in. And all would be right with the world.

That’s what he thought when he laid in bed that night, staring at the ceiling listening to Oscar’s snores.

His plans quickly changed the next morning when he was woken up by the repeated ping ping ping of his phone. He groaned and unlocked it, feeling fuzzy as he noticed the notifications climbing. He opened one of the messages- a text from an old Chelsea teammate- and frowned at the headline.

“What the fuck?”

The more he read, the angrier he got. This was fucking humiliating. This was worse than the stories about women stealing his watch or the reports about how he was in bed. His heart sank as he thought about how fucking stupid he’d been. He really thought he’d finally found someone who liked him for him, not for who he was supposed to be. He’d let himself feel safe and happy, like a fucking idiot.

His anger continued to grow as he drove to your flat, where he yelled at you, wanting nothing more than for you to leave him the fuck alone. He refused to hear any explanation; he just wanted to make this go away. He drove home wiping stupid tears from his stupid eyes, his anger starting to dissipate and give way to grief. If the two of you weren’t broken up the night before, you really were now.

Once he was home, Roy spent the rest of the day sitting on the couch, sipping beer after beer as he absently patted Oscar, wondering how the fuck he was going to face work the next day.

Somehow, he managed to drag himself out of bed the next morning and got ready for work, scowling as he flipped through his closet to find a jacket. His eyes fell on the Richmond sweater you loved to wear to bed, claiming that it felt like he was hugging you. Blinking several times, he quickly grabbed one of his many black jackets and trudged down the stairs.

~

“Roy?” Keeley stood in the doorway, looking at Roy with anxiety in her eyes. “Can I come in?”

Roy grunted in response, pretending to be working on a play in his black notebook. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Keeley made her way to the empty desk across the room and quickly started grabbing folders and papers to toss into her giant purse. When he saw Keeley going for the little orange sticky note on the wall, he finally swiveled around.

“The fuck are you doing?” he growled.

Keeley narrowed her eyes at him; Roy didn’t know she was capable of shooting such an angry glare. “Someone isn’t feeling well, so I’m taking her some things, so she doesn’t fall behind on her work.”

Roy was startled by the venom in Keeley’s voice, but he didn’t back down. “And why the fuck are you taking down that note?” He didn’t know why that stupid little orange piece of paper was so important to him, but his stomach was in knots at the idea of it being gone.

“Do you really think the first thing she wants to see when she comes into her office is ‘XOXO Roy Kent’?” Keeley asked pointedly. Without waiting for an answer, she took the note down and stuffed it in her bag. “By the way, I’m working on getting that article taken down,” she informed him. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” Roy mumbled, shifting his eyes away. “Anything else?”

Keeley sighed as she strutted to the door to leave. “Yeah. You’re a fucking idiot.”

Roy watched as she left in a huff, taking that little orange sticky note with her. “Thanks,” he repeated weakly.

~

Roy sat at his sister’s table, pushing around the food on his plate as Phoebe babbled about what she’d done at school that day. He knew he should be listening, but all he could think about was the last time he was here, when the table was set for four, and he couldn’t stop smiling at-

“Alright there, Roy?” His sister gazed at him with concern.

He grunted in response. It was not an unusual answer for him, but the look in his eye was enough to give her pause.

“Phoebe,” she said to her daughter. “Why don’t you go finish making that thing for Uncle Roy? He and I are going to go outside for a chat.”

A few minutes later, the siblings settled on the back porch with a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses. Roy downed his drink and let out a deep sigh.

“We broke up.”

That was it. Simple. No beating around it, no flowery words, no explaining it away, not even a “fuck” thrown in there. Just stating facts. Roy prepared himself to be yelled at, or to have a million questions hurled at him, or, even worse, to have to deal with pity and attempts at comfort.

“I figured.”

Roy raised an eyebrow. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged, sipping her own drink. “It seemed a bit obvious. You’re here alone, you’ve been distracted all night, you barely touched your dinner, and when Phoebe asked where you-know-who was, you looked like a tomato.” She shrugged. “I figured either she’s pregnant or you broke up.”

“Hmmf.” Roy poured himself another glass. “Well, it’s the latter. So, yeah.”

“Can… I ask what happened?” His sister peered at him with concern, something Roy hated.

He shrugged. “Same shit that always happens. She just wanted Roy Kent, footballer. Not Roy Kent, old geezer who can barely fucking walk.” He took a sip. “At least this time I got a fucking dog out of it.” He glanced at his sister, who usually had something to say. Instead, she was staring at him the way she had when he’d told her he was retiring. Like he was a broken little doll. “Just fucking say it,” he groaned.

“I kind of can’t believe that,” she admitted. “I mean, honestly Roy, this was the first time I ever saw you in a real relationship. That girl looked at you like you’d hung the moon and stars. That kind of thing is really hard to fake, you know?”

Roy snorted. “Yeah, well, there’s a whole fucking article that says otherwise.”

His sister’s nearly identical snort was more than enough evidence of the two being related. “I read the article,” she informed him. “And you and I both know it’s absolute rubbish.”

“They had to get that information from somewhere,” Roy pointed out.

“Come on, Roy,” she groaned. “You really think that she, of all people, would talk about you like that? And why would she wait months into dating to do some tell-all? All those bimbos of yours couldn’t wait to tell everyone all your private information. Didn’t one text a reporter while you were in the shower the next morning?” She shook her head. “I love you, but you really need to get your head out of your ass.”

Roy eyes his sister warily as he took another drink. “Thanks for the fucking support,” he grumbled.

~

Roy couldn’t believe his shit luck. Not only was he miserable at work, having to face the one person who had ever truly broken his heart day after day, but now he got to be tortured at home. Jamie Tartt- Jamie fucking Tartt- had somehow managed to invite himself over after training. And Roy, the vulnerable, emotional wreck that he was, had actually said yes.

So, there they sat, with their third round of beers in hand and Oscar between them on the couch and Roy questioning his life choices.

“… and I was telling Isaac that I really like when Will uses lavender detergent, but Isaac said he prefers this tropical one, and then Dani said-”

“Fucking hell, please talk about any other topic,” Roy groaned, throwing his head back. “I’m fucking begging you.”

Jamie cleared his throat, a bit surprised that his coach had even let him go on for so long in the first place. “Alright, fine.” He thought a moment. “How about you tell me what’s going on with… well, you know.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

Roy narrowed his eyes. “Tell me more about the fucking detergent.”

“Sorry, Coach.” Jamie shook his head. “If Keeley’s gonna be all pissed at me for hanging out with you, you’ve gotta make it worth it, y’know?”

“Why’s it Keeley’s business if you’re here?” Roy asked, hoping to change the subject a bit.

Jamie scoffed. “You only broke her friend’s heart.”

Roy scowled. “I think you mean she broke my heart.” He paused. “Wait. Fuck. I mean-”

“Always knew you had one of those,” Jamie joked, sipping his beer. “But for real, Coach, what the fuck happened?”

“Fuck off,” Roy growled. He paused, staring at the bottle in his hands. “D’you think you can do me a favor?”

Jamie leaned forward, taken off guard by the softness in Roy’s voice, something he’d never heard before. “What’s up?”

“Just come on.”

Roy stood up, leaving his beer on the end table. Jamie quickly followed, Oscar right behind them. To Jamie’s surprise, Roy led him upstairs and to his bedroom.

“Whoa, Roy, I know you’re probably feeling lonely and vulnerable and all-”

“Oh just fuck off.” Roy opened his closet and took out a cardboard box, shoving it into Jamie’s chest. “Here.”

Confused, Jamie peered inside the box. There were clothes and books and…. A toothbrush? “Um, thank you? I think?” He looked up at Roy. “’m sorry, but this is probably the oddest birthday gift I’ve ever gotten.” He paused. “And it’s nowhere near my birthday.”

Roy growled. “It’s not a birthday gift, you prick. It’s… you know.” He shrugged, eyebrows raised, hoping Jamie wasn’t really this fucking thick.

He swore to God he could see Tartt’s brain connect the dots. “Oh! Oh, shit, okay.” Jamie nodded. “And you don’t want to just give this to her at work?”

“Fuck no.” He paused, glancing at Oscar, who was sniffing the box excitedly. “Could you, I dunno, drop it off at her flat for me?” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I, y’know, think it would be weird if I did it myself.”

Jamie nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sure, man. No problem-o.” He glanced inside the box again. “There’s nothin’ in here that’s, I dunno, important to you? Nothin’ you want to keep?”

Roy scoffed. “No.”

But then he glanced at the box again. And he saw the last thing he had thrown in there: your favorite sweater. The blue one with the little Richmond crest above the heart. The one that read Kent across the back in big white letters above the number 6. The one he’d teased you about the day he adopted Oscar. The one he thought you looked insanely sexy in. The one he’d made you leave at his place so he could see his name on you all the time. The one you wore on rainy days when you cuddled on the couch together. The one that still smelled like you.

He cleared his throat. “Fuck. Wait a minute, I think this is mine.” He snatched the sweater out of the box and tossed it on his bed. Oscar immediately jumped on the bed and began sniffing the sweater, his tail wagging. “That’s it, then. I can send you her fucking address and you can- you can drop it off and all that.”

Jamie stared at Roy curiously. He swore he saw something strange in his coach’s eye. Something that looked like… regret. He suddenly understood why Keeley would sometimes get off the phone looking so sad and why she was so angry at Roy all the time; it was shit watching a friend go through heartbreak. He wished there was something he could do to make everything better- for both of you.

But, since there wasn’t, Jamie said the only thing he could think of: “D’you have any more beer?”

~

Roy was fuming. That wasn’t really surprising. He was always angry, and that had been especially true the past few weeks. But fuck, he was so pissed right now. Of all the pricks in the world, Dario Vargas had barged into your shared office asking to speak with you “privately”. Roy knew what that meant; the bastard was going to ask you out. And Roy was furious because you had every right to say “yes” and there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do about it.

His blind rage had taken him to, of all places, Higgins’s office. The bespectacled man looked up at Roy in surprise, fumbling with his mobile at the sight of the gaffer.

“Oh! Hello Roy!” He smiled, that pleasant smile he always wore. “Did you need something?”

Roy clenched and unclenched his fist. He didn’t know what came over him as the words spilled out of his mouth: “I need to talk to the fucking Diamond Dogs.”

In the blink of an eye, Higgins had hit some buttons on his office phone, barked into the speaker, and before Roy knew it, Ted and Beard came bounding into the office, howling and yapping like madmen.

Ted lit up at the sight of Roy. “Well, hello, Dolly! Don’t tell me you’re joining us for a woof sesh?”

Higgins spoke up. “Actually, Roy here has requested this meeting of the Diamond Dogs.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully at the two Americans. “I assume we are more than happy to offer our assistance?”

“Absolutely!” Ted affirmed as he and Beard settled themselves into the seats in front of Higgins’s desk. “Welcome to the pack,” he said to Roy.

Roy was regretting this already, but he knew he needed to do this. “Can we just fucking get on with it?” he groaned.

Beard gave Ted a pointed look before turning back to Roy. “Is this about what we think this is about?”

“What… do you think this is about?” Roy asked slowly, his thick brows furrowed. Did they actually fucking know?

“We’re not as clueless as you think,” Beard started, folding his arms. “And those blinds aren’t as concealing as you think.” He shrugged. “We knew about the two of you pretty much as soon as you started dating.”

Ted nodded emphatically. “And, let me just say, we were thrilled at the idea of you two together. And devastated when we realized that that had…” He bobbled his head. “Well, you know.”

Roy’s face felt warm. “Oh,” was all he could manage, his head feeling like it was about to explode from the revelation he’d just heard. He nodded to Higgins. “And you? You fucking knew too?”

Higgins shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve been married thirty years. I know a bit about what love looks like.” He tapped his desk. “Also, I once saw the two of you canoodling in your car when I came in early one morning. For two people intent on keeping a secret, you two were quite affectionate at work.”

“Fuck!” Roy bellowed, his eyes wide. The fucking Diamond Dorks knowing about his love life? Fucking embarrassing.

None of the men were deterred. Instead, they all looked at Roy with expectation on their faces, ready to help in their annoyingly compassionate manner. Roy had never wanted to fall into a sinkhole more in his life. But the sooner he got things off his chest, the sooner he could get out of his hellhole of an office.

“Right. So we fucking broke up because she wanted to go public with our relationship and got pushy about it and I got fucking weirded out by it so she yelled at me and left me in that shitty club Isaac dragged us all to after the Man City game. Then this fucking shit article comes out talking all about how I’m shagging my assistant and obviously that shit had to come from somewhere, so I may have gone to her flat and yelled at her. Which, you know, fuck me for that. And now I have to see her face- her stupidly beautiful face- every fucking day and now I’ve got-” He was nearly sputtering at this point. “-Dario fucking Vargas coming into my office to fucking ask her out and I can’t even be mad about it because we’re not together anymore and I feel like I am the biggest arsehole in the fucking world and my dog really fucking misses her and fucking hell I do too.” He finally stopped, red in the face, chest heaving. Fuck that felt good.

Ted let out a low whistle. “Well. Thank you for sharing, Roy.”

The other two men nodded in agreement; it was clear that this was not easy for Roy. But they didn’t say a word to him.

He looked at them expectantly. “Well?”

Higgins finally opened his mouth. “Why… don’t you ask her if she wants to get back together?” So simple. He made it feel so simple.

Roy shook his head. “What about this fucking Vargas shit?”

Ted scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Roy, we all know she ain’t going out with him. Dario’s a nice kid and he’s handsome and talented and all, but let’s be honest. We’ve all seen the way she tries to avoid him. And we’ve all seen the way she still looks at you.”

“I fucking guess,” Roy mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. Fuck, he felt exposed right now. “Well, what if I don’t want to get back together with her?”

“Then we wouldn’t be having this chat, Ben Platt.” Ted shook his head. “Come on, Roy. What’re you afraid of?”

Roy let out what was probably the deepest sigh of his life. He thought for a moment as he gazed at the ceiling. What was he afraid of?

“I mean…” He shifted and rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, fuck. You’ve seen the headlines before,” he said to Higgins, who nodded. “I’ve got a reputation. The fucking press always have a field day with me. I mean, it just seems like every time I meet someone I think I could have something special with, she turns around and blathers to some reporter. But this time felt different. And I fucking trusted her. More than I ever trusted anyone. So, the idea that she would… that she…” Roy trailed off with a groan. “Just really, really fucking hurts, alright?”

Beard sat up a little taller. “Have you told her all this?”

Roy scoffed. “I told her I hate fucking report-”

“No,” Beard interrupted, speaking slowly. “Have you told her what you just told us? That you’ve been betrayed before, so it makes you uncomfortable to have your private business in the tabloids.”

Higgins nodded in agreement. “I’m sure she could understand that. She’s a sweet, lovely girl.”

“Obviously she didn’t understand,” Roy argued, the tips of his ears red. “Because there’s that fucking article, isn’t there?”

Ted looked thoughtful. “And you know for sure it was her?”

Roy sighed. “Well, I mean, yeah. At the club she was overheard-”

“So, she didn’t go to a reporter?” Higgins pointed out. “Someone overheard what she thought was a private conversation?”

“I guess,” Roy mumbled, shifting his weight.

Beard cocked his head at Roy. “You didn’t ask her? Don’t you think maybe you should?”

Roy squirmed. Fuck, he never squirmed. But the fucking Diamond Dogs had a point; he’d been so angry and scared and hurt that he’d just lashed out without asking questions. He’d been, as Ted would say, judgmental rather than curious. And he’d fucked everything up.

“Listen, Roy,” Ted started, looking Roy in the eye. “If you love this woman, go get her. What are you waiting for?”

“But,” Higgins interjected, “make sure you know what you want. Communicate your needs to her plainly and clearly, and hear what she needs. Talk to each other, not at each other. And be willing to be vulnerable.” He shrugged. “It can be scary. But with the right person, it’s the best thing you’ll ever do.”

Beard nodded. “Don’t just jump into it. Really think if you feel like she’s who you want to be that vulnerable with. Don’t yank her around or yank yourself around. Aaaaaand please don’t make the atmosphere in the office any more awkward than you already have.”

Ted smiled up at Roy and shot him a thumbs-up. “You got this.”

~

Roy’s head was still spinning with everything the Diamond Dogs had said as he walked into the theatre that night for Phoebe’s recital. He loved you; he knew that much. But he was really fucking scared of being made a mockery of. He refused to be a tabloid joke ever again. And he didn’t completely know if he could trust you to protect him, not after how aggressive you’d been at the club. But fuck, if his heart didn’t skip a beat at the thought of being yours again.

He double checked his ticket as he walked into the auditorium, mumbling the number to himself. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the last person he expected sitting next to his seat: you.

Of course you were here. Of course. You’d promised Phoebe, after all. And you would never break a promise to Phoebe. In your lap he could even see a bouquet of pink roses, the very ones you repeatedly assured her you would bring. He felt his shoulders relax, probably for the first time in weeks, as he thought about how much you cared about Phoebe. And Oscar. And him.

He’d been nervous when he approached you, but he tried not to show it. Beard had been right; he needed to really think about things before jumping back in. If the two of you were going to do this again, Roy wanted to do it right.

He was tense as he approached you, unable to speak a proper complete sentence, similar to the way he was when he first met you. When you stood to let him into his seat, it took all his self-control not to wrap his arms around you and kiss you. Instead, he sat beside you, jaw clenched, and offered you his programme, mostly so he wouldn’t miss a moment of having you next to him.

Roy felt like punching something when he finally got the courage to ask you about Dario Vargas, just to have the show begin (six minutes late, he noted). He did his best to focus on Phoebe jumping and dancing her little heart out, but all he could think of was you sitting beside him, and his inner turmoil as he tried to figure out what the fuck he wanted.

Once the show ended, he couldn’t let you go. So, he invited you to wait with him for his sister and Phoebe. Without thinking, he reached for your hand, the way he had a million times, before remembering that he couldn’t do that anymore. Instead, he walked behind you, eyes glued to the back of your head, not wanting to lose you in the crowd.

Right as you seemed about to say something, Phoebe launched herself at him, demanding his attention. He obliged, showering her with compliments, before she turned to you. He watched tenderly as you hugged Phoebe, gave her the pink roses, and complimented her with genuine joy in your eyes. His sister had been right; this wasn’t something anyone could fake.

After his sister hugged you, Roy couldn’t resist; he wanted to drive you home. With how close your flat was, you had to have walked. So, he offered you a ride. In the car, he finally had the courage to ask about fucking Dario Vargas asking you out.

You’d said no. You’d fucking said no to Dario Vargas. Roy almost smiled at that piece of news. Instead, he celebrated this little victory by letting you know that you could visit Oscar. His heart reveled in your excitement at the idea of seeing the dog that so clearly missed you. He didn’t hesitate to agree to let you see Oscar the very next day, partly because it meant Roy would get to see you the very next day.

By the time he drove away after watching you walk into your building, the gears in his head were going faster than he used to run on the pitch. He wanted you. He wanted his privacy. He wanted to be happy. He wanted to be secure. He wondered how the fuck to have both as his mind kept drifting back to that fucking article and the humiliation he’d felt because of it.

When he pulled into his usual parking in front of his house, he spotted a vaguely familiar little sportscar already waiting. As he got down, he realized why he knew this car.

“Hi Roy!” Brittany Brett bounded out of her car towards him, all smiles. “Where’ve you been? I was waiting for you.”

Roy frowned as he fumbled with his keys. “My niece had a fucking dance thing,” he mumbled, making his way to the front door.

Unfortunately, Brittany followed him. “Aww, little Daphne?”

His frown deepened. “Phoebe,” he corrected as he unlocked the door, listening to the sound of Oscar’s barks on the other side. Before opening it, he turned to Brittany. “Can I fucking help you?”

She batted her eyelashes at him, the same way she used to do when they were together and she’d beg him to go to some obnoxious event with her. “Just wanted to see you,” she purred, laying a hand on his arm. “’ve missed you, Roy.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “Missed me while you had Dario Vargas’s tongue down your throat? Lovely.” He shrugged off her hand.

“Come on, Roy,” she whined. “You know that was just for fun. Just like your little assistant was just for fun.”

He turned to face her. “What the fuck did you just say?” he spat, his hand clutching the doorknob.

Brittany shrugged. “We both know that you were just passing time until we got back together. It’s okay.” Her hand landed on his arm again. “But now you’ve broken up, and Dario and I have broken up. So, it all works out, doesn’t it?”

Roy paused for a moment. “How the fuck d’you know we broke up?” he asked, his voice eerily quiet.

“Well, I figured after the article-”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” It took all of Roy’s strength to keep his voice even. “You leaked that shit to the press, didn’t you? To break us up so you could what, swoop in and try to dig your claws into me again?”

Brittany had the audacity to let out a light chuckle. “Don’t be so dramatic, Roy. I was just reminding you what she really was: a little gold digger. You need to be with someone more on your level. Someone who won’t use you.”

Roy nearly slammed his face into the door. “Brittany,” he growled, shoving her hand off of his arm. “You were the one who always used me. Always taking me out like some little fucking show-pony and making sure the papps knew where we were at all times. Making me take a million selfies for your fucking Instagram. Taking forever to pick out my outfits so I don’t clash with you.” He laughed in disbelief. “Look at me! How the fuck am I going to clash with anything?” He shook his head. “She never fucking used me. She just wanted to hang out at home and read together and hang out with Phoebe and actually talk to me like a human being and-” Roy stopped midsentence. “Fuck.”

He knew. He wanted you. He didn’t care if you wanted to plaster a photo of the two of you on the front page of every newspaper or drag him onto every fuckwit morning show or have him post selfies every day on his barely touched Instagram that Keeley had forced him to create. He wanted you. It didn’t matter what the cost was. You mattered more to him than anything else. And he was a fucking idiot for wasting so much fucking time.

He stared at Brittany Brett, who looked at him impatiently, a look he knew well. “You need to fucking leave,” he scoffed. “And you need to leave me the fuck alone, like, forever.” Before she could get out another word, Roy opened the door and locked it behind him, greeting Oscar with a hug and lots of petting.

Ignoring the knocking on his door, Roy pulled out his phone and opened your texts, which had gone untouched for far too long. He quickly typed five simple words:

Hey. Think we could talk?

~

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