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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 1 year

Text

You Are In Love (Superstar Chapter 10)

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

Roy and the Reader settle into their life together.

Roy Kent x Reader

9.7k words

Warnings: Language, allusions to smutty things, adults drinking, teeny tiny talk about insecurities, some of the most self-indulgent and fluffy writing I have ever done in my entire life

Author's note: I'm feeling really emotional about posting this final chapter, and I just really want to say THANK YOU. This story really helped get me out of a writing slump, and your love & support has been a huge part of that. I've loved spending so much time with these characters, but more than that, I loved getting to share this story with you. From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU. I hope you enjoy all this sugary sweet fluff!

Roy stared at me in utter disgust, as if I had just told him I was becoming a Man City supporter or hated The Sound of Music. “That is the fucking worst combination of words in the history of the fucking world.”

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “Brunch with Keeley and Jamie is not torture, Roy.”

“To me it is,” he growled, pulling back the blankets and crawling into bed.

“Come on. It’ll be fun. Keeley’s one of my closest girlfriends, and Jamie’s your best friend,” I pointed out as I followed suit, pulling the blankets over us.

Roy let out a deep groan. “Why the fuck does everyone keep fucking saying that?” He turned to face me, propping himself up on his elbow. “I want to really, actually, literally murder him. I fantasize about it almost as much as I fantasize about you. How the fuck is that friendship?”

I shrugged and kissed the tip of his nose. “Everyone has their own love language. And violence towards Jamie Tartt is yours.”

“Want to know my love language when it comes to you?” he asked suggestively, his hand snaking its way under the t-shirt I wore. “I’m fucking fluent.”

“I’d prefer if your love language was going to brunch,” I teased, giving him a playful shove.

He grunted, annoyed at my lack of response to his flirting. “Fine. But I’m drinking as many fucking mimosas as I want.”

The next morning, Roy begrudgingly sat at a patio table across from Jamie, listening to Keeley and I gossip and giggle over mimosas and a ridiculous amount of food. Suddenly, she lit up.

“Oh! Roy, there was something I wanted to run by you.” She took his grunt as the signal to continue. “So, with the Greyhounds doing so well, there’ve been lots of requests for interviews and stuff, y’know? And there’s this hot new talk show, hosted by…” She took a quick look at her mobile. “Ryley Sharp. Two Ys. And his people reached out to see if they could get a gaffer to come on for a chat.” She shrugged. “Would you be interested?”

Roy narrowed his eyes and downed the mimosa in front of him. “Why me? Doesn’t this seem more Ted’s kind of shit?”

Keeley shifted, shooting Jamie a glance. Jamie nodded encouragingly; he’d clearly heard this whole pitch already. “I could ask Ted, but…” She thought a moment. “I mean, you’re a household name, so it would be very good ratings. And, as a friend, I was thinking it would be a good opportunity for you to…” She trailed off, her eyes flickering to me.

“For me to do what exactly?” Curiosity floated behind his stony expression.

“To control your own narrative,” Keeley finally said. When she saw the confusion on both our faces, she continued. “Listen, I know you hate the media-”

“I wish they’d all die in a fiery explosion and then have all their ashes fed to feral hogs who eat their own shit so there’s just an endless cycle of their ashes being eaten and shit out for all eternity,” Roy confirmed.

Keeley nodded slowly, glancing at me as if to ask ‘This is your boyfriend?’ “Right. But think about it this way. You’re a very public figure, Roy. And now that the two of you are done pretending you’re capable of hiding your relationship, you’re going to be going out in public together. And you are going to be photographed together. And your name-” She turned to me. “-is going to become known as well. And I assume none of us want a repeat of… you know what.”

A snort flew out of Jamie’s nose. “Boy-toy Roy,” he cheeked.

Roy bared his teeth. “I have my taxidermist on speed-dial.”

“Boys,” I scolded. “Keeley, please continue.”

“Thank you,” she hummed. “Now, Roy, if you go on this show, you’ll talk about Richmond of course. All about how well they’re doing, how great Ted is, how you see yourself in the lads, that sort of thing. And then, Ryley’ll ask you about yourself. Particularly…” She gestured towards me. “This way you get to decide what people know about you. No room for speculation from the press, no room for making shit up to sell a magazine. Just ‘I’m Roy Kent, I’m in a very happy relationship with the world’s fittest woman, and we have an adorable dog’.” She offered up a hopeful smile. “What d’you think?”

All three of us looked at Roy expectantly. He shoved a piece of fruit into his mouth, then reached over and grabbed my mimosa and gulped it down.

“Tell me about this Ryley Sharp prick,” he finally muttered, taking my hand under the table.

Keeley perked up and gestured to a passing waiter to bring more drinks. “He’s not too bad actually. I’ve watched his show before. Bit of an airhead, but very sweet. And I’ve asked around to see what people have to say about him. Not a bad word from anyone. He’s absolutely not the gotcha kind of guy. He’ll ask you lots of easy, soft questions, make you look good, give you the opportunity to gush about this one here-” She winked at me. “-and he won’t go into anything you don’t want to go into.”

Roy grunted, tapping the table. He glanced at me. “What d’you think?” he asked earnestly.

I looked back at him. His eyes were unsure, eyebrows all scrunched. He’ll do whatever I ask, I realized. He wanted to make me happy, to help me feel safe and secure. And fuck, I wanted to do the same for him.

“I think,” I started carefully. “I think you should do what you want. Keeley makes some really good points about getting out in front of things and not giving the media room to speculate, but if it’s going to kill you, don’t do it.” I squeezed his hand. “I’ll support whatever you decide.”

“Hmmf.” He looked my face over, thoughtfulness in his expression. “Fuck it.” He looked at Keeley. “I’ll do it, but I’m not saying nice things about that prat.” He nodded at Jamie.

Keeley squealed, ignoring the outraged look on her boyfriend’s pretty face. “Ahh! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She grabbed her phone and began typing rapidly. “I’ll pop by tomorrow with all the details. And a backstage pass for you,” she added, winking at me. “And don’t you worry, Roy, I’ll be there the whole time to make sure it goes well, I promise.”

He nodded curtly. “Yeah, well.” He cleared his throat. “I can still swear and shit, yeah?”

I smiled watching Roy through the mirror as the makeup woman attempted to powder his face. He was wearing his signature scowl, along with a charcoal suit that hugged him beautifully. At Keeley’s insistence and my prodding, he had gotten a haircut and tidied his beard. All in all, he managed to look even better than he did on any of my old posters.

I really get to go home with this man, I thought with a giggle as I nestled further into the couch I shared with Keeley in the greenroom. Noticing the giddy way I was watching him, he met my eyes in the mirror and cracked a smile.

“No, you’re not putting makeup on me when we get home,” he warned.

“Spoilsport,” I teased as the door opened and a production assistant entered to let Roy know that he would be on after the commercial break, which meant it was time for all of us to leave the greenroom.

Keeley linked her arm through mine as another assistant led us to a pair of audience seats that had been reserved for us to watch the interview. “I made sure they told Roy exactly where we’re sitting,” Keeley assured me as we settled in.

Sure enough, as soon as Roy walked out onto the set to thunderous applause, his gaze found mine. I wondered if the viewers at home would also notice the tiny twitch of his mouth when our eyes locked. He plopped down into the stylish chair by Ryley Sharp’s desk.

We had gotten to meet Ryley Sharp before the show, and Keeley had been right about him; sweet and a bit of an airhead, in the best possible way. He was very excited to have Roy on the show and was thrilled to know I’d be sitting out in the audience with Keeley. He was completely onboard with everything Keeley had discussed with us and thought that Roy wanting to chat about me during the interview was simply “adorable”.

Keeley gripped my hand as Roy was interviewed. I was hugely impressed; he was almost charming and nearly friendly, he actually answered questions, and he even managed to keep his “fucks” to a minimum. It was the best interview I’d ever seen him do, and I’d probably watched every single one he’d done in his entire career. Multiple times.

My cheeks hurt from smiling so much as I listened to the audience laugh at some cheeky comment he made about Ted.

Ryley Sharp shifted in his seat, running a hand through his bleached hair. “Alright, so it looks like things are going well for you, Roy. Happily retired from a massively successful career, coaching Richmond to one of the great underdog stories of our time. What about in your personal life?” He raised his eyebrows. “Got a girl?”

Roy shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “I actually do,” he admitted, his eyes flicking in my direction as the studio audience ooohed.

“Roy Kent, are you squirming?” Ryley Sharp humorously gasped, leaning forward.

“Do I have to answer that?” Roy asked, a teasing edge in his voice.

Ryley Sharp shook his head. “Not if you agree to tell us about this girl of yours..”

Roy nodded. “Sounds like a deal to me.” He gave a small cough. “She’s, uh, she’s amazing, yeah. We work at Richmond together and, I dunno, we clicked. Decided to give it a go, and so far, so good.”

“Descriptive as always,” Ryley Sharp teased, eliciting some light chuckles from the audience. “Mind if we do some lightning-round questions to learn more?”

Roy nodded firmly. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”

Ryley Sharp cleared his throat. “She like football?”

“Loves it.”

“Fan of yours?”

A smirk graced Roy’s face. “Huge.”

“Her parents like you?”

“I like to think so.”

“She smart?”

“Brilliant.”

“Funny?”

Roy bobbled his head. “She thinks she is.” He winked in my direction as the audience chuckled.

Ryley Sharp’s friendly smile widened. “She pretty?”

“Fucking gorgeous.”

“And am I to understand…” Ryley Sharp perked up a little. “She’s here in our studio audience?”

Sharp had come up with this idea, explaining that the audience would find it charming as hell. Keeley had left it completely up to us whether we wanted to go along with it, and I’d left it up to Roy, who surprised us all with his yes. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Roy sit up straight and turn his gaze back to me.

“Um, yeah, yeah she’s here.” He gave a little nod in my direction. “Sitting right over there with our friend Keeley.”

Sharp waved to someone off-stage. “Could we get a mic out there?” he called.

In an instant, the same production assistant from earlier was standing next to my seat, holding a microphone. Roy gave me a thumbs up as Ryley Sharp turned his attention to me.

“Why don’t you stand up, love?” he asked as the house lights came on and a camera turned my way.

Keeley pushed me to my feet as my face burned. I smiled and gave Roy a little wave as the production assistant handed me the mic. “Hi,” I said timidly, suddenly hating the sound of my own voice.

Roy smiled, a full smile, and nodded back. “Hey,” he called tenderly. Even from my seat, I could see his eyes were full of affection.

Ryley Sharp cleared his throat playfully. “Alright, lovebirds, back to the interview.” He focused on me. “So, Roy Kent’s girl, eh?” I nodded, suddenly bashful. “What’s it like dating this guy, hmm?”

I lifted the microphone to my face. “Lovely, actually. He’s a pretty good one.” The wink Roy sent me bolstered my confidence.

“Alright, I’m sure all the hardcore football fans out there are dying to know.” Sharp looked at me with mock seriousness. “What is the most romantic thing Roy Kent has ever done?”

My eyes drifted from Ryley to Roy who raised his eyebrows at me. He spoke up. “It’s Paris, innit?”

I nodded, biting back a grin. “Can I tell them about it?”

Roy sat back in his seat and shrugged, as if it were totally normal for us to have a conversation on national television. “Why the fuck not?”

I turned my attention back to Sharp. “Um, well Richmond had gone to Paris for a friendly. And after the match, Roy here surprised me by taking me to the Louvre.” More ooohs from the audience. “After hours,” I added cheekily, garnering more hooting. “And we had a lovely time. Dinner and champagne, the kind of thing only a retired footballer can afford to do.”

Sharp joined in the audience’s chuckles. “Goodness. If that’s a date, I can’t wait to see what his proposal’ll look like!”

My cheeks burned, but I tried to maintain my composure. “Yeah, well, you and my mother have something in common then,” I joked, earning a laugh from the whole room- most especially Roy, who was shaking his head and looking at me like I was the most wonderful, special thing he’d ever seen in his life.

Ryley Sharp asked me a couple more questions- about Oscar and about what Roy and I liked to do when we weren’t at work- before wrapping it up. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for Roy Kent and his lovely girlfriend!”

As the audience gave a hearty round of applause, I handed the microphone back to the assistant and looked at Roy, who was still staring at me. I blew him a kiss, and he looked down, clearly blushing. He turned back to Sharp, shaking his hand and looking uncharacteristically cheerful.

After the show wrapped, Keeley and I made our way back to the greenroom, where Roy was chatting with Ryley Sharp. He offered me a smirk when he saw me and placed a kiss on my forehead.

“You were fucking brilliant,” he murmured in my ear.

Ryley Sharp reached out and shook my hand. “How’d it feel?”

I cleared my throat. “It was fun,” I admitted. “But not something I could do every day. Don’t know how you all live with being famous.”

Keeley giggled and nudged me. “Oh, so you don’t want me to set you up with a modeling contract then?”

“Hell no,” I laughed. “Being Roy Kent’s girl is more than enough attention for me.”

Life became predictable. Easy. Routine. And I loved every moment of it.

We’d spend our days at Nelson Road, with Roy in training and me doing my best to bring some semblance of order to the coaching staff, eating lunch together almost every day. Our evenings were often spent with Phoebe and Oscar, making dinner together, playing, and watching movies until Roy’s sister came for pickup. Nearly every night was spent together, either at his place or mine, and our mornings were spent waking up in each other’s arms. On weekends we were with the Greyhounds, or taking Phoebe on outings, or meeting up with friends, or just sitting on the couch and reading.

From time to time our picture would end up online or in a magazine: playing at the park with Oscar, or sharing an embrace after a Richmond victory, or getting drinks with Keeley and Jamie. More often than not, the picture featured a blurred gesture on Roy’s part, but he could always be counted on to point out how stunning he thought I looked in the photos.

Amidst this domestic bliss- or “the boring life of dating an old geezer”, as Roy called it- was one thrilling constant: Richmond was still winning. They’d bounced around the top four spots over the course of the season, but there was actual expectation for them. More than one pundit even selected them as their pick to win the “whole enchilada”, as Ted and Dani loved to say in unison. Things came down, in true dramatic fashion, to the last match of the season, which would be against Arsenal.

Roy had already gone running with Jamie and was showered and set to go by the time I woke up, so he sat on the bed with Oscar and read as I got myself ready. He not-so-stealthily watched me over the top of his book as I dug through the half of the closet I was slowly taking up and cleared his throat.

“Wear the sweater,” he mumbled, absently turning the page of his book.

I turned to him. “Hmm?”

He glanced up at me again. “The fucking lucky sweater,” he repeated. “We could use all the fucking help we can get. Wear it.”

“Oh.” I looked at the sweater that was always in his closet. I wore it at home all the time, wore it out for errands occasionally, but had never worn it to a match. It felt a little silly, and I didn’t feel the need to give anyone fodder to tease us with. I turned back to Roy, who had set his book down by now. “Won’t I look a bit funny, wearing your name with you there in the dugout next to me?"

Roy sat up, his face soft. “I mean, people should get used to seeing you wearing my name.” He paused, tilting his head. “Right?”

I felt myself blush. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t thought about marrying Roy someday; I’d been thinking of that pretty much since I hit puberty. And the topic had been one that our friends and colleagues teased about from time to time. And it was something I felt myself wondering about more and more lately.

“Oi.” Roy was grinning at me, clearly amused by my silence. “Don’t worry, I’m not fucking proposing after the match or anything like that.” He stood up and came over to where I was, wrapping his arms around me. “I mean, someday, sure. But not today.” He kissed my forehead. “Alright with you?”

Roy Kent wants to marry me someday. Roy Kent wants to marry me. Roy Kent wants to fucking marry me.

I gave an embarrassed laugh and returned his hug, pretending that he hadn’t just filled my heart with more love than I knew how to carry. “Alright. I’ll wear the fucking sweater then.”

Clad in my dark blue sweater, KENT screaming across the back in white lettering, I stood by the coaches all game long, screaming and cheering louder than usual. Rebecca had been lovely enough to get my family amazing seats, and I swore I could hear my father’s shouts above the rest of the crowd. I tore my eyes away from the gameplay to check the clock, which was fast approaching the 100th minute. By some incredible miracle, we were up 2-1 and just needed the ref to blow the fucking whistle.

As we watched the boys do all they could to keep possession of the ball and push towards Arsenal’s goal, I felt Roy grip my hand tightly and heard him muttering “Come on, fuck, come on,” under his breath non-stop.

Fweet fweet fweeeeeeeeeet!

“Holy fuck!” At the sound of the final whistle, Roy picked me up and spun me around, squeezing me so tight I swore I’d have bruises the next day. Everyone from the dugout raced onto the pitch, where the team was screaming their heads off, jumping on each other like children.

I spent God knows how long on that field, hugging sweaty men and kissing their faces, shouting out expressions of pride over the roar of the fans who were forcing their way onto the pitch. Roy finally pulled me back to himself with urgency, as if he couldn’t bear to be far from me for long.

“Are you fucking crying?” There was a loving edge of teasing in his voice as his thumb swiped across my cheek, which I hadn’t even realized was wet.

I nodded, not caring that I was full grown woman weeping over a football match. “Fuck yeah I am,” I confirmed. “They fucking did it, Roy.”

He shook his head and wiped away more of my tears. “We fucking did it. You’re part of this team. Don’t you ever fucking forget that.” He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my chin, every square inch of my face. “I love you,” he mumbled as his mouth finally found mine.

“Love you too,” I managed to huff out between kisses that were slowly becoming heated as the boys began shouting the Richmond chant at the top of their lungs and formed a conga line. “Watch it, or Jamie’s gonna give you another warning about keeping things family-friendly.”

“Fuck it. If they wanna broadcast this, we might as well give ’em something worthwhile.” With that, he dipped me backwards, latching his lips to mine in a way that could only be described as cinematic.

That kiss was as if he’d managed to peer into every girlhood fantasy of mine and decided it wasn’t enough. As if he’d taken every great rom-com kiss and wanted to show them how it was done. I knew my girlfriends were sitting in a pub, cackling with glee about how I had twenty-eight posters of this man in my childhood bedroom and was now snogging him on national television. I knew my parents were in the stands, my mum beaming with joy at seeing me so in love, my dad playfully grumbling and asking if Roy really had to kiss her like that, but unable to help the smile on his own face. I knew we’d have to endure lots of teasing at the team celebration, with the guys egging Roy on to kiss me like that again, and with Roy giving in after having just the right amount of shots that would make him forget to be grumpy. And I knew I’d be thinking about this particular kiss for a very, very long time.

As I touched his face, wondering how long we could get away with this embrace before we crossed over into truly insufferable, my mind drifted back to our conversation that morning, and an obvious realization hit me: I want to kiss Roy Kent for the rest of my life.

Rebecca’s email took me off guard. It was a week since the Arsenal match, and Roy was outside putting our suitcases in the car while I double checked the reservations for the weekend holiday we’d planned to celebrate the end of the season. It was supposed to be a simple, easy weekend, full of food and drinks, relaxing, reading, maybe a little sightseeing if I could convince Roy, and no football whatsoever. Just us, a normal couple. But now Rebecca’s email would be looming over my head the whole time.

Roy noticed. Of course he noticed, he noticed everything when it came to me. We had stopped to have lunch and for once, I was quiet. He tilted his head at me as I poked at my food.

“Alright. What the fuck is wrong?”

I looked up at him, the concern in his eyes contrasting with the harsh way he spoke. “Nothin’,” I lied.

He shook his head. “Come off it. I’m not going to spend my first chance to actually relax in months with you not talking to me. You’ve got me too used to all your fucking prattling.” He reached out and took my free hand as his voice softened. “Come on. We’re supposed to tell each other things. Fucking vulnerable, remember?”

Despite myself, I smiled at our favorite word. “I, um, got an email from Rebecca this morning.” I squirmed, not quite looking at Roy.

“Doesn’t she know it’s your fucking break?” he teased, clearly trying to help me relax. “Fuck does she want?”

I set my fork down and took a deep breath before I spoke at hyper speed. “Rebecca wants to make me the Assistant to the Director of Football Operations. Working directly under Higgins. She says they both were very impressed with everything I did this season, and they want to see what I can do with more responsibility. And Higgins wants more time with his family, and he and I get along so well already, and it would be a really great opportunity-”

“I know.”

His suddenness caught me off-guard. “What d’you mean you know?”

He bobbled his head in that nervous manner of his, half-smile playing on his lips. “Rebecca and Higgins came to the gaffers before the Arsenal match and asked what we’d think of the move.”

My stomach fluttered as I stared at him. Fuck, I should have ordered a drink.“And what did you tell her?”

Roy sipped the beer he’d been smart enough to order. “Told her she could fuck right off if she thought she could move you out of our office.” He smirked and shrugged. “And that you completely fucking deserve it.” He leaned forward earnestly. “You’re too fucking good to stay down there with us, babe. You should be running the whole fucking club, not just bossing around me and Ted and Beard. You are going to be amazing. I’ll fucking manage to figure out how to get to interviews and press conferences on time, I promise.”

Tears I didn’t realize had formed threatened to fall when I saw the excitement and pride glowing on his face. “Just put a fucking reminder on your phone, you idiot,” I managed to choke out.

“See, it’s that loving, patient guidance I’m going to miss when you’re upstairs plotting your hostile takeover of the football world.” Roy lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. “Almost as much as I’ll miss seeing your gorgeous face every time I walk into our office.” He squeezed my hand. “Take the fucking job.”

“It’s a pretty great job,” I murmured, gazing at our hands. “And I mean, who knows, maybe someday I could have Higgins’s post.”

Roy’s smile widened when he saw me seriously considering the position. “Ruthless woman. I’ll let Higgins know you’re coming for his job.”

He earned a laugh from me. “We’ll see how I like being his assistant first,” I assured Roy. I squeezed his hand, thinking. “I’m just really going to miss sharing an office with you, y’know?”

He shrugged. “Guess we gotta figure out a way to make up for all that lost time.” He paused, taking a sip of his beer as his eyes suddenly became shifty. “Say, what do you think of that flat of yours?”

I almost choked on the sudden shift in the conversation. “My flat? It’s fine. I like it well enough.”

Roy’s face became serious. “But d’you really like it? Because I’d be willing to move in, but fucking Oscar’s spoiled and likes having a yard. I really think he’d prefer it if you moved in with us.” He licked his lips anxiously. “I’d fucking like it too.”

Roy wants to live together. Roy wants to live together. Roy wants to live together. “You want me to move in with you?” I squeaked, wondering, as I often did, when I would wake up from the dream I was living in.

“You already have your own key. You’re there even more than your own flat. Half your shit is already in my closet. I fucking hate it when you’re not there. Besides, you can’t fucking cook, so I’d like to make sure you’re well-fed.” He shrugged. “D’you want to?”

He was doing that thing. That thing where he acted like something was insignificant and casual, like it didn’t matter too much, when underneath he was a ball of nerves, anxiously waiting for an answer. It was a defense mechanism, for sure. A way to make sure people knew that whatever they said didn’t matter to Roy, even though I knew that what I said mattered to him very much. It was, in my opinion, one of the most adorable and attractive things he did.

I didn’t make him sit in that nervousness for long. “Yeah. Yes. Definitely.” My smile was probably the dopiest, silliest one I’d ever worn. “I’d love to.”

“You sure? You don’t seem too thrilled.” Roy grinned and leaned back in his seat, staring at me for a moment. “Look at you. Kickass new job, moving in with your dishy boyfriend. Your life fucking rocks.”

“I’m sorry, did you just call yourself dishy?” I snorted.

He cleared his throat, cheeks tinted pink. “Fucking saw someone call me that on Twitter the other day. Figured my girlfriend would agree.”

I shook my head and laughed. “God, what’re you going to do without me in the office telling you when you sound like an absolute wanker?”

The off-season involved a lot of moving on my part. First, I had to pack up my entire flat and move everything into Roy’s house; luckily, Roy was right when he said that half of my things were already at his place. He’d managed to wrangle the players who weren’t away on holiday to help us move all the boxes one afternoon, rewarding them with pizza and beer, which somehow evolved into a karaoke party in Roy’s- our- living room, with Oscar jumping from person to person, just waiting for someone to drop a slice of pizza.

It was well past midnight by the time everyone left; I assumed Roy would want to go straight to sleep after the exhausting day we’d had. Instead, he dragged me into the kitchen once I’d changed into an old Sunderland shirt of his.

“Didn’t you have enough pizza already?” I asked, stifling a yawn. “’m ready for bed.”

“Just have one thing to do first,” he mumbled, rummaging through the fridge. “Grab a couple of glasses from the bar, yeah?”

Rolling my eyes, I did as I was told, picking up a pair of wine glasses that Keeley had gifted us in honor of the move. When I brought them back to Roy, I stopped in my tracks.

On the counter was a chilled bottle of champagne and a tiny cake, just perfect for two. Roy leaned on the counter, eyeing me carefully, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What’s all this then?” I breathed, blinking from either the tiredness or the surprise. Maybe both.

Roy shrugged, picking up the bottle. “Fucking celebrating of course.” He opened the bottle with ease, but not without champagne starting to flow out. “Shit, bring me the glasses,” he laughed, trying to avoid spilling everywhere.

The kitchen filled with sleepy giggles as we managed to get most of the champagne into the glasses rather than on the countertop. Once we’d finally gotten our glasses filled properly, I sat in my usual spot, with Roy opting to stand next to me, gazing at me softly. He held up his glass.

“Welcome home,” he murmured, tapping his glass to mine with a small clink.

My cheeks warmed as I sipped my champagne, staring at Roy as he did the same. Maybe it was the late hour and my tiredness, but it didn’t feel real, moving in with Roy. And it wasn’t even because it was Roy freaking Kent; rather, it was because I found it hard to believe anyone was capable of feeling the intense love that burned in my chest as Roy handed me a fork and slid the little cake towards me.

We ate and drank in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the clinking of forks against the plate and Oscar pattering around and our soft chuckles every time our eyes met. After Roy put everything in the sink, mumbling something about taking care of the dishes in the morning, he turned to me, sleepy smile on his face.

“Oi, you brought the blanket, right?”

I had this one particular blanket that had always laid on my couch in my flat. My gran had made it, and it was, without a doubt, the warmest, comfiest blanket in the universe. Roy had gotten in the habit of stealing it from the first time he’d come over to watch The Sound of Music and often brought it to bed when he spent the night. Honestly, there was a very real chance he asked me to move in just so he could have the blanket at his house.

“Um, yeah, it’s one of these boxes somewhere…” I ran my fingers through my hair, eyeing the ridiculous number of cardboard boxes that now decorated Roy’s- our- house.

Before I could suggest he waited until the morning to look for it, he had already walked over to one of the boxes and started digging. Since he clearly was not going to bed until he found it, I figured I might as well do the dishes. I was rinsing the glasses we’d drank champagne out of when I heard-

“What the absolute fuck is this?”

When I turned around, there were two Roy Kents in the doorway. One was my boyfriend, shirtless and ready for bed, eyebrows raised higher than I’d ever seen them, his mouth wide open in amusement, laughter bursting out of him. The other was cardboard, clad in his Richmond uniform and wearing a scowl.

“Oh fuck!” I nearly dropped the glass I was holding. “You weren’t- that box was supposed to go to my mum’s- shit!” I was choking on embarrassment as my face turned redder than a tomato.

In all the years I’d spent watching him on television and the countless hours I’d now spent in his presence, I had never heard Roy Kent laugh so damn much. He was doubled over with laughter, wiping away tears and making so much noise he woke up Oscar.

I turned off the sink and stormed over, folding the cardboard cutout back up and tossing it on top of the box it had come out of. With a huff, I turned to Roy, who was finally starting to breathe again.

“It was a gag gift from my dad for my birthday a few years ago,” I mumbled, not looking at his smug face. “Kept it because my mates and I thought it was funny to bring out when we watched matches at my place. I was going to take it to my mum’s, figured one of these days I’d sort through all my… football things and throw some stuff out and decide what to do with the rest.”

Seeing the humiliation on my face, Roy sobered up and grabbed my shoulders. “C’mere,” he chuckled, tugging me close to himself. “Please tell me you were not going to throw that thing away.”

I shrugged, still avoiding his gaze. “Probably. I dunno. Wasn’t planning on deciding that right now.”

“Hey.” He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at the tenderness in his eyes. “Don’t you dare be fucking embarrassed.” He tilted his head when I let out a little hmmf. “Did I… did I ever apologize for bringing up your posters that night?”

We both knew what he was referring to.

“Dunno,” I muttered, knowing full well that the answer was no. We’d never brought up that particular comment.

“Oh.” Roy’s hands slid off my shoulders and he grabbed my hand, leading me to the couch. We sat, and he kept my hand in his. “I’m sorry. I… I never want you to feel embarrassed about having a fucking crush on me, alright?”

I shrugged, glancing away. “It’s… it’s silly. All those posters and the sweater and now the freaking cardboard cutout. It just reminds me what a crazed stalker fan I was before we met. Makes me feel a bit embarrassed.”

He smiled and shifted closer. “It might be a little silly,” he agreed. “But it’s also fucking flattering.” He brushed some hair out of my face. “Y’know, when I first saw all that stuff in your room, I thought my heart was going to fucking stop. Because there you were, my stunning new officemate, with my stupid fucking face on your walls. Even the really bad pictures.” He shrugged, suddenly bashful. “Made me realize I had a real fucking shot with you.” He gestured towards the folded-up cutout. “So, I know when you see that shit, you feel embarrassed and all, but when I see it, I remember how fucking excited I got when I realized that you were at least attracted to me. And how seeing you get all flustered, just like you are right now-” He poked my nose affectionately. “-gave me the guts to kiss you.”

To punctuate his point, he leaned over and gently pressed his lips to mine, reminding me of that moment in my bedroom, where he sat on my bed and asked if he was still hot and kissed me for the first time. It felt just as surreal now as it did then, and I asked whatever god was out there to not let me wake up from this dream.

When Roy pulled back, he wore that same fucking smile, the one I didn’t think I’d ever get used to seeing. “Right. Help me find the fucking blanket so we can get some sleep, hmm?” Holding my hand, he helped me to my feet, and the two of us set to work, looking for the blanket so we could finally go to our bed.

Working for Higgins was an easy adjustment. I loved my new office upstairs; I had put up photos of Roy, both of my little orange sticky notes, a couple drawings from Phoebe, pictures with Keeley and Rebecca, Oscar, the team, my family, Roy’s family. The handmade card that Ted, Beard, Roy, and the whole team had signed to congratulate me on the promotion sat on my desk, alongside a framed photo of Roy kissing me after the final game against Arsenal, courtesy of Keeley, who’d found it in a tabloid.

I loved having my office right next to Higgins, who liked to pop in for a chat in the late mornings, and brought in treats that his wife made for us to share, and tapped out a beat on our shared wall when I played my music loud enough for him to hear. He listened excitedly to my ideas and suggestions, and he quickly stopped referring to me as “Assistant to the Director of Football Operations” and began calling me “Assistant Director of Football Operations”; it was a change everyone at the Dog Track was quick to adopt.

But I had to admit, my favorite thing about my new office was the window by my desk. As much as I missed my office that I had shared with Roy, this office had one great advantage: the view. My window overlooked the pitch, where I could watch training. Meaning, I could watch Roy. When my window was cracked open, the way it always happened to be when the team was on the pitch, I could hear him screaming “Whistle!” and swearing at Jamie. Sometimes I’d just stand by the window and watch for a bit; that always managed to catch his eye, and I was always rewarded with a smirk and a wave from Roy, sometimes some teasing whistles from the team or a cheerful “Howdy!” from Ted.

After a bit more than a full season working upstairs, I found myself skipping from Higgins’s office to mine. We’d been pursuing a great young player out of Mexico, someone Dani had brought to our attention, and we’d finally signed him. And, despite my insistence that this was a team effort, I had been instrumental in making it happen. So, Keeley and Rebecca decided to take me out to a celebratory lunch, one that Rebecca informed me would take the rest of the afternoon and also required me to dress nice. Accordingly, I had worn heels and a springy little dress that had made Roy’s jaw drop with a soft “Whoa” that morning as we got ready for work. Seeing that man check me out still managed to make my heart flutter with delight.

After popping into Higgins’s office to let him know I was heading out, I went back to mine to open the window and shout down a quick goodbye to Roy. Instead, I found an empty pitch. Weird.

I figured they must have gone into the weight room or something, just a spontaneous change of plans. Par for the course with Ted in charge. So, I made my way downstairs, thinking I’d pop into Roy’s office to see if I could get a proper goodbye.

The changing room was eerily quiet, as was Ted and Beard’s office. I poked my head into Roy’s office, which I hated to admit looked empty since I’d moved upstairs. It was especially empty without Roy. With a small hmmf, I paused to glance over his desk, smiling when I glimpsed the picture of us that sat on his desk, a selfie in front of the Mona Lisa that he’d grumbled good-naturedly about.

“That’s a great picture of us.”

Roy stood in the doorway, kebab takeaway container in hand. He smiled and walked over to me, placing the Styrofoam box on his desk. He kissed my forehead sweetly and let his eyes trail over my face.

“Just wanted to say bye before I head to lunch,” I explained, giving his leather jacket a friendly tug. “You look nice, by the way. Interview today?”

He shrugged. “Just didn’t want to be in fucking workout clothes all day,” he mumbled. He nodded towards the takeaway box. “Got you somethin’.”

I frowned. “Kebabs? Roy, I told you I’ve got lunch plans with Keeley and Rebecca.”

“Open the box.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Roy, I’m gonna be late. Can’t you just toss these in the fridge, and I’ll eat them tonight? Or you can eat them. Or-”

“Just open the fucking box,” Roy said with a laugh, eyebrows raised. “Shit, you really never fucking shut up.”

Narrowing my eyes, I picked up the surprisingly light container. I glanced back at Roy, who nodded at me, encouraging me to open it. With a sigh I opened the lid. Instead of finding our usual lunch, there was a small, velvet box inside and a little orange sticky note that simply read:

To my future wife

XOXO Roy

I snapped my head up to look at Roy, whose smile had grown. Hands shaking slightly, I picked up the black box, letting the Styrofoam container plop back onto Roy’s desk. When I opened the little box, I gasped.

Inside was a diamond ring. It was simple, a small diamond, the exact kind I’d described to Keeley and Rebecca at our sleepover so long ago. I looked back up at Roy, whose eyes had that old anxiety swimming in them, alongside affection and tenderness.

“I’d get down on one knee, but, y’know,” he mumbled, offering up a bashful smile. He cleared his throat. “If I could go back to the first time I bought you kebabs for lunch, I’d have done this. Because every minute of not being married to you is a big fucking waste of time.”

My breath caught in my throat as I blinked back tears. “Roy,” I gasped, my eyes shifting back to the beautiful ring.

He reached over and took the ring out of the box and held it up to me. “What d’you say?” His voice was soft, tender, full of adoration to an extent I’d never heard. “Please say yes.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the familiar phrase. “Yes.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, my heart bursting at the feeling of his smile against mine.

To my surprise, he pulled back. “She fucking said yes!” he hollered, slipping the ring on my finger.

In an instant, every Greyhound player, along with Ted, Beard, Rebecca, Higgins, and Keeley, burst into the tiny office, shouting and cheering and hugging each other with even more joy than when they’d finished first. Someone- Dani and Colin and Sam, I presumed- started throwing confetti around the office while we were ambushed with hugs and kisses and congratulations.

Keeley and Rebecca smothered me in their arms, offering their own words of excitement and joy. I looked at them suspiciously.

“There was no lunch, was there?”

Rebecca scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Roy asked if we could find an excuse to dress you up,” she admitted, tears in her eyes.

Keeley, who was openly crying, held up her phone. “And a good thing! Look how fucking beautiful you look!” Sure enough, I looked gorgeous in the photos Keeley had managed to take of the proposal. But my eyes were drawn to Roy’s face and the absolute joy that could be seen there.

I felt someone grab my hand and tug; Roy smiled down at me as he pulled me close. “Did I do good?” he murmured. When I nodded, he grunted. “Good. I’m actually impressed that these muppets could keep a fucking secret.”

As he pulled me into a proper kiss, Jamie and Sam started a chant that everyone quickly joined in: “He’s here, he’s there, he��s gonna marry her! Roy Kent! Roy Kent!”

The night before the wedding, I packed a bag to go stay at my parents’ house, where Keeley, my maid of honor, insisted on having a sleepover so she could see the shrine, as my childhood bedroom was often called.

Her mouth widened into that Cheshire-cat grin as she took in all the posters. “Holy shit, it’s even better than I imagined!” she giggled, setting her things down. “You’re telling me that Roy saw this, and that’s what made him decide to kiss you?”

Sitting down on my bed, I chuckled. “I know. He must’ve really fucking liked me.”

Instead of joining me, Keeley meandered around my room, pointing out different posters and tittering at them. She turned to me, eyebrow cocked. “Alright. Which one is your absolute favorite?”

I bobbled my head, grinning. “Well, there’s always this one.” I pointed above me to the poster of a young Roy that my dad and I had argued over the placement of. I stood and skipped over to the closet. “Or this one.” Taped inside my closet was a picture of a shirtless Roy running, the one that I’d secretly ripped out of a magazine when I was sixteen and spent far too many hours drooling over.

Keeley howled with laughter at the sight of it. “Holy shit, no wonder you’re marrying him, he looks fit as fuck there. Has he seen this one?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” I answered, joining in her snickering. “That’s the one secret I’m going to keep from my husband, thank you very much.”

We spent the rest of the night sitting on my bed, gabbing and giggling and sharing the champagne Keeley had packed in her overnight bag, until Keeley knocked out next to me. I gazed up at the ceiling, staring at Roy, unable to believe what my life had become. When I had put that poster up, I was a giggling young girl, fantasizing about what it would be like to meet the guy on the poster, the one who made me betray my family and watch Chelsea matches. And in mere hours, I’d be standing in front of that same man and marrying him.

Oh, if only my teenage self could see me now.

As excited as teenage me would be about marrying Roy freaking Kent (and the fact that we got to shag that gorgeous man), she’d be even more excited to find out that he was kind. And loving. And funny. And good with dogs and kids, despite himself. And that he loved The Sound of Music and reading. And that he was a damn good cook. And that he begrudgingly sang Spice Girls songs on road trips. And that he loved us.

Before I drifted off to sleep, I blew a kiss to the Roy on my ceiling, silently thanking him for his role in introducing me to the real Roy Kent.

My hands started to sweat as I heard the violins playing. Keeley had squeezed me tight and shoved my bouquet in my hands before walking down the aisle, where Roy stood with Jamie, who he’d asked to be best man through gritted teeth. After Keeley went Phoebe, in her poofy dress, who, at this point, was probably more excited about the wedding than anyone else.

As I took my position in front of the closed doors, my dad linked our arms, smiling at me with gentle pride. “You ready?” With my mouth insanely dry, all I could manage was a firm nod. “Roy Kent,” he clucked, shaking his head. “You’re really marrying Roy fucking Kent.” He kissed my cheek. “And more importantly, you’re marrying someone who loves you the way you deserve.”

“That I am,” I managed, taking a deep breath as the doors opened.

Roy’s eyes lit up the moment he saw me, just like I knew mine did at the sight of him. As a surprise, I’d asked the violinists to play the wedding march from The Sound of Music for my walk down the aisle; I could see the moment Roy realized it, because he threw his head back and rolled his eyes cheekily.

After my dad kissed my cheek and placed my hand on Roy’s, Roy leaned forward. “My fucking Maria,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“My Captain von Trapp,” I countered with a wink.

Rebecca had meant it as a joke when she offered to let us use the Dog Track as our reception venue. But Roy and I jumped at the offer, thinking it was fitting, considering how central A.F.C. Richmond was to our relationship. In the days leading up to our wedding day, we spent hours transforming the pitch into a proper party space, surpassing all of our expectations.

After allowing people to mingle with appetizers and drinks, Ted, who we’d allowed to play emcee for the night, called us forward for toasts. Roy sighed and rolled his eyes, more of a reflex than anything else, and gripped my hand tight as we walked to the stage that Keeley had managed to have brought in.

Roy took the microphone from Ted with a grunt and a curt nod. He let out a deep breath and brought the microphone to his mouth. “Right. So, for some reason, everyone thinks that prick over there is my best friend.” He pointed at Jamie, who stood up, looking prouder than when he was named Player of the Year. “But honestly, this right here is my best friend in the world.” He turned back to me, ignoring the offended scoff from Jamie. “From the moment I crashed her father’s birthday dinner, she’s become my very best friend.” He cleared his throat and gave his head a little nervous scratch. “So, most people who know us know the story of how we got together. Dad’s birthday dinner, posters in the childhood bedroom, secret relationship that apparently everyone at Nelson Road fucking knew about. But, I’ve never told anyone about how I was basically a fucking stalker before any of that.”

I looked over at Roy quizzically. He smirked and continued.

“See, I fancied her the fucking moment I met her. Like, Ted brought her into the office, and I couldn’t say a fucking word. I think I told her not to wear any rank perfume and then just slouched off.” Everyone gave out a light chuckle. “Then I bought her lunch, as a way to, I dunno, make conversation. And we sort of started chatting at work a bit after that. And then this one Friday night she leaves early. And Ted says that he forgot to give her some papers he’d wanted her to work on over the weekend, and he’s all ‘Oh well, she can get it Monday’. But me, being properly whipped at this point, I fucking say ‘I’ll take it to her’.”

My jaw fell slightly; this whole time, I had thought Ted must’ve begged or bribed Roy to bring me those papers. Had he really brought them just to see me?

“I made up some shit about how she told me whereabouts she lived and that it wasn’t too far from my place. And now, looking back, I don’t think he fucking believed me.”

“Nope!” Ted called out with a hearty laugh. “I knew you were in love!”

Roy playfully shot Ted his favorite gesture and continued. “So, I realized I had no clue where she lived. And I felt like an absolute wanker. But then I remembered, we were on some stupid Snapchat group with Ted.”

“You’re welcome!” Ted chimed in again.

Roy rolled his eyes. “And this gorgeous idiot had her location on. So, I did what any sane guy would do: I fucking stalked her. And I turned into fucking Hugh Grant in Love Actually and went knocking on every door in that neighborhood like a right idiot. Until finally, I knocked on a door and saw this beautiful face.” He smiled gently at me. “And I realized right then that I loved that face. And I wanted to see that face every day.” He leaned over and gave me a small kiss. “So, I just want to say, I fucking love you. And I am so happy that I get to see your face and buy you kebabs for the rest of my life.” He took the champagne flute that Ted was holding out to him. “To Mrs. Roy Kent.”

“Mrs. Roy Kent!” everyone repeated, clinking their glasses together and sipping their champagne.

I toasted with Roy and took the microphone he offered me. “All I can say,” I started as everyone quieted, “is that dreams really do come true, and sometimes you get to marry the guy on the poster.” Everyone gave a light chuckle before I went on. “Honestly, though. Anyone who knows me knows that I have had a monstrous crush on this beautiful man for years. Pretty much since the day he made his debut. My poor dad had to watch me put up posters of a Chelsea player on my walls. Best day of his life was when Roy Kent came to Richmond, because it finally meant me putting up Greyhound posters.”

My dad’s laugh was the loudest of all.

“But I realized that today I’m not marrying some guy on a poster.” I turned to Roy and looked into his eyes. “Today I’m marrying Roy. The fit guy I met at work who cooks and who is a wonderful uncle and who loves Dan Brown novels and makes me happy.” I knew my smile was big and silly as I gazed at him. “When I met you, it was a dream come true, getting to know my big celebrity crush. But now, the life I’m living is better than any dream. And I love you for that. I absolutely love you.” I leaned over and planted a heated kiss on his lips, eliciting wolf-whistles from the Greyhounds. Blushing, I raised my glass. “To Roy!”

“To Roy!” came the echo, amidst cheers and sips of champagne.

Rot was relieved when the toasts were over (especially Jamie’s surprisingly tearful speech). We went through the rest of the motions- first dance, dinner, cutting the cake- and finally came to the part of the evening we were most looking forward to: the party. We danced with our friends and drank, reveling in the joy we all shared.

I was enjoying a dance with Beard when Roy grabbed my hand, saying he needed to show me something.

“Roy, can’t you wait until we leave for our honeymoon?” I teased as he led me away from the dance floor.

He rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I think you talk so fucking much just so I kiss you to try to shut you up,” he quipped.

We came to a stop at the edge of the party, where a flat wrapped package sat alone. I stared at Roy quizzically as he picked it up and handed it to me.

“I think your office can use some more décor,” he started slowly. “Especially because I heard some rumors about Higgins thinking about early retirement.”

I sighed and bit back a smile. “There has been talk,” I admitted. “Nothing set in stone, but I am definitely in the running to eventually become the D.F.O. once Higgins is ready to hand over the reins.” I gestured to whatever it was I held in my hands. “But what’s this?”

He bobbled his head. “Wedding gift. For your office. I’ve owed you this for a while now.”

My curiosity growing, I quickly opened the gift, letting the paper fall to the floor. It was something in a frame. I turned it over and threw my head back when I saw it.

It was the poster from my ceiling, the one Roy and I sat under when we kissed for the first time, only now it was framed. And more importantly, autographed.

“You’re an arsehole,” I laughed, cupping Roy’s cheek and pressing a kiss to his lips. “And I fucking love it.”

He shrugged, taking the poster from my hands and laying it down so he could hold me, leaning his forehead to mine. “Told you I’d autograph it for you,” he mumbled before peppering kisses all over my face. “I think it’ll look fucking great in your office, don’t you?”

I laughed and nodded. “Even if I don’t become D.F.O., I’ll still have the best office decorations in the building.”

Roy pulled back, studying my face carefully. “Fuck that. You’re going to get it.” He kissed me again. “After all, you’re a fucking superstar.”

I let out a small huff, embarrassed by the praise. “Roy-”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

And with that, he shut me up in the best way he knew how.

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#Roy Kent Superstar #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fic

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thewritingofamadwoman · 10 months

Text

Roy Kent Fluff

Pairing: Roy Kent x Reader

Warnings: So much fluff, it’s sick

Enjoy

The spring breeze felt like heaven across my cheeks as I watched the game unfold before my eyes. Roy stood close behind me, his left arm wrapped around my shoulders lovingly, his elbow by my chin. He continues to chat with Ms. Bowen, and I unconsciously lean forward to place a kiss on his forearm, his arm hair tickling my lips. I had the ridiculous urge to bite him playfully, but I settled for reaching both of my hands up and placing them on his forearm, keeping him in place.

The conversation between Roy and Phoebe’s teacher dwindled as the game continued, the girls running back and forth across the tiny school field as they chased the ball. I let out a whoop of excitement when Phoebe kicked the ball towards the goal. Roy pressed a kiss to my temple, his arm squeezing me to him gently. His lips were warm against my skin and my heart fluttered in my chest. I looked up at him as he towered over me, and offered him a sweet smile.

“Ms Bowen fancies you, you know.” I teased as the teacher walked away to speak with other parents and family members. Roy’s eyebrow ticked up as he smirked, and I nuzzled further back into his embrace.

“No she does not,” he replied but we both knew he was being facetious. Roy turned his attention to the game when the school referee blew the halftime whistle and the girls were sent back to their coaches at the other side of the field. Phoebe turned to look at us and both Roy and I gave her a wave and a thumbs up. She waved back enthusiastically before catching up with the rest of her team.

“Oh yes she does,” I pressed on. “I don’t blame her though. Have you SEEN yourself?” I pretended to swoon and leaned back to look up at him again. Roy ignored me and I continued on.

“You’re the fucking hottest uncle here! You’re rugged, sexy, sweet with the children, not to mention fun, adorable…have I said sexy? Hot as fuck too,” I rambled playfully, watching as Roy fought the grin attempting to break free, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red as he blushed.

“Alright alright, fuck off, that’s enough,” he grunted, pulling me in closer and this time leaning down to rest his chin on my head. His one arm was still around my shoulders and he placed his other hand on waist.

“It’s true! And don’t even get me started on you with a full fucking beard,” I leaned in closer, conspiratorially. “If I think about it hard enough I’m pretty sure I might cum,” I whispered and Roy barked out a laugh.

“You’re such a fucking little shit,” he growled playfully, and dug his fingers into my right side. I let out a little squeak before giggling, trying to squirm away from his hold. After a few more seconds of torture, Roy relented, chuckling along with me as I tried to catch my breath. Roy placed another sweet kiss on my temple, his voice by my ear.

“She can fancy me all she fucking wants. She’s not the one for me,” he exhaled, and the smile I could hear in his voice most definitely matched the one I was wearing. I turned my head towards him again and my heart fluttered at the way Roy’s eyes bore into mine, his stare full of amusement and love. We were in our own bubble, surrounded by chatting parents and cheering children. Roy leaned forward and I met him halfway, as our lips connected in a soft kiss. We broke apart shortly after, only to be met with Phoebe and her team mates screaming our names to us in a chant from across the field.

“-K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage!!”

The girls laughed and cheered, some even making “Ooooooh” sounds before Roy rolled his eyes at them.

“Oi, focus on the game you little pricks! Ref, blow the fucking whistle!”

I nudged Roy with my elbow at his use of profanity, but most of the parents didn’t say a word, too busy being enamored at having THE Roy Kent in their presence.

“Uncle Roy, that’s another quid for my swear jar!” Phoebe called out.

“Yeah, alright, just put it on my tab!” He replied back loudly so she could hear him.

“Okay! Can we get ice cream later?”

“Yeah, okay fine!” Roy nodded before glaring at the referee who immediately blew the whistle, starting the clock. Phoebe had the biggest smile on her face before jumping right back into the game. I found myself laughing and Roy sighed.

“Don’t sigh, you love this,” I smiled up at him and he nodded back.

“I do,” he agreed, giving me a rare 100-watt smile.

#roy kent x reader #roy kent fluff #roy kent fanfic #roy kent x reader insert #roy kent x you #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction

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daydreamgoddess14 · 1 year

Text

Hot Water

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent xF!Reader

5 Times Roy Kent ends up on your doorstep even though you know it can't keep happening.

~~~

I feel like this was dragged from me kicking and screaming. It started out just a little smutty one shot and now it's a slightly longer one. I do hope you like it, I'm not sure I do but hey ho, there's always the next one! 🙃

~~~

Well. This was really fucking inconvenient.

You’re literally laying on the bathroom floor. Underneath the fucking bath. Something, somewhere, somehow has sprung a leak and you’re resolved to fix it. You’ve even got your dad’s old toolkit out in the hope that wielding a tool might help. It hasn’t so far. It doesn’t help that you know approximately zero about plumbing. This is all just capping off a pretty fantastically awful couple of months to be honest. And although it’s a work day, and therefore your biggest problem is at the forefront of your mind, you’re going to have to forget the main reason behind your shitty time recently. Because this leak ain’t going to fix itself. You’re doing a masterful job so far - real professional. You’ve remembered to turn the stopcock off which is a big bonus. You nearly broke your hand doing it, but it’s done. You give your spanner an experimental jiggle over what looks like a loose nut, but as you do so, a spider runs over your hand. That little fucker is the catalyst for everything else. You squeal and pull your hand back, whacking first the pipe and then dropping the spanner onto your forehead. Whacking the pipe leads to the spider's little spider buddies coming out to find him, and you soon have one on its way up your arm and one in your hair. All limbs and spanner and spiders, you’re dragging yourself out from under the bath and shaking the little bastards off. Crying, of course, because what else are you meant to do when there are 3 spiders on you and you’ve just hit yourself in the face with a metal tool?

It’s already 7am, you need to be getting ready for work so there’s nothing else for it, you can shower at work. Luckily, luckily , if you head out now you should be early enough that you’d be alone there. The lads won’t be there til 9am anyway, so it’s only the staff and possibly coaches who might be there any earlier. The showers should be free. You try and give yourself a spider once over, throw on a pair of joggers and a jumper over your PJ shorts set and shove half your life in a bag. You’re only a 10 minute walk from Nelson Road so you don’t bother driving. You head straight in through the side door and shout hello to the cleaner who’s at the top of the stairs to Rebecca’s office. Passed the locker room, and into the depths between the gym and the training pitch are the showers. You put your bag on the bench and pull out a towel and some Richmond kit to wear afterwards. As one of two sports massage therapists for the team, you live in joggers and Richmond vests. Boring but functional. You’ve seen no one, heard no one, but you’re still not keen on the idea of stripping off in a men's shower room so you’re absolutely keeping the knickers on. One less area to have to cover up. You hang up the stuff you need, put away the under bath grimy stuff you’ve just taken off, and switch the shower on. Colin was not wrong about that water pressure. You’re OK. It's OK. This was the right thing to do. A scalding shower with pressure hard enough to feel like you’re being clapped on the back by The Rock sounds like bliss. While the shower heats up, you strip off (except the knickers, of course) and grab your shampoo. That little bastard spider is not leaving babies in your hair. No fucking way. As a second thought just before you get under the water spray, you switch Spotify on your phone so you can drown to the angry sounds of Olivia Rodrigo. You’re getting pretty good at the speed on Good 4 U, though sometimes scream singing it does leave you feeling like you’ve run a marathon. You’re better at the unhinged wail you can really give to ‘bloodsucker, famefucker’ on Vampire, it just hits different at the moment. The hot water hits your body and you finally relax.

~~~~~~

You wish you weren’t so outwardly affected. It was always going to go this way, you could have done more to protect your heart though - it would have saved you looking so foolish, and it would have saved a ruined friendship. That was the hardest part to deal with. You’d joined the staff under Ted Lasso and had built a great rapport with the players and the coaching staff. You considered them friends - all of them. Sure, you harboured a pretty big crush on Roy Kent, but it didn’t affect your work. You ignored those feelings, trampled over them and focused on getting on with your job. Notoriously slow to win over, he eventually became as good a friend as everyone else. The night of the West Ham game was insane. Ted was leaving, everyone was bouncing between elation over finishing second in the league and the prospects that would bring, and losing Ted. There were tears of joy and laughter one minute and tears of devastation the next. Ola’s could barely contain the emotion everyone was feeling. You’d decided to hit the road, everything was winding down anyway and the players were going on to an exclusive club which they’d invited you to as well - and you knew full well you wouldn’t have to buy a drink all night, they’d never let you do that when it was £25 for a double gin, but you didn’t want to carry the party on. You’d kissed whoever you could reach, hugged as many as you could see and air high-fived Sam from across the way. You stepped out into the late May night, it was still warm so you lingered outside with your drink while you waited for the taxi.

“Oi, how come I didn’t fucking get one?” Roy asked, stepping out to join you by the window.

“Hey, you going to the club? Get what?”

“A hug.” He nudged your shoulder.

“That’s my taxi. You always get a hug.” You slipped your arm across his back and leaned up a little to reach him better. “See you Monday.”

“You can’t go back in a taxi on your own?”

“Course I can, I always do.” You laughed, pulling open the door. He held it open while you sat in the backseat and slipped in after you.

“C’mon, I’ll make sure it gets you back ok.” You haven’t moved quite far enough along the seat so as the taxi driver rounds each corner, you're pushed further into Roy. “So everyone else gets hugs and kisses eh?”

“Only the people I could reach. Also, you just had a hug, stop complaining.” Another corner taken at a higher speed than necessary smushed you into his side. “Jesus, is this guy ready to finish or something.” He put a hand on your thigh,

“You ok?”

“Yeah fine.” The heat of his hand lit up your skin, the addition of far too many drinks made you feel flushed. You both looked at his hand on your leg and then back to each other, the streetlights illuminating you both and then sending you into darkness again. You didn’t know if it was an unconscious move or deliberate, but his thumb brushed gently in small circles on your bare skin. You’re sure he must be able to see your heart pounding through your dress. As he leans forward into you, his hand moves up just another inch and as you gasp at the sensation, he lightly kisses you.

“Here we are. That's a tenner please, love.” Roy goes for his wallet but you push his hand out of the way and hand the driver a note from your bag. He has to open the door to let you out, “you coming back in, fella?” the driver asks. He looks down at the hand which he held out to help you from the taxi to find he’s still holding it.

“No thanks, mate.” You’ve barely got the front door closed behind you before he’s pushed you up against it and kissing you with a fierceness you hadn't realised you were so desperate for. Your hands worked fast, pushing his jacket down his arms and onto the floor with a thud, and pulling him back to you by his t-shirt. The dress Keeley suggested for you is flattering, but a little more revealing than you’d usually wear. Shorter than you’d normally go for and with a low neckline too. He’s got one hand up in your hair and the other is back on your leg, halfway up the skirt while he kisses your jawline. His body presses against you and you can feel him, hard through his jeans. You bring up the leg he’s got a hand on and he hooks it over his hip, it tilts your lower body further into his and he is so close to where you need him it sends you dizzy. It's impossible to disguise the neediness of your moans and the hand that's up your skirt is moving further up to grip the fleshy soft spot between your hip and thigh.

"God, Roy -," you whine, you rock your hips towards his,

"Sure you want this?" You nod against his shoulder, "Talk to me, babe," he asks.

"Yes, yeah I'm sure," you're pulling at his t-shirt, dragging it over his head.

When he mutters "good girl," against your collarbone, you're certain you could come there and then. He traces the line of your knickers with his fingers, feeling just how ready you are for him, "fucking hell," he says, wrecked. He slips his fingers inside you and presses his thumb to your clit. He seems to know exactly what you need and just when you're at the brink, grasping for the release that's just out of reach, he kisses you. It's hot and rough and sends you right over the edge. He gives you a minute, a slightly softer kiss, but you don't need it, you only want him. Your shaking hands fumble with the button of his jeans until he takes over and does it himself, he's dug out a condom from his wallet. You're still fully clothed, still wearing the high heels that, with his help, have you at exactly the right height for him to push into you. It's everything. Everything you've fantasised about since the day you were introduced, he's the only thing that stands out from your first day at the club. In a room full of high-profile, well-paid, gorgeous footballers, he's the only one you see. He thrusts into you using your hips as leverage, the spike of your heel grazing the back of his thigh. Your hands hold fast to the back of his neck and his shoulder,

"Roy, fuck, you feel so good." Your name is reverent on his lips as he comes and on hearing, you're there too. His pace slows as his hips stutter, and your head rests in the crook of his neck while you catch your breath. All at once, he's gentle again, carefully bringing your leg back down and making sure you're steady on your feet. He looks a little sheepish as he steps back away from you, taking you hands to help you stand up away from the back of the door,

"You ok?" He asks, while you straighten your dress and pull it back down into place.

"Yep, all good. You?"

"Yeah, yeah fine." He looked like he couldn't get out of there fast enough, his hesitation and unease rubbing off on you. "I should go though,"

"Yeah, no I figured as much."

"It's just been a fucking long day, y'know?"

"I know. Lots of crazy emotions." He must have seen the look of hurt cross your face,

"Not that it was a mistake… but maybe, probably shouldn't have happened? Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a fucking dick-,"

"I get it Roy. It was fun but it didn't mean anything." It didn't mean anything . Probably the biggest lie you've ever told and it's out of your mouth like you knew it had to be said all along.

~~~~~~~~

On Monday morning, you were all notified that Roy would be named as the new head coach for Richmond. He obviously knew beforehand, so within 36 hours you'd gone from sleeping with a colleague to sleeping with your boss, and the sudden distance and desperation to get out of your flat became clear. Along with the knowledge that it definitely could not happen again. Not that he gave the impression that he wanted it to. The following week, you took yourself on holiday for a week with some of the team and friends, just a big villa and a private beach in southern Spain. You'd relaxed, eaten your weight in fresh seafood, and consumed more sangria than you should have. All week, Instagram was full of you and your sunkissed friends having a whale of a time. You returned feeling better about yourself and ready for a few easy admin weeks before the start of the season. And then Roy had shown up at your door.

"Nice holiday?"

"Not bad… can I help you?" You're on your guard, holding the door closed against you.

"Right. Thought I should check in, see how you are?"

"As my boss, or?"

"Can I fucking come in or not?" You hold the door open but keep your arm in the way, childishly making him duck to get through. "Did the lads behave?" He asked from your kitchen.

"Oh yeah. I slept with Jan in the pool, Richard on the beach and shared a bed with Moe and Tommy all week."

"Fucking funny," he didn't look amused.

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" He did a momentary double take. "Course I'm joking. Bad enough that I've fucked the boss, isn't it? Jesus if word got around I might as well quit."

"Don't say that." He growled.

"True though isn't it? You knew, and that's why you left in such a hurry. Quick and dirty. What was it? You'd wondered what it would be like, so thought you might as well give it a go before you started the top job?" He didn't say anything. "And now you're worried that I've been off having too much fun with one of the lads? Like you have any say whatsoever?"

"No. Fuck no. You can do whatever you want."

"I know."

"See whoever you want."

"I know."

"Will you stop arguing with me on this?"

"I'm agreeing with you. Boss." Somehow, you'd managed to square up to each other like you were about to hit him. It was still a reasonably high possibility until he closed the gap and kissed you. Horny traitor that it is, your body gives in immediately. "We shouldn't do this again," you hiss as he bites your shoulder.

"So tell me to fucking stop." He grabs at your loose sleep vest and pulls it off, surprised to find you don't wear anything underneath. "And if you really do want me to stop, then you'd better tell me right fucking now." Instead, you walk him back a step to the sofa and push him to sit down. As soon as he does, you straddle him.

"Do not fucking stop." You warn him, pulling off his t-shirt. It's the same needy, desperate and hot sex that you'd both craved last time, at least this time you already know that it shouldn't be happening. The difference is that it makes it even more intense. He does the same disappearing act as last time, leaving you doubting your life choices and questioning your sanity.

~~~~~~~~

It happens again the next week. With so many people on holiday, Keeley organises a karaoke night for those who are around. It's lairy and a lot of fun, you sing a few songs including a duet with Nate. Soon, the challenge becomes choosing songs for other people. You can't even place the song Keeley has picked for you until the music kicks in, it's not until you're singing it and reading the lyrics that you realise how apt they are.

"I'm yours to keep

And I'm yours to lose

You know I'm not a bad girl

But I do bad things with you

So it goes

Come here, dressed in black now

So, so, so it goes

Scratches down your back now

So, so, so it goes"

You catch his eye as you're singing without meaning to, and it's like lighting a fire in your belly. You know it's going to happen again. You still don't make it to a bedroom. Instead, you get to your knees for him just inside your flat and this time he's the one sounding needy and desperate. You've never heard Roy Kent of all people sound so wrecked and affected. Ever giving, he's utterly confused when you reject him afterwards and send him home without letting him touch you at all.

It's this which brought him back to your door the last time, just over a month ago. You've been in a bit of a downward spiral ever since. It had been over a week since the karaoke night. Pre season training was due to start and you knew you'd be busy with rusty footballers who tried to rush their first decent stretch in weeks. You were exhausted after the first day back, your hands ached and you'd half forgotten what it was like to be on your feet all day. You're yawning your way through a takeout menu when the door goes. Once again, Roy is on your doorstep, but this time he has a bag of food with him. He brushes straight past you and into the kitchen where he manages to plate up two meals despite not knowing where anything is kept and you becoming mute.

"Why are you here?" You mumble.

"I saw the appointment list for today. Thought you'd be fucking knackered." Once you’ve finished eating, he leads you to your own bedroom where he sits you on the bed. "This ok," he asks.

You nod first, then follow up with a hushed, "Yes." He undresses you slowly, taking his time in a way he hasn't any of the other times before. He lays you back on the bed and settles between your thighs, you're in pieces even before you feel the wet slide of his tongue against your clit. He holds you down with one hand as you cant your hips towards him with a whispered "fuckkk," he gives your thigh a bite,

"Hold fucking still," you can feel him smirk against you. It doesn't take much for him to have your legs shaking, your hands are in his hair, dragging through the curls that have grown out over the summer break. You practically wail his name as you come, and if you've learned anything from the hurried, rough trysts you've had so far with Roy, it's that you definitely weren't prepared for the time he actually gets to take his time with you. He's watching you come down, boneless from your first orgasm, letting you think he's done with you before he goes back for more. By the time he's crawling back up the bed to you, the need to have his skin against yours is sinful. You can barely form full sentences, speaking only in single word requests, "clothes, more, now". He laughs, a low rumble that you feel against your ribs. He's equally as eloquent, but out to take an agonisingly long time with you. He pushes into you in long, slow strokes, his whole body weighted against yours. The closeness is both intense and intimate, and when he kisses you it feels so much like a promise your heart could break. Unlike the previous times, you don't part immediately while you both catch your breath. He shifts off you slightly but stays with his nose against your jaw and his hands coveting your body. He's the first one to say it.

"This can't keep happening."

"We both keep saying that and yet here we are again." You sit up against the headboard, mindful to cover yourself up.

"I know."

"But, you're right, we can't." You decide you need to be firmer, "I can't keep doing this." He nods and gets up to dress.

"I'm sorry." He mutters as he leaves.

~~~~~~~~

Roy is always consistently early for work. A byproduct of being awake at stupid o’clock to train Jamie, yes, but before that, he’s just always been early. Now he’s head coach, he uses the time to get the coffee going or makes sure Will is on top of everything in the boot room. Has a wander around and checks the gym or the showers for lonely socks, earbud boxes, or hats. More recently, he's just sat at his desk and moped for an extra half hour before anyone arrives and calls him out on it. Today, though, he puts the coffee on and starts in the gym where he straight away finds Isaac’s favourite sweatbands, Moe’s sunglasses, and one of Dani’s socks. It’s like picking up after a bunch of fucking kids. He dumps the loot in the middle of the locker room and carries on. He can hear singing as he gets closer to the showers and assumes that Jamie must have chosen food over cleanliness and has decided to save time by coming straight to Nelson Road after breakfast.

“Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy

Not me, if you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doing great out there without me, baby

Like a damn sociopath!

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night crying on the floor of my bathroom

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it

But I guess good for you”

Yeah. That's not Jamie. But it's already too late, he'd been rounding the corner as he'd heard the singing and now, well… thank fuck you've got your back to him. He tries to back out of the room, but manages to crash into the bench and sends your phone crashing to the tiles, the music stopping abruptly. The noise has you covering as much of your body with your hands as you can while you scream like a banshee, the sound echoes off the tiles, and what the hell is the lump on your head?!

"Roy! Fuck me, turn around!" His brain manages to click into gear enough to let him do that at least, but then it goes manic on what he's just seen. Or not seen really, his memory fills in the blanks though. "Fucksake what the hell are you doing?” You’re shaking, he can hear it in your voice. He truly scared the shit out of you. “I need to finish washing my hair, can you be trusted for 5 fucking minutes if I move my hands?" You ask, a little calmer.

"I heard singing, thought it was one of the lads."

"Oh so jumping them in the shower is also fine? Don't move. I'm nearly done. Ouch, cocking shitting fuck." Your voice catches and he thinks you might be crying.

"Jesus, are you alright? I've never heard you swear like that."

"I'm fine," you reply quietly. "Hit my head." He turned quickly, too quickly for you to cover back up, "Oi!" His eyes initially went exactly where you’d expect, then they flew up to yours and didn't move, but it didn’t stop you covering yourself up with your hands again.

"Sorry, sorry, I-" he crossed the room and brought a hand up to your temple which was sporting a painful looking purple bruise. “Was it me, did you hit your head when I came in?” You shake your head with a grimace,

“No, it’s been a fucking awful morning. I just-,” he’s close enough now that he’s going to be right under the shower head in a minute, and he can see that you are close to tears. “You’re gonna get soaked. Could you just go away please?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he goes back to the bench and retrieves your phone from the floor. He has the good grace to look ashamed that the screen is smashed to bits. “Fuck, sorry.” he kicks off his sneakers and turns back to you, “turn around.”

“No, I want to be left alone. Let’s not pretend you give a shit, Roy. Just go.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. This is getting stupid.

“Of course I fucking give a shit. Please. Turn. Around. You’ve hit your head, you’re freezing cold, you-”

“Fine.” You glare, “fine.” You turn to face the wall, no idea why. It becomes clear as he comes to stand right behind you, under the stream of water.

“Head back.” You lean your head back as he asks. His height over you means he has a direct line of sight down your body so you keep your hands in place as he washes the shampoo out of your hair. He avoids the lump in your hairline far better than you did, and now you’re back under the water, you’re warming up a bit. He takes his time, and as you close your eyes, his are drawn to the path the droplets of water follow over your skin, like memories of where his mouth had been. “Did you need to do anything else?” he asks softly. You shake your head, moving your hands and arms so you can still cover yourself but also bring a hand to cover your face, trying not to cry. He reaches past you to turn the shower off. He moves away but he’s only gone long enough to get your towel from the hook. He holds it out for you and turns his head so you can move your arms and step into it. Then he leads you to the bench and pushes your shoulders gently to sit you down. He disappears and comes back a couple of minutes later with a towel for himself and another smaller one which he passes you for your hair. You use it to blot the majority of the water out of your hair, breathing in the soothing lavender softeners Will uses. He’s busy watching you but you’re staring at the floor. With your hair a little dryer, he brushes his fingers through it to move it away from the bruise and take a better look. “That looks really fucking nasty. What did you do?”

“Spanner.” You mumble. He’s not speaking so you know he’s waiting for you to elaborate. “I have a leak under the bath I was trying to fix. A spider scared me so I hit the spanner off my head while I was trying to get out and then there were like three other spiders all over me and I fucking hate spiders and… I just feel like shit.” Saying it all out loud, you realise it all sounds a bit feeble, that you’ve overreacted.

“Get dressed before you get a cold. I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll shout this time before I come in.”

~~~~~~

You don’t rush. You sit for a minute and try to gather your thoughts. Of all the people in the entire club, he was the one you’d least want to see you half naked in the shower. He’d have probably been top of the list only a month ago. You’re not even sure by this point what he actually did see, but it’s also too late to care now. It’s done so there’s no undoing it. And it's not like he hasn’t seen it all before anyway. You dry off and pull on your sweats, you’re just reaching for your Richmond t-shirt when he calls out to let you know he’s on his way back. He’s been to get changed,

“I’m fine, you might as well get back to work. Everyone will be here in a minute.” He goes to challenge you again but you just don’t have the energy. You haven’t even had a coffee yet this morning, let alone breakfast. “Please, Roy. I’m fine.” You throw your wet towel in your bag and check you’ve got everything before squeezing past him and back up to the treatment room. You avoid everyone all morning, Katie offers to go outside for training so you can stay in. She goes out just before 10am, meeting Nate in the corridor. You have to pop to the main office to sign for a delivery and when you get back, there’s a mug of coffee and a paper bag with a pastry inside on your desk, along with some painkillers. The rest of the day seems to settle down. You work your way through the list of players who need some time with you. Jan Maas is last on the list with a niggle he picked up in training that morning. You’ve got your hands high up on the back of his thigh when Roy taps on the door,

“Hey coach.” Jan mumbles from face down on the treatment bench. You manage to get your thumb right where he needs it and he lets out a low groan. Roy raises an eyebrow,

“Alright Jan. You good?”

“Yes, she’s a genius” He hops up from the bench with a big smile. “You should let me buy you a drink, to say thank you.”

“I’m fine thanks, Jan. Take it easy on your leg.�� When he leaves, Roy moves to sit on the bench. He takes your wrist as you walk by him, pulling you to stand in front of him where he can check your forehead again.

"How's it feel?"

"Like I hit myself in the head with a spanner."

"Are you done?"

"For the day or generally? Because the answer is yes to both. I'm going home. I need to… not be here." Not be around you . Is the follow up you'd like to add. I can't ignore it like you can, can't just pretend I don't feel the way I do. It’s getting harder every day.

"I think you have a concussion. I'm pretty fucking sure you didn't want to vocalise those thoughts?" You go to slap your hand to your head, but he stops you just in time. "Don't make it any fucking worse." He rolls his eyes when you glare at him. The off season was so much easier. The need for contact between you both has steadily increased over the last month with the team returning. Daily meetings and progress reports on injuries old and new, the only saving grace is that he's stopped coming to you for his own recovery sessions.

"I'm going home."

"Let me drive you."

"I'd really rather you didn't. Look, I'll be fine. I'll get over it, I just need to do it in my own time." You don't wait for a response. You take your bag and leave him sitting on the treatment bench alone.

The first thing you do is fix the leak. It would be much easier if you were in the right frame of mind, which you're not, but you manage. There are no more spiders, but you end up soaked from the water left in the pipe which bursts out when you loosen rather than tighten the nut. You really don't know whether to laugh or cry from the calamity of it all. You're about to go for cry, but the doorbell goes and you're surprisingly unsurprised to see Roy. Again.

"You know, it would be a lot easier for me to get over whatever this," you motion between the two of you, "is, if you could just fuck off and leave me to it?"

"Can I come in?" You turn to let him in, looking expectantly for him to continue. His hand rubs his beard and up through his hair, cut shorter since the last time he was in your flat - the curls gone. "Fucksake. You act like this is easy for me."

"Well you make it seem like it is."

"It's not. It never fucking has been. Why do you think I kept coming back even though I knew, I knew it was a bad fucking idea?"

"You tell me? You're the one who walks out of here without a care in the world once you've got what you want?" A look of hurt flashed across his face, you knew it was a low blow, you had no idea why you'd even said it.

"Is that really what you think?" He asked quietly. You shook your head. "All this coaching job has done so far is make me fucking miserable."

"It's only been a couple of months. You'll figure it out."

"It's making me miserable because I lost you in the process. You said earlier that I shouldn't pretend to care, but I don't need to pretend. I do care. Too much, that's the fucking problem." He sighed heavily.

" We can't keep happening, you're my boss now."

"Well, I've been feeling like this a lot longer than I've been your fucking boss, and I don't regret any of it."

"Feeling what, exactly? Because if you're about to fuck up your future-"

"I love you." You close your eyes. Your head is pounding again.

"Roy, think about what you're doing -"

"Tell me you don't feel the same, and I'll go." You shake your head,

"I can't," you whisper. "I can't. I'm in love with you too." He crosses the room and cups your cheek, checking the bruise on your forehead again before he kisses you. You sigh into him, "What are we going to do?"

"I'm the boss. As long as I'm not fucking you in the treatment room, I think it'll be OK."

"That's a shame. Not even after hours?"

"Don't tempt me. Any objections to me waking you up every couple of hours to check you really don't have a concussion?"

"Depends how you plan to wake me?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something." He smiles, letting you lead him to the bedroom.

~~~~~~

FIN

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #roy kent smut #roy kent x you #roy kent imagine

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valdomarx · 1 year

Text

going off script

a roy/jamie finale fixit, for @welcomemysentence

Jamie hasn’t been able to stop fidgeting all day, nervous excitement running through him like electricity.

It’s just a beer, he tells himself.

A beer that Roy invited him for, the two of them out together like mates. They’ve never done that before.

Jamie’s leg bounces against the wood of the barstool, his energy spilling out in the jiggling movement, and he tries to distract himself with his drink.

He's wearing his favourite hoodie, well worn and soft inside. A girl once told him he looked loveable in it. He's been called hot or sexy or fit more times than he can remember, but that was the only time he's ever been called that.

He pulls the cuffs down over his hands and stuffs his hopes deep into his sleeves.

They sit close, even though there's plenty of space around them. Their knees are pressed together under the bar, and Roy doesn't shy away. He likes being close enough to touch, and it's things like that which make Jamie wonder if...

It doesn't matter. It's stupid. Jamie lifts his beer and drains it in almost one go.

“Whatever happens on Saturday,” Roy says, and crinkles appear at the corner of his eyes, “I want you to know I'm proud of you.”

Jamie glows at that, more so because he knows Roy means it. It soothes something inside him to hear it said aloud, but it’s a plaster over the voracious, gaping hole in his chest that’s always wanting more. He pushes that greedy part of himself away and reminds himself he should be grateful for what he gets.

So he rags on Roy for being old, and that makes Roy rolls his eyes, and that feels good. Feels natural.

“Real talk, man. Thank you.” They knock their beers together.

He can do this. They can be friendly. It’ll be fun.

“So how’s things with you?”

Roy looks at his beer. “I'm trying to get back with Keeley.”

That hurts, a dull ache like an old sprain that never healed right, but it’s a familiar sort of pain. It occurs to Jamie to ask, “Why, though?”

Roy blinks, and he looks taken aback. “Because… because it’s Keeley, innit? She’s amazing.”

“Of course she is. She’s fucking incredible, we both know that. I’ll always love her, and I guess you will too. But what I’m asking is: why do you want to be with her?”

There’s a pause which stretches a beat too long, before Roy says, “We were good together.”

“You were, yeah.” Jamie puts a slight emphasis on the second word.

Roy catches it and furrows his brow.

“It just seems right, doesn’t it? That her and I should end up together.”

He sounds uncertain. Jamie makes a noncommittal hum.

“It's like - that's what everybody wants from me. They've decided how my life is going to go. I'm Roy Kent, so I gotta try and win back Keeley. Right?”

“Since when do you do what other people want?”

Roy huffs something that could be a laugh.

“Isn't there anything you feel like you have to do?” Roy asks. “Like there's a path laid out for you and you have no choice but to follow it?”

Jamie sucks in a breath. “Well. There's my dad.”

Roy mumbles something under his breath that sounds like cockend.

“Because everyone knows what a dick he is, but I still have to forgive him or some shit. I gotta pretend like everything’s fine now, because he’s making some tiny bit of effort to sort his life out and I have to pat him on the back for it. Pretend like he didn’t make my life hell, because that's the story people want to hear, innit? The one they're comfortable with. Forgiveness and happy families and all that shit. It's what people expect.”

“Well fuck that and fuck them,” Roy says without a trace of hesitation.

Jamie drags a finger through the condensation on the bar. “Ted told me I ought to forgive him. Said it would be for my own good, not his.”

Roy tips his head, thoughtful. “If anger at him isn’t serving you, you should let it go. But that doesn't mean you have to be nice to the horrendous prick.”

Jamie fingers are still fidgeting, and he picks at the label of his beer. “He asked me to visit him in rehab.”

Roy looks sideways at him. “Do you want to see him?”

A pit of ice cold horror opens in Jamie's chest at the thought. “Fuck no.”

“Then don't. You don't owe him shit. Not your time or your effort or your support.” Roy taps on the bar to underline his point. “He isn’t your family just because he’s related to you. Your family is the people who care about you and look out for you. It’s your mum and your stepdad, and me and Keeley and the team, and Ted and Beard and Rebecca. Even Nate, I guess. And we got you.”

Something in Jamie's body unclenches at that, like he can finally breathe. It feels like a 10-stone weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “So I don't have to follow the script?”

“Nope.”

He looks over at Roy.

“But you do?”

Roy fidgets. “It's not the same.”

“I know it’s not. But still. You’re allowed to make your own choices. You don’t have to live the life that other people think you ought to.”

Roy frowns. “Truth is, if I don’t do that - if I’m not Roy fucking Kent, football legend, and if I’m not grouchily supportive boyfriend to Keeley fucking Jones - I have no idea who the fuck I am.”

Jamie takes everything he wants to say, about how Roy is so much more than his fame or his past, about how he’s caring and smart and an incredible coach, about the beautiful person who shines out from beneath the layers of bullshit, and carefully sets it aside. It’s not the right time for that.

He thinks instead about what it means to be supportive, and how you express that, and what would help Roy now. He thinks about that, and he channels Ted. “Maybe it isn’t about already knowing who you are. Maybe it’s about trying things, and failing at some of them, and succeeding at others, and learning who you are along the way.”

Roy frowns. “I wouldn’t know how to start.”

Jamie very much wants to reach over and take his hand. He doesn’t.

“Let’s start at the beginning then. What do you want?”

Roy shoulders tense up at that.

“No, mate, I’m not trying to trick you or get in your head or make you spill your guts or anything. I’m just asking what makes you happy. Coaching? Looking after Phoebe? Travel? Kebabs?”

That makes Roy chuckle. “Yeah, all of those. I love all those things.”

He takes a swing of beer. Jamie watches his throat work as he swallows.

“And.” Roy turns to face him, an unfamiliar hesitancy in his voice. “And you.”

Jamie's mind goes completely blank.

“You make me happy.”

This should be the point where Jamie says something meaningful or profound or some shit. But he can hardly think for the wanting, the great shapeless thing inside him which he keeps shoving down but which only comes back bigger and hungrier, and which is now ballooning until it’s stuck in his throat.

“I love coaching you. I love that you’re up for anything, even when it’s ridiculous, and that you actually listen to me, and that you work hard because it matters to you. I love watching you play, I really fucking do. But it ain’t even about that. It’s because you’re fun, and funny, and you give me shit but you also give a shit about the people around you. Because you can admit when you’re wrong, which is more than I’ve ever been able to do, and you work to be better. You’re a kind, decent person, Jamie Tartt, and you’re very easy to love.”

Jamie feels like he might shatter, like if Roy says one more thing or lays a single finger on him then he’ll fall into a million pieces.

“Because I think I do know what I want. But it’s something I can’t have.” Roy sits back on his stool, armed crossed defensively, and doesn’t look Jamie in the eye.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” The words burst from Jamie’s mouth without any intervention from his brain. Roy looks up sharply, his expression hurt. “I’ve wanted you since I was ten years old. At first I thought I wanted to be you. Then I got older and realised I wanted to impress you. Then I met you, and yeah, I’ll be honest, I hated you for a while there, cause you were a right prick.”

Roy actually smiles at that.

“But then I got to know you, and fuck, Roy. All that time you were with Keeley, it really bothered me. I knew me and Keeley weren’t getting back together and it still made me ache, and I couldn’t figure out why. But I know now, and I don’t know how I could make it any clearer.” He inhales a quick breath. “You can have me any way you like.”

Jamie’s brain catches up with what his mouth has let slip, just as Roy stands up so suddenly that his stool crashes to the floor. He opens his mouth to say sorry or to take it back, but then Roy’s hands are in his hair and he’s crushing their lips together, and Jamie finally lets himself take what he wants. Roy kisses him like he’s on fire with it, and the shapeless thing lodged in Jamie’s chest comes surging out through his hands and his eyes and his mouth, everywhere they’re touching alight with sensation.

Kissing Roy is even better than he’d imagined. The prickle of his beard again his face, the way his fingers flex in Jamie’s hair like he wants to pull him even closer. Even when they break for air, Roy stays right in his space like he wants to live there.

Wanting and being wanted. Choosing and being chosen. A path ahead that they build themselves, brick by brick.

A bubble of joy comes gushing out of Jamie as a giggle. “This isn’t how the script goes.”

He feels Roy's smile against his lips and the rumble of his laughter against his chest.

“Fuck the script.”

#roy x jamie #roy kent #jamie tartt #ted lasso #welcomemysentence #ted lasso spoilers #my writing #jamie tartt i will avenge you and your characterisation

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thisisperverse · 3 months

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Aand that's a wrap on our summer of 69 challenge ⛱️ Some cool facts about it:

20 fanworks

1 fanart

19 fics

20 authors/artists

4 WIPs so even more fun to come

thousands of km/miles traveled

including 4 trips to Marbella (i wonder why)

countless cocktails 🍹

so much love!

and coolest fact: 100k+ words written total! If you want to know what they were all about, check the fics and their summaries below.

Want to join the fun? Find us at discord.gg/royjamie.

Play Like A Tartt by hopefulromance, jackhowad (T)

Jamie is sick and tired of homophobia in football and decides he can do something about it

sunshine warm, moonlight soft by asphodellic (E)

If asked, Roy will insist it’s the heat that drives him back into the house and not the way the sunlight is sinking into Jamie’s stupid floppy hair and glistening off his sweat slicked muscles. He’s Roy fucking Kent, and he’s never run away from a hot person in his life. If he was in his prime, he would already have Jamie bent in half in his bed upstairs, one hand over his mouth while he takes him apart, and that would be that.

Are We There Yet? by ABubblingCandle (G)

Train strikes derail Jamie's summer plans so he has to find another way to travel the length of the country. Good thing he has a coach that loves him so much and will drop everything to drive him on a 4 hour each way round trip ... what do you mean Roy said no?

swelter/shake by farewllyouth (E)

Roy approaches with a glass in each hand, slips off his slides and lowers himself to the edge of the pool. His feet dangle in the cool water as Jamie takes his drink, fingertips brushing. They don’t speak, sipping their drinks under the canopy stretched over the pool. Jamie finishes first, because Roy gave him a straw and too much ice, and his patience is in shorter supply. The sound of the distant waves off the beach reach them even through the trees surrounding the property. Roy leans back on his hands and takes a deep breath, head tilted back so he can get a good lungful of humid, salty sea air. “So you getting in, or what?”

be my summer boyfriend by BestDeadFriendsForever (E)

It’d been nine days since Roy landed in Marbella and it was somewhere around eleven when he limped out of his bedroom for a glass of water, his mouth cottony and head aching slightly, to see Jamie fucking Tartt standing in the middle of the kitchen in an unbuttoned linen shirt and one of the tiniest pair of swim shorts that Roy had ever seen. He had on a pair of sunnies despite being inside- though the floor to ceiling windows that made up the entire back wall lessened the prickishness a little- and his hair was falling across his forehead in a soft wave. “The fuck’re you doing here?” Roy demanded, feeling awkward at only being in a pair of socks and his boxer-briefs.

Questionable Summer Fashion Choices by ABubblingCandle (G)

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Roy didn’t even know what to think about what he had just walked in on. He had existed in football changing rooms are all long as he could remember and so had stumbled upon everything you could ever think of stumbling upon in a changing room. But this complete and utter affront to his sensibilities was something brand new and a full different tier of stupid. “Oh, hey Roy,” Keeley chirped up from where she was reclined in the corner on her phone. “What the fuck is he wearing?” Roy turned to Keeley to try and get an answer through the giggles of the assembled greyhounds. They were only buckets of popcorn away from this being a real show. “Um it’s called a shirt Roy,” Jamie scoffed, rolling his eyes as he spun round.

A Camping Trip with Phoebe by garlic_salt_is_superior (G)

Roy and Jamie take Phoebe on a camping trip during the off-season

Will You Be My Plus One (Now and Forever?) by Rayvynheart (T)

Five plus weddings over the course of his barely 12 weeks off? He honestly didn’t even know he knew that many single people. This does present an issue, though. There’s no way Jamie Tartt can be seen at a wedding without a plus one. He’s got a reputation to maintain, after all. Not to mention that now that he’s barely drinking, trying to get through a whole wedding and reception without someone there to help distract him sounds like torture. How’s he supposed to find dates to every single one? Hmmmm I wonder how Jamie Tartt is going to solve this dilemma???

Family Beach Day by luvsbitca (G)

“Papa,” Georgina said. “Why is Daddy in your phone as Grandad?” “We never should have taught you to read.” Gee giggled. “You’re so silly.” Just fun, simple, sweet family day at the beach fluff.

Good Night, Sleep Tight by maskedwolves (E)

“What’re you doing?” Jamie asks as he complies with Roy’s silent command and hoists himself up onto the quartz countertop. Roy takes in Jamie’s tired, naked form - eye lids only half open, shoulders slightly slumped, soft cock as sleepy as the rest of him –and wonders how this perfect human chose him to spend his life with. “Getting my tired husband washed up for bed.” “I can get myself ready,” Jamie says with a sleepy smile, amused at Roy taking care of him like this. “Yes, but you don’t have to.”

Like Sand At The Beach by luvsbitca (E)

Jamie took his chance, why not, why shouldn’t it be him, why couldn’t it be him. Why couldn’t he be the person Roy wanted? He caught the corner of Roy’s mouth; his lips dry against Roy’s. he pressed there for a just a moment or two but then pulled away, catching Roy’s eyes when they opened again. Jamie realised a beat later that Roy had closed his eyes…Jamie had kissed him, and the other man had closed his eyes, his heart started thumping. He licked at his bottom lip and then pressed forward and leaned in again, catching Roy’s bottom lip. Jamie and Roy have sex in Marbella...that is all. They are in love too!

wonderstruck (blushing all the way home) by bizarrebedtimestories (E)

There's a small velvet box sitting on the table where his breakfast should be. Behind it, there's a man, familiar and very beautiful, smiling shyly at him. Roy doesn't have a clue what's going on. "Yes?" "This—" The man nudges the box forward with a few of his fingers. "—is for you." Roy pulls it towards him slowly, like someone preparing to diffuse a bomb. He hesitates, glancing up at the stranger once more before he tells himself to get over it, you fucking ninny! Roy opens the box. "Is this a fucking engagement ring?" Or the selkie!Jamie fic nobody asked for.

cruel summer (what doesn't kill me makes me want you more) by valdomarx (E)

Roy's knee is fucked, he's been dumped, and he's spending an awful lot of time on the couch. So he's doing great. It's just unfortunate that he can't turn on his TV without seeing Jamie fucking Tartt and his stupid reality show. And it's even more unfortunate that Jamie has his phone number. And for some reason, he keeps messaging him.

a body at rest by mixtapestar (E)

Roy shows Jamie how to relax on holiday.

only wanna be the one that i call baby by howdyrowdypartner (T)

“There’s a lot coming up,” Roy says, instead of all that. “With the manager position, and shit. I need some time to think about,” he gestures vaguely between them, “this.” Jamie nods, slowly, lips pursed together. “Alright,” he says again. Roy really hates that fucking word. “You ought to take a trip or something, Coach,” Jamie says, flopping back down onto the pillows, making no move to leave Roy’s bed despite the whole needing space thing. “Take a holiday before the season starts. Get your head on straight.” That - isn’t the worst idea Jamie’s ever had, really. --- Or, the seven days in which Roy loses his fucking mind, thanks to Jamie.

a carcass of a man, i belong inside his skin by NineWesternStars (M)

When he arrived, kicking up dust in his dark wine Aston, Jamie’s first thought was, this is what football’s greatest left for? He was decidedly unimpressed and told Roy as much, with one foot out of his luxury sports car and poised to drop into a forgotten pile of cowshit. Roy had given him a look of such loathing when Jamie used the bottom step of the farmhouse to scrape off his trainer. (Jamie is sent to Roy's farm for the summer, in hopes of becoming a better player.)

the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you by nightcabret (T)

“Tartt! I know you’re in there and we’re going to be fucking late-” Roy cuts off right as Jamie swings open the door. He looks pissed, but Jamie watches as he takes him in, his eyes widening and mouth gaping in a way that would be downright comical if Jamie wasn’t currently channeling most of his focus into standing up straight. “Woah. You look like shit.” “That’s fucking rude.” Jamie scoffs, right as he loses the fight against keeping his balance and sways forward.

keep a place for me by soofyahn (E)

Jamie glances at his blood-stained hoodie and frowns. At least the last time he confessed his love, he was wearing a suit. Turns out how they're dressed doesn’t matter much, in the end. The two of 'em might as well be wearing shirts that say ‘I’m with stupid’. Five accidental dates, or: four times Jamie makes an effort to dress for the occasion, and one time he doesn’t put nearly enough thought into what he wears.

#tip challenges #tip discord #royjamie #roy x jamie #jamie tartt #roy kent #writing challenge #fic rec

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sighonaraa · 9 months

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🌹🌹🌹🌹 Can we have a little Jamie gets hugged six ways snippet? Pretty please? as a little treat?

ABSOLUTELY YOU MAY!!!!! i love this fic and i will NEVER shut up about it. here you go!!

“I won’t,” says Roy, which—isn’t what Jamie’d expected. “I won’t touch you, Jamie. Promise.” And there’s a solid surety to Roy’s voice, a grounded calm that hooks into the naked, vulnerable ache of Jamie’s chest and keeps him from running off the way he so terribly wants to. He allows a breath to escape his mouth. “O-okay,” he stammers; curls his fingers into the sleeves of his shirt. “Thanks. I—thanks. Thank you.” “You don’t need to—” But whatever it is Jamie doesn’t need to do, he never finds out, ’cause Roy cuts himself off before he gets to it and changes tact. “Do you…want to come back to my house with me? I can make you breakfast.” No. It’s right there, on the precipice of Jamie’s tongue, and he can’t speak it into being. Wants to, but can’t. All he can think about is the empty, hollow coffin of his own gaff, the way it all feels foreign to him, as though he’s become a stranger in a strange land except the strange land is his house and the stranger is his reflection. And more than he wants to say no to Roy, he doesn’t want to return to that place. So, “Sure,” is what spills out, fractured and hopeful in the cold dawn light. “Sure, yeah. I’ll—yeah. Please.” And Roy nods, seeming relieved, seeming unsurprised, and waits for Jamie to venture closer to him before turning towards the brightening horizon and the path that’ll lead them home. ** He’s never been to Roy’s house before, is something Jamie only realizes once he’s there, curled into the arm of the nice, deep couch in the living room, listening as oil crackles on the stove and the smell of diced bell peppers fills the air. He should be embarrassed, he thinks absently, to be sitting around on his arse while Roy makes him breakfast like he’s a child. Except shame is a distant thing, now. Beyond his reach. Scrambling around out there on the road, all hands and knees and panting breaths, a hunted animal biting desperately at any hand that comes near, has scraped him to the absolute bottom of his emotional barrel. He can’t stretch his mind around anything more than exhaustion. And hunger. He’s so fucking hungry. He expects Roy to call him to the kitchen once it’s time to eat, but instead Roy ends up bringing two plates heaped with cheesy omelets and fried potatoes into the living room, sets them both on the coffee table and then adds a mug to the display, topped high with whipped cream. “Hot chocolate,” he tells Jamie, which is good, ’cause if Roy Kent put whipped cream on his coffees then Jamie would just maybe have to re-think twenty years of hero worship. Then he points at the fork and says, “Fork.” “No shit?” Jamie asks, feigning shock, and almost slams his body back into the couch cushions, horrified. What the fuck. What the fuck. He can’t—he can’t—he can’t do that, can’t go around making fun of Roy when Roy’s wasted all this time bringing him home and cooking him breakfast and taking care of him even though Jamie deserves none of it, when Roy’s— Laughing. Quietly, shoulders shaking. Jamie stares at him, convinced there’s something deeper to it, that the laughter will crack open to reveal the cold, ugly innards, but it doesn’t. It slowly fades into a warm silence, and then Roy says, “Yeah, guess that was fucking stupid of me. Go on, you muppet, eat before it gets cold.”

#WAILS #ask #anon #thank uuuu for this ask i love talking abt this fic MWAH #sid speaks #gift fic wips #ted lasso #jamie tartt

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jamiesfootball · 1 year

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@sighonaraa you opened the door on this so here we go:

PACIFIC RIM AU

Ted and Beard? Hella drift compatible. Shouldn't even need to be said. Since becoming a dad, Ted has struggled to justify his job as a trainer for the Pan Pacific Defense Corp, but damnit someone has to care about these pilots. Someone's gotta train them to make it out alive. So many of them die young.

He wonders sometimes if its selfish of him that he's not a pilot himself, but there's no hiding that sort of thinking in the drift. The Beard he knows in the drift is the gentlest man in the world, and he always, always, talks Ted down from doing anything stupid.

Rebecca is what happens when the drift goes sour. Rupert used what he learned to dig his claws in further. Rebecca was never a pilot, but Rupert's money helped built all of this. Even though she left him, even though he's halfway across the Pacific and she's the one left running everything, his voice remains in her head like a ghost. It's only by having people like Keeley and Ted at her side that she's begun to think 'maybe I'll try again some day. maybe.'

The tragedy of Roy Kent is that he didn't die young. Recruits have been calling him an old man since he turned thirty. He's almost forty. He's outlived all the recruits who first called him old. At this point he's become so overbearing, so controlling in a drift, that he's almost impossible to find a partner for.

Everyone is bewildered when one of the new recruits, some hot-headed mollusk they pried out of Manchester of all places, takes the general compatibility test and his scores come back. They check and they check again, and then they reluctantly call in Roy Kent.

Roy dislikes him instantly. He's too cocky and he doesn't take the risks seriously. They have one sparring session. Roy curses the sixth sense years of piloting have given him. They're drift compatible. Offensively so. Why won't the world give him a break?

Their first and only test drift is an unmitigated disaster. They nearly destroy one of the last functioning Jaegers; repairs will take months. Both of them walk away from the experience scraped raw and haunted by the knowledge they'll have to carry about each other for the rest of their lives.

Meanwhile Colin and Isaac are two guys from different departments who happened to meet in the lift one day. They ended up at the cafeteria talking for hours about everything and nothing, and the next day they got tested on a lark, even though neither was in the training program. Scores came back off the chart, they are now in the training program. It's terrifying. They wouldn't trade it for the world.

Richard and Jan Maas are barely drift compatible and shouldn't be let anywhere near a giant robot but somehow they keep winning so-

Keeley is the cutie on the bridge who gets to wear the bright colorful suspenders and run the clock.

Moe is one of those crazy scientists, but I couldn't decide which one so he might be both idk

Actually I've decided that Trent Crimm is Newton. He's not a scientist per se but he is a researcher and has fantastic style and rock t-shirts.

Oh and there's a sweet moment in here where Dani offers to drift with Jamie even though they basically just met and it is beautiful and healing. Dani is one of the most all-around drift compatible people around, but he really loves his amigo Jamie.

Sam is also a pilot in training and everyone in the world is like 'please no don't let the kaiju kill him or truly there is there no god in this world'

#now this is a total lark and definitely never getting written even a little #but I had fun #I don't know why this has become the weekend of sharing AU ideas but here we are #ted lasso #pacific rim au #ask box #i swear i worked on real writing today I just need a break

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sasheneskywalker · 11 months

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batfamily fic recs where the main character is transgender or non-binary

Laying My Heart Out by rotasha Bruce doesn’t have friends. Until he has Oliver.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Oliver Queen & Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne

if you get lost (you can always be found) by corvidspectre Originally, it was easy to believe it was just over-eager adoration for one Dick Grayson. It was too easy to believe in fact; how could he have known there was any alternative? Dick Grayson was amazing, all that he wanted to be. The way he flew through the air, his effortless smiles and energy, what young child wouldn't want to be him? He was just idolising him, and he was a perfectly fine role model for a young girl to have. Maybe it was just a blossoming interest in gymnastics.

It took Tim a while to realise he didn't just want to be like Dick Grayson.

He wanted to be a boy. No, he was a boy. He was sure of it.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Past Tim Drake/Stephanie Brown

by any other name would smell as sweet by misspickman A dare and a couple of offhand comments set off a domino effect, sending Tim down one or two identity crises. Apparently everyone thinks it's time for him to do some self-reflection.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Batfamily Members & Tim Drake, Bart Allen & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Cassie Sandsmark

A hold on me by Anonymous Damian starts thinking about self-identity. Things both are and aren’t difficult. Growing up is hard, you know.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | No Relationships

always an angel (never a god) by maruyaaya When Jason Todd is twelve, people begin calling him the ‘Boy Wonder’ and while Jason is, of course, extremely pleased to have taken up such an important mantle, it also feels wrong in a way that he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Look at me! I’m Robin, the Boy Wonder!” Jason cheers the first time he has the Robin suit on, Dick Grayson’s old nickname coming out of his mouth with a sickly sort of feeling to it.

But then Bruce smiles at him like he’s finally done something worth being proud of and Jason feels like he can ignore the way his skin is crawling if it means Bruce will smile at him like that again.

He can change, can’t he? He can be the Boy Wonder that Bruce wants him to be. He can do it. He can be whatever Bruce wants him to be. It doesn’t matter what she wants.

or;

a canon compliant fic following the life of jason todd from birth to death to re-birth and their struggles with discovering who—and what—they are.

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Roy Harper/Jason Todd

Spoiler Alert: It Gets Better. by carolinaa Red Hood's been running Robin's Nest, a secret youth shelter in Gotham, since he came out of his murdery craze. He wants it to be a place to stay, no questions asked, with a hot meal provided if you stick around for breakfast. The kids of Gotham deserve that much.

Enter Stephanie, whose new name isn't the only secret she's keeping.

(or: how steph outsmarts her dad, makes gay friends, and gets the guy)

T | Archive Warnings Apply | Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake

loot my body by carolinaa Jason comes back to life, and finds that everyone's mourning someone who never existed.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd, Roy Harper & Koriand'r & Jason Todd

These Twists and Turns of Fate by Hinn_Raven To be born is to exist, but to live is something else entirely. Stephanie Brown falls apart, and pulls herself back together. OR Stephanie Brown is assigned a different name and gender at birth. These are the changes that result.

G | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Harper Row/Carrie Kelley, Stephanie Brown & Harper Row, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown & Crystal Brown, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake

Prince of Gotham by snackbaskets Gotham wasn't kind to its girls. Jason would brutalize it until it agreed to be. He only hoped it would spare him long enough to make it so.

T | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply | Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Gotham, Catherine Todd & Jason Todd

#dc #dc comics #batman #batfamily #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #damian wayne #oliver queen #fanfiction #fanfic #fic recs #fic rec #fanfic recs #fanfic rec

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soupandsorcery · 3 months

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sunshine warm, moonlight soft | E | 10.2k

read on ao3 here!

#ted lasso #ted lasso fic #royjamie #royjamie fic #jamie tartt #roy kent #trans jamie tartt #my summer fic for the this is perverse server challenge!#noah plays with words

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jamietarttsnorthernattitude · 8 months

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oh man, ALL of those prompts are so tempting! if you feel like it, 12?

12. “Where are they? Where are they?”

When Jamie woke from nightmares, he often felt like there was someone else in his room with him. It had been like that since he was a child. Jamie would yell, and Mummy would come and scare away the gremlins under the bed or hiding in his closet. Then she got Jamie the Roy Kent poster and said Roy would scare anyone away, and he did, for a while. But now, at 26, Jamie had no one to scare away the monsters but himself.

You're okay, Jamie, you're alone, you're safe.

Only this time, Jamie wasn't alone.

Only this time, Jamie wasn't safe.

Hot breath prickled his neck before he realised the implication, and before he could think of it more, before he could even think to run or defend himself, a hand grabbed his hair and roughly jerked his head back.

“Where are they? Where are they?”

“Dad?”

Only one person would wake Jamie up like this, demanding something, usually money or booze or answers to why he missed that sitter, why he dressed the way he did, and why he was a general fucking disappointment.

“Yeah, you’ll be begging for your fucking Daddy soon if you don’t tell us where they are.”

Okay, so, not Dad. Jamie wanted to scoff at the idea he would ever be pleading for his fucking father, so not Denbo or Bug or any one of the miscreant creatures his Dad consorted with. Jamie tried to move his head to look in a different direction, but a rough hand yanked his head. Pain lit along Jamie’s neck with the motion, but then a punch to his back distracted him with a sharper intensity.

“Where are what?” he grunted out between pained gasps.

Another punch to the same spot had Jamie coughing against the agony from the onslaught, attempting to breathe before a third punch expelled all the air from his lungs.

“The Pateks, you fucking prick. Where are they?”

Ice wrapped around Jamie’s ribs. His heart beat faster, pounding against his rib cage, threatening to escape through his throat and Jamie fought the panic ballooning inside him.

He didn’t have them.

Jamie wore one to an event last night, but he’d left it with Keeley and the security people to return. The one they gifted him and the others he had done some social media posts for were in a locked safe at KBPR.

“Give us the fucking watches, or we’ll kill you.”

Okay, okay before you kill me, this one for sure will be continued!

But for now counting it as my home invasion square for my @badthingshappenbingo

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #whump prompt #okay there's not too much whump here but r #oh there will be more #bad things happen bingo #whump #feel free to send more prompts I only have one other im working on

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more-than-a-princess · 9 months

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Spell out your url using characters you love from any media. then, tag as many people as there are letters in your url ( or however many you'd like ! ) inspired by the song titles dashboard game.

M - Misato Katsuragi, Evangelion

O - Oscar van Rhijn, The Gilded Age (please just let him be happy with his hot lover John Adams while Aunt Ada saves the family fortune okay don't pressure him into marrying a woman he doesn't want Julian Fellowes)

R - Ruhn Danaan, Crescent City (SJM you leave my man alone I s2g-)

E - Elain Archeron, A Court of Thorns and Roses (underrated fave!)

T - Trixie Franklin, Call the Midwife

H - Howl Pendragon, Howl's Moving Castle

A - Abraham van Helsing, Code: Realize (besides the main story his was my favorite no I do not accept any Van slander)

N - Nico Robin, One Piece (Best Straw Hat, reporting for duty)

A - August, One Last Stop (Let this be your next LGBTQ read)

P - Penelope Featherington, Bridgerton (Are we ready for her Season 3 glowup y/y)

R - Roy Kent, Ted Lasso (because I can't include Jamie and Keeley here too, I will include one member of the Best Trio)

I - Integra Hellsing, Hellsing (Sonia and I both like vampire-related media)

N - Nesta Archeron, A Court of Thorns and Roses

C - Cassian, A Court of Thorns and Roses (when your URL allows you to include Nessian right next to each other, you do it!)

E - Eliza Scarlet, Miss Scarlet and the Duke (Victorian Lady Detective runs circles around men, the TV series)

S - Sybil Crawley, Downton Abbey (still haven't forgiven Fellowes for Season 3)

S - Sonia Nevermind, Danganronpa (you didn't think I could do this and not include her, did you?)

Tagged by: @scarlxtleaves (thank you for the tag! I had fun doing this before delving into more Sonia and Lupin adventures)

Tagging: @dcviated, @quickdeaths, @hxpelessnurse, @mechatiqe, @phantasmalnightmare, and you!

#more-than-a-princess memes #more-than-a-princess musings #(I have A Lot of writing to do so I'll be pretty quiet tonight and some of tomorrow)#(Trying to get a lot of things queued before the weekend: I'll be gone all day Saturday for costume shenanigans)

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 10 months

Text

Shut Up and Drive (Chapter 9)

Roy Kent x F1 Driver!Reader

2.2k words

Warnings: Language, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, shower sex

Series Masterlist

You woke up to the feeling of rough fingers stroking your inner thigh. When you stirred, you felt Roy’s bare chest pressed against your back, reminding you that you were in Richmond, in Roy Kent’s bed, wearing the black t-shirt he’d handed you after what felt like hours of rolling around together. With a sleepy smile you nuzzled closer to him, noting the lingering smell of sex and the fact that it was still dark outside, the room lit only by the moon; it must be pretty damn early in the morning.

“What time is it?” you whispered. Roy’s fingers dug gently into your soft skin when he realized you were awake too. “D’you have to go meet Jamie soon?” Roy had warned you about his early mornings with the striker just after your arrival; Roy leaving and taking his warmth with him each morning definitely wasn’t something you were looking forward to.

His grip on you tightened. “Not until I’ve had some fucking breakfast,” Roy growled before planting a deep kiss to your neck, his tongue gliding over your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. “And I know exactly what I want to eat.”

In a flash, Roy rolled you onto your back and pinned you down beneath him. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips, cherishing the surprised little squeak you let out against his mouth. When you wrapped your arms around his neck and gently rolled your hips against his, he knew you were awake enough for him to keep going. Chuckling, he made his way down your jaw and neck, planting kiss after kiss after kiss, leaving a sloppy trail behind. He carelessly tugged up the black t-shirt you wore as he disappeared under the blankets and continued his path down the valley of your breasts, pausing to give you attention there. He took his time swirling each nipple in his mouth and teasing each little bud with his teeth, eliciting soft sighs from you. He continued kissing and licking down your tummy, stopping only once he reached the material of your quickly dampening panties. He slowly slid them down your thighs with a content grunt, exposing your slightly aching cunt to his hot breath.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he sighed before pressing a soft kiss to your entrance.

Your back arched as you spread your legs with a soft moan, allowing Roy to get into a comfortable position between your thighs, probably his favorite place to be. With a satisfied hum, he swirled your clit with his tongue, long, slow stokes that had your tired body already tensing up.

“Roy,” you groaned, gazing down at his blanket-covered form. Your mind was still waking up as you reached under the covers to let your fingers run through his curls and pushed his face deeper between your legs, squirming at the feeling of his beard against your soft skin.

Understanding your request, Roy moved from your clit to your entrance, teasing you with greedy, open-mouthed kisses to your slit. You gasped when you felt his fingers join his tongue, grazing your lips and parting them slowly. When his fingers began inching into you, exploring your wetness at a painfully sluggish pace, you threw your head back and let your hips buck up towards his face. As he slowly began pumping in and out, Roy returned his mouth to your clit, licking and sucking at your sweet little bundle of nerves like the treat it was.

Roy wished he could wake up like this every morning. He loved the way you sounded, panting sleepily and murmuring his name adoringly as you wriggled on his bed, a bed that you absolutely belonged in. You didn’t need to know that he’d set a quiet alarm to wake him up extra early so he could give you this little gift before he had to leave for his morning training, or that the alarm was set to go off every morning of your visit. All you needed to know was how good he wanted to make you feel.

“Fuck,” you groaned as your hips lifted off the bed. “Roy, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

He thrust his fingers deeper into you, the pads of his fingers dragging along your walls as he hit that perfect little spot inside you, the perfect little spot he knew well now. “Then fucking come for me, gorgeous,” he begged from under the covers, his tongue flicking roughly against your throbbing little bud. “Gimme something yummy.”

With a strangled moan, you grinded your hips against his face as your walls tightened around his digits. Your vision went white as your high overcame you, just pleasurable enough to avoid being painful after the four orgasms Roy had already given you the night before. By the end of your visit, he decided, he’d be coaxing orgasms of you by the double digits each day. He was already keeping a running count in his mind, wondering how many he’d have from you by the end of the month; his mouth was watering at the thought.

“Too much,” you whined, squeezing his head between your thighs. “Roy, it’s too fucking much.”

He tsked with mock sympathy, barely taking his tongue away from your heat. “Just let me finish my breakfast, darling.”

As you bucked against him, Roy moved his mouth from your clit to devour your release, creating lewd and pornographic sounds beneath the covers. He gripped your hip tightly with his free hand to keep you from wiggling away from his greedy tongue as he lapped up your juices. You resigned yourself to the overwhelming pleasure, letting your legs fall wide open, letting them twitch and spasm with every flick of Roy’s togue, not caring that your high-pitched moans were approaching volumes that would probably wake Roy’s neighbors. All that mattered now was the earth-shattering high Roy gave you as his fingers and tongue attacked your soaking cunt, waking up every inch of your body in ways you’d never felt before.

After what felt like the longest orgasm of your life, Roy pulled out his fingers; you could hear him suck them dry, moaning as he savored the last little taste of you. He slowly crawled up your body, his face emerging from the tangled blankets with a wicked grin.

“Perfect way to wake up,” he murmured before kissing your lips, smearing your face with the slick that now covered his smile. “Fucking breakfast of champions.”

Slowly, you recovered your ability to speak in complete sentences. “Well, where’s my breakfast then?” you hummed, wrapping your legs around his hips and grinding against him, the bulge in his boxers throbbing against your aching core. Despite the exhaustion you felt, you were more than ready for the next round.

To your utter surprise, Roy shook his head. “Gotta go meet fucking Tartt,” he groaned, sounding more disappointed than you felt. “But when I get back-” He pressed a tender kiss to your nose. “-I’ll have to take a nice long shower before I get ready for work. Could use some company.” Another kiss found your swollen lips. “You interested?”

You nodded eagerly, your voice unrecognizably breathy. “Yes, yeah, definitely.”

“Good.” Roy pressed a slow kiss to your neck, cherishing the way you whined, tempting him to forget about training and stay in bed all day. “You get some rest, babe.” He gave one more roll of his hips, chuckling at the way your body jolted at the movement. “You’re gonna fucking need it.”

“There, Roy! Fuck, right there!” Your voice was positively wrecked as Roy pressed your body against the glass door of his shower, thrusting into you roughly.

Even the sound of the running shower couldn’t drown out the lewd sounds of skin on skin as Roy’s cock rammed against that perfect spot deep inside you. “My fucking empress,” he groaned, mouth attacking your neck, licking up the drops of sweat mixed with hot water. “Taking me so fucking well. Think you can gimme one more?”

When Roy had returned from training, he’d immediately dragged you into the shower, where his deft fingers charmed a second orgasm out of you before he finally gave you the one thing you really wanted. And now, with the hot water scalding your skin deliciously, you were ready for your third high before it was even seven a.m.

“Anything you want,” you panted, rocking back against his hips. “Give you anything you want.”

“Everything I want’s right here,” he murmured against your neck. One hand gripped your hip tightly while the other groped at your breast. “Right fucking here.”

The warmth that nestled in your heart was almost immediately overshadowed by the heat between your legs. You cried out, hand slapping against the shower door, as your legs threatened to give out. Roy only pressed further into you, determined to keep you upright as his own orgasm approached. With a couple of hungry thrusts, his cock gave a thunderous twitch before flooding you with his release. He stilled for a moment, pressing adoring kisses to your wet hair before gently pulling out. You groaned softly at the empty feeling, and again when you felt his release drip down your thighs, mixing with the hot water of the shower.

Roy chuckled and wrapped you in a hug, trailing kisses down your face. “You,” he huffed, “are so fucking perfect, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you hummed, turning your body to face him. “D’you have time for a real breakfast before work?”

Once the two of you were dried off and dressed, Roy led you down to the kitchen, insisting on making you something to eat rather than letting you offer to cook. So instead, you leaned against the counter, watching him scramble eggs and heat up sausages and prepare you a cup of tea.

He quirked an eyebrow at you as you sipped your tea. “What were you thinking of getting up to today?” he asked, genuine interest in his voice. You tried to remember the last time a man was so attentive to what you had to say.

You shrugged, cocking your head at him. “Not sure,” you admitted with a shrug. “Was thinking I’d just hang out here all day. Relax a bit. Maybe have some dinner ready when you get home.” You wrapped your arms around his middle and smiled coyly at him. “What d’you think?”

Roy smirked down at you and kissed the top of your head. “Oi, you’re my guest, you’re not fucking cooking for me.”

“What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll discover I’m a better cook than you are?” you teased, running your hand down his chest.

“Watch it,” Roy warned playfully; you wondered if he was talking about your teasing words or your roaming hands. “Maybe in a couple days you could come down to Nelson Road with me. Come see the guys train. They’d get a fucking kick out of seeing you.”

And so it was all planned. In a couple of days, you’d visit Nelson Road, claiming to want to see your team in action (you had, after all, recently acquired those shares Rebecca was hoping you’d buy). You’d tell everyone you were just looking for a quiet break, away from Monaco, and that you were staying at a posh hotel not too far from Roy’s house; this provided you with the perfect excuse to have Roy chauffer you around. He even offered to let you drive his Mercedes from time to time if you wanted to, something he’d never offered a woman before; even Keeley had never been behind the wheel of the black monstrosity he called a car.

“You know those pricks are going to invite you fucking everywhere,” Roy warned you as the two of you finished up the breakfast he made. “Matches, dinner at Sam’s place, the clubs.” He rolled his eyes. “Half of them are obsessed with shagging you, and the other half are obsessed with getting me to shag you.”

You giggled and sipped your orange juice. “I’m looking forward to seeing the Greyhounds try to play matchmaker.” You reached out and gave Roy’s hand a squeeze. “Almost as much as I’m looking forward to going home with you after every outing.”

He smiled, looking something close to bashful. “Yeah, well.” He cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. “I should be heading out soon. Don’t want to be too late to work.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your lips before grabbing your empty plate. “I’ll just handle these-”

“I’ve got them,” you assured him, tugging the plates out of his hand. “You just get going.” Before he could protest, you stood and carried the plates to the kitchen sink, pretending that the absolute domesticity of it all didn’t both trill and terrify you.

Roy followed you, a tiny smile playing on his lips as he watched you collect the dishes from the stove. “Oi, you want to walk me out?”

You didn’t need any prompting to move away from the sink and take Roy’s outstretched hand. He kissed your knuckles as you accompanied him to the front door, where his work bag was already waiting for him.

“I won’t be back until close to six,” he reminded you in the foyer. “Gotta fucking train with Tartt after work.” He rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t almost enjoy his time with the man that he refused to call his best friend. “But once I’m back, I’m all yours,” he promised.

“All mine,” you echoed, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull his face down to yours. “I like the sound of that.” The kiss you pressed to his lips again had him considering calling in sick, especially when you gave a little suck to his bottom lip.

He groaned as you pulled away. “Fucking hell,” he rasped. “Five-thirty. I’ll be home at five-fucking-thirty.”

You laughed and gave Roy a little shove. “Guess it’s lucky for Jamie that you’re getting lucky.”

Roy’s thick eyebrows flew up in joyful surprise. “Oh, am I getting lucky tonight, then?”

“We’ll see.” You pressed another kiss to his lips, a longer, lingering one now. His hands found their home on your hips, tugging you flush against him, both of you forgetting all about Roy being on time for work. You finally pulled back, eyes sparkling with affection and lust. “Hurry home, Kent,” you hummed, opening the door for him. “Hurry home.”

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#roy kent shut up and drive #roy kent x f1! reader #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent smut #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

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