#take it slow for you roy

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Today’s tiny but extremely important Roy & Jamie detail is the fact that after Ted’s “good night and see you all on Monday” Roy turns fully towards Jamie and gives him another pat/squeeze/bump on the arm. You can’t see it properly – and I for one am very mad about it – as the moment is intercut with Ted and Beard walking to the office, but we see Roy’s movement towards it before the cut and then him pulling his hand away right after. And of course it’s a perfectly reasonable and unexceptional thing for a coach to do once his boy has made it onto the English team -- so why is it making me want to scream, hm?

(Picture quality remains shit but I hope you appreciate how hard I worked to capture the split second of Roy’s hand lifting from Jamie’s arm, since that wasn’t easy to achieve on Apple TV’s highly questionable streaming platform, which doesn’t allow me to go frame by frame.)

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Twelve

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes. 

A/N: sorry this took so long. but it's here now. HAPPY CHRISTMAS BITCHES!

Word Count: 10k+

Chapter Twelve:

“Darling!” Rebecca called as you and Roy approached the restaurant. She stood outside next to a shorter man (obviously), who could only be John Wingsnight. 

Roy stayed back as you sped forward, stretching out your arms for an embrace until you and Rebecca finally met in the middle. “Why does Roy look more pissed off than usual?” Rebecca whispered in your ear quickly, as the men shook hands beside you awkwardly. 

“Don’t ask,” you whispered back, but she only squeezed you harder in response. “I’ll tell you later,” you added painfully. 

“Fine,” she muttered quickly, before the two of you finally parted. She put on a stellar smile. “Shall we head inside?” You nodded, and the four of you entered the restaurant together. 

John reached the table first, and slid a chair out for Rebecca. She took it graciously, before he turned to look at you. “It’s so nice to finally meet some of Rebecca’s good friends,” he said. He sounded posh– Richmond posh. You smiled as nicely as you could, but Roy’s presence close behind you was practically burning a hole through your skin. 

You went to grab a seat opposite Rebecca, but was abruptly cut off by Roy. He reached out his arm and slid out the chair before you could. You hit his eye as he waited for you to sit down, and when you did, you felt so overexposed that you could hardly stand it. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, as Roy tucked you in safely. He growled gently in response, and the four of you settled in for a long fucking night. 

As soon as you could, drinks were ordered in excess. Small talk ensued, but it was made up mostly of Rebecca whittling on about your past placement at the club, and all of the drama that happened during your year there. Next to you, Roy stayed silent unless spoken to. It was clear he wasn’t thrilled about this, but even more so after the ordeal on the drive over. 

Truth be told, as much as you’d been looking forward to this evening, you wanted nothing more than to pack it in and be alone with Roy. You needed to address so much, and talk honestly for once in your fucking lives. That was only made more difficult when John piped in with new questions. As soon as she could, Rebecca brought up your article from the Independent. 

“Oh, fantastic!” John exclaimed in response. “I read that article, by the way– the one about you, Roy.” Roy tried and failed to look enthusiastic, as John turned to you. “Brilliantly written, you absolutely deserved to win.”

You smiled. “Thank you, that’s kind of you to say.”

“So, is that how this happened?” John asked, pointing at you and Roy playfully. 

You and Roy turned to each other at the same time. Both of you looked like deers in headlights, as the entire point of your double-date lie was finally put to the test. 

“Yes,” you said quickly. “Yes, exactly.” Stupidly, idiotically, you’d never fucking thought about what story you’d have to explain; the story of how you started dating. Roy looked too relaxed for your liking, so you decided to involve him. “Isn’t that right, Roy?”

Roy shot daggers at you immediately, but they were only perceived by you. He recomposed himself as he turned to Rebecca and John, but before a single word left his mouth, his hand found yours upon the table top. You inhaled deeply as his fingers wrapped around your own. 

“She bugged me so much about the fucking article that it was inevitable,” he said lowly. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

John laughed heartily, raising his glass at Roy happily. Rebecca choked on her starter. You’d momentarily stopped thinking as soon as Roy’s hand had touched yours, and had now gone temporarily blind from him calling you babe. 

Roy squeezed your hand gently, and your senses refreshed like lightning. “Y-yes,” you stuttered quickly. “Totally inevitable.”

“Well, how delightful,” John said sweetly, before he turned towards Rebecca. “Rebecca speaks very highly of you, I’ve found.”

“I’d bloody hope so,” you let out, getting rid of some of your pent up anxiety. Rebecca laughed, fully recovered from her choking fit. Roy’s fingers were still latched over yours, and you found yourself not hating it after the initial shock. 

“And you, Roy!” John continued. “Congrats on the pundit gig, by the way.”

“John is a big football fan,” Rebecca said, and John nodded enthusiastically. 

“Here we fucking go,” Roy growled under his breath. You rearranged your fingers quickly, so that you could squeeze his hand reassuringly. He turned to you gently, flicking his eyes over your encouraging face. 

You knew this entire night was out of his comfort zone, including the whole fake dating ordeal on top. Getting Roy out to dinner like this was hard enough as it was, but adding this play-pretend must have had him reeling. It was tough for you, as well, especially after your almost confession in the car beforehand. All the two of you had to do was hold on for dear life for another few hours, and then it’d be over. 

“It was a massive coincidence, actually,” you piped up suddenly, turning back to John and Rebecca. “I’d had this small nagging voice in my head that kept saying how good a pundit Roy could be, enough for me to annoy him over text, even. Then, a few weeks later, he was on the telly! It was weird, honestly.”

“That wasn’t a fucking coincidence,” Roy said sternly. “I’d had those Sky producers down my throat for a month, but only bothered to reply after you mentioned what a good idea it was.”

You squinted at him, shocked. “What?”

“I became a pundit because of you.” 

Rebecca’s mouth upturned into a sly smile. John caught her eye in confusion, but still looked happy to simply be there– probably because he was in Roy’s presence. You struggled to find the right words to say, as your mind catapulted all your thoughts to ricochet off your skull. 

The only word you could physically get out was “Oh.” Your wide eyed stare stayed on Roy for a few seconds more, until you quickly looked at the table, trying to compute what you’d just been told. “Right.” You added. 

“You were right, too,” Rebecca said gently, and you caught her eye. “Roy does make a rather entertaining pundit.”

“And that’s an understatement,” John added, cheesing from ear to ear. 

“Yes, he does,” you said, agreeing with Rebecca, but still hesitating over your muddled thoughts. “Will you excuse me for a moment? That wine has gone to my head,” you let out, alongside a breathy laugh to break the tension. 

Roy fingers separated from yours, and as you walked to the bathroom, you felt utterly alone. Maybe it was the lack of his touch, just in those initial seconds after having it. Maybe it was the realisation that once again he’d done something that you’d suggested, just for you. There was no reason for you to get mad about it. Being a pundit was more than the article; it was more public, more personal, more professional. He wouldn’t have done it all unless he’d accepted it himself, and that was the truth of it. 

Still, hearing that you’d been his reason for going ahead with the gig was warming. As you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, your eyes were glassy. Your cheeks felt hot, and it wasn’t just from the wine. Your fingers were clammy, not only from your nerves, but from having someone hold them so tightly for the last ten minutes– all of these factors added up to be caused by one man only; Roy fucking Kent. 

He was so different to you. So stubborn, so grumpy, so unapproachable, yet it had been so easy for you to cut through his layer of steel and get to the other side of his personality. Gentle, caring, and so unapologetically honest that you could hardly believe it. From the way Keeley and Rebecca– even the fucking football team, too– had reacted when Roy had steadily started opening up to you, you knew this wasn’t an ordinary occurrance. They knew him from a day to day perspective, whereas your knowing had transcended the walls of the Dogtrack after only a few months around each other. 

Innately, a switch flicked on in your brain. It’d been over a year of this dynamic. Even including those three months of silence, you’d still thought of each other on a daily basis. Something had to give, and that something was you. This was your opportunity to make yourself abundantly clear– this stupid, idiotic fake dating situation. This was the trial shift, and you just had to show up. 

You washed your hands quickly, and as you did it cemented this shift within you. As you opened the door to the bathroom and emerged back into the restaurant, you held your head high. You walked in your heels like you’d been walking in them your entire life, and when you saw the back of Roy’s head, your heart swelled. 

As sat back down at the table, and impulsively leaned into Roy. He sensed you, and changed his posture to accommodate your own. “Sorry about that,” you said, laughing at yourself slightly. “It’s not often that I drink wine anymore.”

“Get a different drink if you want, darling,” Rebecca said. 

“I think I will,” you agreed, before you took the plunge. Gently, you leaned into Roy, clinging onto his bicep softly. “When the waitress comes around again can you grab her for me, please?” you asked.

Roy tensed slightly beneath your touch, but you could feel him relax as he peered into your eyes. “Alright,” he said lowly. “Beer?” he asked. 

You nodded with a smile. It was sweet that he knew exactly what you wanted. 

Your main courses were uneventful, but tense. You ate in happy splendour, chatting about whatever— you wouldn’t be able to recount the conversation in any state, purely because you were hyper aware of Roy next to you the entire time. Rebecca’s side-eye stares tickled your bare skin. John’s obliviousness kept you grounded. 

It was funny, wasn’t it? The moment that you and Roy had permission to fully jump, to indulge, you found yourselves in a situation where touching the other felt incredibly odd. As much as this entire situation was exciting for both of you, you found yourself focusing on the fact this was all fake– the relationship, the meal, and… the first time you allowed yourself to feel. 

Every hand touch and shoulder bump was being watched clearly. Was it all real if this double date was a lie? Was it all real even if you and Roy weren’t actually together? 

“Darling,” Rebecca said softly, and you almost jumped out of your skin when you came back to reality. You’d utterly zoned out to the point where you hadn’t even noticed your dessert was already in front of you. “Are you alright?” she whispered across the table. 

You swallowed uncomfortably. “Yes,” you said quickly, before picking up your fork. “Sorry.”

“So,” John started, chewing on a mouthful of praline. “Pluto Press, right?” 

Your eyes widened, your heart plummeted into your stomach. You’d been avoiding talking about your job with anyone for the past few months. You swallowed, and put on a smile in panic. “That’s the one,” you said, but the awkwardness practically seeped out of you. 

“What’s it like in publishing? I’ve always been curious,” John asked, leaning in slightly, so that you couldn’t fucking escape. 

“It’s… well, it’s…” You were hyper aware of Rebecca sitting opposite you, and Roy sat to your left. You felt the ex-football Captain stiffen next to you. Concern pooled between you, and he shifted himself to face you more so, curiosity prevalent on his brow. 

You looked up at him, lost for words. Innately, you let yourself crumble. Perhaps it was time to tell them that you had your reservations about work. You sucked in a breath. “At first, it was a dream,” you said, turning to John with a faint smile. “I suppose it always is when it comes to the job you’ve wanted since you were a kid.” You turned to Roy again, meeting his eye. “Right?” you whispered. 

Roy nodded gently before you. He had football on his mind, no doubt. You could see it in his gaze, you could sense him envisioning the green of the Dogtrack. 

“A few months down the line, though…” you started, and gently turned to Rebecca. She was looking at you with a signature arched eyebrow, waiting for you to spill your guts. “It’s been… different, I suppose.”

“Different?” Rebecca questioned. 

Roy twisted towards you even more. “Different how?” 

Different, as in, I fucking hate it. That’s what you wanted to say, but saying that to the two people who gave you the opportunity to have the position? Hell fucking no. 

You opened your mouth, trying to decide upon what words to use, but you never got the chance to say them. A woman sidled up to Roy and threw you all from your conversation. Rebecca’s stare snapped upon her like a lethal panther. Roy perked a brow up at her, a subtly seething look on his face. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said, and her Chelsea or Kensington accent was the first thing you noticed. “I just had to come over or I’d hate myself for it. You’re Roy Kent, aren’t you?” She was beautiful in a way that reminded you of the girls who used to bully you in school– in your mind, this was exactly what some of them would have grown up to look like. Blonde, big-boobed, high-fashioned, rich. 

Your face dropped immediately, overcome by a feeling you’d never actually experienced before. Your chest felt tight, your fists balled in your lap, your shoulders squared off defensively. You turned to Rebecca, and the frown on her face only added to the grim feeling you held inside. 

Roy growled at the woman in response, not just as confirmation, but definitely from annoyance. Who the hell interrupted someone during dinner? At a fucking restaurant? 

She ignored his hostility, instead opting to jump up and down abruptly. “Oh! I knew it. My father and brother love you, especially from your Chelsea days. Can I…” she said. As she did, she leant in even closer, bridging the gap between her and Roy, until he was forced to look up at an almost ninety degree angle. “Can I get a photo?” 

Your stomach dropped at the shift in her tone of voice. She was flirting. Suddenly, the feeling inside you made perfect fucking sense–

Jealousy. You were jealous. 

Rebecca went to protest first, but you beat her to it. You leaned forward, and wrapped your fingers around Roy’s bicep defensively. “Excuse me,” you said strongly. “We’re in the middle of a meal, and you’re very much interrupting us.” 

Roy’s muscles relaxed beneath your grip, and you only took that as a sign to hold your ground. The woman before you was taken aback, obviously not used to mere commoners having a pop at her about her wrong behaviour. She let out a nervous laugh, tilting back slightly as she peered down at you from above. Instinctively, you caught her eye and glared– glared for your damn life. 

“Uh.” The noise burst from her lips like a breath she hadn’t meant to exhale. Like a crack in her exterior. “I’m sorry– what are you supposed to be?” 

You saw red, and stood impulsively. You’d never wanted to throw a punch more in your life, nor had you ever had the desire to do so in front of a restaurant full of people, but something entirely new had come over you– and Roy was at the centre of it.

You pointed at her as soon as you were at her eye level, leaning over Roy beneath you. “Listen here, you little–”

“Alright!” Roy burst from beneath you, putting himself between you and the blonde. His arm twisted behind him and found your waist easily. He pulled you into his back, erecting himself as a literal human shield, in every sense. “That’s fucking enough of that,” he muttered, looking the blonde in the eyes. 

Suddenly, she switched back to something more honeyed. She puffed her chest out, showing off her cleavage even more so, and batted her mink eyelashes at Roy above her. He bought none of it, of course. It was Roy, and he could always see the bad in people. Mostly, it was a hindrance, but sometimes… It worked. 

“I’ll give you a photo to fuck off,” he said candidly. 

You scowled behind Roy, trying to adjust yourself to the point where you weren’t utterly flush against the wool of his jumper. The blonde made a guttural noise of offence, however, which definitely pleased you somewhere deep inside. 

“God, don’t fucking bother then,” she squeaked at Roy. You thought that was the end of it, until more drivel fell from her lips. “You need to keep your dog on a leash.”

You froze, but not from what she’d just said. You froze, because Roy’s blood immediately turned to ice. You felt the muscles in his back contracting, trying and failing to shut down his inevitable jump to anger. You could imagine the robotic expression on his face, the sharpness of his jaw, the straightness of his eyebrows. 

This was Roy Kent when he was too angry to function. This was Roy Kent from the fucking football pitch.

Your gut lurched when his grip on your waist loosened, and you knew you had to intervene. Quickly, you slipped beneath Roy’s arm and shoved yourself between him and the blonde. You leaned back against Roy’s chest forcefully, and to no surprise he’d planted himself to the ground like a fucking tree. The blonde crossed her arms, shooting you with a shitty looking smirk that was supposed to make you feel hard done by, but you actually didn’t care. 

You just wanted her to leave Roy alone.

“I think it’s time for you to leave now,” you said calmly. “Before you embarrass yourself even more.” You softened your expression, but not by much. The blonde faltered subtly, dropping her arms to her sides as she became self-conscious of how many stares in her direction littered the restaurant. 

“I was going already,” she said, flustered, but not before she caught Roy’s eye again. “You footballers are always too fucking complicated.”

You and Roy watched her clip away in her heels, muttering to herself the entire way back to her table. A tense silence filtered across the restaurant, until all of a sudden, the hubbub came back. People went back to their meals, your heart settled in your chest, and Roy– his hand found yours instantly. You turned back to the table, shivering with every swipe he gave your knuckles, and caught Rebecca’s eye. 

You’d almost forgot her and John were still fucking here. 

Rebecca cleared her throat. “Shall we get the bill?”

John kissed Rebecca goodbye, but not after shaking Roy’s hand and holding onto his wrist for just a moment too long. You let out a pent up breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, as your party of four decreased to three. Rebecca turned back to you and Roy with an expectant face.

“So?” she said, eyes gleaming.

You hunched your shoulders up to your ears and smiled awkwardly. “He’s… nice!” you said, and for once you couldn’t find any other word to describe someone, but you tried your best. “He’s personable, and financially stable…” you trailed off.

“But?” Rebecca asked, sensing some trepidation. 

“Well,” you started, turning to Roy for back-up. 

He let out a sigh, growling subtly. “He’s fine!” he exclaimed. “And fine is good, fine is safe, but I guess it all comes down to why the fuck someone like that deserves you.” He said strongly. “You deserve someone who makes you feel like you’ve been been struck by fucking lightning.” 

Rebecca and your speechlessness was apparent, as the two of you glued your eyes onto Roy. You could feel him buzzing next to you, and heat radiated off him in waves.

“Don’t you dare settle for fine, just because it’s easy.” Roy scrunched his face passionately, before clocking eyes with you next to him. His face softened, and his expression resorted back to something more unbothered. “Or do,” he backtracked. “Do whatever you want.”

He shrugged, and you scoffed abruptly, bringing a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from chuckling more. Rebecca was taken aback. She had this golden look on her face that you could relate to heavily. You’d had that look a thousand times before, when Roy had done something to completely subvert your expectations. He was right, though, as much as Rebecca probably wanted to object. He was right, and you were glad that he’d said it the way it should be.

The sound of Rebecca’s heels disappeared into the distance, as you and Roy walked back along the river. It was cold. The temperature had dropped profusely as November set in, and you could see your breath every time you managed to exhale. That was just it– breathing around Roy tonight had become some sort of manual chore, alongside every other normal function that you could usually do in a heartbeat. 

Unsaid words flickered between the two of you as you continued strolling; past Roy’s Jeep, further down river, until you reached the small side streets around Richmond Green. It was a comfortable silence, but far from a calm one. You and Roy had thoughts so loud that it was a miracle you couldn’t decipher the chatter in each other’s brains. 

Thinking back to the car ride, the stares, the feeling in your gut, all of it– you knew something had to be said. But, you simply didn’t know how to put it all into words. Perhaps Roy was suffering the same, as his mouth stayed glued shut. 

Approaching the other side of the green, your eyes settled on the Crown and Anchor. Ted and Beard’s stomping ground was lively, and you slowed down to peer through the windows. Twinkling lights rounded each frame, shining onto the people inside. Beers were half drunk, locals chattered and chortled, and Mae stood in her rightful place behind the bar. 

You smiled. “I wonder if Ted and Beard are in.” Your heart felt warm. 

“Ted lives just up there,” Roy said, pointing to a side street beyond the pub. “He made me tea, at the end of last season.”

“Hm,” you said. “That was before the last game, wasn’t it?” 

Roy nodded next to you slowly. “Stopped the twat from getting hit by a cab. He’d had one too many pints.”

You let out a gentle breath, smiling as you pictured the scene. Neither of you made an attempt to walk inside, or further down the road. You simply stayed glued to your spots, and you thought you knew why. This was nice. Stood beside one another, recovering from that tension you’d both had at the restaurant. But– this was safe. You were both avoiding addressing what you truly wanted to; 

What would come of this?

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling that you had to pull off the bandaid. “Listen…” You turned to face him. “Roy–”

“Don’t,” he said quickly, lowly. “I know what you’re gonna say.”

You swallowed away your words. “Okay.”

Roy’s chest expanded as he sucked in as much air as he possibly could, and let it all out of his nose. He smiled. “I like this,” he croaked. “I like things the way they are.” Your heart sunk ever so slightly, but you were thankful he wasn’t yet finished, so you didn’t have to speak. “I like you and me hanging out, and talking football, and just– I don’t fucking know– this.” 

You didn’t understand him fully, and you had a feeling that Roy didn’t understand himself either. Neither of you knew what you wanted precisely, and that was easy to see. 

Panic set in on Roy’s face. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just– I just fucking–” You stopped him by placing a gentle hand on his chest. 

You attempted to rationalise what he was saying. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe keeping things like this, platonic, friendly, whatever the fuck word you could use, was for the best. It was just like that blonde girl back at the restaurant had said; footballers were complicated, and you didn’t like complicated, even if it was with Roy.

“I do, too,” you said, reassuring him. “Like this, I mean. I like this, too.” You smiled, but it felt sad. 

Roy exhaled softly, finally landing on words you could both understand. “I fuck things up, sometimes,” he said lowly. “I don’t want to fuck up things with you.”

An abundance of thoughts trickled from the deep crevices of your brain. Ones that wanted to yell at Roy to let himself be happy, to let himself do things that he wanted, to not hold himself back. The look on his face showed you just how hard he’d thought about it all. It was the same look that had graced his face for most of the meal– he’d been thinking about this conversation all night. 

You had, too. You’d adopted the psyche of someone who knew that she wanted this. Him. And you’d thought that Roy had wanted the same thing, too, considering the immense build up you’d both experienced. You were certain you hadn’t imagined it, certain that he was ready to give in alongside you, but evidently…

You’d been wrong.

And being wrong was okay, especially when your relationship with Roy was on the line. 

You shrugged away the question in your brain of how a fake date, that lasted less than three hours, had utterly changed his mind after months. You bit away the urge to ask him why. Roy’s thoughts weren’t yours to divulge; they were his, and he’d made up his mind. That was something you had to take with grace. 

“Okay,” you whispered. It hurt to say, it hurt to accept, but you weren’t about to become someone that got angry when someone you liked denied you. You took a small step back, and smiled in an attempt to hide how gutted you felt. “Okay, Roy,” you said, stronger this time. It cemented it all.

It was done, and you had to be okay with it, or risk losing him altogether. 

As the end of November hit, Roy became used to his routine. He’d film Soccer Saturday four days a week live, and one day a week for pre recorded segments that were played during highlights. He got up at seven in the morning, sharp, sometimes going for a run when it wasn’t too blisteringly cold, but those mornings had been few and far between as temperatures hit zero. Winter hadn’t yet arrived, but it bloody felt like it.

He’d have a coffee, and don his suit, before jumping his Jeep to the studio. On the way, a mere two minutes into his drive, he’d pass your flat. It was customary for him to glance to the left as he passed, always, but the thoughts that hit him alongside were something he wished would stop. 

That look on your face, the one from that night– it haunted him. You haunted him. 

Through every fault of his own, he was grief stricken. If you’d asked Roy a few weeks before the meal if he was ready for this, for you, for what could be, he wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. But that night, everything had shifted for him. 

The way Rebecca had glanced between you and him made his gut coil, and he knew it was bloody obvious that you both had shared affections. The feeling that you both harboured could’ve been seen from fucking space, he’d bet. But, then it all went downhill. That blonde girl, the one with the giant rack, and even bigger nose to butt in your evening together, had stumped him. 

Up until that moment, Roy was accustomed to knowing when his anger would jump out. He could feel it coming on, sense it raging within him, but when she’d talked down to the likes of you– it had felt uncontrollable. Roy was a violent man; he was no stranger to throwing a punch to someone who deserved it, and he was content living that way. Just not around you. He didn’t like that side of him when you were near. He didn’t want to fight or kick or punch his way out of an uncomfortable situation when you were next to him. 

That, and Roy had felt the unmistakable struggle of something else for practically half his life. It was nagging, and made his chest hurt. Those thoughts of self-loathing, of exposure, of isolation, were something so ingrained that he’d never thought they would be a problem when it came to actually being happy. But, they were. They really fucking were. 

The truth was, Roy Kent didn’t want to drag you– marvellous, intelligent, too-good-for-him you��� into his nightmare of a life. Full of uncertainty, or unfulfilled self-worth, of all of it. 

So, that was that. 

You continued working, but reluctantly. Thoughts of Roy pelted your mind, utterly impossible to ignore. You didn’t have time to ponder the possibility of leaving Pluto Press, or doing something different, not when your workload was stacked high. The beginning of December brought buzz about Christmas, but you hardly felt festive. Roy was working hard over at Sky, as were the boys at Richmond. You still kept up with them all, and getting updates from Sam was practically routine now. 

As you jumped off the tube at Richmond after a busy week, your phone buzzed to reveal another text from Sam, but what he’d written made you stop in your tracks. 

Forgot to tell you. Jamie Tartt is back. He started training again today. 

You flashed back to the ordeal from a few months prior, when Sam had stormed off the pitch after seeing Ted at the pub with the ex-Man City superstar. You knew that Ted would have made it clear about bringing Tartt back to the guys, but that didn’t stop you from feeling uncertain. You wanted to think that Jamie had turned a new leaf, but your gut still coiled at the thought of him back at the club. 

Perhaps you were insane, or over-tired, or still reeling after your fake date, but you changed your course home and headed for the Dogtrack without hesitation. Tartt needed to know what was what, and you didn’t care being the person to do that. You imagined it would be harder for Ted to do so, or the guys themselves after all that he’d done last season.

You stormed through the doors off the car park, navigating the corridors down to the lower level, until you stomped your way through the tunnel to the pitch. You launched the door open quickly, not stopping to wave off the confused stares from Ted, Beard and Nate at the edge of the pitch. The guys ran around on the grass, finishing up their final game of their practice. You cut it all short as you propelled your way onto the cold, damp ground. Isaac was the first to stop and stare, whacking Colin on his back to make him aware of your presence too. The trickle of twenty pairs of eyes headed your way immediately, as you cut across Dani and Bumbercatch without a word, headed for one player in particular: number nine, Jamie fucking Tartt.

“Hey!” you exclaimed to him, and a handful of players flinched. 

Jamie whipped his stare away from the ball at his feet, and slowed to a confused stop as you approached him.  “Hey…” he said smally, utterly boggled at your presence. You stopped in front of him, brows furrowed sternly, as you tried to adopt Roy’s resting bitch face. “What’re you–?”

You cut him off by jabbing your pointer finger into his chest. He stepped back once, and rubbed the spot you’d hit him in. “You,” you said strongly.

Jamie’s face warped into concern. “Me?” he said, and his Mancunian accent hit your ears for the first time in several months. You prepared yourself, and even further blocked out the questioning looks that littered the pitch. 

“See this team?” You gestured to the guys quickly. “They’ve worked really fucking hard this season, after the relegation.”

“Okay?” Jamie squeaked out. 

“I’m not questioning Ted’s decision to bring you back,” you continued, holding your ground. “But, know this, Tartt.” You said his name like Roy would, with subtle disdain, with a strength behind it that communicated you were serious. “Being back here is a privilege, not a right, and you need to know that.”

Jamie’s confusion disappeared instantly. His face softened, and was replaced with something resembling guilt. It was a look you’d never seen him wear before, but one that you welcomed in that moment. He needed to know that things wouldn’t be like last time. He needed to know that people like you gave a shit. 

Jamie placed his hands on his hips, and nodded at the ground. “Okay,” he said lowly, before meeting your eye. You raised your brows at him, perhaps in warning. He breathed out quickly. “This is a privilege, not a right,” he repeated to you. 

“Good.” You nodded, and smiled just a little. “Welcome back.” 

Tartt nodded at you in acknowledgement, and you stepped back to show you were done. The guys shuffled behind you, muttering to themselves as you swivelled on your heels and headed back the way you came. When you looked at the various faces around you, Sam was the only one who was properly smiling. He knew you’d done it for him, for all of them. 

Beard hit Ted’s shoulder quickly, and the Texan jumped forward abruptly, until he walked beside you. “All okay, Writer?” he asked, and you smiled wider.

“Sorry for the interruption.”

“Oh, no bother,” Ted said. “Though, perhaps a heads up would have been appreciated.”

You laughed gently. “Noted. Won’t happen again, Coach, I promise.”

Ted laid his hand on your shoulder, and his confused expression turned to gold. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” you said softly. 

“Got any holiday plans?” Ted asked, as the two of you reached the edge of the pitch. You turned back to the guys and practice resumed. 

You shook your head. “Not really. With how busy the office is around Christmas, there’s no point in me going home for it. I’ll probably have to work between Christmas and the New Year.”

Ted hummed in understanding. “Same as us, for sure. We’ve got a match on Boxing Day.”

You hummed in response, as yourself and Ted looked slightly sunken after your small catch up. You’d always spent Christmas with your family, so it would be odd not doing so this year. You tried to think of the perks, though– a pub roast on the day, a drink with Mae at the bar, and an early night before the match and your inevitable workload afterwards. 

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. At least, that’s what you were telling to yourself. 

“Hey!” Sam called from the pitch, jogging over to you and Ted cheerily. “If you have no plans for Christmas day, Mr Higgins is hosting all of Richmond's overseas players. I know that a good few of us are going this year.” Sam smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Do you reckon it would be okay for me to join?” you asked. 

Sam shrugged. “You are a part of Richmond, and you are away from your home. I do not see why not.”

“Very good point well made, Sam,” Ted said softly. Your heart swelled in your chest.

“Okay.” You nodded. “I’ll come.” 

Sam leaned forward and gently grabbed your forearm, squeezing slightly as his fingers coiled around you. He got in close to you. “Thank you,” he whispered, then pulled back and sent you a knowing look. “You are too good to us.” You scoffed to yourself, just from a lack of how to react. 

As Sam jumped back and headed towards the team, he sent you one final glowing review from home: “We all miss you around here!” he exclaimed, before fully rejoining the guys. 

You gulped back your feelings, the hurt, the want, all of it. If you’d allowed yourself to speak back, all your walls would have crumbled instantly. You would have found yourself immediately saying Please let me come back.

Please, let me come home. 

On Saturday afternoon, your phone was ringing off the hook. Not that you could do anything about it, as you found yourself in an altercation with the newly moved-in upstairs neighbour. For days on end, all you’d heard was stomp stomp stomp from above. It was so frequent and so loud that you’d been rudely awoken in the early hours of the morning on multiple occasions.

You were trying this thing where you were being stronger. You were trying this thing where you wouldn’t let people give you shit that you didn’t ask for, nor deserve. When you thought about it in depth, you were actually just trying to be more like Roy. 

As you slammed your front door shut, you sighed deeply. The footsteps from upstairs had gone uncharacteristically quiet, so perhaps you’d actually got through to them. In the kitchen, your phone continued to buzz incessantly. You bound over and were met with something that should have instilled the fear of God into your bones: over ten missed calls, and multiple texts from yours truly, Roy fucking Kent. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you muttered to yourself, as you scrolled through the messages. 

OI!

Pick up the fucking phone.

You’re not gonna believe this shit. 

I’m going on the air in two minutes, hurry the fuck up. 

Guess you’ll just have to watch my mug talk about it on TV.

All messages were sent in a five minute period, not two minutes before. His last call had been one you’d missed by a mere minute. He’d be on Soccer Saturday by now, so you’d just have to see what the fuck was up as it aired. 

When the first advert break hit, you were smiling from smugness. Not that there was any competition between you and Roy when it came to football– he would obviously win– but this time around you felt superior. 

It was about Jamie’s return to Richmond. All that Roy had been calling and messaging you about was Ted bringing the superstar back to the team, and guess what? You’d fucking found out before him. 

During the break, your phone inevitably rang again. You picked it up swiftly, and didn’t even bother talking. Roy growled on the other end. “Did you fucking watch it?” he asked. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed in response, still smiling to yourself. 

Roy went silent for just a second too long, and you could hear the cogs whirring in his head. “You already fucking knew, didn’t you?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed again, fully smiling now. 

“For fucks sake!” he exclaimed. “I should have known your fucking fanbase would have spilled.”

“Sam told me yesterday,” you said. “I actually– well, I went to the Dogtrack after he told me.”

“Oh?” Roy questioned. 

“I may have let my emotions get the better of me.”

“Did you give that little twat what for?”

You squished the features on your face together, thinking back to your abrupt arrival and yelling match on the pitch. “Yes…” 

Roy paused, and your heart stalled. “Good girl,” he said. 

You swallowed away the visceral reaction that reverberated through your chest, but still let out a small choking sound. You played it off as a cough, before you quickly changed the subject. “So, are you doing anything for Christmas?”

“I’ve got Phoebe. We’re gonna attempt to watch all the Harry Potter films in one day. It might get fucking ugly.” Roy paused again, and you had this horrible feeling he was about to– “Want to join us?” 

You clamped your eyes shut. Your heart plummeted into your gut. If he’d asked you this a few weeks back, before the conversation, before the date, before all of it, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. Now, even if you’d wanted to go, you wouldn’t be able to after agreeing to join the guys at the Higgins household. But that was just it– after facing the music, and realising that Roy didn’t want anything more, you knew it would be easier for your heart if you stayed away from moments like that.

Moments where it was you and him, him and you. 

“Oh, Roy,” you let out. “That sounds fantastic, really, but I’ve already got plans with the team. I’m sorry.”

Roy knew it was a long shot. He knew you could’ve been going home to see family, but knowing that you were actually staying in Richmond was even more of a blow. You’d be mere miles away with the team, close enough to fucking be around if he tried. Deep down, though, he knew that wasn’t wise. 

It was him that stopped all this in the first place– it should be him to uphold the friendship and not blur the lines. It wouldn’t be fair to you otherwise. 

“No problem,” Roy said through gritted teeth, trying to sound fine. “Really, it’s fine. You’ve been missing Richmond again, haven’t you?” 

You scoffed gently. “You could fucking say that again.” You wanted to ask him the same, as you harboured a feeling that he missed the team just as much as you did, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment. 

Roy copied you, letting out a huff of air softly. “Enjoy yourself. You deserve it.” Over the line, the shrill sound of a bell rang and a tannoy yelled Back on air in one minute! 

You frowned slightly. “Is that your cue?”

“Yeah, it is,” Roy said lowly. 

“You better get back to it.”

“Hm,” Roy growled. Neither one of you wanted to hang up, though. It was plain to fucking see. “I’ll, uh, see you in the new year then.”

“Have a good Christmas, Roy,” you said, almost painfully. 

“You too.” Then, he was gone. 

Waking up alone on Christmas morning was a new feeling. Your apartment was empty, besides yourself and your haphazard decorations, strewn up quickly in the small amount of time you had at home over the weeks leading up to the big day. It was oddly comforting, though, as you operated to your own schedule and weren’t met with the immediate task of dealing with family for a week straight. 

Your phone was full of Christmas messages. Ones from Keeley and Rebecca, from Ted and Beard. One from Nate made you smile, alongside various well-wishes from the local Richmond guys who wouldn’t be in attendance at Higgins’s. 

You drank your coffee happily, and got yourself ready without any time pressures. Walking over to the Higgins’ household was refreshing, as snow graced the ground in all its splendour. Richmond around Christmas time was truly magical, and it made you feel equally as reflective about your time in this part of London. A year and a half had gone so quickly. 

You passed the Crown and Anchor, and smiled at the buskers singing outside. Last Christmas drifted through the air rightfully, and you shrugged your shoulders up to your ears warmly and watched for a minute. 

Down the small side street by the pub, the unmistakable silhouettes of one Ted Lasso and one Rebecca Welton strolled alongside one another. You turned to face them, and could hardly believe your luck. Rebecca’s face lit up as soon as she saw you, and her long arms spread wide to encase you in a hug. 

“Merry Christmas, darling!” she exclaimed warmly, equally happy about bumping into you. 

When you pulled away, she was very quickly replaced by Ted. He wrapped his arms around you instantly. “What a small world, huh!” 

“Small indeed,” you chuckled.

Ted parted from you, and your cheeks already hurt from smiling as you looked at them both before you. “Where are you two off to? Ted, I thought you were having Facetime Christmas with Michelle and Henry?”

Ted frowned ever so slightly. “Well, some things in this life are impossible to control, and I think seven year old boys definitely fit in that category.” You smiled at him in understanding. “Lucky for me, though, the Boss was right there when I needed her.”

“We’re off to play Santa,” Rebecca chimed in. “Definitely beats what I did last year. That was right after Rupert… well. You know.” She smiled subtly. 

“Are you off to the Higgins’s already?” Ted asked. 

You nodded. “I wanted to get there a little early and help Julie if she needed it. Having a house full of footballers doesn’t strike me as something easy.”

“You can sure say that again,” Ted let out. Rebecca chuckled in agreement. 

“What about Roy, what’s he up to?” Rebecca asked. You inhaled a sharp breath, but smiled all the same. You ignored the stabbing pain in your chest, and the hoard of butterflies that ravaged through your stomach. 

You shrugged. “Don’t know.” It was a lie, but you couldn’t be fucked to explain it all. The invitation, the conversation. You hadn’t told her, nor Keeley, about what had happened after the double date. You didn’t want to. 

Ted’s face softened. “Well, we’ll leave you to it, Writer. Have a good one. You deserve it.”

Rebecca encased you in another hug. “You really do,” she whispered. You knew what it meant. 

Roy looked at his phone grumpily. Not that looking at his phone un-grumpily was something he did often, but he was extra grumpy as he traversed his Christmas messages that morning. There was nothing from you, no small text, no Facebook post, no message sent by carrier-fucking-pigeon. 

“Uncle Roy!” Phoebe called, as the pitter patter of her bare feet erupted down the stairs and straight towards him. She crashed into him as he sat at the dining table, and latched herself onto him. “Can we do presents now?”

Roy took one last glance at his phone, before he dropped it on the table. He turned back to his niece, taking in her puppy-dog eyes and features that looked just like his sister. “Fuck yeah,” he said. 

Phoebe squealed at the top of her lungs, before swivelling on her tiny toes and sprinting towards the tree in the living room. Roy watched her go, smiling to himself as she dropped to the floor and started rifling through the wrapped gifts. 

It was true that he wished you were here. You’d probably have arrived right about now, wearing something cosy like a lumper jumper, and holding a bottle of prosecco for later. You’d have brought gifts, no doubt. Some Barbie situation for Phoebe, or another thing suited for a seven year old girl. Phoebe would have loved it.

You would have brought something for him, too. Something that you might have been worrying about for a few weeks, concerned that he wouldn’t like it when, in fact, you could have got him a bag of literal dog shit and he would have still said thank you. 

Roy swallowed away the images that his head made up. He did it often now, thought of what could have been, what might have been his future, if he wasn’t such a fucking git– or, if you weren’t so fucking perfect that it scared him half to death. 

“Julie! I’ve washed the sprouts!” you yelled from the Higgins’ family kitchen. It was a quaint house, and you wondered how the fuck they fit four boys and two grown adults so easily inside.  

“Fabulous.” Julie rounded the corner from the living room, holding two empty plates that only held crumbs. “Another plate of mince pies is all gone. I don’t know where those boys put it all!”

The doorbell rang like clockwork, and with every ring brought another team member, or two, or four. You hugged everyone as they filed into the kitchen, dropping coats and bags and another plate of food until every counter and surface was covered in another cultural dish. It was fantastic, and you found yourself feeling more part of a family than you ever had at Christmasses in the past. There was no drama, no political debates, and no screaming matches with your mother. It was blissful. 

When Dani arrived, the room erupted in greeting. He approached Julie first and offered her his dish. “Mrs Higgins, I bring you my mother’s punch, and some Mezcal on the side, as she says I am already cheeky enough.” 

Julie chuckled. “Oh, thank you, Dani.” She took the punchbowl from him, and lifted the foil. Immediately, the room was met with the metallic scent of alcohol. Tequila was very much already present in this punch. “God– it seems like you’ve already added some to this.”

Dani grinned. “Yes, I may have cheekified this one for you already.”

You chopped carrots a few metres away from them, but turned to Dani with your knife raised. “Someone get me a fucking glass of that.” Sam obliged as you continued chopping, and the group of the guys got themselves a drink too. The festivities were well underway. 

“Here you are,” Sam said, placing a glass of punch beside you. 

“Thank you, Sam.” You wiped your hands and stopped cooking for just a moment, as he raised his own glass in waiting. You smiled and hovered yours next to his, feeling infinitely warm already. “What are we toasting to?” you asked. 

“To you,” he said gently. “Just because you deserve it.”

You chuckled, embarrassed. “Everyone’s been saying that lately,” you said quietly. “I’m not sure why.”

“Because it is our job to remind you of it, especially when you cannot see it yourself.” Sam looked at you softly, and you knew he was being genuine. You clinked glasses, as your eyes welled ever so slightly. It was moments like these that made you feel known, really really known, but also desperately sad. 

Why weren’t you with them every fucking day of the week?

Leslie let in another three of the guys, and as they clambered inside a problem arose. “You’ve become quite popular, Leslie!” Julie exclaimed happily. 

“Yes, it seems so,” Higgins said. “That’s the problem though, isn’t it. Where are we all going to sit?”

You took the roast potatoes out of the oven and dropped them on the kitchen island. “I think I have an idea to fix that,” you said. 

You tucked in your chair last, and looked around the room. A table as long as a train carriage graced the Higgins household, made from the likes of a surfboard and a pool table, amongst other things. Sam sat opposite you, casting you with a golden glow whenever he so much as smiled. 

At the end of the table, Higgins stood up. Every pair of eyes in the house shot his way, and he raised his glass to the sky. “Here’s to another successful Christmas in Richmond!”

Sam raised his glass higher than all else. “And here’s to the family Higgins!”

As darkness set in outside, you all ate and were merry in each other’s presence. Spending time with the team was always special to you, but this moment stood out above all the rest. It marked the start of another year in Richmond, and just over six months at Pluto Press. It marked a year and a half of an unlikely friendship between yourself and Roy, and all the rest.

You ate more than your own bodyweight, but to your utter surprise, at the end of the meal your head was spinning. You took a sip of your drink, and stopped to stare at the contents of your glass. It was full to the brim, but had been almost empty just a moment before. Had that been happening all evening?

You glanced at Sam, but the punchbowl was nowhere near him. When you glanced to your left, however– “I think this punch needs just a bit more cheekiness!” Dani exclaimed, as he poured in another few shots of tequila to the mix. 

You grabbed his bicep gently. “Dani, have you been filling up my glass all night?” you asked. 

Dani nodded happily. “Sí, mi amigo. My mother never believed in empty glasses. A glass cannot be half empty, or half full, it always has to be full full!” he exclaimed. The boys around him cheered and raised their very full glasses. 

“Well.” You scoffed abruptly to yourself. “Shit,” you said. 

Dani turned back to you, eyes gleaming. “Oh my goodness, are you–?” He mimed tipping back a full glass, and you laughed so loudly that the entire table was alerted to you. Dani grabbed your shoulder fondly. “My friends, it seems our Writer has been– how do you say it in English?”

Bumbercatch leant forward, smiling wildly. “Trollied, bevved, battered–”

Dani stood up abruptly. “She has been trollied, bevved and battered!” He raised his glass high, and clinked it with the guys down his end of the table. 

Meanwhile, you were just calming down from an uncontrollable laughing fit. You glanced at your very full glass, and a small part of your brain told you not to drink it. You’d already had far too much, and you knew what you got like when tequila was in your system. On the other hand, you thought of Roy. 

And he would have told you to buck the fuck up and drink the whole fucking thing. 

You raised your glass to the sky. “To Richmond!” 

The guys followed suit, almost knocking over the surfboard table. “To Richmond!” 

As you stumbled through town, after declining multiple attempts from the guys to drive you home or get you an Uber, you found yourself heading elsewhere. Not home, to the comfort of your bed and a full loaf of bread for you to soak up all of Dani’s Mezcal. Instead, your legs were taking you the familiar route to Roy’s house. You didn’t know what time it was, but you knew it wasn’t too late for him to be asleep. You were proved right, as you rounded the corner to his drive and saw the living room lights still on, no matter how dimly lit he liked them to be. 

As you approached his front door, the small bit of your logical brain that you had left was screaming at you to fuck off and turn around. This was silly, you knew, but you couldn’t fathom going home just yet. Innately, you landed upon yelling surprise! or starting to sing carols in Roy’s face as soon as he opened his door. Somehow, those ideas seemed like the perfect idea, and not at all fucking stupid.

You knocked on the solid oak door strongly, ready to surprise the hell out of him, but when he opened the door and peered down at you– all your words failed. 

Roy wore the remnants of a suit, and a fancy one at that. His tie was loose around his neck, and his shirt was slightly untucked at the bottom, but not enough to not notice the belt that sat snug around his waist. You scanned him up and down quickly– or as quickly as you could in this fucking state. To Roy, your checking him out took a solid ten seconds, or longer. 

When you met his eyes again, he couldn’t hide the amused smile on his face any longer. “Can I help you?” he asked. 

“I may have had a bit to drink,” you said, and as hard as you tried you couldn’t stop your words from slurring. “Dani made punch.”

“Did that punch happen to punch you in the fucking face?” Roy huffed.

You nodded. “Juuust a little bit,” you let out. 

Roy moved to the side. “Fucking get in here,” he said warmly.

You struggled to take off your boots, as Roy grabbed a few drinks from the kitchen. He oversaw you in his entryway, shrugging off your coat clumsily. When you stepped onto his floor in your socks, you skidded and let out a squeak. 

Roy looked away quickly, trying to harden his expression. Watching you inebriated and without inhibitions was enough to make his gut coil. You stumbled to the kitchen, and leaned against the kitchen island just to keep yourself up-right. 

He slid you a beer, which you took without question. “I really don’t need this, do I?” you said, looking to Roy for approval. 

“Fuck no,” he said. “But, it’s Christmas.” 

“Right you are,” you said. The two of you clinked your bottles together, and you swigged back your beer as if it were water. Roy chuckled so hard that beer frothed out of his mouth. 

“Fucking hell, come on.” He grabbed your bicep gently, and led you to the living room. 

You practically jumped onto the sofa, and got yourself comfortable immediately. “I love Christmas,” you whittled on. Roy sat on the other side of you, and took a swig of his own beer. “All the lights, and the snow, and everyone together. I just love it.”

“I take it that spending the day with the team was nice?”

“Just the best!” you exclaimed, raising your arms to the sky and almost dropping beer onto Roy’s plush carpet. He took another amused swig, just to distract himself. “How was your day with Phoebe?”

“We got to Order of the Phoenix before she fucking fell asleep,” he said. “She gave it a good shot.” 

In the corner of his eye, Roy spotted the last present beneath his tree, and remembered who it was for. As you busied yourself by pulling off the sticker from your bottle, Roy got up swiftly and headed to pick it up. He placed his beer down as he grabbed it, and opened the card on the top. 

Just another thing to remind you of home. Roy. 

His handwriting was shit, and he knew it, but he thought that now was as good a time as any to give it to you. It was Christmas after all. 

“Hey, so. I don’t know what’s got me being such a pussy this year, but I got you something,” he said, keeping his back turned to you. “You don’t have to open it now, just thought it would be nice.” He turned back to you, expecting you to be looking at him with those large, glassy eyes that he’d looked into a thousand fucking times.

Roy relaxed when he saw you, and a bubbly laugh ejected itself from his mouth. You were fast asleep on his sofa, beer balanced precariously on your chest as you breathed rhythmically. Your expression was soft, and your mouth was open, ready to emit some serious snoring. Roy strolled back to you slowly, placing your present on the coffee table. He grabbed the beer from your chest and replaced it by pulling a blanket over you warmly. You didn’t stir, utterly unconscious from such a fun packed day. 

He’d never seen you like this– with your guard completely down. He felt privileged to know you felt comfortable enough to feel so at home like this. In his house, completely pissed, next to him. 

Something new came over Roy as he made sure you were comfortable, and before he could stop himself, he leant down and placed a kiss on your forehead. Just a peck, and so fast and soft as not to wake you up. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered. 

Roy left you on his sofa, at peace, and turned off the lights as he headed for bed himself. On the way up, he thought about the last year and a half of having you in his life. All the ups and the downs, all the confusion and the clarity– and what a time it had fucking been. 

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes @20th-centu-fairy-girl@royalestrellas @weakmoony-stuff @ironmanmagnetfridge @lemonpiegurll @hellomagicalsouls @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld @old-enough-to-know-better73 @djarindroid @afraidofshrimp @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses@sogoodtoheritsvicious @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke @onceuponaoneshot @jamieolivia27 @dadbodfanatic-x @kelp-dreaming @harrypedro465 @lonely-escape-artist @abeeabeeabee @nicklet94 @libsybum @cha0sdreaming @toomany24s @kashee-h @infinetlyforgotten @secretnook @cluelesslilsharkie @callmecasey81 @deepdarkvelvet @twiceinabluemoon @cardeegans @golden-hoax @kingleahhh @hoalkk1 @sunderland-6 @ellouisa17 @thesestrangerslikeme @elissaaa @scrumptiousroadponymoney @confessionsofatotaldramaslut @ysmmsy @seacactusplant @pedritosgirl2000 @loveslide @ryleyrooroo @hanybunch @tweasley20 @witchyanya-7 @sareim123122 @jaymum @lwritesstuff 

[thelassoway]

Jason Sudeikis as Ted Lasso » Ted Lasso 3.01 Smells Like Mean Spirit

[dunster]

how did Roy Kent start the show healthier than he ended the show

[albatmobile]

Master List: The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds

𓅪 Navigating the present is hard when your past refuses to die. After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for their child.

Rated E | fem!reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper CLICK FOR LINK TO SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

Yellow Flowers 4k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

The Wilder Mile 9.8k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

Work’s Easy… 6.5k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

She's a Riot 15.2k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

Lost in Translation 9k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

Growing Pains 11.2k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

There is a Light 7k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

8. I Wanna Be Your Man 10.2k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

9. What You Know 7.8k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

10. Your Protector 6.3k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

11. Bambi 8k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

12. Waste 9.3k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

13. Diamonds 8.2k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

14. Strong Enough 3.1k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

15. Snowbird 5.5k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

16. It's Gonna Be Me 3.3k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

17. Special Enough 2.8k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

18. Call Me in the Afternoon 4.5k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

19. Crazy Train 9.1k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

20. Junk of the Heart 3.3k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

21. A Million Years Ago 8.1k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

22. Dance for Love 6k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

23. Love Me Like You Used To 8.3k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

24. Love Story 4k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

25. Born to Die 14k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

26. If You Ever Leave 5.5k | ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

Next in Series: Cardinal Sins

[gulski2]

an edit a day:

[pavl0ve]

waiting for the rule of three parallels to finish roy giving up his career to tackle jamie One Last Time / the heatbutt and hug / royjamie celebrations as richmond win the cup

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Since reading Rob Roy, I’ve become really really fast at reading books in a standard English dialect

[incorrectbatfam]

Jason is a hopeless romantic 100%

it just doesnt show

But everyone goes to him whn its time to plan dates

Dick: Hey, can I ask you something?

Jason, reading: No.

Dick: You see, Wally and I have our weekly date night coming up, but we've been to pretty much every place there is. You got any ideas for how to shake things up?

Jason: *scribbles coordinates and tosses him the Bat-plane keys*

[later]

Wally: Wow, I've never been to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

Dick: I'm glad you like it.

Dick: *texts Jason a thumbs up*

Jason: *read at 8:55 PM*

———————

Tim: Jason, glad you're here! I totally forgot it's me and Bernard's six-month anniversary. Help me out, man.

Jason, clipping his toenails: Fine. You better write this down 'cause I'm only saying it once.

Tim: *nods*

Jason: Go to Home Depot. You're gonna need some rope, a tarp, hammer and nails, a hatchet, matches, and fuel. After that...

Tim: *furiously takes notes*

[later]

Bernard: A camping trip was a great idea. It's nice to get away from it all. And I can't believe you set this all up yourself.

Tim, chuckling nervously: What's a boyfriend for if not to build a tent and chop down a tree?

———————

Duke: So the school dance is coming up.

Jason, working: Theme?

Duke: Under the sea.

Jason: Ugh, how cliché. Anyway, Armand's Tailoring has a blue suit that'll match whatever your girlfriend's wearing. Tell him I sent you. After that, call Patricia's Bistro and make a reservation with the code word "surreptitious." Alfred can take you in the limo if you give him a 24-hour heads-up to clean it. Once you're there, remind the DJ he owes me a favor to get your song requests bumped up. And remember, a slow dance is basically moving your feet in a square but otherwise go with the flow.

Duke: Sweet, thanks!

———————

Cass: Steph is sad.

Jason, cooking: *sighs*

Jason: *takes out a tub of ice cream*

Jason: *scoops a hole in the middle*

Jason: *fills it with candy*

Jason: Here.

Cass: Thanks!

———————

*phone rings*

Jason, waking up from a nap: What?

Kory: Sorry if I woke you. Barbara's coming over for breakfast in half an hour but I burned it with my powers. It was supposed to be eggs benedict.

Jason: Order takeout and put it on fancy plates.

Kory: You're a lifesaver—

Jason: *already hung up and went back to sleep*

———————

Kate: It's Renee's birthday tomorrow. I have a gift, but I'm not sure if it's good enough.

Jason, polishing his gun: If it's from you, it will be.

———————

Bruce: *walks in*

Bruce: Hey, son. Selina's not talking to me after our argument. How do I tell her how much she means to me?

Jason, reciting Shakespeare: I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, "I love you."

Bruce: You're right. I'm just gonna tell it to her straight. Thank you.

Bruce: *leaves*

Jason: *takes off his headphones and turns around*

Jason: Did someone say something?

———————

Damian: Todd, what is love supposed to feel like?

Jason: Why do you want to know?

Damian: None of your concern. Now tell me.

Jason: *shoots a training dummy*

Jason: It's when they're lodged in your head like a bullet. Except without the excruciating pain and messy red stuff.

Damian, nodding: Tell me more.

———————

Roy: *takes down a villain*

Jason, sitting on a roof: *wolf whistles*

Roy: The hell?

Jason: I know hot when I see it.

Roy: What are you doing here?

Jason: I brought Arrowdogs.

Roy: You hate Arrowdogs.

Jason: But you don't.

Roy: Aw, how sweet—EYES UP HERE, TODD!

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Is Trent Crimm deeply disappointed that he missed the whole locker room scene where the team airs their “stop hogging Jamie” grievances or deeply relieved? On the one hand, reporter instincts for a good story, on the other hand his own morals would never let him put it I the book, massive (reporter/writer) blue balls.

re: Jamie Hogging Ask- some days ago on the Colin/Jamie post, you mentioned that you'd daydreamed out a bit of an AU where Jamie ended up dating a whole section of the team on some sort of rotation schedule. I assume that there was some dramatic locker room scene where they all hashed out that they felt it was unfair that only Colin on the team got to date him. I assume Trent was no longer hanging around the locker rooms at this point (but who knows, he may be a fixture now. also it could be mid season 3 when this all goes down, idk). But he still has the instinct to know when a really good/interesting story is around. On the one hand, he knows his conscience won't let him publish the level of ridiculousness that Richmond can sink to. On the other hand, it would be really really funny to write a whole chapter on the way that this was negotiated out, and also that a google calendar/groupchat was created specifically for coordinating who gets to monopolize Jamie and when.

Ooh, love the way you think, nonny!

If Trent weren’t around for all that he’d be massively disappointed, I think. Yes, as a (former) journalist he’s driven to share the truth, but I think he’s even more driven to know the truth. He can keep quiet when he has to – see: Colin kissing Michael – but realizing he’s missed out on Something Good? Ah, no, that’ll drive him nuts.

But now that you’ve suggested it, I am convinced he was there. Admittedly, in my head this whole thing goes down quite some time after the S3 finale, but that’s not a problem! Even though the book’s both written and published, I’m sure Trent finds plenty of reasons to stop by Nelson Road for a visit. He’s a Diamon Dog now, right? Gotta drop in for the weekly barking session! (Ted Zooms in sometimes, which is always a treat.) Besides, Trent grew very fond of the whole team while he was there, and though he gets most of the gossip from Colin – they obviously stay in touch, Trent knows all about the Jamie situation – he still wants to hear the coaches’ takes on everything that goes on, hang out with the rest of the lads for a bit. So, yeah, he’s there.

I think he might write the chapter, actually – knowing full well he can’t ever publish it, but needing to put it down even so. Get it out of his system, somehow. Also, it gives him a chance to indulge in all the (affectionate!) sarcastic and wry little comments he dutifully left out of the actual book!

Say Trent’s showed up one morning before practise while everyone’s getting changed and let’s say Roy shows up with Jamie and sort of hand him over to Colin and Colin and Jamie start enthusiastically making plans for the evening and maybe it’s Jan Maas who notes that “It’s not actually fair Roy and Colin both get to date Jamie when no one else does.”

As Roy stares at him incredulously and Dani pipes up. “I agree with Jan. It makes me happy to see you together, but it also makes me sad”, Trent’s spidersense is not only tingling but absolutely exploding and he discreetly pulls out his notebook and start jotting things down as fas as he can while the room unravels before his very eyes:

JT says he’s willing to date anyone who wants to date him, if OK with RK, KJ & CH. They are.

Explicitly wants in: Jan Maas, Dani Rojas, Jeff Goodman, Paul Reynolds, Bhargava, Sasha Kukoč.

Suspect might want in but didn’t say: Potentially everybody but Sam, but especially Arlo Dixon and Martin de Maat.  

Bumbercatch volunteers to sort out a calender & group chat bc better if it’s someone who doesn’t want to date Jamie, make sure it’s fair.

CH pleased MB doesn’t want to date JT?

McAdoo claims first date even though he doesn’t actually want to date Jamie, bc his right & duty as captain to make sure it’s ok for everyone else. JT: “What? The fuck do you mean, why wouldn’t it be ok?” IM: “I’m the captain, and I say this is happening.” JT: “Fine, but you’re taking me somewhere fancy and you’re paying.” IM: “Just to be clear, we’re not having sex.” JT: “This is the worst date I’ve ever been on and we haven’t even been yet.”

JT questions why Sam doesn’t want in on the schedule and seems offended on principal when SO explains that JT is his best friend and not some one he wants to date. JT pouts until SO offers to take him out on friend dates.

Cockburn also wants to go on friend dates with JT.

Brief but heated discussion if friend dates & boyfriend dates should be different schedueles and if it’s OK to sign up for both. CH’s attempts to question how friend dates is different from just being friend and hanging out from time to time is shut down.

Tom O’Brien wants to know if he can sign up for a date with Jamie, Keeley and Roy. RK stares at him for 1 good minute before saying “No.”

Discussion about the etiquette of not wearing Jamie out if he’s scheduled to have another date soon after your date with him.

JG: But we don’t have to check in with everyone else if we want to sleep with him, right? RK: You better fucking check in with him. B: I don’t think I want to know what anyone else is doing. JM: Yeah, that’d be weird. JT: I don’t think anyone else should get to decide if I have sex with someone or not. RK: *clears his throat meaningfully* JT: I mean, as long as Roy and Keeley and Colin don’t mind.

That’s just the first page of Trent’s notes, btw, they go on for like four more, practice is delayed by at least an hour. Keeley follows the whole thing on video call (obvs they had to run it by her before handing Jamie out to everyone who wants a piece). Rebecca stops by, blinks once and then nopes the hell out of this madness. Nate wonder if he ought to sign up for a date with Jamie, if everyone else is doing it, but he doesn’t think Jade would approve.

Colin can’t quite let go of the notion that maybe this means he could date Bumbercatch, Roy questions his sanity every other second, and Jamie is living his best life (and is delighting in the fact that the next time he sees Roy and Keeley, they are going to make very sure Jamie knows where he ultimately belongs).

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Eleven

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes

A/N: it's been over a month i have no excuse other than MY BRAIN HURTS and I AM SO TIRED but i am so glad to be out of this rut. get ready for more, and get excited for this incredibly roy centric chapter

Word Count: 7.2k

Chapter Eleven

A month or so later you sat, rigid and tense, in the green room at Sky Studios. Up until then, the fanciest or most intense place you’d ever visited was that of AFC Richmond, the Dogtrack, but these studios kicked Nelson Road out of the fucking stadium. The only way you could describe it was sterile. Like a hospital, or some morbid place where people came to sit and be quiet, except you weren’t here for either of those things. 

You were here to see Roy, and that was the most intense part of it all. 

In the green room was a screen with a live relay from the stage, where you saw Roy, Jeff and Chris sitting at their familiar, unusually large, commentary table. They were taping some bits for an upcoming episode of Soccer Saturday, the parts where they weren’t required to be there live and in person. 

The breath hitched in your throat whenever Roy appeared on screen. It was still entirely new and off-putting, yet the internet had blown up when they’d seen the ex-Captain on the show. Finally, Roy Kent was back in the football world. Not playing, or coaching, but commentating. It was a good alternative, and he rocked it during the show, even despite his way with words and his… not entirely enthused demeanour. To anyone that didn’t know Roy, they’d probably think him crude and rude and blunt, all the ways he’d been described in the past in the press. To those that knew Roy inside and out, watching him on TV was like a breath of fresh air. Those closest to him had been saying the same thing for years– I could listen to you talk for hours and not get bored. 

You were no different, and in fact, had known Roy for over a year now. It was crazy how time flies, wasn’t it?

When he’d texted you an invite to the studios, you’d said yes immediately. Your time with Roy was short enough already, but now that he’d landed the gig his time was being soaked up more and more. You found yourself now, sitting at your desk at Pluto Press, just thinking about when you’d next see him. Any opportunity that arose you took by the fucking balls, and that’s exactly what went down when he’d asked you to the studios. 

Right guys, that’s a wrap for today. See you at the weekend. 

The show director said over the live screen, and you watched intently as Roy and his co-hosts had their microphone packs removed. The sound switched off immediately, but Chris approached Roy and stuck out his hand. The two legends shook hands quickly, and you noticed the smallest of smiles appear on Roy’s face as they pulled away. 

It made you smile back at them, bashfully, to yourself. There was something warming about seeing Roy interact with others like this. It was rare to catch him in a good mood at any of his prior jobs– which you knew very well from working alongside him at the Dogtrack– but seeing him enjoy his time, become buddy-buddy with Chris fucking Kamara, and all the rest made you exceptionally happy. 

You were proud of his successes, and understood his plunders. You wanted to feel that he felt the same about you in return, but you’d started this thing where you tried not to think about him like that. Assumptively, or overly-affectionately, or anything that reminded your heart of how you really felt about the man on the screen before you. It was just like you’d said to Keeley and Rebecca– you would never mention it, never tell him, and you were okay with that. 

You were okay with that. 

You jumped suddenly when the door to the green room burst open. A production assistant entered, headset donned and clipboard in his hands, shoved into his chest like he’d die without it. “Roy Kent’s plus one?” he asked. 

You looked around the empty room. You were the only one in there, but the assistant hadn’t even met your eye yet. You cleared your throat and raised your hand in the air, like a schoolgirl in class. The production assistant finally met your eye, and then clicked at you abruptly. 

“You– right. Come on, you’re wanted on set,” he said. 

You wasted no time standing up and pushing past him at the door, heart in your throat. The two of you navigated the backstage corridors of the studio, until you finally emerged on the set of Soccer Saturday. The lights were bright, too bright, and exceptionally warm to stand beneath. Camera operators, gaffers and runners still milled about the set, but you blocked them out as you went to step onto the stage. 

“Can I?” you asked the production assistant from earlier. He glanced up and went to object, opening his mouth wide, but stopped as soon as a hand descended on his shoulder. 

“‘Course you can,” Roy said, peering down at the production assistant. “Isn’t that right, Jacob?”

Jacob nodded, no doubt sweating profusely as Roy hoarded himself over the skinny kid. He was definitely younger than you by a number of years, probably fresh out of university. “Y-yes, of course, Roy.” 

You looked away, not wanting to laugh so meanly at the ordeal. It was just so Roy of him to intimidate crew at the studios, probably just from standing and doing nothing. It made your chest compress painfully, as you forced yourself away from the all-encompassing nostalgia of being around him all the time before, at the Dogtrack, and seeing it in person a whole lot more. 

God, you thought you needed a fucking lobotomy with how much you still clung onto the past. It only made you feel more childish, more pathetic, with every flashback that hit your brain and made you swallow away the want to cry. 

You stepped onto the stage a bit more, and looked out towards the several cameras. They all pointed in your direction, camera one and two and three, and however many more. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you muttered, scoffing at it all as Roy joined you on stage. “This is intense.”

“I never know how to react when I realise people can see my beard in 4K,” Roy said, as a small smile curled onto his face. He peered down at you softly, his gaze flicking across your features as you looked around the set curiously. “It’s good to see you.” You turned to him and looked up, smiling at him bashfully. 

This was just it– those little moments where you’d happily melt into a puddle on the ground beneath him, but you couldn’t. 

You coughed, laughing awkwardly, before you gently poked him in the chest. “You too,” you said, trying to keep things as playful as possible. Roy perked his brow at you questioningly, amused, but didn’t comment. Instead, he watched you panic subtly as you continued around the set, until you’d rounded the desk to his chair. 

“May I?” you asked. 

Roy bowed at you smally. “Be my fucking guest.” 

You sat down in his chair slowly, and leaned your elbows on the desk before you. You shuffled your shoulders, and puffed out your chest. “Oh, I could get used to this,” you said, feeling powerful. Roy growled at you gently. “Come on, sit in Jeff’s chair.”

If Roy wanted to object in any way, he didn’t. He obediently made his way around the desk and sat in Jeff Stelling’s chair, all the while looking at you like you were gold. You sucked in a deep breath and cleared your throat. “So, Jeff– what did you make of AFC Richmond’s last game? When will these fucking tied games end, hm?” you said, putting on your most gravelly voice possible in an attempt to imitate Roy. 

He sighed, but he still didn’t object. A small smile was still curled on his lips, and it made your gut coil. He leaned forward, and adopted Jeff’s stance. “Well, Roy,” he started, taking on a much cheerier voice than his own. It was off-putting. “Richmond has been hit hard, but not as hard as their mascot Earl was a few months ago. Poor fuck–” He coughed, and recomposed himself. “Poor dog.”

“Well fucking said, Jeff,” you replied, but burst into giggles as soon as you did. “What do you reckon is the reason for their tie records on top of it, though? And what about that prick, Jamie fucking Tartt, sculking around the club after his stint in the reality TV game?”

Roy furrowed his brows at you quizzically. “Jamie fucking Tartt is trying to get signed to Richmond again?” he said, his normal voice cutting through. 

You waved him off. “I’ll tell you later. Keep going,” you said quickly, bringing it back to the game. 

Roy growled, and went back to his Jeff impression. “Well, it could be a number of things, Roy.” You smiled to yourself, elated just to be around him again. “Your retirement, for starters, has left the team utterly abandoned and in the dust.”

You perked your brow at him.“I’m not sure that’s entirely true, really–”

“They’re devastated by the loss,” Roy cut you off again, and you burst out a giggle. Roy swallowed away his amusement then, as he met your eye. “That, and the loss of their social placement was definitely a hard pill to swallow.” You froze as the words fell from his mouth. “I– inside sources– have told the press about how hard it’s been after she left. Her fanclub made up of Isaac McAdoo, Colin Hughes and Sam Obisanya haven’t been the same since her placement ended.”

You swallowed painfully, as Roy’s gaze stayed stuck on your own for a second too long. Neither of you looked away, but your heart swelled to twice the size beneath your ribcage. This fucking sucked– cutting yourself off from feeling all this– fucking sucked. But, you felt it was necessary. You didn’t want to lose Roy again– couldn’t– and this would ensure he stuck around. 

Still, as he looked at you with a softness reserved only for people he truly gave a shit about, you couldn’t help but give in just this once. 

You dropped the act, and reverted your voice to your own. “I seem to remember there being more people in the fanclub,” you said. “Who else hasn’t been the same, hm?” 

Roy leaned back in his chair, and crossed his legs. You thought he’d tense up, or lean forward, but you knew that position was a sign that he was truly comfortable. Meanwhile, you were trying to hide the fact your fingers were shaking. 

“I can think of one more.” He shrugged. “Want a name?” 

“No,” you said instantly, abruptly, taking back everything you’d put out before. You recomposed yourself, and smiled as normally as you could. “I think I already have a good guess.”

Roy opened his mouth and sucked in a breath, before he nodded at you in understanding. It felt like a situation similar to that first night, after the charity ball, when you’d offered another time. Roy could easily count how many times you’d held yourself back from him. He didn’t know what to say to reassure you that this– you and him– was okay. He wasn’t one for being mushy, but he figured there was a reason as to why you hadn’t made it clear yet. 

So, he stayed put. He waited, and he wondered if you ever would, and if you never did– then that would be that. It wasn’t worth blurting out his feelings in a, no doubt, blunt and plain way if it meant risking this all. Seeing you, being around you, taking it on the chin everytime you scolded him when he deserved it. 

You were one of the only people out there that could tell him to fuck off. He liked it that way. 

As the two of you drove home, you stared out the window on the passenger side. Being around Roy always made you feel warm, but since he’d become a pundit, things had felt heavier. Thicker, tenser, like you’d be able to cut the atmosphere between you with a plastic butter knife. Maybe it was due to you setting yourself invisible boundaries, but something still made your stomach flip whenever he indulged. 

Innately, you told yourself to shake it off. If things stayed as they were with you both meant nothing would change, but you admitting your feelings to him would. It was still out of the question, but you had to be stronger around him. You sucked in a breath, and it cemented things in your brain. No longer would you crumble at his warm remarks, his soft stares, his playful behaviour. These were just things that Roy did with you, and hell, you enjoyed it platonically just as much as you would romantically– so what did it matter?

Roy pulled up outside your building, and you clicked off your seatbelt. You didn’t get out of the car, however, and placed your hands in your lap instead. “Thanks for–”

“What are you doing next Wednesday?” Roy cut over you. Your brain short circuited.

“Uh– finish work at five, like normal. Why?” 

“I’ve got Phoebe that night. We were going to grab a chinese and watch Ice Age. You in?” 

You smiled to oblivion. “I’d love to. Why Ice Age though?”

“Because she’s fucking seven, and I’m unashamed to say that film makes me cry every time.”

You scoffed abruptly, surprised. “Really?”

“Really,” Roy said seriously. “That baby is still fucking ugly though.” You laughed, and nodded in agreement. Roy tapped the steering wheel, expelling happy energy. He growled in approval. “Fruit Shoot pre drinks are at six, so you better not be late.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you said, before you opened your door and got out of the car. Roy rolled the window down when you hopped up on the pavement on his side, and stuck his elbow out like a trucker. 

“See you later,” he said, though not with his usual hostility and unbothered attitude. This was a see you later that had feeling behind it.

You swallowed bashfully. “See you.”

On Monday, Rebecca met you at Pluto Press. She strolled through the building with purpose, shoes clicking intently on the hardwood floors, until she loomed over your desk fiercely. “I’m here to see the best writer in the building,” she said.

You peered up at her and smiled profusely, before you shot up and gave her a colossal hug. “God, I’ve fucking missed you.” 

“Me too, darling,” she said, before pulling away. She kept her hands on your shoulders for good measure. “Come on. Pasta and wine won’t eat and drink itself.”

You liked getting dinner with Rebecca alone. She was an important figure to you, despite the previous way she’d felt about the club and people like you in general. She twisted her arm around your own as the two of you made your way out of Pluto Press, and you had to admit that you felt confident when in stride next to Rebecca. She was well-known, a prominent businesswoman, a strong person, and you were glad to have her in your life.

Especially, when she had gossip to spill.

“He’s called John. He treats me nice. He’s good looking and intelligent and everything good, but…” 

“But?” you questioned, feeling giddy during girl talk. 

“Well, after Rupert and all the other bozos I’ve been with, I want to make sure he is everything I think he is.”

“Ah, you want your friends’ approval, is that it?” 

Rebecca picked up her wine glass. “Absolutely, I do.” She sipped at the contents, before placing the glass back on the table. “I had an idea of a double date with you and Keeley pretending to be girlfriends.”

You scoffed abruptly. “We wouldn’t even need to pretend that much. I love her and she loves me.” 

“Exactly my thoughts! But, Keeley is away in fucking Edinburgh this weekend, so that’s a no go.”

You thought through your options. Who could you bring as a possible fake date to this double date situation if it wasn’t Keeley? You snapped your fingers. “Oh, I know— I could bring Ted!” 

Rebecca looked like you’d run over a child with Roy’s Jeep. “Absolutely fucking not.”

You recoiled. “Oh, come on. Who the fuck else then?”

“Just bring Roy!” Rebecca exclaimed. Your cheeks warmed intensely. 

“Oh, fuck off,” you spat out, bringing your wine glass to your lips and trying to ignore the way your gut had lurched.

Rebecca leaned towards you, a mischievous smile on her face. “Just imagine it. You and Roy already look and act like a fucking couple sometimes–” You swallowed your wine abruptly.

“No, we do not—”

“Yes, you do!” Rebecca said strongly. “But push that aside for just a moment, and this could be a good experiment.” 

You placed your glass down strongly, curiously. “Go on.”

“If he feels for you the way you feel for him, then this is a good way to show it. Might give you both some clarity, because Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t take this back and forth much longer.”

Your defences were on high. “There is no back and forth—”

“Yes, there is! When are you going to grab that fucking hairy man and just kiss him!” 

“Rebecca!” you exclaimed. There was subtle anger in both of your voices, but it was drowned out by the extreme hilarity of the entire situation.

Despite your eyes being wide and your brows being perked wildly, both you and Rebecca had small smiles plastered on your faces that only meant one thing— I love you and I love this. She understood you, and understood your concerns and feelings and all the like, but that didn’t stop her from wanting you to get out and emerge from this funk.

“Just… think about it?” she suggested.

You smiled at her warmly. “This is Roy we’re talking about. He probably wouldn’t even do it.”

“That’s a possibility, for sure. But it’s still worth asking, isn’t it?” 

You tapped your wine glass thoughtfully, before you nodded strongly. “You’re right. I’ll ask him, and if it means we can help you, then it’s worth the emotional embarrassment.”

Rebecca smiled back at you. “And who knows?” she said, with a twinkle in her eye. “It might be fun.”

You raced home from work on Wednesday, and knocked on Roy’s door quickly, a bit after six in the evening. You were late for Fruit Shoot pre drinks, but the tube was to blame. He opened the door strongly and laid a blunt stare in your face.

“You’re late,” he said. 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“The Fruit Shoots are almost gone,” he said, smiling just a little.

“Then let me in quickly so I can fucking have one!” you exclaimed playfully. Roy let you in, and you slipped off your shoes in record time.

Roy’s house was so familiar to you now. The atmosphere inside made you feel safe and comfortable, and always brought you back to past times when you’d been inside or passing by his road. He strolled in toe next to you as you made your way to the kitchen. There were a number of Fruit Shoots and some snacks on the island as you entered.

“Phoebe!” Roy called as you grabbed a drink, and the pitter patter of feet erupted from the living room and around the corner.

When Phoebe bound towards her uncle you could hardly contain how happy you felt. She was someone special to him, really special, and he’d chosen you to meet her. That must’ve meant you’d done something right, surely?

Phoebe stopped before her uncle, but peered at you in curiosity. “What is it, Uncle Roy?”

“I want you to meet someone,” he said, before the two turned back to you. He placed his hand on her head affectionately, before he met your eye. “Phoebe, this is my friend—”

“Are you the one that wrote that story about my Uncle Roy?” Phoebe cut over him, and you scoffed abruptly from how confident she was at only seven years old. 

You leaned down slightly. “Yes, I am. Has your Uncle Roy talked about me before?”

“All the time!” Phoebe exclaimed, and you peered up at him playfully. Roy growled, embarrassed at his niece spilling all his secrets. “He told me that you wrote a story about him in the newspaper,” she said.

“I did. Lots of people read it.”

“He also told me that he’s annoyed at you because you’re the only person that can tell him when he’s done something bad,” she said it so surely that it caught you off-guard. You scoffed as you straightened out, and shot a playful look at Roy. 

He looked thoroughly embarrassed. His jaw was clenched, and his shoulders were square, and you knew he wanted to yell or hide away in that moment. It only made you laugh even harder, as a few giggles trickled from your mouth. 

“I’m definitely not the only person who tells him off, but I might be the only one he listens to about it,” you said. “Come on, what else has he said about me?” you urged playfully. 

Roy stepped between you and Phoebe. “That’s fucking enough.”

Phoebe gasped suddenly, and your eyes widened. “That’s a bad word, Uncle Roy!”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, as if he’d apologised for the same thing a thousand times. He probably had. 

“You owe the swear jar a pound!” Phoebe pointed at Roy threateningly, chastising him. 

Roy messed up her bright blonde hair affectionately. “Add it to the rest of the bill.”

After a huge chinese dinner, where you all opened fortune cookies and laughed at the fact Roy got life will get better, just wait in his own, the three of you sat in the living room. Phoebe and you sat on the plush rug in front of the sofa, while Roy took the sofa. He crossed his arms for the duration of Ice Age, staying quiet as you and Phoebe bonded over how funny Sid the sloth was. 

When the baby came on screen, you grimaced immediately. You’d forgotten just how ugly it was. Roy was absolutely right. You twisted yourself around to meet his eye, and furrowed your brows. “You’re right. It’s still so ugly.”

“Told you,” he said, before you turned back around to the TV. Phoebe jumped up onto your lap as you did, and you snuggled her close to your chest as the film continued. 

Behind you, Roy was twitching. Despite only seeing the tops of your heads, and the shake of your shoulders when you laughed, there was something brewing within him when seeing you with his niece. He didn’t often introduce people he knew to her, because of the impact it would have on her when those people could inevitably leave. It had happened with her piece of shit father, and from that moment, Roy had started involving himself even more– just to give his sister a break, just because he loved his family so fucking much. 

Seeing you with her, getting on so well in this way, made him swallow away his deepest wants. In a perfect world, he would have made his way down beside you both on the floor. You would have leaned into him, sharing the weight of the child in your lap, and he would have draped his arm over your shoulder and held you close– but no. 

Roy inhaled a laboured breath, and forced himself to focus on the screen for the rest of the film; knuckles white, body tensed, trying and failing not to feel everything. 

Phoebe was fast asleep by the time the credits rolled. You held her in your arms as Roy got up and switched off the TV, before turning back to you both. You glanced down at Phoebe’s dreaming face as you frowned awkwardly. Roy’s expression was somewhere between stoic and glowing. His jaw clenched when you peered up at him in subtle pleading. 

“What do I do?” you whispered. 

“Fuck all. You’re stuck like that until she wakes up,” he replied, crossing his arms. You gulped away your nerves, looking back at Phoebe in your arms. Roy took his opportunity to smile without you seeing. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you whispered harshly, but you inwardly accepted your fate. You peered back at Roy, and his face flattened. “So, are you just going to stand there?” He shrugged. “Roy!” you whispered strongly. 

That was enough for him to finally crumble. His hard expression faltered and was replaced with the smallest of smiles. He dropped his arms to his sides as he started towards you. “I’m fucking kidding,” he whispered deeply, as he knelt before you. “I’ve got her.”

You would have looked away as Roy picked up his niece if you had the chance. He was soft, and gentle, as he slotted his hands beneath her and hoisted her from your lap easily. He draped her over his shoulder with such care, as her cheek squished sleepily against his shoulder. His hand found her back and stayed there warmly. 

“I’ll tuck her in,” he said, before making his way out of the room and up the stairs.

You stayed put after he left, cleaning up the snacks from the coffee table and straightening out the sofa cushions just from habit. You chucked away empty crisp packets and yoghurt pots, and threw some finished Fruit Shoot bottles in the recycling bin. It was comforting as you familiarly navigated all the cupboards and drawers in Roy’s kitchen. You knew your way around his house very well, and often found yourself jealous of the space. It’s not that you didn’t like your apartment– of course, you did– but Roy’s house was proper. 

It was funny. Without trying at all, you were able to slot yourself alongside Roy here. Living alongside each other, cooking dinners, drinking beers on his back patio, watching shitty movies on the sofa. You slammed another Fruit Shoot bottle in the recycling as a way to snap yourself out of it. No good came from imagining more between you and Roy, especially after everything that had already occurred. 

You let out an angry huff at yourself as you leant upon the kitchen island, looking out towards the dining table. You wracked your fingers through your hair, as your eyes settled upon his bookshelf in all its glory. You enjoyed looking at it, no matter how many times you’d already scoured the overflowing shelves. Squinting, you gently approached the dining table as your eye hit upon something new; something that hadn’t been there previously.

On the middle shelf, right between cards from Phoebe and Roy’s sister, your article had been framed and placed for all to see. At the top, next to the title, was that classic picture of Roy from the first game of football you’d ever seen. His foot was on the ball, his stare hard, his hair trimmed in that robotic way that he’d used to do. 

You couldn’t believe he’d kept it, and framed it, and put it up– all of it. It made your heart thump incessantly in your chest. It made the logical side of your brain completely disappear; the side that told you not to jump, that held you back, that told you not to complicate things. 

“You noticed it, hm?” Roy said suddenly, appearing in the kitchen as you stayed glued in front of the dining table. 

You turned to him, wide-eyed and full of love. “You kept it?”

“‘Course I did,” he said, walking towards you slowly. “It was your big break, and the nicest thing ever fucking written about me. Why wouldn’t I keep it?”

“I don’t know, I just–” you started, but chose to stop part way through. You settled, and smiled. “It’s nice that you did.”

Roy nodded, and growled subtly. Silence trickled over you both, as the obvious tension between you was cemented even further. This always happened when you were alone, together, looking at one another like you were memorising the lines on each other’s faces. 

“Fancy a drink?” Roy asked coarsely. He had to cough slightly to stop his voice from breaking. 

You breathed out deeply. “Yes. Please. Yes please.” You found your voice again, and the tension dissipated slightly as he headed towards the fridge.

You sunk into one of the chairs at the dining table, watching closely as Roy opened the fridge and grabbed two green bottles of beer. It was nice that you didn’t have to say what it was you wanted, didn’t have to even direct, he just knew. He knew you, and you knew him just as well. He popped the tops off both bottles, before sitting down opposite you. He slid you a beer, and your fingers touched his own as he made the pass. It went unsaid, and you ignored your heart in your chest. 

The two of you sipped at your drinks in unison, transcending into a different realm of awkward (and) or sexual tension. It was always this way, this feeling. You’d grown so used to it from being so exposed to being watched, analysed, affectionately stared at, by Roy’s gaze, that you didn’t bat an eye when you looked at him– only to find him already staring at you. 

You squinted at him playfully. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said. 

You raised your drink to your lips. “Fine.” You drank, and let his lingering eyes watch as you gulped back more beer. As you placed your bottle down, you smiled. “Thank you for letting me meet Phoebe.”

“It was about time,” he said, leaning forward. “Like she said– I apparently don’t shut the fuck up about you.” He smiled smally, before the two of your drank in unison, just to fill the happy silence. 

You thought of Rebecca then. Of her strong jaw and broad shoulders and confident strides. If it’d been her, she would have taken matters into her own hands a long time ago. Before Roy’s retirement, before the article, she would have launched herself into this all strongly from the moment he’d invited you for a drink after the charity ball. 

As Rebecca’s gorgeous face shone behind your eyelids, you remebered your lunch. “Oh, fuck,” you muttered suddenly, as you recalled her double date situation. 

“What?” Roy questioned. 

“Well,” you started. You leaned forward to bridge the gap between you, and innately psyched yourself up to broach this idea to him. You couldn’t believe what you were about to ask of him. “Rebecca is seeing a man– John.”

“John,” Roy repeated. 

“And, well,” you said, stalling for time. You grimaced, just for lack of how to even get it all out. “She… well, she–”

“Are you having a fucking stroke or something?” Roy asked, before he slammed his hand over your forehead abruptly, searching for a fever. 

You burst out laughing as soon as he did, and swatted away his fingers. “Jesus Christ, I’m fine!” you exclaimed. 

Roy removed his hand from your head. “Then get to the fucking point!”

“Okay!” you exclaimed, getting worked up. “Rebecca is seeing this man, and she wants her friends’ approval to be sure he’s not a fucking weirdo.” You sucked in a deep breath, and reworded your entire question until it wasn’t one anymore. “You’re going to pretend to be my partner, so we can judge if this guy is a psycho or not.” After you blurted it out, you half expected Roy to scoff. Surely he wouldn’t say yes, surely he would protest, and whine, and sulk, and everything else that his thirty-six year old arse would do when forced into this kind of situation. 

Instead, he stayed still. He stayed calm, and his express didn’t falter. “When is it?” Roy asked. 

“This weekend.”

“Okay,” he said. 

“Okay?” You stared at him, utterly boggled. 

Roy furrowed his brows, as if saying yes was the most obvious answer of all. “Who else would you fucking take? Fucking Ted?” 

You chose not to tell him of your first choice, or of Rebecca’s obvious dislike of the idea. You leaned back in your chair and took a surprised gulp of beer, before clutching the bottle to your chest. “I can’t wrap my head around why you’re fine about this,” you said honestly. “Are you having a fucking stroke?” 

Quickly, you reached your hand out and laid it upon Roy’s forehead, mimicking his earlier behaviour. You thought he’d push you off, or laugh, or copy the way you reacted. When he gently leant into your touch, you froze. 

“I feel just fine,” he said lowly, his stare glued on yours. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, and you dropped your palm from his head. Quickly, Roy shuffled his hand so his thumb hit your pulse point. “Are you alright?”

You felt your heart rate accelerate, which meant Roy felt it, too. 

Quickly, you pried your hand out of his grasp, but not before your fingers swiped over each other’s. You moved your hand to your lap, just to avoid staring at it as your mind raced. 

“I’m fine,” you said, despite the fact it was an obvious lie. That’s when Roy’s lips curled into a small smile. “But– great. This is great.” You tried to redirect the conversation to the double date, tried to keep things professional. “Rebecca gets the answers she wants, we get a free meal, and I get to dress in something other than the same five outfits I wear at work every week… but,” you said, tapping your glass anxiously. “We have to pretend to be a couple.”

Roy shrugged. “We’ll live.” He wasn’t ready to admit to you that he knew it would be easy. Maybe you might make it harder, but if all Roy had to do to be convincing was occasionally hold your hand, or sit close to you, or bicker like an old married couple, then he was already there.

You squinted at him, still confused. “You’re seriously okay with this?”

Roy shrugged again, but it was only with the sole intention to have you roll your eyes at him. He succeeded. 

As Saturday approached, it properly dawned on you what was about to happen. You and Roy had to pretend to be together, while simultaneously navigating not just Rebecca, but her newest man, as well. You found yourself wishing that Keeley wasn’t away, but that definitely would have been the easy way out. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go on a fake double date Roy fucking Kent– that in itself was something that (ashamedly so) made you so fucking excited that it was miracle you’d been able to contain it for the remaining days before the weekend. It wasn’t about the possible awkwardness that you could both feel at having to be noticeably affectionate, or the fumbling fingers that you would both have during those first few tries.

It was about the aftermath. 

It was about the possible shift that could happen as a result of this little charade. It was about the marathon you were already running to keep at bay every single feeling you had for Roy (and the ones he held for you that you had no clue about). It was about being able to leave that table at that restaurant still knowing that everything would be normal and unchanged and not fucking complicated.

That’s what you focused on for the rest of the week, and when Saturday morning turned to afternoon, and when that afternoon turned to early evening, you felt stronger. As you got ready to go into this shitstorm, you were determined not to let all hell break loose. 

Just down the road, Roy pulled a black t-shirt over his head. He paired it with black jeans, the usual, but opted to spray his most expensive cologne over the top— not the usual. It was true that he was excited about this. Just the opportunity to make you blush was enough to make him smile, and after he felt the upbeat pitter patter of your pulse he was beginning to doubt that you harboured no romantic feelings for him. 

Either way, no matter the outcome, he was going to grab hold of this situation by the throat. It was funny; being given the opportunity to be close to you, to imagine being together, and all the rest; but even just being allowed to pretend and put on a show for one evening made him feel satisfied.

Innately, though, he told himself not to go overboard. As much as your pulse had betrayed you, he wasn’t about to put you in an uncomfortable situation for the sake of it. Roy was almost a decade older than you, he harboured experience galore— what with being an ex-star footballer— but he still knew you weren’t the time to fuck around.

He glanced at his watch; he had a little under an hour before he was due to pick you up. This evening was certainly going to be one he’d remember for a while, even if he ended up wanting to fucking forget all about it by the end. 

Roy’s Jeep pulled up outside your flat. You heard it from your living room window, and quickly slung a small bag over your shoulder before leaving through your door. Roy cut off the engine before he jumped from the driver’s seat. As he rounded his car, the squeak of your building door sounded. He peered up, and what met his gaze was only the first step of his night fully starting. 

As you shut the door behind you, your dress blew up to just past your knees. Compared with the charity ball, you’d opted to wear a jacket over it in this cold, which almost made Roy laugh to himself. You descended the steps as he took a relaxed stance by the passenger side door, and when you finally glanced his way, he was already looking at you. This was a running theme, you thought, catching Roy’s eye, only to find him already looking at you gently. 

“Hey,” you said, slightly breathlessly from the cold but also from him. You trickled your gaze over his body. He wore nothing different than normal, his usual combo of black on black, but this time it felt different. It was oddly reminiscent of the night of the charity ball, a year ago now, but with a slight twist.

You felt older, you knew each other better, and that unspoken tension hadn’t cropped up until later that fateful night. Now, everything was different. But in the best way. 

“Hey,” Roy said lowly, his voice gravelly. “Ready to go?”

You nodded sweetly, smiling at him as you stood face to face. You inhaled, and as you did, his cologne hit your nose. You had to ignore how fucking good he smelled, even more so when you both clambered into the car.

A few minutes into the journey, Roy cleared his throat. “So,” he started, and you sensed some trepidation in his tone that made you look at him slyly. “This double date thing… how far are we taking it?”

Abruptly, you choked on your own spit. You coughed loudly and turned towards the window, until the tickle in your throat finally ceased. “What?” you croaked, panicking. Roy smiled to himself quickly, before he clenched his jaw forcefully. 

“This guy, Jim, or whatever. He thinks we’re an item, right?” Roy continued. 

You furrowed your brows at him curiously. “Yes.”

“So, how far are we taking this fake relationship shit?” Roy asked again. 

Your heart plummeted into your stomach. “I don’t fucking know.” You tried to act casual and unbothered. It was fucking difficult. “Far enough for it to be believable, I guess.”

“So,” Roy said. “Can I hold your hand?” 

You swallowed. “Yeah, obviously.” You kept your eyes ahead of you, but could feel Roy’s stare hit your profile every few seconds, only when he wasn’t looking at the road. 

“Okay,” he said. “Can I touch your waist, or– I don’t know– your thigh under the table, or some shit?” Roy attempted to lace stoicism within his words. He didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but he also wanted to know what he could and couldn’t do. Just for clarity, just so you were on the same page. 

You glanced out the window, looking away from him. You didn’t want him to see the warmth that had appeared on your cheeks. It was a miracle he couldn’t hear the butterfly wings that ravaged your stomach. “I don’t see why not.”

“Alright, fine,” Roy said, clearing his throat afterwards. His knuckles had turned white on the steering wheel. 

You sucked in a deep breath, but all it did was remind you of his cologne. “Anything else?” you asked assumptively, tensing yourself involuntarily. 

Roy stopped the car at a red light. “Yeah,” he said sharply, turning to you strongly. You turned to look at him, too, catching his eye with as much confidence you could muster. “Can I kiss you?” 

You stopped breathing. The urge to look at Roy’s lips was unavoidable. You wanted to stay calm, to stay cool, to stay composed, so your initially thought answer of yes, God, yes had to be contained on this occasion. You’d spent three days internally preparing yourself for this, but as soon as Roy started asking his questions your walls practically crumbled. His prying had a feeling behind it, intent, and you knew Roy well enough by now to know that he wouldn’t ask these things lightly. That was the first hurdle to jump over. 

The next– the way he was looking at you made you want to abandon your evening with Rebecca and John altogether. If it were up to you, you’d tell him to pull over the car on any desolate street he could find, just so you could finally give in to this silly crush. It was obvious this wasn’t just you anymore, that this small unspoken thing had developed further inside both of you, until it had left you in this fucking situation. 

A fake date, with real feelings. What a fucking nightmare. 

“I–” you started, but couldn’t get another word out as Roy’s gaze darted to your lips and back. 

Oh, the fucking bastard. He was good, really good, and he knew it, too. Was this what he did with the Spice Girls? Because it was fucking working. It was enough to make you want to spill everything, to not hold back any longer. 

“Roy.” You breathed out. 

He looked at you so softly. “Yeah?” he said lowly. 

“I need to tell you something–”

The shrill boom of a car horn from behind made you gasp. Roy twisted himself abruptly to the windshield, and the light that once was red was now green again. The car honked its horn once more, and Roy let out a growl. “I’m going, you fucking twat!” he yelled, before smashing his foot down on the accelerator. 

And just like that, the conversation had to take another back seat. You still had parts to play, and hearts to bear, and lots and lots of wine to fucking drink. 

CHAPTER TWELVE

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[gay-dorito-dust]

How I think Jason shows his love includes…

Annotating/highlighting romantic passages or moments of high tension between two characters in the books he reads before passing them over to you. He’d even have the exact pages marked and when asked why that was, all he says is that they were the key pivotal moments in the story that he thoroughly enjoyed, and all with a cherry red face might I add as he intentionally leaves out the fact that he envisioned that it was the two of you in those moments as he annotated the books.

Will stand close to you for a plethora of reasonings but the main one being the fact that he wanted to be the first one you look towards when in need of anything. Comfort, protection or reassurance. Just say the word and Jason will do it without question like an obedient dog, he just wants to be someone you can hopefully rely on and trust in the future, only if you let him in first.

Jason just wants you to know that no matter what happens he will always be in your corner, uncaring for what the future will have in store for you both, whether it’d be good or bad. He’d willingly stick his neck out for you in any given situation, even if it meant putting himself in the line of fire, a few new scars won’t bother him if they were earned by keeping you safe and sound.

He doesn’t care about himself nearly enough as he cares about you and your well-being. He just doesn’t and it’s not until you were pleading with him to take care of himself, that he ultimately decided that to care for you was to care for himself as well; So for your sake he keeps himself relatively stable.

Not a great mindset but it’s Jason, he’s not exactly a practitioner of affirmations, journaling his feelings or having healthy habits.

Smiles more when he’s with you, even if it’s corny dad jokes or just bad jokes in general, Jason still smiles and might even let out a chuckle now and then.

Spends an unhealthy amount of time with you that it was impossible for you to be seen without Jason following close behind. Also Jason isn’t great with voicing his feelings in wanting to spend time with you, and instead just asks what you’re planning to do later on and whether there’s room for one more and takes it from there. He cuts out the bullshit and gets straight to the point of what he wanted to ask you.

Night rides on his bike.

Now this is mainly a boost for his ego as he loves feeling you clinging onto him for dear life as he speeds down the road with little care for the speed limit. He’s such a prick but will slow down if he see that your visibly distressed with the speed of which he was going, after all he was always going to prioritises your wants and needs above his own.

Teaches you the basic defence and even teaches you in the usage of weapons, and all for the sake of your own protection.

He doesn’t like the idea of you walking through the streets of Gotham amidst criminals and creeps alike without at least some form of defence. Jason doesn’t trust anyone with your safety except if their names happen to be Roy and or Dick. Other then that, Jason likes to be the one protecting you but had to accept that he wouldn’t always be there to do so, which lead him to constantly pester you into taking up his offer in teaching you self defence.

God knows what he’d do if something happened to you, all he knows is that it would be brutal, violent and bloody for sure.

It’s annoying at first, being pestered and all, but you understand Jason’s reasonings and went through with it for his sake.

Lastly Jason trusts you enough to bear his heart out to you and be vulnerable in your presence, so much so to the point that you knew stuff that he wasn’t as willing to disclose to even the ones he considers his closest friends and family. It’s not often that Jason bears it all to someone but when he does, he does so out of confidence that they wouldn’t use it against him down the line.

He hopes that this method could be applied to you as well and he thanks every god in existence when you open up your arms for him to fall into them in acceptance. He smiles as he closes his eyes, feeling warm and safe within your arms, forever wanting to stay here for as long as forever allows.

[beybaldes]

no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft

Roy Kent × Fem!Reader

word count: 9.8k

summary: jamie tartt once told you Roy needed someone to show him it was okay to be soft; Roy has found that person in you

content warning: spoilers for the plot of 'the couple next door' by Shari Lapena, tooth rotting fluff with the whole Kent bloodline and the Richmond boys, neither reader nor Roy has parents because I said so, allusions to smut but basically non written.

masterlist

a/n: this is technically a part 2 to my fic ‘it was simple, it was sweetness, it was good to know’ but can 100% be read as a standalone fic!! Thank you for all the love on the first part I acc can’t believe the amount of love and support it received 🥲🥲

"Hey, hot stuff." Your hands came to rest against Roy's shoulders, squeezing, then moving slowly across his collar bones and down his chest, coming to rest connected just above his heart. A featherlight kiss was pressed to the shell of his ear, and then another behind his ear, followed by a trail of quick kisses down his neck until your face was buried in the crook of it. "How's your book?"

"Fucking great." Roy answered back, voice low and mellow, maintaining the peaceful atmosphere in your living room.

Ever since you'd moved in together a year and a half ago, your entire house had become a sanctuary for the two of you. Roy's new position as manager made it so that even though you worked together, you saw much less of each other during the workday - mainly because it wasn't at his leisure to go in and out of your office all day any more. Even if you did spend every minute of every day around each other, you knew you could never get sick of Roy; you'd become quite the experts at communicating how you were feeling and what you were thinking, especially since every time he tried to keep you out, you would figure it out anyway.

"I mean, I've had my theories throughout about who did it, but I'd never have guessed this." Roy missed your touch as soon as you let go of him, reaching out so that he could hold your hand in his tightly while you walked around the couch to take a seat by his side. "I thought surely, what, with the husband having the affair he did it - and I was half right, the husband staged the kidnapping."

"I knew something was up with him!" You gasped, wrapping your arms around Roy's waist as you curled into his side, the hand that had just been holding yours pulling his blanket to cover your lap then moving to rest across your shoulders. "How was the husband involved? He didn't hurt the baby did he?" He used the palm of his hand to press your head against his chest, tucking your hair back behind your ear and then moving his hand to rest against your bicep, scratching his fingers gently into the exposed flesh there. "Oh my god, he didn't, like, get rid of it so he could be with the neighbour did he?"

"Slow down, slow down," Roy shushed, folding the corner of the page he was on, something so close to the end of the book you could count the pages if you tried. He pressed a chaste, warm kiss to the crown of your head, placing the book down beside him on the couch. "Let me explain, Angel." Roy's other hand, now free from holding the book, cradled your chin gently, tilting your head up so he could press a tender kiss to your lips. "So Anne's dad-"

Another gasp slipped past your lips. More then anything, you wanted to let Roy explain the plot of what he'd been reading, but his nightly updates had kept you on the edge of your seat. Despite not having read a single page, apart from the 2 chapters you read aloud to Roy earlier in the week when he was feeling a little under the weather, you were completely and utterly enthralled; desperate to know how it ended. Besides, this daily discussion was the highlight of your days. No matter how good or bad your day had been, if you'd gone out of your way to ignore each other or talked nonstop: Roy still talked and you still listened. "What did Anne's dad have to do with it?"

"You'll see." He chastised, pressing a kiss to the tip-of your nose before continuing with his explanation. "Marco assists in kidnapping the baby, why? Because his business is going out of money and he plans on faking a ransom note for asking for the exact amount of money he needs to pay up to save his business." Roy slid his hand under the blanket, pulling your legs up and into his lap as you brought your head up from against his chest. Threading your fingers through his hair, you looked at him confused. "Anne's parents are rich, remember? But they won't give him the money so he stages this kidnapping to force them to pay the ransom."

"No." You gasped, you hand clapping against your mouth. "Why wouldn't they give their son in law the money? They do know it directly affects their daughter and grand-daughter, right?"

"They won't give him the money because they don't like him, so get this, the guy who convinced Marco to stage the kidnapping was hired by Anne's dad." Roy laughed at the gasp you let out, you completely enthralled with the story and him completely enthralled with you. He always was. "Anne's dad staged the whole thing because he wanted Anne and Marco to split up. And just when you think everything's okay because they got the baby back; Anne murders the neighbour because she had been having an affair - with Anne’s dad.”

You were practically jumping in your seat.

Sometimes you wish you had the same amount of patience as Roy so you could actually sit down and read with him. Most of the time, however, you were more then happy to listen to him passionately talk you through what he was reading, were happy to watch that wonderful smile you loved so much curl onto his lips.

"But!"

"But-" you repeated after Roy, pressing a kiss to his cheek, urging him to hurry up with his ending; you were waiting to hear it.

"But, Anne doesn't remember killing the neighbour, so there is this whole unreliable light cast on the whole story; it might not have even happened!" Roy expected to find you staring at him in shock, some commentary on what you think happened on the tip of your tongue, but it never came.

Instead, he found you staring at him with complete adoration, like you'd watched him mould the galaxies in his hands, hang the stars in the sky and spin the world on his fingernails. To you, he did, he really did. You leant forward a little, using the hand that you'd tangled in Roy's hair to pull him closer to you so that you could press your lips to his. The kiss was soft and tender, something that Roy, ever intense, had really come to enjoy through out your relationship; you brought out this entirely different side to him that he wasn't even sure existed until he met you.

"I love you." You murmured against his lips, going in for another quick peck before you pulled away, gracing him with the sight of a smile. "I love how passionate you get when talking about the stuff you love, and that smile - ugh that smile, Roy - you're killing me here."

Roy was certain he was doing the right thing. So certain, in fact, that he'd bought the ring the day you got together: Phoebe's accusation in your living room that you were getting married telling him everything he needed to know. The life Roy had dreamed of was right before him, all he had to do now was take it. "Marry me."

"What?" The hand that had began to caress his cheek as you kissed and the hand in his hair stilled; your entire body stilled in fact, and as quickly as he'd become confident enough to ask the question, he'd become nervous again.

"Fuck, what I meant was; will you marry me?" Roy shuffled underneath you, pulling out a ring box from somewhere behind him, though you weren't sure where considering you knew his pyjama bottoms didn't have pockets. "I'm not the kind of guy for a big speech thing, but I wish I was because you fucking deserve that kind of thing. You deserve a lot more then I can ever give you, actually, and yet you still love me day in and day fucking out. I'll admit, sometimes I don't get why you do."

"Roy..." You whimpered, tears brimming in your eyes as you moved both of your hands to cradle his face.

"But you do. And I'd truly, really, be the luckiest man in the world, if you would marry grumpy, old me." Tears had formed in Roy's own eyes, the pair of you totally overwhelmed by the intimate and tender moment. You'd never been more in love with Roy then right now. "Please fucking say yes, I'm an absolute mess without you"

"Yes, please." You whispered, hands still cradling Roy's face even though your eyes remained on the ring in front of you. It was as if he'd peeked inside your brain and made the perfect ring; it was simple yet elegant and entirely you, it was really perfect. This time, you answered louder. "Please, yes."

You pulled Roy's face to you, pressing a firm and hot kiss to his lips. You let your hands leave his face, sliding up and over his cheekbones until you reached his hair, twisting your fingers into it and pulling him even tighter against you, deepening the kiss as you did. "A million times yes, Roy, yes, yes, yes." Tears had begun to freely flow down your cheeks, though there was not an ounce of sadness to them. You were insurmountably happy - over the fucking moon. "I'd say yes in every fucking language in the world if I could. I love you Roy." You bit your lip back between your teeth, trying to contain your smile since your cheeks burned. "Mrs Kent." A giggle slipped past your lips. "That's me."

"Fuck yeah, that's you." Roy growled, pulling you into him and pressing a kiss to your lips. His grip in your hair allowed him to tilt your head back slightly, giving him the perfect angle to push his tongue past your lips with a tug of his hand on your hair. If he had already put the ring on your finger, he'd have picked you up and taken you to bed then and there with the moan you let out. "Now, Mrs Kent, you going to let me put this ring on your fucking finger or what?"

~*~

You were thankful Roy had proposed on a Friday night; not only because that meant you didn't have to worry about how late he kept you up or how quickly you needed to regain the ability to walk straight, but because it gave you the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday to figure out how to tell your friends. Phoebe and Molly were coming over for dinner later that night, but you had a slight feeling you weren't actually going to have to say anything to them - you had no doubt Roy had consulted Molly over it, and Phoebe, well, you just knew she'd pick up on it the second she saw you.

"C'mere." Roy groaned beside you, not giving you the chance to move yourself before he was wrapping one arm around your waist and the other under your thigh. He slid you across the bed with ease, years of training still paying off despite the fact he hadn't played on a pitch in nearly 4 years now. Placing the leg he'd grabbed over his own leg, he pulled you flush against him, chest pressed to chest. "Good morning, Angel, sleep good?"

Roy's voice had a deeper edge then usual to it in the morning. "Always do when I'm with you, Handsome." You purred, gently scratching your fingers against his chest. "Although I've got this awful kink in my neck, must’ve slept funny."

"I can think of a few other kinks you've got." Roy murmured against your shoulder, pressing open mouthed kissed along it and up your neck. When he nipped at the sensitive skin just under your ear, you pushed yourself away from him, not out of want, but out of necessity.

"We've got guests in a few hours, remember?"

"I can do a lot in an hour alone." Given how late the two of you had been up doing things, you'd slept in till lunch, but that didn't make the sound of sleepy and slow morning sex with Roy any less appealing. God, the thought of it alone had you wanting to cancel everything ever and stay here forever.

"Hmm, that you can do." Pulling his head out of the crook of your neck, you pressed a kiss to his lips, tangling your hands into Roy's hair and trying impossibly hard to get even closer to him. "Show me what you got, coach."

A growl rolled out of Roy's throat and he was quick to get started on his own assault of your lips, fully using the position he'd pulled you into to his advantage.

~*~

After everything the two of you spent your early afternoon doing, you only had 2 hours to make sure everything was ready for when Molly and Phoebe showed up, and since your cooking skills ended at turkey dinosaurs and pizza, you left most of the work down to Roy. He let you help prepare ingredients, standing behind you with an arm wrapped around your waist and a hand guiding your hand to cut things a specific way. But when the time came to actually cook the meal, he guided you out of the kitchen, encouraging you to go and get ready with a soft kiss; one to your cheek and another to your temple.

When you'd showered and gotten ready, you made it your turn to kick Roy out of the kitchen, promising not to touch anything unless he asked you to. You made sure to set the table all nice and proper for Phoebe and Molly's arrival, still slightly starstruck by the actual use of the dining table and not just eating dinner on your couch like you'd become so accustomed to before you and Roy moved in together. Sometimes though, especially when Phoebe stayed over, you'd all eat dinner together on the sofa, spy kids playing in the background, for old times sake. And before you knew it, you'd heard the knock at the door.

Swinging the door open, you knelt down immediately, sweeping Phoebe into your arms and hugging her tightly. With her head tucked in between your shoulder and neck, you stuck out your left hand at Molly, wriggling your ring finger enthusiastically. Phoebe squealed your name, wrapping her little arms tightly around your neck; even though you'd seen her two days ago when you picked her up from school, she still missed you as much as if she hadn't seen you for a million years.

As you went to stand back up, phoebe kept her grip on your neck, a silent plea for you to pick her up. Even at 9 years old, she still loved being paraded around in your arms, taking full advantage of your love for her and her love of being close to you. You pulled Molly into the house by the hand, kicking the door shut with your foot and leading them to the kitchen, where Roy was finishing up dinner.

"Hi, Uncle Roy!" Phoebe opted to stay in your arms instead of wiggling out of them to give Roy a 'hello' hug, knowing he was busy cooking and shouldn't be interrupted.

"Hey Phoebe, dinner will be ready in 2 minutes, okay? Why don't you go and grab your phoebe mug from your room before we all sit down?" When you and Roy moved in together, it was a unanimous decision that Phoebe needed her own room in your house; and when you were moving her things from Roy and your separate houses into your new house you got her a 'phoebe mug' as a housewarming gift. It was a bright pink ceramic mug, her name written once by you on the front and once by Roy on the back - it was the only thing she would drink out of when she was at your house.

The second phoebe had slipped out of the room, you turned to Molly with a squeal, the two of you grabbing tightly onto each other and jumping around the kitchen. Roy watched fondly as the two of you gushed over the ring Molly had already seen a thousand times. She took your hand in hers, running her finger over the ring with a featherlight touch, tears filling her waterline. Molly grabbed your hand and pulled it over her shoulder, hugging you again, though this time more tenderly, more teary-eyed.

"I'd say welcome to the family, but I think you've been a part of it since the day you met Phoebe." Tears began to fill your own eyes at the words she whispered against the shell of your ear. "You make him so happy, so, so happy, and that's all I could ever want for Roy. It's all I ever way for you." Molly pulled away from the hug, wiping her thumb under your eye as your tears threatened to spill over. "He loves you. We all do. I love you."

"I love you too, Molly." Just as quickly as she'd pushed you away, you pulled her in for another hug, squeezing her tightly as though it would convey everything you were feeling. It did.

At the sound of feet running down your hallway, Molly jumped away from you, quickly wiping at her own eyes before turning to face her little girl. She gently took the mug from her hands and passed it to you, ushering her to the dining table while you and Roy plated up.

"What did she say to you?" Roy asked, knocking his hip against yours as he he started putting food into each plate.

You pulled Phoebe's favourite cordial off your shelf, pouring some in then moving past Roy to get to the sink to dilute it. "Nothing." He couldn't see the smile that formed on your face as you thought on what your future sister in law had said to you moments prior. "Just that she loves me, she loves you. That she's happy for us."

Roy wrapped an arm around you from behind as he came to join you at the sink, leaning past you to put his cooking tongs in. "I can't wait to see Phoebe's reaction." Roy murmured against the skin of your neck, pressing a kiss there then spinning you around to face him. "She absolutely adores you. She's gonna be over the fucking moon."

"Not more over the moon then me." You pressed another kiss to his lips, making sure to keep the cordial far away from you and Roy incase it spilled.

Roy turned his back on you, picking up two of the bigger plates. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Oh really?" You asked, picking up the final big plate and Phoebe's smaller own. "I get to marry the love of my life and be officially related to some of the people I love the most. I think I win."

"We'll see." With one last kiss the two of you headed towards the dining table, all four of you tucking into dinner and telling each other about your weeks like clockwork; though you and Roy refrained from one pretty big event till after dinner.

When your food was all finished, you'd given Phoebe a bigger bowl of ice cream then usual, immediately prompting her to be suspicious. "Either I've been really good at school this week, or you guys have done something really bad."

"It's not like that Pheeb's, we're actually celebrating." Phoebe's head perked up at that as she mentally checked it wasn't anyone's birthday, or 'uncles day,' or Mother's Day, or 'future aunties day' (as she'd dubbed it) and she'd forgotten. When she ruled that she definitely hadn't forgotten anything, she turned to you in wait.

"What are we celebrating?"

"Me and your uncle Roy-"

"Holy shit." Smiles crept on all three of your faces as Phoebe pieced it together in her mind. "Are you getting married? Please tell me you're getting married?"

"Are getting married." As you brought your ring adorned hand up for her to see, Phoebe burst into tears, jumping off of her seat and running around to the other side of the table where you and Roy sat. She was quick to climb into Roy's lap, wrapping one arm around each of your knecks to pull you into a hug.

"This is the best day of my life." She whispered, her words coming out in a whine as she tried desperately hard to keep her tears in. "Do I get to be a flower girl?"

"Of course you get to be the flower girl, what kind of fucking question is that?" Roy scolded though a smile remained on his face, you wouldn't have anyone one else as your flower girl. Your niece was barely walking and besides, not that you'd ever admit it with them present, but you much preferred Phoebe to any blood relative you had.

Phoebe's face turned into a frown at Roy's words. "You owe me £1, uncle Roy."

"After the S-bomb you dropped before? I think we're even."

~*~

When Monday rolled around, you were extremely nervous. It wasn't that you thought any of the people at Nelson road would react badly to your engagement, you knew non of them would, you were nervous in the way you are at 8 years old on Christmas Eve - in a giddy way when you can't wait for what you feel to be shared.

You'd come up with a plan in bed the night before - announce it to Beard first, then to the boys, and then you'd make your way up to Rebecca's office to announce it to her, Higgins and Keeley (who'd you thankfully knew would be at the dog track this morning for a meeting).

To execute step 1 with no interruptions, you made sure to arrive an hour earlier to work then you usually would - knowing that Beard liked to show up early and the boys would show up as close to practice as they could get away with. Just as you expected, Beard was alone in the office, only a couple of other people in the building at all, making for an easy entrance.

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of you two showing up earlier then you ever have in the 5 years I've known you." Beard asked, his feet perched high up on his desk and an open book dropped against his chest.

"I needed to ask you something, actually." Roy wrapped an arm around your waist, rubbing soothing circles into your skin, silently encouraging you to ask what you wanted to ask.

"Fire away, Katniss."

"I actually wanted to ask, um, well, if you'd walk me down the aisle?"

Beard stilled, then took a shaky breath, then stilled again. He slowly picked up the book from his chest, dog-eared the page and swung his feet down from his desk, standing and crossing the room so that he could stand in front of you. "You, you-" Another shaky breath. "You want me? Me? To walk you down the aisle?"

"Yeah. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a father and-"

Beard pulled you into a hug, something he'd never done before, and tentatively wrapped his arms under yours, pinning you against him. He was warm and smelled like cinnamon, and though you'd never been a big fan of the scent, you found right now that you'd happily bask in it forever. "Yes, of course I will, it'd be an honour."

No further words were exchanged between the two of you until he pulled away, quickly wiping at his eyes before turning to Roy with a scowl. "I can fight, just so you know." He took a step closer to him, and you swore you'd never seen Roy so afraid as when Beard stuck a firm finger in his chest. "If you hurt her, I'll hurt you." Then he retreated to his chair, picking up his book and replacing it against his chest. "So when were you thinking? I always thing spring is the best time for a wedding."

The three of you discussed everything from what date you were thinking to ideal song choices while you waited for the changing room to fill up, wanting to make sure everyone had arrived before you shared the news. When Roy had done his 6th head count and found everyone had arrived, he nodded towards the door, asking if you were ready to go and tell everyone. You nodded, letting Roy lead the way and hanging in the doorway of the coaches office until Beard was at your side.

"You didn't have to threaten him, you know. He's never hurt me once, I don't think he's going to start now."

Beard folded his arms across his chest then nudged you gently in the side as the the two of you came to stand next to Roy, him shouting 'whistle,' silencing the changing room. "Hey, that's what dads are for."

"Before I start, someone grab Nate and Will from the boot room." Jamie, being closest to the boot room, dashed in and right back out, Will and Nate right behind him. "Right. Angel, the floor is yours."

You thanked Roy before turning back to the boys, all of them waiting anxiously as they waited to see what you had to say that was so important Roy had even called Will and Nate out. "I need to know if you're all available next June - we're talking the end of June, early July." Thankfully, your job at Richmond often required planning things far in advance, even if far in advance was a year away, so no one expected anything as you started to speak. "I know it's the off season but I need you all here, in Richmond. Especially Colin."

"Why especially me?" Colin asked, one hand nervously wringing the other.

"Because I absolutely refuse to get married if my man of honour won't be able to make it."

The whole changing room erupted into a chorus of gasps, quickly followed by cheers and players and kitmen alike swarming you and Roy with hugs and cries of congratulations - which, for once, he actually entertained.

Colin was the first to reach for you to pull you into a hug, his hands shaking as he did. "You really want me to be your man of honour? At your wedding?"

"Of course I do, Col." It didn't get any less tearful asking people to be apart of your wedding. "Your my best friend. I love you." No sooner then Colin had pulled you into another hug had you been torn out of it, by a very excited Jamie.

"I can't fucking believe it me. Well, I can actually, but I also can't." He pulled you in for an even tighter hug then Colin had, probably down to the fact he had more excitement then nerves coursing through his system. "Feels like yesterday me and Phoebe were sat on your couch convincing you Roy did love you, and now look at yous."

"Will Phoebe be at the wedding?" Isaac had spun you out of Jamie's hold and into his, keeping one arm around your shoulder as he spoke to you. "Cause I don't want to be the only person eating the turkey dinosaurs; there will be turkey dinosaurs right?"

"Of course there will be, Isaac." Will pulled you out from under Isaac's arm and into a sweet, although brief, hug. "Right? Otherwise I might have to RSVP no."

"Im sure it can be arranged, what, with all of Roy's footballer money." The two laughed at your words, though a certain footballer turned coach found them more amusing.

"All my footballer money, huh?"

"I hope the fact I'm only marrying you for your money doesn't make you want to call off the wedding." You teased, spinning around and wrapping your arms around Roy's neck.

He pressed a slow and sensual kiss to your lips, ignoring the teasing shouts and cheers from his team. "Hmm, you're lucky you're cute." Roy pressed another kiss to your lips, paying no mind to the curious stares of the team around him. Though when they began to linger for a minute too long, he pulled away from you with a sigh. "Right, 50 laps, all of you." When no one moved, he raised his voice. "Now!"

Roy intertwined his fingers with yours, waving a goodbye to Beard but promising to be back before the boys had finished their 50 laps.

Keeley had reacted just how you expected her to - with many screams and squeals and a tight hug that nearly knocked you off the ground. Rebecca and Higgins were much more reserved in their responses but each offered a hug and a congratulation's to the happy couple. Roy kept your fingers intertwined the whole time, squeezing your hand tight each time someone reached out for a hug but putting up with their love otherwise.

You couldn't wait to marry him.

~*~

Knowing that the off season would start around  the beginning of June, you'd decided early on the last week of June was the perfect time for the two of you to get married. And while the end of June was still a month and a half away, you were seriously considering calling the wedding off.

When you'd found out you were pregnant in February, you knew you had to keep it a close secret until you'd finished the first trimester, just incase anything happened to you or the baby, and each week since you'd found out you kept swearing to yourself you were going to tell Roy. You still hadn't. Which brought you to right now, where you were crying on the floor of your ensuite bathroom at the dead of night, at just over 12 weeks pregnant and a baby bump beginning to show.

Given the cold weather of early spring you'd kept it hidden pretty well so far, but with the progressively warmer weather, it was getting harder and harder to hide. Above that, you were now very much aware that since the baby bump had appeared, it was only going to get bigger - and you were in absolute tears over wether or not you were still going to fit into the outfit you'd picked. While your choice of outfit for your wedding wasn't anything extravagant, it made you feel extremely pretty, and hugged you in just the right way - it wouldn't if you were four months pregnant and with a baby bump that you felt was the size of Saturn.

One particularly loud sob had you clamping a hand over your mouth, hoping and praying to anything out there that Roy hadn't heard you. You didn't want him stressing, especially when you were crying over trivial things considering the life you'd always dreamed was within your grasp.

Roy's eyes blinked open though he wasn't entirely sure why, however, when he rolled over and attempted to wrap his arms around you, he was met with cold and empty sheets. The cool feel of the sheets beneath his fingers had him shooting awake; clearly you'd been out of bed a while, and considering it was pushing 2am, his first thought was that you were sick. Which wasn't too far from the truth.

Slowly, he made his way towards your en-suite bathroom, rubbing at his eyes to get him to wake up quicker. Pushing the door open, his entire being froze at the sight of you crying on the bathroom floor, him immediately falling to the ground next to you and pulling you into his lap. One hand brushed your hair out of your face while the other cupped the back of your head, pressing it into the crook of his neck. "It's okay Angel, I'm here, I'm here."

It took Roy roughly 15 minutes of rocking you gently in his arms and whispering soothing words into your hair before your sobs calmed down enough that you could talk without your words turning into a whimper. "C'mon Angel, talk to me." The way Roy oh so gently cradled your face had tears springing to your eyes again. "Or is it about me? Do you want me to call Molly? I'm sure she wouldn't mind-"

"No, it's about me." A fresh set of tears were rolling down your cheeks, but the heaving sobs that had been coming from your chest before ceased. "It's me, I've ruined everything."

"Angel..."

"I just wanted to wear a nice fucking outfit on my wedding day, and I can't, and its making me so sad it's stupid." Roy's thumb continuously wiped at the tears that were furiously running down your cheeks. "And it makes me even more sad because, because, I'm getting everything I've ever dreamed of and I'm sad over something stupid like what I can wear."

"It's not stupid, Angel face." Roy murmured against your temple, the scratch of his beard against your skin familiar and comforting. "Nothings stupid if it makes you so upset. Just talk me through it, yeah? Why can't you wear what you picked? Did it get damaged or something?"

"No, no, it's fine, it's just- it won't fit me anymore." Roy pressed a kiss to your temple, immediately spouting words of reassurance that it would still fit you and if it didn't he'd hire the best tailor in the world to make it fit and that regardless, you'd look incredibly beautiful no matter what you wore. You shook your head gently. "It's not that Roy, it's, I'm-"

You readjusted yourself in Roy's lap, turning so that your legs were either side of his, caging him in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, looking down at the bump you could just see through one of Roy's old jerseys you'd fallen asleep in, while you avoided his concerned gaze. "It's not going to fit me anymore, because I'm pregnant, Roy."

Silence filled the bathroom.

When you finally gained the courage to look up at Roy, tears were pooled in his eyes, that wonderful smile of his making the most tender appearance you'd ever seen. "You're pregnant?" He whispered, mumbling the two words over, and over, and over again. "You're pregnant."

Before you could ask Roy if he was okay, he was pressing his lips to yours, allowing the tears to fall from his eyes though without the noise of a sob. He simply kissed you over, and over, and over again, only pulling away when he could no longer contain the smile that what pulling at his lips. Your hands cradled his cheeks, wiping away each tear gently with the pad of your thumb. "I can't believe I'm crying." He scoffed, though didn't move away from to ur touch as you continued to wipe away his tears.

"If it makes you feel any better, I find the vulnerability of it incredibly hot."

One of Roy's hands moved from the side of your thighs to cup your cheek, pushing hair back behind your ear as a watery smile took over his face.

"You know," Roy paused, tenderly running his fingers up and down the side of your neck as his hand slipped down from your cheek to hold you there. "If you'd come to me 5 years ago, back when Ted and Beard first started, and told me in 5 years time I'd have everything I'd ever dreamed of? And, with the gorgeous woman from the office outside the changing rooms? I would've laughed in your face and told you to fuck off." After a moments thought, he added. "I probably wouldn't have let anyone get close enough to me to tell me that in the first place, to be honest."

"Look how far you've come." You mused, one hand slipping into the hair at the base of Roy's neck as his tears slowly stopped. "Some might say that I've made you go soft.”

Roy laughed, head tilted back against the bathroom wall as he was prevented from throwing it back further. The tilt of his head upwards granted you the perfect position to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He smiled at you softly, bringing his hand forward from the side of your neck so that he could cup your jaw. "To be loved, is to be changed." He hummed, his chest tightening as tears filled your eyes once more.

"I love you, Roy." You whispered, as though even saying it would break the sincerity of the words slipping from your lips. Although you'd said them a thousand times, it was like Roy was hearing it for the first time all over again. "Like I really, really love you Roy." Leaning forward, you rested your forehead against his. "So much... so much so that I feel like I'm never going to be able to express it enough, like if I don't get it out of me, I might die."

Roy pressed a searing kiss to your lips, sliding his hand back up your jaw and under your ear, tangling his fingers in the hair there. "I love you too, more then i ever thought I was capable of loving anyone.” Roy leaned in for another kiss then pulled away with a smirk as you ground yourself into him. "Want me to show you how much I love you, yeah?"

"Definitely."

Roy put his hands back to their original place under your thighs, slowly moving the two of you from your position on the bathroom floor to standing once more. When he was standing, you held in his arms with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, you continued the clash of tongue and teeth you'd started moments again. However, before he could get started on showing you just how much he loved you, you leaned away from him, eyes running over his whole face. "You might have to hold off on doing that thing with your hips, y'know, because of the baby."

"I'll stop doing that when the doctor tells me to stop."

~*~

Fortunately for you, at your next check up the following Thursday, the doctor gave you the all clear - on the health of the baby and the fact Roy could continue working magic with his hips. Considering you were nearly 14 weeks along, the ultrasound technician had offered to let you know the gender of the baby, but both you and Roy had agreed that you didn't want to know. You so seriously didn't want anyone to know, in fact, that Roy made a show of ripping up the envelope that contained the baby's gender right in front of the ultrasound technician after she offered it out to you; her suggestion of a gender reveal dying on her tongue.

Roy had been nothing but attentive since he'd found out; moving at your beck and call even more then normal, so much so that people around Nelson road were beginning to notice.

"Alright, what's going on?" The second Roy left your office, Isaac, Colin and Will crowed into the room, locking the door behind them. If you weren’t such a veteran of their shenanigans, you'd be getting concerned. "Are you dying?"

"Why would I be dying?" You asked, clicking the email you'd been writing closed, giving the three lads your undivided attention.

"Roy's been following you, like, more then usual though." Isaac stated, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "Weird, innit."

Before you could question what they found weird about you talking to and hanging around your fiancé, Will stepped forward, his hands tucked sheepishly in his pockets. "You're pregnant, right? I'm like 80% sure you're pregnant."

Your hand came to rest against the small bump you'd concealed under your Richmond sweater.

"Holy fuck boyo." Colin gasped, smacking his hand into Will's chest. "She is. How did you know?"

"She's glowing." Isaac and Colin tilted their heads in sync while their gaze remained directly on you, as though they were trying to see what Will saw. When it appeared they couldn't, Will let out a sigh, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. "I don't know; maybe it's the lighting."

Silence took over your small office space, the four of you alternating between staring at each other and the hand that rested against your stomach.

"Angel, you got-" Roy paused at the sight before him, scanning the room with a pointed glare. While Isaac had had the sense to lock the main door to your office when he started his interrogation, it had seemed he had forgotten to lock the connecting door from your office into the changing rooms. You'd never been more thankful to be in an office with two doors.  After a few more seconds of assessment, he seethed out a "Fuck! Not a word of this to anyone, yeah?"

All three lads nodded in silence, scurrying from the room after a particularly harsh glare from Roy had told them they had overstayed their welcome in your office. As your head fell into your hands due to the stress of it all, Roy crossed the room, slipping his fingers into your hair and scratching gently at your scalp. "They're not going to tell anyone, Angel, don't stress."

"But, what-"

"No buts, or what if's, or anything." Roy chastised, pulling your head out of your hands and crouching down to meet you at eye level. He took your hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. "We tell everyone when you're ready. And if that's after the wedding, then that's after the wedding." Roy pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "And that's that."

You let out a long sigh, weight lifted from your shoulders at Roy's gentle touch and soothing words. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"You've mentioned it once or twice."

~*~

You were too scared to put your outfit on. After almost 10 months of planning every detail and waking up to see your engagement ring on your finger, you were finally getting to be Mrs Kent. And you were too scared to go out there and get dressed.

When Will, Colin and Isaac found out you were pregnant, it was on accident, but going out there, before your man of honour, bridesmaids, Phoebe and Beard to put on your outfit would be intentionally revealing your baby bump. It was so stupid, you thought, to be this worried about something that would make people happy - that would make you and Roy happy. But a small part of you just wanted things to work out how you'd planned then in your head; like being able to wear what you'd picked to marry the love of your life.

However, you wanted to get married to Roy more then you cared about keeping the baby a secret.

Everyone gasped as you walked into the main part of the hotel room. You'd forgone a dressing gown in favour of getting ready in the comfort of pyjama shorts and one of Roy's old jerseys, wanting to have a part of him with you even though you wouldn't see him the night before the wedding.

Roy had actually wanted to forgo the traditional 'no seeing the bride bullshit,' him in favour of spending every second he could get with you, but Keeley and Jamie had convinced him it would make that moment of you walking down the aisle all the more special. Though as you walked into the room, you'd wished more then anything you'd convinced Keeley to let him stay with you. All you wanted was his hand in yours as you did this.

All eyes fell to the shadow of a baby bump that could be seen through the loose material of Roy's jersey; it was the one he wore at his very first Richmond match, Kent printed and worn proudly on the back. No one moved or even dared to breath.

"Surprise?" You didn't mean for it to come out as a question, but the tense silence and feel of everyone's eyes on you had you shying away from your friends and family in a way you'd never done before. "I'm pregnant!"

Molly was the first to move, crossing the length of the room and pulling you into an embrace. "I love you." She whispered against your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I'm going to be an auntie." Within seconds the remaining people in the room swarmed you into one big group hug. Each of Colin, Keeley, Rebecca and Beard whispered congratulations to you, telling you just how beautiful you looked and how excited they were to see you walk down the aisle. Phoebe, however, pulled the funniest face at you, her brow tense in the spitting image of Roy.

"You're not wearing that, are you?"

Phoebe had magically broke the tension of the room, smiles all around as Molly and Keeley ushered you back to the other side of the door, helping you into your outfit and making sure your hair stayed in the way you'd styled it when you got changed. Fully dressed and feeling yourself, you stepped back into the main room with newfound confidence.

You were going to marry Roy - Roy who updated you on his book every night and valued your opinion on it, who still brought you lunch everyday at work, who was willing to hold you on the bathroom floor at 3am when he should've been sleeping, who made you feel like you were the only person in a room that mattered - and you couldn't be more excited.

Colin held your hand the entire drive from the hotel and the whole way from the car to the church doors. Only two pieces of wood separated you from everything you'd ever wanted. He pressed a featherlight kiss to your cheek and wished you luck before heading inside, leaving just you and Beard outside the building.

"You nervous?" He asked, moving his hand so that it rested lovingly on the small of your back.

"It's Roy." Roy always made you nervous. From the smile that had you weak in the knees when he actually decided to show it, to the butterflies the simple movement of his fingers against your skin caused; Roy had you swooning every time he looked at you. "I can't wait to get in there."

"Can you wait a second?" Ted Lasso was stood behind you, hands bashfully tucked into suit pants pockets.

"Ted." You gasped, opening your arms but not leaving Beard's side. The American rushed towards you, scooping you into a tender hug. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't make it..."

"Well, you know how Roy is, stubborn, hard-headed," Ted had aged a little since you last saw him on English soil, but he still held that quintessential ted spirit to him; even though he looked a lot more tired then you ever remembered him being. "Will do anything for the people he loves. Even if that's calling someone everyday for 8 months straight and convincing them to clear their calendar."

Roy who called one of your favourite people daily until he convinced them to make time to come to your wedding despite the fact they'd have to fly halfway across the world to attend.

"Well, I'm glad you're here Ted." He pressed a kiss to your temple, unwrapping himself from you and flattening out the front of his suit.

"I'll see you in there." Ted walked to the doors Colin had entered through moments ago, stopping and turning back to you at the last second. "You look beautiful by the way, you're practically glowing." With a knowing wink, Ted slipped through the doors, finding the way to his seat to wait for the ceremony to begin.

"Well, I think we're really ready now." You mused, linking your arm though Beard's. When you turned to flash a smile at him, you saw eyes filled with fondness, tears threatening to cloud his vision if he thought about the scene before him for too long. "Aren't we Willis?"

"Lets go, sweetheart." The pet name struck you to your core, your hand squeezing his bicep in reassurance. There was no one else you'd want to walk you down the aisle. "You're getting married!"

The ceremony ran perfectly. Willis walked you down the aisle and handed you off to Roy after whispering what you were certain was a threat in his ear. Tears brimmed Roy's waterline the whole ceremony, but they didn't spill over under you were pronounced husband and wife. No one commented on the tears that ran down Roy's cheeks, and you didn't think anyone was ever going to bring it up; a mutual understanding settling over the room that the Roy Kent that stood at the alter wasn't Roy Kent football sensation, but that he was Roy Kent, loving husband.

All those years ago Jamie had been completely and utterly right, all Roy needed was someone to show him it was okay to be soft. Thankfully, he had found that in you.

~*~

"Nell, go back to sleep baby, daddy's here."

Roy had his back turned to you as he rocked Penelope in his arms, murmuring some song that you couldn't quite make out under his breath to help her get back to sleep. In the 4 weeks since Penelope - or 'Nell' as Roy had lovingly started calling her - had been born, Roy had more then proved himself to be the amazing dad you knew he would be. Though he'd voiced his worries about not being a good dad several times throughout your pregnancy, each time you'd soothed away the worry; scratching your fingers against his scalp and reminding him of everything he'd ever done for Phoebe.

Phoebe had been the most excited to meet the baby, begging her mum to let her come over every single day after school so that she could spend time with her newborn cousin (even though that time was mostly spent with Phoebe in your lap with Nell in hers).

The Boys at Nelson Road came in for a close second when it came to being excited to meet the baby. Will, Colin and Isaac had made it their duty to show up to you and Roy's house every day after training when you were 7 months along in order to paint the babies nursery and build all the furniture that you'd bought.

They were even worse when you went into labour.

Roy had called Beard to let him know the two of you wouldn't be able to make it to work that Tuesday, and Beard loaded up the coach for a group trip to Richmond's hospital. You had the whole of AFC Richmond crowded in the waiting room, arms filled with stuffed animals, balloons and flowers. Jamie had charmed up the nurse who you were charged to, convincing him to let all of the players into your room at once. While most of the team fawned over the baby, gave you their best wishes then made their way back to the coach, Colin, Isaac, and Will asked to hold her, tears filling their eyes as they took in the sight of the tiny baby.

"She's beautiful." Colin whispered, lightly running the tip of his finger up and down her button nose. "With your parents, you're going to be the coolest kid ever. And Uncle Colin is going to make sure of it."

"You know," Will whispered, stiff as a board as he held Penelope on his arms, scared to even breath less it hurt the baby. "I remember that day I saw you with Phoebe in Tesco, and I told you I didn't realise you were a mum." Roy shot you a confused glance, reminding you you'd never actually filled him in on your trip to the supermarket that day with Phoebe. "And now you are one. It almost doesn't feel real."

"I've never held a baby before." Isaac admitted, the most relaxed holding her despite his inexperience. "It's weird, innit. Like, this baby I'm holding right now started out nothing and now she's real and alive and in my arms…Spooky."

Jamie, however, you practically had to force to hold Nell; and even then he was scared shitless. When you managed to convince him to take a seat on your hospital bed, he seemed less tense about holding her, but the ever present crease in his brow told you otherwise. "She looks just like you."

"She's got Roy's nose, and I bet she'll have his eyebrows too."

Jamie's eyes never left the baby, even as the other boys slipped out of the room with one last goodbye and a promise to come and visit Nell again when you got sent home.

"Ask us what her full name is." Roy kicked Jamie's foot, finally snapping his attention away from the newborn.

"You what?”

Apparently, he hadn't been listening, the tender tone to Roy's voice leaving as soon as it had arrived. "I said ask us what her full name is, fuckhead."

Jamie didn't ask you, he wasn't sure he could get the words out without choking up, the suggestion of the question springing tears to his eyes.

"Her full name is Penelope Jamie Kent." You hadn't seen Jamie so upset since Roy dragged him into your office, sobs wracking his body, two years ago before the journey up north to play against Manchester City at the Etihad.

He pulled Nell closer to his chest, hugging her as best as you could hold a baby, then passed her to Beard, pulling Roy in for the tightest hug you'd ever seen the two share. When Jamie came to hug you, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, whispering in your ear; "You've made Grandad go all soft." And after a brief pause. "The rest of us too."

Beard didn't stay long after Jamie left, knowing the coach was only waiting on him to return to training. He muttered something under his breath, pressed a kiss to Nell's head and then handed her back to you, pressing a kiss to yours. "Jamie’s right. Spitting image of you. Though I do agree she has Roy's nose."

"I hope she gets his smile." You quietly confessed, not missing the way Roy's lips curled up into the wonderful  smile you loved so much. "We got something for you." Roy pulled out a gift bag from next to your 'we need to go to the hospital the baby is coming' bag and handed it to his fellow coach. Beard waisted no time opening the gift, a soft smile curling on his lips as he pulled out the mug, 'worlds best grandad' printed on the front and a Richmond crest printed on the back. "I love you...dad."

A tear silently ran down Beard' cheek but he didn't wipe it away, pulling you and the baby in for a group hug. After a tight squeeze, he opened up his arms, a silent invite for Roy to join. He did so without question, thanking Willis for everything.

Beard had used the mug at Nelson Road everyday since.

Nell had made a total of 3 visits so far to Nelson Road; every Thursday afternoon being the day you'd come to the dog track with her and disrupt afternoon training so that the boys could fawn over her as an end of the week treat. Tomorrow would be her 4th visit, and yet, Roy had been the one to wake up and tend to her when he'd have to be up in a few hours to coach Jamie and you could essentially sleep in until 12 and still be on time.

As he put Nell back inside her cot, you wrapped your arms around his waist and slid them up and under the front of his t-shirt. "You're such a good dad, Roy."

"Only cause you make me a good dad." He turned around in your hold, your hands now up the back of his shirt, his arms now over your shoulders/

"That doesn't even make sense." You countered, resting your chin against his chest so that you could look at him. Roy took the opportunity to press a slow and tender kiss to your lips.

"Fuck off, it totally does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

At a whine from Nell, the two of you fell silent, not wanting to wake her after Roy had just put her back to sleep.

"She know it makes sense." The two of your were looking down at Nell's tony from where she slept soundly in the crib.

"She's only agreeing cause it's you." You lowered your chin so that the side of your head rested against Roy's chest, giving you a better look at your beautiful baby girl. "She's a total daddy's girl already, you know."

"Gets that from her mother." Roy paused after he spoke, realising quickly that his words hadn't made much sense or come out in the way he intended. "I meant, she's a total me, girl. Like she loves me a lot because you love me a lot. Fuck."

"I knew what you meant, handsome."

Roy quirked his eyebrow at your response. "You did huh?" He swept you off your feet, literally, carrying you back to your bedroom with a slip in his step.

You hand slapped against his bicep, a gasp slipping from your lips as your pieced together Roy's words paired with his suggestive tone and that glint in his eye. "The doctor said no sex for 6 weeks, Roy."

"No penetrative sex for six weeks." Roy clarified, laying you down on the mused bedsheets and kissing his way down your form; starting with scrapes of teeth against the sensitive skin of your neck, all the way down to the thick skin of your thighs. "The guy said nothing about oral."

an : thanks for reading this far *mwah* I love you <33 I hope you enjoyed this!!! Please feel free to send in a request for Roy or Jamie I'd love to write it!!!

[albatmobile]

The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Chapter 2

𓅪 Navigating the present is hard when your past refuses to die. 

𓅪 After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for Roy and Jason's child.

𓅪 Rated: M | 9.8k fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist]

Chapter Two: The Wilder Mile | ao3 - wattpad

THEN

Being new (and poor) didn’t help your situation. You figured this out early on.

Somehow, you could all be wearing the same prissy uniforms, but these rich kids could sniff out that you didn’t belong.  

Because of this, you spent your first day of freshman year at Gotham Academy with your head down. You only briefly stopped to chat with your locker neighbor, a raven-haired sophomore, about who you knew in common from your old school. 

As it turned out, you both had the misfortune of knowing Bart Allen. You had smiled when he said that but didn’t linger much longer as you needed to get to class.

It had gotten out by your second day that you were there on scholarship from Star City, “which makes so much more sense, poor thing!" and, “I knew she didn’t belong.” You heard the whispers in each hall you passed, heard the laughter during each period you attended. Not even in the fucking bathroom, were you safe from the gossip mill. 

By your third day, you'd made peace with the fact that you’d be a leper for the rest of your four years. No, really, you were fine with it. 

Nothing you weren’t used to at home anyway.

You sighed and snuck to the back corner of the library to eat lunch. 

You’d found the spot whilst roaming around in between class periods. Once you’d seen no one go near it, you decided to hunker down and make it your new hideaway, hoping the other students would leave you the fuck alone.

Every now and then, you’d feel a certain scratching feeling on the back of your neck. It was almost as if someone were watching you, but you highly doubted it. The towering bookcases surrounding you did a pretty decent job of concealing you. 

You chalked it up to still being paranoid on account of your shit first days at the academy because each time you looked around, all you saw were books.

In the days following, you’d try to talk with your locker neighbor more but ultimately didn’t want to make him feel like he had to talk to you. The number of times you bumped into each other at your lockers was uncanny, but he didn’t have to force himself to talk to you every time. 

Ah, yes. The burden of anxiety.

“What’s your name?” The raven asked you on Thursday of your first week. You told him. “Star City, right?” You nodded, retrieving your books silently, giving him the chance to dismiss you, but he prodded on. Did he actually want to talk to you? Maybe he was the weird one- not you. Or maybe he didn’t actually hate you like everyone else apparently did? “Sorry,” He said sheepishly, flashing you his abashed blue eyes. “I never introduced myself and I keep pestering you.” 

Damn, should you be asking him about more stuff in return, then? 

In your reclusive state at Gotham Academy, you'd somewhat forgotten what normal, friendly (emphasis on friendly) conversations were like. Ultimately you'd come to the assumption that no one wanted to talk to you, so it was best just to keep quiet and to yourself.

“You’re good,” You gave him a double thumbs up. Damn, that was fucking lame. You cursed yourself internally. The first person who actually liked talking to you who was, you noted with a slight blush, hot as fuck and here you were, screwing it all up. “Do you play any games?” 

You can't help but cringe. What the fuck was wrong with you? Yes, you should be asking questions, but you didn't need him to know you were a loser this early on.

Instead of looking at you weirdly, the sophomore just nodded excitedly, “For sure. We should game together sometime.” 

The bell rang as you nodded. You instantly realized his proposition to be an empty invitation.

He shut his locker and stuck his bony, pale hand out to you, “I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Cool,” You nodded, losing yourself in the depths of his hypnotizing blue eyes. “I’ll see you around, I guess.” You motioned around both of your lockers lamely, referencing the fact you’d see him next period to switch out books just like always.

“For sure,” You stared after his retreating form and sighed, leaning your back against your locker to shut it, “Can I just have one normal interaction for once?”

“Do you talk to yourself a lot?” 

You startled, turning immediately to the source of a new male voice. 

Your eyes traveled up the form of the skinny, short kid standing next to your locker. His neatly combed ink-black hair contrasted starkly against his tanned skin.

He squinted at you, seeming to recognize you were acknowledging his lackluster stature with distaste.

You blushed at having been caught and hugged your books closer to your chest as if they would somehow help conceal your embarrassment. “No,” You spat out too quickly to be believable. 

“Loon,” He responded boredly, continuing to block your path. 

You squinted at him, “What do you want?” You attempted to step around him, but he swiftly stepped in front of you again, causing you to huff and back up. “If you want lunch money or some shit, you picked the wrong girl.” 

At Star City, sure, people had picked on you but it was nothing ever violent. This kid, though? This kid looked like the definition of violence. 

This time, instead of waiting for his response, you spun on your heel and went, what you realized too late was, in the opposite direction of where you actually needed to go. At least, you thought… You were still very much in the process of figuring out the layout of this giant, castle-like school. Hogwarts and those moving stairs had nothing on Gotham Academy's labyrinth-like hallways. 

You heard his light footfall gaining behind you and wondered worriedly if the dude really was going to give you trouble. 

“You’re going the wrong way,” He said tonelessly after you’d rounded your third random corner.

What the fuck was his problem? 

“Yeah,” You said shortly. “Some little twerp was blocking my way.” 

“Hey!” He hissed before mumbling something under his breath. "You're the little one here, dumbass."

You quickly spun around to face him. 

From this close, you could see the annoyance trickling out from his deep honeyed eyes. You hadn't been able to see the extent of their color by your locker, but near the huge glass window you were both facing, you could clearly see the intricate layers of yellow and green hidden within their depths.

You snapped yourself out of it. 

Now was not the time to be checking this creep out. 

Before he could say anything else, you continued straight from where you’d been heading, hoping you might end up circling back around to your locker. As the environment around you continued to look completely unfamiliar, you began to doubt your logic completely. 

At this point, you were totally lost.

The kid appeared noiselessly behind you to grab your lower arm with a sure, strong grip. 

You glanced up at him uneasily and your eyes danced with his in some sort of weird battle. With how young he looked, he had to be a freshman like you, though his strength was something someone way out of high school might have. 

Definitely weird. 

You weren’t going to go cross-eyed over this kid and he could tell. He was the one who ended up breaking the silence. “You’re going to art, aren’t you?” It didn��t seem like a question, but you nodded anyway, already wanting this interaction to be over and done with. “Follow me.” 

You sat there for a few seconds as your indecisiveness kicked in.

Stay lost or follow the kid psychopath?

You begrudgingly went with the latter, noting again just how young he looked. 

No matter how young he was, the fact still stood that the kid was aggressive and cryptic- something you didn't appreciate in the slightest. You supposed it should be reassuring he knew the way but, if anything, the kid put you on edge.

“I didn’t know they had a middle school here too,” You jested as payback for his odd, if not hostile, introduction. 

“That’s a horrible insult,” He said matter-of-factly, not missing a beat while glancing at you out of the corner of his eyes. “There’s also an elementary where you should clearly be right now,” The kid sighed as if unimpressed with your attempt to sass him.

"Please," You continued on, waving him off unperturbed. “My tits would say college, easy.” 

You'd been expecting an eye roll or some kind of 'as if' comment, but, instead, his cheeks stained dark red against his dark skin. He soon looked anywhere but at you. You clearly weren’t ready for that reaction as you quickly followed suit, turning your gaze to the polished granite floor below. 

With one more turned corner, you finally started to recognize the art wing hallway. “There’s a restroom over there too, just so you know,” He pointed at a wooden, unmarked door as he broke the awkward silence once again.

“Okay,” You replied blankly at his random advice. 

He seemed as sheepish as his RBF would let him as the two of you closed in on your classroom. 

He instinctively held the door open for you, something you noted gratefully, though surprised nonetheless. You nodded to him, making brief eye contact again when you walked past. 

As soon as you entered the room, the pre-period chatter dulled. 

It was a phenomenon you'd become accustomed to at Gotham Academy, though your stomach still clenched subconsciously at the unwarranted attention. As much as you hated to admit how much it affected you, it was hard to have everyone in the school judge you like this without ever talking to you. 

You wouldn’t blame the brooding asshole sitting next to you for not liking you after you'd insulted him, but everyone else? They could all straight fuck off. 

You brushed off the silence as you sat down at the only empty table left, figuring this was better than the harsh insults and accusations you'd been getting. 

The stool beside you scraped horrifically against the cement floor as the creepy kid from earlier took a seat next to you. 

You gave him a confused glance, but he merely pulled out his phone and began tapping away at it. In response, you faced forward to stare down at your empty sketchbook. 

“I heard she’s not even smart,” One girl said. You look up hesitantly to see her sneering at you with morbid glee. 

Oh, great, you thought. Here comes the usual shit.

Just one day. Was it too much to ask for just one day of peace?

“I hear she gave a bunch of blowjobs to get that scholarship,” Another kid said. 

The kid next to you shifted in his seat, but you didn’t bother to see if he was glaring at you or not. He’d surely heard the ruckus by now; how could he not?

“Her? No way. Who would want… that?” Soon, the entire table and the one next to them were chiming in.

“God, I bet she stinks. Talk about a fucking charity case,” A blonde loudly exclaimed.

“What a whore.” 

“She's literally a slut!” 

Everyone at the tables flanking yours had joined in at that point, adding to the cacophony of slander. 

You weren't surprised but disheartened to hear the name-calling and rumors getting so aggressive. You still didn't understand what you’d done to make these people talk about you in such a way. 

After all, how could you help being poor? 

The tanned kid beside you seemed to agree with your internal train of thought. When you finally bothered to look over at him, you saw him sneering at the other tables.

“Elliot,” He barked in a way that made you lean away from him. His tone demanded attention and everyone was quick to oblige. “You have no right to talk after the 8th grade graduation party this past May.” 

People around the classroom quietly giggled and 'ooo'ed.'

The corners of her mouth instantly dropped at the dig. She gaped at him while her friends who, in turn, glared at you. 

“Big mistake, newbie.” 

You were pretty sure her last name was Elliot, not her first, but then again, you knew nothing about Gotham after spending your entire life in Star City. 

“But I didn’t say shit!” You exclaimed helplessly.

It didn’t matter anyway. 

You hesitantly looked up again to see the entire group still sneering in your direction. 

There was a sudden bang and your table shook in its wake.

“You’re a pathetic waste of space,” The kid stood up so abruptly he knocked over his metal stool, leaving it to crash and clank to the ground below. “All you’re good for is spewing slander, you annoying-ass cretin!”

Your eyes widened at the commotion he was causing on your behalf. 

Why was he sticking up for you like this?

The teacher appeared out of nowhere, effectively shutting the class up as he finally started the lesson. 

About fucking time, you thought to yourself.

“Damian, sit down,” Your teacher said exasperatedly. 

The tanned kid, no, Damian, you corrected yourself, muttered to himself. 

He picked up his seat and aggressively dropped it upright to stand again. The stool screeched obnoxiously as he situated himself with all eyes in the class on him. Most, you noted, looked fearful, while others looked downright offended at his presence.

The gossip continued, albeit in hushed whispers, as the teacher reviewed basic watercolor techniques, something you were already good at. 

You zoned out the lesson, only to be brought back into the moment by Damian's huffs of frustration. 

Damian, you’d noticed from the corner of your eye, kept peeking over at you occasionally, squinting calculatingly, then would slump as he went back to his canvas. That was how it continued until the bell rang to release you to next period.

“Those inbred, trust fund fucks don’t know what they’re talking about.” That was all Damian said about the incident as you both left the art room. 

You laughed at his savageness, "Thanks." 

You thought you were odd? This kid was way up there with you. 

“Are you headed to the library to eat?” He asked nonchalantly. 

You raised an eyebrow at him and he blushed in response, completely avoiding eye contact with you. “Uh, yeah.” You hesitated, “I hadn’t realized my lunch spot had been spotted, I guess.” You said, rubbing at the back of your head. 

You felt completely off guard knowing that someone had been watching you. No, not someone; Damian had been watching you. 

He looked at you expectantly, but you were unsure as to why. Wouldn't a kid like him have friends already? It's not like he'd be waiting on an invitation to lunch with you. Not like anyone would, for that matter, you thought bitterly.

You continued back to the hallway where you’d met an hour ago and tried to part ways once again. 

“See you in class,” You said, going to dial your locker code and grab your lunch.

You added your copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray to the growing pile of supplies in your arms before finally making off toward the library. You wouldn't need anyone's help finding the way, considering you’d already memorized the way... Or so you thought.

You felt Damian’s presence behind you the whole way. You only acknowledged him by thanking him when he’d grabbed some falling textbooks of yours and when he corrected you on which turn to take. 

What a fucking creep.

You settled into your hidden lounge area with your newfound friend(?) in complete silence. 

He single-handedly slipped your heavy textbooks onto the table in front of you with inhumane ease, reminding you of his strong grip on your arm from earlier. He looked at you with an intensity you were beginning to realize was natural for him as you bit into your sandwich. 

“What?” You said around a mouth full. 

He simply tsk’d at your comically stuffed cheeks and began meticulously setting out the compartments of his bento box, then his napkin, then utensils on top, then another napkin to set on his lap. 

You rolled your eyes at the cumbersome display before cracking your book open to where you’d last left off.

It was a sad book. One that made your stomach twist in the morbid realization of what true darkness lies within everyone. The dark and the light. The kind and cruel. There was balance and consequence. You’d realized Dorian’s plights against himself are what ultimately caused his undoing and, subsequently, the desecration of who he once was. 

“Are you on an internal nerd rant or something?” You immediately snapped out of your conclusion. 

You bit off another bite testily, “At least I’m old enough to read chapter books.”

“I do not look that young,” He exclaimed with a hint of exasperation. 

You shrugged and held up your book, “Maybe not, Damian Gray.” You wiggled the cover at him condescendingly, much to his chagrin.

“You're a nerd.” He finally seemed comfortable enough with you to start eating. You wouldn’t pry.  “Besides reading basic literature and being a watercolor Van Gogh, what do you do.”

“Did he even do watercolors?” You questioned his odd logic.

“No, I don’t think he did them,” He rolled his eyes. “He used them in over a hundred paintings.” 

“So you like art then?” You said half-interested, mostly trying to get back to your book. 

“Sure,” It seemed like an understatement, but you waited for him to continue. “I’m not very good at it, though.” 

You tried to think back to class earlier, realizing you hadn’t been paying attention to his work as you'd been more occupied with keeping your head down. 

“Anyone can do anything,” You said with a tiny shrug. He nodded appreciatively at that and dug into his lunch with more gusto. 

From there, you sat in companionable silence up until the lunch bell rang. 

“See you around, Damian.” You began picking up your things and collected both of your trash. Normally, you wouldn’t do this, but after he'd stuck up for you earlier, you wanted to show him in some small way you were appreciative. 

“Would you want to show me watercolors after school?” You turned around to see a somewhat shy, no, uncertain looking Damian.

You shifted around your books to look at him at his odd request. “Uh, sure.” 

You felt a bit anxious being social outside of school for who knows how many hours. Especially with this kid you really didn’t even know. 

Sure, you’d spent less than an hour with him at lunch and it had been fine, but your social anxiety, coupled with being a social outcast at school, made you extra wary of students here. However, you begrudgingly reminded yourself that you shouldn’t be turning down friends.

That was for sure. 

“I remember your locker from earlier,” You smiled at that. “It’s right by Tim’s,” He clarified, somewhat embarrassed.

You nodded, “Oh, yeah!” You two walked out of the library doors and into the bustling hallway. “He was the first person to talk to me.” You winced, not knowing if you should’ve revealed that kind of information. 

Hell, Damian had seen just how bad it could get in art earlier, so who really cared?

He merely glanced at you out of the corner of his sharp eyes, revealing no hint of emotion beneath them. Creepy. “Tim will walk home with us,” He said. “Probably bringing his annoying friend Brown, too.” 

“That’s a weird name.” It reminded you of shit.

“It’s because she’s shitty,” He said simply as if it were obvious.  

You laughed at him practically reading your unspoken thoughts. “I’m sure as long as she’s not like the girls in our art class, she shouldn’t be too shitty.” 

He smiled at you, leaving you to blush a bit at his odd, somewhat off-putting charm. 

“You may be right,” He said your name. “I’ll meet you by your locker. Try to find a good piece of literature in the meantime.” 

You gawked at him, leaving him enough time to exit before you could formulate a response. “Hey!” You yelled after his retreating form, earning you multiple dirty glares in the hallway. 

You sighed and shrugged to yourself as you headed off to your final classes, nothing you weren’t used to at this point. 

At least it was looking somewhat up?

                •

True to his word, Damian met you by your locker, but not before Tim.

You greeted him kindly as you opened your locker to deposit your books and take home the workbook you would need for water coloring with Damian. Out of nowhere, a blonde girl appeared beside him and began blatantly sizing you up. 

“Brown, right?” You smiled as you reached your hand out to shake hers.

She snorted, pointing to Damian, who'd silently snuck up from behind, startling you somewhat more than you’d care to admit. “You’ve been hanging around little bird too long, huh?” 

“Hardly,” You both said at the same time in completely different tones. Damian’s annoyed, yours dismissive.

Tim and Stephanie exchanged an amused glance. 

She winked at you and nudged your shoulder as you fell into step with them. “It’s Stephanie, by the way.” 

“I was completely off,” You laughed sheepishly but were glad that she seemed to warm up to you so quickly. “So, you guys are sophomores, right?” You asked as the group exited through the main doors and into the affluent courtyard entrance. 

“Hells yeah,” Stephanie nodded from in front of you. “Worst year EVER! Tim already knows that, though, dontcha?” She turned to the raven-haired man and urged him to reply by poking at him until he finally shook off her pestering. 

“What does that mean?” You tried to keep the conversation going. You already felt intrusive tagging along; the last thing you wanted was for it to be awkward, too.

“Technically yes, technically no,” Tim replied modestly, finally giving in to Stephanie’s little pokes, “I’m in all junior classes right now, but, yes, I’m almost 16.” 

“We get it, Drake.” Damian had his arms crossed as he walked behind him, next to you. You were starting to notice his habit of calling people by their last names. “You’re a lame nerd, and so is she,” He threw a thumb your way, which you quietly protested. “Can we all shut up about it now?”

You’d already seen Damian get hostile in art, but you were starting to see a habit. 

“Jeez, Dami,” Tim turned around to ruffle Damian’s dark, perfectly placed hair. “I’m sure she’s not.” Tim smiled at you and you swore you saw Damian’s eyes flash red. 

You didn't know much, but you knew enough to know this wasn’t going to end well. 

“Fuck you, Timothy,” His voice turned ice cold as he pushed at Tim’s slender back with an unreasonable force. Tim didn’t seem phased in the slightest, yet again, by Damian’s aggressive nature. Instead, he shoo'ed him off like an incessant bug. 

It made you chuckle a bit. 

Their bickering raged on and you quickly realized, after passing the main streets, that you were headed deeper into Bristol where the super-rich lived. 

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? Yes, you should have realized that they probably lived somewhere nice since they attended the academy, but the richest area in Gotham? Come on now. 

The trees were plentiful in this area and the sidewalks weren’t deathtraps like the rest of the city. There were even people jogging alone with headphones in- what?! In your dangerous side of town, you could hardly walk with your phone in your pocket without becoming a mugging target. 

The group made another turn onto a long, grand street where the huge mansions loomed dauntingly over each side of you, snickering that you didn’t belong here. 

You looked ahead, straight down the middle, where a giant foreboding… castle? No, mansion?  sat affixed with a gigantic monogrammed metal gate. 

Tim and Damian were still smacking at each other when Stephanie randomly and quickly, decided to turn around to walk in the grass beside you. “You’re new, right?” 

You nodded, “It’s still my first week.”

You were expecting the normal ‘how are you liking it?’ or ‘who’s your homeroom teacher?’ type of question, so you weren’t at all prepared for her next question. “I heard.” You tensed instantly, but she either didn’t notice or didn't care, “What’s your deal anyway?” 

“Please, Brown,” Upon hearing what she said, Damian abandoned his bickering to intervene in your conversation. “You may very well be dumb, so don’t pretend to be.” 

Stephanie ripped her glance from you to Damian and pinched her face together, “The hell does that mean, asshole?”

“See, you really are an idiot.” He let out an exasperated sigh. 

Tim seemed extremely uncomfortable and focused his attention strictly on the insane mansions you were passing. You felt like doing the same, but your eyes refused to leave the pavement to avoid the conflict raging on- something you were having to get used to in Gotham.

“Feel free to explain, baby face,” She taunted. 

You felt Damian stir angrily from beside you. “You know what people have been saying,” Damian glared at her menacingly enough to make you glad that you weren’t on the receiving end of it, “Don’t play dumb.” He said simply.

“This is why no one wants to hang out with you except the new girl, hellspawn!” Stephanie spat coldly. “With your angry little outbursts and shit. Makes sense your only friend would also be the only other social outcast at GA.” She added with a huff, deflecting Damian’s attacks that he’d already begun throwing her way. 

Damn, that's really what people thought of you? 

It had been a mistake to come. 

You desperately wanted to tell Damian that you’d just teach him during lunch tomorrow so you wouldn't be intruding, but he was too busy getting up in Stephanie's face to notice you trying to get his attention.

“I should say the same for you, you nosey hag! Why I oughta-”

“It’s true,” Tim said quietly from beside her, causing her to turn quickly and Damian to cease his verbal (and physical) assault. 

Now, you felt infinitely more embarrassed. This had definitely been a mistake.  

Stephanie perked up at the sound of Tim taking her side, but you felt like complete and utter shit. All those times at your locker, Tim was just being nice to you because he felt like he had to. 

Your legs hesitated in an attempt to retrace your steps and go back to your shitty, empty apartment to be alone. 

"What does that mean, Drake?" Damian growled, redirecting his assault toward the raven-haired sophomore.

"I mean, what you said is right, Damian." Relief flooded instantly with the realization that, no, Tim was actually just being nice to you because he wanted to. 

"Oh," Damian relaxed at the same time Stephanie huffed. 

"Whatever," She flipped her blonde hair in Tim's expectant face, though he made no move to dodge the attack.

You didn’t know these people and even though Damian had actually seemed kind, you shouldn’t have accepted a group hangout with people you didn't know after the extreme bullying that had been going on. 

The spat then moved from Stephanie and Damian to Stephanie and Tim. Damian used this as an excuse to focus his attention back on you. 

“What’s wrong?” You’d never heard his voice sound so soft. 

You looked up from the ground. “It’s just,” You paused, not sure if you wanted to continue. Maybe it was the fear of rejection, maybe it was what Stephanie said, or maybe it was something else entirely. “If you have all these friends,” You gestured between the three of them. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“Don’t ask dumb questions. It makes you sound insecure.” He seemed to mean it in the kindest way possible, but even still, it did nothing to put you at ease.

Damn, if he hadn’t hit the nail right on the head, though. 

You had been feeling insecure recently. It was hard not to with the constant attacks. Not to say you were anybody at Star City, choosing mostly to operate under the radar, but here, not only were you on the radar, but you were a lone dot. These rich kids seemed to get off on treating you like some kind of taboo sideshow.  

You'd somewhat expected Damian to act like Bart: say hi in the hall and make sure to give you notes to catch up on when you’d been out sick, but that was it.  

That was all you’d known as far as real kindness, even at Star City. 

You’d never hung out outside of school, let alone in it. You always focused more on your novels and comic books rather than the petty drama unfolding in middle school. 

Damian was basically your first real friend, you realized. 

“Okay,” You said, wanting to appease your friend. 

It seemed to work because he knocked into your shoulder lightly. In response, you did the same back, this time with more force.

“Careful,” He said your name lowly. He then dug his bony shoulder into your fleshy one, leaving you to yelp. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re a girl.” 

“Damn, Damian,” Stephanie interrupted with a Cheshire grin. “You’re soo smooth with the ladies,” She nudged at him, but he didn’t seem to fall for the bait this time. 

He sighed dramatically, distancing himself from beside you, “You’re not worth my time, Brown.” 

Tim glanced back between the two of you with a casual calculation that made you wince. Why couldn’t they see you were just friends? More specifically, only friends because everyone else in your grade and others seemed to hate your guts if Stephanie’s reaction was anything to go by.

As you passed the last few houses on the block, you quickly realized you were approaching the biggest one. 

Just who had you befriended? 

Actually, how were these three even friends? It seemed like all they did was hate on each other and argue about dumb shit, you noted to yourself as you attempted to keep in step with their fast pace. 

“How did you guys become friends, anyway?” You asked. 

“You mean she doesn’t know?” Stephanie giggled mirthfully. 

You were starting not to like this Stephanie girl. First, being called an outcast and now acting like you're dumb? Yeah, not the greatest first impression. Maybe it was just an off day for her, you shrugged internally.

“Shut up,” Damian scowled, glancing between the three of you.

Tim looked back at you with an intensity in his blue eyes that you couldn’t place, “You’ve never heard of Bruce Wayne?” 

You nodded at him. “I don’t live under a rock,” You rolled your eyes lightly. “But what does he have to do with anything?”

“Oh, man.” Stephanie laughed. “This? This is good.” 

You couldn’t tell if you liked her or not yet as you didn’t see what was so funny. Hell, you couldn't tell if she liked you or not as she went from insulting you to messing with you- it was confusing the fuck out of you. 

Damian could sense your annoyance. “Tim and I live with him.” 

You’d thought back to what the news said about Bruce Wayne. He was rich, a playboy, and he adopted a fuck ton of kids, so WAIT... Did that mean...?

“You live with him, or you guys are family?” You’re shocked at the revelation, looking between the two boys for similarities you’d missed. You noted that, aside from their dark hair and aptitude to bicker, they truly bore no resemblance to one another in the slightest. 

“Sure.” Tim said just as Damian replied, “Hell no.” 

Stephanie snorted. “They love each other, though,” She assured you with a devilish smirk. “Don’t you guys?” 

“You are on my last nerve today, Brown.” Damian’s eyes bore menacingly into the back of her head. “That’s not a place you want to be.” 

“Seconded,” Tim added, flicking her nose playfully.

You nodded at the information and figured you would do your research once you got home. That and treat yourself to the latest issue of your favorite comic for dealing with this social shitshow. Maybe a face mask, too. 

“Jeez, what is this? Hate on Stephanie day?” She swiveled to give everyone her best version puppy dog eyes, but your sympathetic smile was the only positive response she was met with. 

You’d always been a people pleaser. It seemed Damian was definitely not that and Tim? Tim seemed more distracted by your presence than anything. 

“It is now,” Damian muttered as your group approached the daunting gates of what you now knew to be Wayne Manor. 

Tim kept glancing back at you sporadically, which had you checking over your uniform and hair. Did you look like shit or something? 

Even Stephanie seemed to notice his incessant staring. “You good?” Tim blushed and swatted at her fingers, which poked him all over. 

Maybe earlier you’d mistaken her forward behavior as being rude like the rest of the people you’d encountered at Gotham. Maybe she was treating you like this because she liked you? 

Girls were too complicated.

“I think for once,” Tim said as Stephanie backed off enough to let him enter the gate code. “Damian and I can agree on something.” 

She gasped as your group continued up the expansive driveway, “BITCH!” 

You tuned out the screaming as you thought about all the parties you’d read about in the paper. Each of them taking place quite literally where you were stepping. All the elegant gowns and cars that had crossed this very path over the years and now you in your Gotham Academy uniform.

You’d realized that the group was a lot of energy to deal with about halfway through the walk here. Not that it was bad, but after the week you’d had, you already felt so drained. 

It sucked because you knew hanging out with people did nothing but benefit everything you’d been experiencing since the move, yet, at the same time, it was so, so much. You reminded yourself of your comic and face mask and persevered while trying not to let your energy bring the group down.

Damian said your last name as you walked into the house- manor. “Let’s go to my room.” 

You hadn’t been able to take in… well, anything before Damian was pulling you by the arm like a rag doll. 

“HEY!” Stephanie whine-screamed from the foyer. “What if we wanted to hang out with the new girl too!” You cringed at her use of the nickname that others had used as an insult against you all week. After your rocky start with Stephanie, you weren't sure you necessarily appreciated it coming out of her mouth either.

As if her wish had been answered, Damian, along with you in tow, ran right into something- no, someone- as you rounded the corner to get to the stairs.

“Woah there, Dami!” You and Damian looked up at the most gorgeous, ripped human ever. 

Your eyes followed a chiseled path upward. 

The man’s olive skin glistened wet from whatever pool he’d been swimming in. You had no doubt that this place had a ridiculous amount of them. The man's bold choice to wear a royal blue Speedo was making it difficult for you to swallow, let alone maintain normal, conversational eye contact. 

He casually wiped his dark, wet locks off and flipped the matching blue towel he was holding over his muscled shoulder. Who knew you could be so attracted to that shit? A shoulder? Come on, girl, this was too thirsty even for you. One thing was for sure, though; this guy looked like he’d popped straight out of one of your comic books.

“Grayson, move,” Damian demanded with his signature glare. "I'm not kidding." 

“Okay, baby bird.” He made to move out of the way, then winked a cerulean eye and quickly shifted back. “After you introduce me to your girlfriend.” 

At that, you and Damian both looked disgusted enough that the man burst into a fit of teary laughter. 

Damian tried to use the distraction to move past him, but the older man still refused to move, even with tears completely shrouding his eyes. 

At this point, Tim sprang up from behind you and Damian to mediate, but Grayson, as Damian had referred to him, barely acknowledged him when he came into view. This all changed when Tim opened his mouth.  

“She knows Bart.” It was all Tim said, but it had evidently been enough. 

The man let out a long and excited 'ohhhh!' and smiled softly, completely shifting from a menacing annoyance to a charming puppy.

“I don’t think I introduced myself.” He’d had crossed his arms to fend off Damian, but now it meant you were face to face with his rippling biceps. Even as he unfurled them, you could still see the full power of their aggressive definition. You were definitely blushing now. “I’m Dick,” He offered you a titan-sized hand to shake. 

You took it lightly, not that it mattered with his strong grip while telling him your name. You wouldn’t be able to think of a dick joke until he was way out of your vantage point, let alone say anything intelligent until then. 

“You probably never met his cousin, but Wally and I go waaay back, if you know what I mean.” Dick sighed and moved from the front of the staircase as he reminisced. “We used to sneak out on the weekends together to… do homework.” He caught himself and nodded to you and all the rest of the high schoolers in the room. “Oh man, and during prom when we,” He smiled and seemingly dropped back into the present again. “Danced. Sober. And did nothing else.” He looked pointedly at you and Damian. “Maybe don’t do what I did?” He muttered to himself, lost in thought as he suddenly took off deeper into Wayne Manor, still in a Speedo, you might add, but damn, you were not expecting what was behind him at all.

Your eyes bulged at the juiciest ass you’d ever seen on anyone, regardless of gender. 

Damian rolled his eyes at your incessant staring and insisted you follow him, “Now that the troll isn’t in the way.” 

"Yeah, troll," You said distractedly, letting Damian lead you up the stairs and down a hallway of dark, wooden doors. 

He shook his head at your entranced state as he reached a random door and pulled you inside. 

The room was warm and quaint, with light leaking from the undrawn cream curtains. Easels and half-finished work were somehow in an organized clutter about the floor and took up nearly the rest of the room.

He said your name immediately snapping you out of your thoughts, “Don’t look at my shit.”

You laughed and picked up the closest stack to you. “How can I not?” You gestured down to the very angry acrylic scratches for lines on the thin canvases in your hand. “You fighting some demons, buddy?” You teased his aggressive art style.

“You have no idea,” Came his cryptic reply.

You ignored his statement and continued your inspection of the room. “Do you even own a watercolor set?” You looked around and only saw the same types of paint tubes. 

He looked proud as he shuffled around stacks of his artwork. “I had Pennyworth order us some.”

Even more cryptic. Awesome. 

This family just got weirder and weirder the longer you stuck around. It was honestly a wonder you hadn’t run back to your apartment at this point. 

“Okay.”  

He smirked as he shoved a Schmincke palette into your face, “Tell me I don’t have the necessary supplies now,” He proudly said your last name. You ogled at the expensive palette, reaching out for it, which he regretfully obliged. “Don’t get your drool on it now.” He warned, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the thought.  

“Yeah, yeah,” You waved him off. “Only in your dreams, twerp.”

“Enough,” He demanded sternly, effectively scaring the shit out of you. 

“Woah, there.” You used one hand to hold the $400 watercolors and the other to imitate a white flag. He’d used that same tone so many times earlier, but never towards you. “I didn’t mean anything by it, s’just a nickname.” You quickly handed him back the palette and made off towards an empty easel in an attempt to change the mood. “Do you want me to teach you or not?” 

He crossed his arms and huffed like a child, nay, a twerp, as he disappeared off into the hall to search for more supplies in lieu of a response. 

You stood in the room, unsure of what to do with yourself when you heard the door open up again. 

Instead of Damian’s short stature, it was Tim. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of him, “Hey.” Your hands fiddled anxiously behind your back as Tim's unreadable face scanned over you and the room.

“So you guys are really just painting?” He picked up some of Damian’s work, something you would never tell your friend, seeing as you liked Tim and wanted him to remain alive. 

“Duh,” You rolled your eyes. 

After all those nasty rumors spread about you, suddenly any proximity to a boy was considered promiscuous. You’d never even had your first kiss anyway, which was the most embarrassing part about the whole rumors ordeal. 

You glanced back at Tim to see him staring at you like he’d been on the walk here. “What?” 

He chuckled, running a loose hand through his dark locks. He looked effortlessly, yet somehow understatedly, gorgeous. “You owe me for earlier down there, by the way.”

“Sure,” You said, turning away ever so slightly so he couldn’t see you eyeing him up. “Whatever you say, Tim.” 

“See you around?” It comes out like a question.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” You laughed at his small frown. “We’re locker buddies. Of course I’ll see you, loser.” You quickly smacked your hand over your mouth. “Sorry, I was just joking!” 

“You’re the nerd here,” He shot you a  cheeky smile before moving towards the door. “See ya.” 

You waved back at him as he left, then immediately felt around your cheeks for any sign of heat. 

Damian reappeared moments after Tim left, plopping a pad of watercolor paper in front of you with an expectant stare. “Well?”

Damian really was funny. Whether he meant to be or if this was really just how he acted, you didn’t know yet, but you couldn’t help the snort that erupted unexpectedly. “Are you just going to stand behind me like a fucking voyeur?”

He blushed and tugged at his collar. “Of course not,” He said your last name. Another quirk of his you were already getting used to. 

It was almost endearing. 

Almost. 

He snatched a nearby easel and set it down next to yours, noticeably not behind it, you noted with amusement. Damian then grabbed the pad of paper he’d stuck in front of you and split the thick book in half with an ease that left you speechless. Literally. What do you say after someone does something mundane so savagely yet so casually? 

“Uh.” 

He glared at you as if to warn you to drop the whole thing, “You may have talent, but I don’t have all day.”

“Whatever,” You dismissed him, still not over him ripping the book.

This must be how he bantered. You realized that, while you may have noticed some of his personality, you definitely were nowhere close to understanding the true breadth of it. Yet, you added hopefully. 

You both quietly fell into a companionable silence as you showed him certain tricks he would replicate on his half of the watercolor paper pad. You noted that the silence only lasted so long, as Damian’s aggressive style still wasn’t transferring to the watercolors. 

“This is bullshit,” He muttered as he scrapped yet another piece of paper. 

“Maybe it’s just not your style?” You tried, but the glare you were met with left no room for debate. “Okay, okay,” You moved beside him and put your hand over his to control the movement. His body wash or whatever cologne he was wearing smelled amazing, but damn, did the kid overdo it. “See how light I’m pressing?” He nodded as you did the movement again, releasing more of his intoxicating scent that you were forced to ignore. “You want to paint with the tip of the brush mostly and you can’t do that if it’s smushed against the paper.” He replicated your light movement with your hand still on top of his, creating a thin, delicate line, “Come look,” You stepped back to fully view his canvas and motioned for him to do the same. 

“You’re right.” He inspected his previous work to the one you had just worked on with him. He said your name suddenly, causing you to turn towards him. 

You hoped you weren’t blushing, but the close proximity, his scent and him saying your first name for once? It was a bit too much for you.

Before you could reply, a resounding bang crashed throughout the room, seeming to have come from somewhere downstairs. Damian remained perfectly still but seemed unsure of the comeuppance, which did nothing to comfort you. 

“Damian?” You asked, unsure of what to do. 

Then the yelling started. 

You couldn’t hear much of it at first, but it quickly became a booming screech, then even louder to the point the two of you couldn’t ignore the ruckus any longer.  

“Stay here.” Was all he said. He got up swiftly to shut the door behind him, effectively leaving you to listen blindly to the crashes and bangs from below.

You easily could’ve listened to Damian's demands, but you didn’t. 

As soon as he left the room, you waited only a moment before opening the door to follow after his retreating form. Once you reached the end of the wall, you crouched down to peer through the banister down into the entryway below. 

You held back your gasp at the sight of a hulking Bruce Wayne, who was much larger in person than on TV and the papers, towering menacingly over yet another dark-haired kid.

You couldn’t see Damian, but you peered close enough to catch Tim and Dick attempting to intervene with the rampaging kid. 

Where had Stephanie gone to? You searched around with wide eyes but found her nowhere. You couldn't lie that you wished she were here to witness this crazy shit go down with you.

Speaking of Damian. 

“I told you to stay in the room,” He grumbled, suddenly appearing behind you to grab your hand. 

You stumbled to fall into step with him as he pulled you back towards the direction of the art room, but stopped just short and tugged you down a different staircase from the main one. 

“Where did you even come from?” You hadn’t heard or seen him sneak up on you at all. He was like a fucking ninja. “Who is that?” That being the more important question to ask, you realized. 

Tim was already waiting for the two of you halfway down the stairs while an older gentleman waited down at the base. Tim looked haunted, but it seemed like, at the very least, he was holding it together for you. Damian, to the untrained eye, seemed as unbothered as ever, but you picked up on the way his actions bordered on robotic more so than usual, meaning he was also putting on a calm facade for you. 

You realized you wouldn't be getting any answers any time soon.

“Miss,” The older gentleman stated your last name as you came to the end of the stairs and found yourself in a huge kitchen that would be any chef's dream. “I will be the one escorting you home this evening.” 

The guttural screaming and banging sounded close, so you nodded and swiftly followed behind. All the while,  Tim and Damian remained protectively on either side of you.

Flanked and covered on all sides, you made your way out a back exit where you assumed a car would be waiting. 

You don't know what made you do it, but you turned your head at the last minute to see the new raven-haired kid stomping directly across the hallway that led right to you. 

Your eyes took him in, trailing helplessly over his larger form while your fight or flight kicked in. 

“Another one?” He screeched, his seething green eyes locking onto your own with a fiery rage. “ANOTHER FUCKING REPLACEMENT, BRUCE?” You startled backward into Tim’s chest as your eyes refused to leave the active threat in front of you. 

Bruce came into view, noting your presence briefly with a quick but sorry gaze. It was enough to make your stomach flip at the acknowledgment. 

You were shaking, you realized, just as Dick yelled at him to get back. 

He and Bruce had the kid held back by both of his arms as he attempted to come closer to you, but scar-face continued to struggle violently against their inhumanly strong grip. 

“TOO MUCH TESTOSTERONE, SO YOU HAD TO GO ADOPT SOME FAT BITCH?” From this close, you noticed the angry scars cutting across the fleshiness of his boyish cheeks and his odd white tuft of hair. The scars bent and morphed with every exaggerated expression. 

Damian snarled from behind you while Tim and Alfred both placed gentle, guiding hands on your shoulders to lead you outside and into a blacked-out sports car. 

What even was that dude talking about? Replacement? Adopted? 

After quick goodbyes to Tim and Damian, you were left alone in the back of a Rolls Royce, wondering what the fuck you’d just witnessed.

•

About a week after your first visit to Wayne Manor and only a few days into your second week at Gotham Academy, you were still finding a routine. 

Every morning started off by seeing Tim (and sometimes Stephanie) by your locker. The three of you would chat for a bit about classes until Damian would stop by to walk you to your first class, only because the rumors still hadn’t quieted. 

If anything, the gossip had only gotten worse after you'd started hanging around the Wayne family.  

You were a grade ahead in English and had confided in Damian after a few days of pretending like you didn’t know where the classroom was and him insisting you did, that you were actually just anxious. He’d looked at you like you were dumb until you explained your dilemma of having to cross through the older kid hallways to get to the classroom. 

He hadn’t needed you to elaborate further to understand that the kids were still making fun of you. Thus, he began to walk you to class every day. 

It wasn’t like Damian’s presence stopped the taunting; it just made it less directly aimed at you, which worked just as well. Plus, Damian ended up being funny as hell, so just having his presence helped keep you calm through it all. 

It was... sweet.

Another new routine was that you now had Damian to eat lunch with and Tim and Stephanie as well. After your first hangout, you started seeing more of them in the hallways and eventually at lunch. It turned out both had the same lunch period and, after discovering this fact, would try to sit at the lunch table with you guys most of the time unless they had projects and such to complete.

Long gone were your days of hiding out alone in the library.

Today had been much of the same.

You were at lunch with Damian and Tim (Stephanie had to stay over in chemistry to finish an assignment) when a familiar and not in a good way, green-eyed face plopped down. The force was enough to shake the entire table. 

His very being demanded attention, you realized with a gulp as you took in his messed-up uniform collar and, even more pressing, the deep-set scars that ran across the majority of his face.

Your fearful glance bounced between an annoyed Damian and tense Tim while the kid who’d screamed at you appeared sheepish. 

“What’s up?” He tried with a deep voice that sounded extremely different from the angry yells you'd heard during your first visit to the manor. 

When no one responded, he scoffed and pulled out a packed lunch that matched Damian and Tim’s sophisticated own. He pushed around at it. You looked down at the pathetic leftover pizza you’d ordered two days prior with severe disdain. Definitely not as appetizing as their gourmet sandwiches and pastries. 

As if sensing your envy, the kid from the manor pulled out a red Tupperware container and scooted it cautiously across the table toward you. 

You eyed the container skeptically before squinting at him. 

“I made you scones,” You didn’t bother responding once again, but, nonetheless, he continued. “I’m Jason.” 

“Okay,” You drawled out, wishing he would just leave you alone.

He looked unsure of you now, eyes widened and searching Damian and Tim’s faces for the right thing to say, but neither offered any help, let alone return his anxious gaze. 

Why did he care what you thought of him or whether or not you accepted his apology?

“You’re not fat, by the way,” He added hastily, realizing too late that it had sounded a lot better in his head than it did coming out. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from your lips, not having expected his forwardness. You cleared your throat after catching the incredulous looks from everyone else at the table, but Jason seemed pleased. 

You rolled your eyes a bit, hesitantly accepting his peace offering, when your stomach growled, revealing just how disappointed with your lunch you were. You couldn’t deny that his scones looked fucking bomb and the piece of pizza you’d eaten left a lot to be desired. 

You took out a chocolate chip scone and toasted it in his direction, “Nice to meet you, Jason.” You told him your name before biting into the heavenly pastry. The insane taste alone had you moaning. “Holy shit,” You opened your eyes to see everyone at the table bright red and refusing to make eye contact with you, that is, aside from Jason’s stark green ones. “These are awesome,” You said, playing off your moan with a genuine smile. 

You weren’t lying, either. 

You knew how to cook and bake and all (when you were able to get the ingredients, that is), but it never came out anything like this.

“I made them,” He smiled at you a bit hesitantly. You could imagine why after such a violent introduction- if it could even be called that and now here he was with a complete 180 gentle disposition and scones. “I could show you too?” It came out as more of a question. 

“Careful, Todd,” Damian warned. “She’s my friend, not yours.” 

You would later ask Jason for his scone recipe and curse him when you realized that, of course, he hadn’t given you the exact recipe and your scones came out tasting like shit. 

All those wasted ingredients for nothing, the fucking asshole. 

You were going to get that recipe.

•

The same week Jason started school, you returned to Wayne Manor for the second time. This time, without all the hostility, though it seemed like any time the Wayne siblings hung out, there was some sort of quarrel. 

This time, it was over who kept dropping all the green shells. 

Damian was convinced it was Stephanie, who was convinced it was Barbara, who was convinced it was Dick, who was convinced it was Tim, but it had been you. Jason, who refused to play and insisted on posting up against the game room entryway, knew it'd been you.

What were you supposed to do when they were apparent Mario Kart gods while you were more like a toddler chewing on a console?

Finally, after Stephanie, Barbara and Dick had each won twice in a row, Mario Kart was rage quit by Damian, who demanded the group play something else.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his petulance, “At least you came in second once.”

“Yeah, well, someone has to be last place,” He said your last name. 

“Maybe not every time, though,” Tim teased you with a nudge from beside you on the couch you were both sitting on with Damian. 

“Well, then. Let’s play something I’m good at.” You flipped through their virtual game library until you came across Injustice 2 and launched it. Everyone in the room boo’ed. “What?!” You asked incredulously. “You guys bought the game, not me!”

Damian came to your rescue, “I want to play."

“You gonna be Batman, little bird?” Stephanie teased him. 

“Please, Brown.” Damian maneuvered his controller to click on player two just as you picked player one. “I actually want to win.”

You played as Catwoman while Damian selected Robin. 

“They should have some relevant dialogue when they appear too!” You wiggled excitedly in your seat in anticipation. 

It'd been a while since you played the first game and you’d never had the money to buy the second game, so all the game content was all new to you.

The characters loaded in and true to what you said, they began to taunt each other. You tried to turn up the volume, but before you could, Damian clicked 'A' and skipped through the intro, leaving your mouth to drop at the audacity.

Stephanie and Barbara cackled at your offended face while Dick got up to try and smooth things over with a placating grin, "Woah, there." 

“Fucking asshole!” You cut Dick off, dropping the remote as Robin began beating the shit out of Catwoman before you could get a proper hold on your controller.

“Fuck your dialogue,” Damian was hunched over with his hands rapidly pounding buttons while you attempted to catch up to his onslaught of attacks. Stephanie, Barbara and Tim were hooting and hollering at Catwoman's whip assault while Dick sat back down to politely cheer for Damian who quickly shut it down. "You're distracting me, Grayson."

You end up kicking his ass, but barely. Still enough of a beating for him to throw the controller out of the room past Jason's looming body. 

You laughed as he pushed into your shoulder, “So much for last place, huh?”

He stuck his tongue out and you don’t know why your first thought was to grab it, but you did. 

You stared at him while he stared at you, tongue still between your pointer and thumb, neither of you (or anyone in the room) saying anything. You were equally surprised he hadn’t reclaimed his tongue by pushing you or whatever Damian’s aggressive ass would normally do.

Jason, somehow, is the one who ended up breaking the weird, no, awkward tension you’d created by clicking on rematch. This time, you noted, without skipping the dialogue. 

You nodded appreciatively in his direction, but he just shook his head with a roll of his eyes, "Psycho."

You dropped Damian’s tongue immediately, flush with embarrassment you were desperately trying to quell into a cool nonchalance and joined the game. 

Within a few seconds, you used Catwoman’s whip to knock Robin on his ass with ease. "That's rich," You shot him a pointed eyebrow that you knew he understood.

“Jeesh!” Stephanie exclaimed now on the edge of her seat as Robin teleported behind Catwoman, but you dodged his sword attack and retaliated with a headlock followed by a bodyslam. She ended up blocking Dick’s view, leaving him to shuffle across the room near Jason in order to see past everyone who’d collectively gotten up from their seats. 

Jason, who was on the left side of the couch, didn’t seem too bothered by Dick’s presence, but you knew it was throwing him off a little. As soon as Dick entered Jason's personal bubble, he was no longer able to dodge your Super Move like he'd done countless times before.

In the end, Jason beat you with a wink and left the room, leaving you more confused than ever about your rocky relationship. 

From screaming to scones to winks, all in a few days. You were getting severe whiplash from this family when you weren’t even sure why they all even wanted to keep hanging out with you, least of all why you kept coming back.

Maybe it was a bit dysfunctional, maybe you were all dysfunctional for that matter, but for the first time ever, you felt like you kind of belonged. 

It was… nice.

A/N: hope ur enjoying so far!

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[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DP x DC prompt. ~“Unstable connection”~ Dead on main.

Part 9.3. "A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you." — Elbert Hubbard

~~~~~

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

Part 8. Part 9. New: Part 9.1. Part 9.2. Part 9.3.

Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Meme break №1. Part 13.

Roy: Look, I’m deeply flattered that you decided to talk about your feelings with me because you bats are allergic to them, but you’re seriously telling me that you’re texting a guy from out of Gotham? What for?

Jason: Do I need a reason?

Roy: Usually not, but I know you’re paranoid.

A cookie flies straight into Roy’s head.

Jason: Shut up. I know how to relax. He’s just a guy. No harm from boyf- a friend.

Roy: What you see in him? No, I rather have to ask how he tolerates you. I deserve a reward for being your best friend.

Jason: Hey, actually, I like Bizarro a lot more, just so you know, jerk. And we actually have more in common than it seems. He gets along with dead people who hang out in his town a lot. And.. I don’t know, okay? It’s just easy to talk to him, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would yell if he found out about me something weird for any other stranger. He feels like home. Safe one. I can rest when I talk to him, you know?

Roy: So you trust him? With everything?

Jason: I’m not an idiot and I’m not going to reveal everything until we talk offline. I don’t even know if I want to. Of course he’s not afraid of the undead from his town and he didn’t convict Hood for his actions when I asked him for his opinion, but talking about a specific person and some vigilante from the shadows is different. I don’t want him to be afraid of me or be disappointed in me. But somehow part of me believes that he will take this side of me. I sent him a picture with knives on my thighs, and he didn’t care. And one time, I messed up the chats and I sent him a threat that was meant to check on my new guys. He yelled at me. Because I could be reported to the police.

Roy: Well, if you like him, just try not to screw it up.

Jason: I’m trying. And by the way if Dick finds out about our conversation, I’ll throw you in the river.

Roy: Dude, you’ve known me for years! I bet you don’t threaten your lover like that! Have some trust.

Jason: Okay. So, I don’t know what to do, Roy. Fenton is perfect. But he’s a civilian. Phantom looks dead handsome but I know almost nothing about him. And what I know I learned from Danny. And now the fic that I’m writing is full of adult-rated scenes. Of course, I don’t add them to my work on ao3, but it’s still so weird.

Roy: Have you tried sending this to Fenton? With any luck, he’ll take it as flirting.

Jason: What? Hell no! He thinks I’m a mercenary for Red Hood. He’s gonna think I have wet fantasies about my boss and I’m gonna lose all self-respect, and he’s gonna block me and...

Roy: Okay, okay, slow down a little. We both know you’re weird, but you’re not that weird. And he’s not even your boyfriend. So his opinion doesn’t really matter.

Jason *whispers*: He's my husband. And it does.

Roy: Dude, I mean, I support your vibe but isn’t this guy supposed to know that he’s gonna have the title of the husband of a crime lord first.

Jason: Fair.

~~~~~~~

~Next morning~

Dick: So, I heard my Little Wing has a boyfriend. What’s his name? When are you bringing him to the family dinner?

Jason:…I’m gonna kill Harper. ~~~~~~~

Bizarro *on his way to tell all to Artemis and impress his good friend’s boyfriend*. First, he can leave a Red Hood doll by the window of a couple of his friend. It’ll help him understand that Bizarro isn’t dangerous and then the boy will want to be his friend too. Good plan, Pup Pup!

[arkhamslvts]

dp with Jason and Roy?

would yall jump me if i related this to gcverse because honestly... i want to...

like for starts roys for sure behind you, his hands pressing you further down onto jason's chest, he laughs when you squirm under his grip but his pace never falters. for what its worth, he's much sweeter than jason "i know baby its so much isn't it doll.. such a good girl." jason on the other hand, has no problem being mean despite how stuffed you are, when your movements slow on top of him, a firm slap on your ass motivates you to pick up the pace again, and when that doesn't work.. he has no problem fucking up into you himself "she doesn't deserve all that praise harper.. can't even handle bein' on top" "oh but she's taking it so well" "like she's a whore.. c'mon angel, i thought you were better than this"