#Roy Kent Superstar

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Superstar (Roy Kent x Reader)

Chapter 1- Superstar

Chapter 2- Call It What You Want

Chapter 3- Gold Rush

Chapter 4- Delicate

Chapter 5- Paris

Chapter 6- Sweet Nothing

Chapter 7- Cruel Summer

Chapter 8- All Too Well

Chapter 8- All Too Well (Roy's Version)

Chapter 9- How You Get the Girl

Chapter 10- You Are In Love

Bonus!- Superstar (Roy's Version)

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

[beybaldes]

trace the outlines of your dreams

summertime sleepover masterlist

dad!roy kent x mum!reader

summary : “Exhausted parents kiss” requested by anon.

an : takes place in the same universe as my fic ‘no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft’ because anon wanted Nell and I did too <3

“Come on Nell, you can do it. My little superstar.”

It was just you and Nell at home this weekend. Roy was at an away game with the team and Molly had the weekend off so unless she got called in for an emergency surgery, you doubted you’d be seeing any of Phoebe either.

From 10 months old, Nell had started throwing herself about in attempts to move around faster, so she’d picked up walking pretty quickly. But now she was bordering on 15 months old and had yet to get more out then a babble. Since the perfect opportunity to practice had presented itself, you’d spent the entire weekend trying to get her to say ‘Dada.’ She wasn’t taking to it.

“Come on, Nelly. Just one time, okay? Da-da.” Nell ignored you, stuffing as many of her tiny fingers as she could fit into her mouth. Knowing you weren’t going to get it out of her now and that Roy would be home soon, you left her to her toys, getting a head start on making dinner.

The sound of the door closing and a high pitched squeak alerted you to Roy’s arrival. As you walked to the front door, picking Nell up on your way, you greeted Roy with a soft smile. “Hey handsome, we missed you.”

“My two favourite girls.” Roy pressed a kiss to Nell’s forehead as she began to babble at him. “You have a good weekend?”

“Dada.”

The two of you stilled, both turning to Nell as she gave a toothless grin, clapping her hands together. “Dada, dada, dada.”

“The little shit.” That seemed to break Roy out the trance he’d been put into by Nell’s first words. “I’ve been trying to get her to say that all weekend, and the little fucker waits until the moment you walk through the door to say it.” You wrapped one arm around him, pulling you and Nell so that the both of you were pressed against him in a hug. “You were right, she’s a total daddy’s girl. Isn’t that right Nell?”

“Dada.” Apparently ‘dada’ was Nell’s new favourite word; she babbled it all the way through dinner, bath-time and her bedtime story, whispering the word over and over until she knocked out cold in Roy’s arms. Roy, however, had remained pretty much silent from the moment he’d walked through the door.

When he’d finally lay Nell down, and crept slowly out of her room, you practically pounced on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a long, proper kiss. As you pulled apart, the both of you let out long sighs, the weight of the weekend spent apart, each filled with hard work, finally catching up to you. “Hmmm, bed?”

“Bed.” Roy confirmed with a grunt, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the bedroom. Neither of you wasted time getting into your pyjamas and throwing yourself into bed, settling under the duvets and into each others arms.

One of your hands came to cradle Roy’s face, your thumb running over the apple of his cheek. “What’s wrong, handsome? That was the most I’ve heard from you since you got home.”

“She fucking called me Dad.” He whispered, the proudest smile you’d ever seen forming on his first. “I was her first fucking words.” Roy placed his hand on top of your own, running his thumb over the side of pointer finger. “Sometimes it just doesn’t feel real, y’know? All of this.”

“But it is.” You assured, pulling him flush against you so you could press another long and firm kiss to his lips. “And she worships the ground you walk on because you’re such a good dad to her. Of course, you were her first words.”

“I think you forget only one of us carried her for 9 months.”

“Hey, it’s just like you said.” Roy’s eyes were dropping closed, with each stroke of your thumb across his cheek. “She’s a real you girl, just like her mama.”

Roy pressed a sleepy and soft kiss to your jaw, then nuzzled himself against your chest, noticing the way your body shuddered at the scratch of his beard against your skin, trying to aid it by pressing a kiss to the top of your breast. “That she is.”

#beybaldes summer sleepover !! #roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent one shot #ted lasso x reader #shoutout my beloved onceuponeaoneshotfanfic I think about superstar everyday of my life #I need more Roy Kent as a dad so pls send in dad!roy requests

[redshoes-blues]

In tonight’s hottest episode, Ted Lasso season 3 episode 3 has it all: gay Colin Hughes, boys kissing, group meditation, himbos, Jesus Christ Superstar, a therapist who should lose his license, a therapist who is a goddess, a psychic visit, truth bombs, Keeley slaying her job, soft voice Roy Kent, awkward encounters with your ex, everyone’s favourite restaurant, the first time I’ve gotten full body chills over a matchbox, Jamie Tartt wearing slutty little earrings

#we were fed #died and am dead catch me watching this five more times over this week #ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso s3

[mitskijamie]

the gyst of s1 is everyone in the entire world hates jamie (for good reason) and every time jamie thinks it's because he's so hot and talented with washboard abs and a tiny waist and a fat ass and everyone is mad that he's such a beautiful rising superstar sexy little baby and are secretly just obsessed with him. and in the case of roy kent this insane and baseless assumption is actually completely right

#oc #royjamie

[blue-bujo]

Bowled Over (Roy Kent x Reader): Chapter Seven

You work at a bowling alley and a young girl named Phoebe has a birthday party there. You catch her uncle's eye.

Roy Kent x female reader

Will try to update roughly every two weeks

Chapter Seven: Deserving Something Good

(2.4k words)

Warnings: Roy Kent-level language (you know what you're in for), periods, past medical trauma, injury, mentions of addiction, fluff

Summary: Roy considers the results of his disastrous night out. He tells Phoebe about them, with your support.

Due to the throbbing in his very-swollen knee, Roy hardly slept. He could have taken the prescription he’d been given in hospital, but he refused because he didn’t want to get addicted; he’d seen a few rivals fall to it during his career, and he wasn’t going to let that happen to him. Plus, a small, niggling part of him felt he didn’t deserve the relief, since he knew he had felt warning signs that his knee was going to give out on him but had ignored them and kept bowling. So he spent most of the night awake and in pain.

It hadn’t been a completely horrible night, though. He’d found the fucking courage to talk to Splits, he kept thinking smugly. They were official now. And she’d said that she didn’t think he was old, which was a sweet lie. Hopefully he didn’t fuck it up with her and would be able to keep her around for a while.

Roy did manage to sleep for a few hours, which was honestly more than he expected. He naturally woke up around 3:30, when he would have gotten ready for a run with Jamie, and texted the young superstar that he wasn’t feeling up to it this morning, and to go without him. After receiving an emoji in reply, Roy battled his way up and into the downstairs bathroom for a shower. Thankfully he’d kept the shower chair from last time he’d fucked his knee.

He hit a slight snag after the shower: he hadn’t thought to ask Splits to grab him fresh clothes for this morning, so he had to put his pajamas back on. He always tried not to wear them when Phoebe stayed with him, as he wasn’t sure how appropriate it was for an 11-year-old to see her uncle in boxers. Couldn’t be helped now, though.

He hadn’t thought to replenish his supply of contacts down here, either. Roy had started wearing dailies during the pundit gig at Sky Sports, when he’d realized that he couldn’t read the prompters, but it was something he kept hidden. Not even his family knew that his vision was shit now, but that would have to change today.

Later in the morning, Roy was in the kitchen. He’d dragged a barstool in front of the stove and stress baked a loaf of quick rise bread. While it had risen, he’d dug through his junk drawer, which was the hiding place for the pair of glasses he’d bought in case he’d hated the contacts. They were simple black plastic frames, and they’d never been worn before today.

Roy was sipping coffee and reading with his back to the house while the bread finished cooling when Phoebe came out of her room. He didn’t look up, or turn his stool, when he heard her enter.

“Morning, Phoebe,” he droned. “Sleep well?”

The man heard a thunk. He swiveled the barstool and saw his niece’s head on the counter. “So that’s a ‘no,’ then?” he asked.

When Phoebe spoke, it was in a growl that would have made Roy proud under different circumstances. “I feel like shit,” she said. “Being an adult sucks.”

Roy hadn’t forgotten about her new ailment. He had a mug of coffee, which he’d never allowed Phoebe before, that he plunked down on the counter in front of her. When she raised her head, she first double-taked at it, and then at her uncle’s face.

“Since when do you wear glasses, Uncle Roy?”

“Since I got old, Pheebs. It’s been a couple of years. Now drink up; Keeley always said caffeine helped when she was on her period. I’ve got all the fancy creamers and shi- crap in the fridge.”

Phoebe hopped down from her barstool, took the mug, and lumbered to the refrigerator. As she poured out an unholy amount of vanilla creamer, Roy said one more thing that made her give him a glare.

“Erase the tab. You used a bad word. That was our deal.”

Although she glared, Phoebe knew better than to argue with Uncle Roy about the tab. Their one rule about it was that, if she got caught swearing before the end of the month, that month’s debt was reset, and he didn’t have to pay her for any of his language before the reset point, only everything after.

That didn’t stop her from going to her room, bringing back her notebook, and making a great show of ripping out, crumpling, and throwing away the page where she’d been tallying his language. It was so exaggerated that Roy couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you want some French toast? As a peace offering? I made the bread this morning.”

Phoebe nodded and tried her vanilla creamer. Roy reached for a pan in one of the cabinets, but it was just out of reach from his barstool, and he only managed to knock it onto the floor with a metallic clatter. He and Phoebe both flinched at the noise, Roy more so. He hoped he hadn’t woken up his girlfriend upstairs.

His girlfriend. Upstairs. Fuck, Phoebe didn’t know that he’d finally gotten the balls to ask Splits out officially, or that she had spent the night in his bed. Granted, he hadn’t also been in his bed, but still. He typically tried to set a good example for Phoebe.

The noise had woken her up, it turned out. Footsteps thumped across the ceiling, and he could hear the shower running. About 20 minutes later, Splits came downstairs. Her hair was wet, and when she sat down at the bar to say good morning, Roy could smell all of his soap, shampoo, and deodorant on her.

“I hope you don’t mind I used your shower,” she said. “And your product.”

He didn’t mind, although he was embarrassed that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d cleaned the shower. But seeing her there in his stolen tee shirt and joggers, smelling like him… it felt right. His house didn’t feel empty with her and Phoebe in it. For once, it had people in it; people he was making breakfast for, surprisingly feeling like he deserved this slice of a quiet existence. Like he could smile without trying to hide it.

Phoebe was watching him with her hand over her mouth, like she was hiding her own smile. He stared at her until she looked away, and then turned his attention back to the stove, and his girls’ breakfasts. French toast was easy to make, and he quickly had three plates ready for eating.

“Right, come take yours,” grunted Roy. “I can’t carry it for you.” He looked to the woman wearing his extra pajamas, and as soon as he was close enough, pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Good morning, babe.”

“Good morning,” she returned with a peck on the forehead. “Nice glasses. Very studious.”

“Thanks, I fucking hate them. Can you grab my plate for me? I can’t manage it and the barstool and the crutches.”

She happily obliged, and even grabbed his coffee before he realized he’d need help with it. She was an angel. After Roy dragged his knee and his stool back to the bar, he sat down close enough that his arm was brushing hers. Phoebe was watching them both intently.

“You weren’t this touchy last night,” the girl observed, “and it looks like Miss Splits slept here.”

With a grunt, Roy said, “That’s because she did. It was too late for her to walk home, and I obviously couldn’t drive her.”

“Did she sleep in your room, Uncle Roy?”

Fuckin’ hell, this child. How was he going to explain this to Phoebe? Or, he realized, to his sister? He wasn’t just corrupting his niece; he was corrupting Sofia’s daughter. She would make his life a living hell if he didn’t get this right. Roy tried to think of what he could possibly say to explain this, but a gentle hand laid on his arm caused him to momentarily forget the English language.

“Yes Phoebe, I slept upstairs in your Uncle Roy’s room, but that’s only because he was a gentleman and slept downstairs on the couch,” explained Splits.

“And because I can’t drag my ass up those stairs,” Roy growled.

Phoebe marked the first tally on a new sheet in her notebook. “Okay, so she slept here. And borrowed pajamas.” Her subtext was clear; she was hinting that she knew something had happened between the two adults the previous night, but she didn’t know exactly what.

“We didn’t do anything naughty, Phoebe,” said Splits. She shot a side-eyed glance at Roy as if to ask are you going to tell her, or am I?

The man grunted to clear his throat, trying to find the words. “Okay,” he ground out, “last night, after you went to bed, I talked to Splits and asked her to be my girlfriend.”

Leaning forward eagerly, Phoebe asked, “And?”

Roy felt his face go all relaxed as the tension left it. He was aware that his smile was threatening to take over, but he didn’t seem to be able to fight it. “And we’re going out.” God, that sounded so dorky! He was definitely getting old.

Phoebe was thrilled. She hopped off of her seat and squeezed herself between the couple to hug them. “That’s wonderful! She’s amazing, Uncle Roy. She helped me a lot last night.”

“Thank goodness for that. I didn’t know what to do. Speaking of, there are napkins in the cabinet by the shower in your bathroom. Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m okay. I don’t feel as nauseous today. I should get ready for school, though, so I’ll put some in my bookbag.”

Phoebe gave the couple one last squeeze and then left the room, leaving them alone. Splits linked her arm through Roy’s and sighed happily as she looked up at him.

“You have stuff here?”

“What?” he shrugged. “I have a little sister, and have been around women before. I may not look it, but I do have some sympathy in me.”

She laughed. “You don’t project it often. It makes you more human when you do.”

“Hmm. That, and my shit knee. Work is going to be interesting. A gaffer who can’t walk? The press are going to have a fucking field day.”

Roy was trying to make light of it, but he was worried about the logistics of the next few weeks. He couldn’t drive like this, or do hours of standing at training and matches. Some of the tension must have returned to his face, because his girlfriend started rubbing small circles on his arm.

“Do you need a driver?” she asked. “I’m not scheduled today, so I can help out if you need me.”

Yep, she was an angel. He wasn’t one to ask for help – it was uncomfortably vulnerable – so she’d asked for him.

“That would be fuckin’ great. Thanks, babe.”

They spent the next few minutes plotting out the day. Roy made a quick list of everything he’d need from upstairs for the day, which Splits was happy to fetch for him. He wasn’t ready for the team to know about her, so she’d drop him off late, after dropping Phoebe at school and stopping at her flat so she could change into clean clothes. Those delays would hopefully mean that the team would be in the weight room by the time he limped into Nelson Road, and nobody would know about Splits. He knew it was only a matter of time before they found out, but he’d protect her anonymity as long as he could.

A few hours later, the plan had gone perfectly. Splits pulled up to the doors of the Earl Greyhound Training Facility, where there wasn’t another soul around to notice her behind the wheel of Roy’s monstrous vehicle, or see how he almost fell out of it as he tried to maneuver the crutches. After he caught himself, he just stood there looking at Splits.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Just- Thank you for everything the past 12 hours. Couldn’t have done it without you handling all this girlfriend-level shit.”

“I’m glad to do it,” she smiled, and Roy almost felt guilty, like he didn’t deserve someone this great. She continued, “When do you need to be picked up?”

Tilting his head, Roy thought aloud. “You don’t have to pick me up. Jamie lives close, and he owes me for the extra training, so I can probably guilt the prick into driving.”

Splits wilted a bit, like she’d wanted to drive him. Now that he thought about it, he realized that she’d enjoyed getting to drive. And he knew she didn’t have wheels of her own.

“Do you want to borrow the car for a bit?” he blurted out.

His question surprised her. He’d surprised himself, to be honest. “Are you sure, Roy?”

“It’s not like I can fucking use it. You’d be doing me a favor, really; the battery’ll die if nobody drives it, and then I’ll have to call somebody to change it.”

“Roy, I can’t take your car. It’s…” Splits struggled to find an argument, which amused him. “I do like driving it,” she conceded.

“Then take it, babe. Use it to pick me up on the days you’re not working, and I’ll guilt Jamie into doing the rest.”

“I’ll have to meet Jamie properly, since we’ll be sharing custody of you.” Her eyes sparkled at her joke, but Roy could only roll his.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near each other,” he growled. “I’ll never have any peace.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be surrounded by people who care for you, which can’t be all bad.”

Hope blossomed in Roy’s chest as he thought about having people. He didn’t want to believe it, so he waved a dismissive hand at Splits.

“Hmm. You don’t know Tartt. Fucking annoying little prick. I should get in there, make sure he isn’t getting out of hand.”

Splits nodded, a fond smile on her face. “Okay, boyfriend. Have a good day, and let me know if you need anything.”

“You have a good day, too. Have fun driving the Beast.”

“I will!”

Roy closed the passenger door and gave a wave. She waved back and tapped the horn twice before driving away, leaving Roy to gather his courage, summon his sternest coach face, and hobble into training.

If anybody questioned the crutches, they were going to fucking get it.

Tag list: @preciousbabypeter @harry-bowie-mercury @amieinghigh @onceuponaoneshot @chewymoustachio @my-neurodivergent-world

#roy kent bowled over #roy kent #roy kent x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #mutual pining #slowish burn #reader is a bowler #because I was a bowler #hence the terrible pun title #my writing #no editing we die like men

[thetarttfuldickhead]

I felt *so* bad for Jamie in that locker room scene. Like, it’s established that he’s the one with the most Total Football knowledge, because he trained under the guy who learned from the inventor, and everyone was yelling at *him* for not scoring goals.

It didn’t occur to anyone to say “Hey Jamie, you learned from Pep, any ideas for us?”. And he thought he would get in trouble if he spoke up 🥺

(I’ve been thinking about this all week and it still makes no sense)

Hello there!

Totally see where you’re coming from here: it’s certainly hard not to feel for Jamie when he’s doing his best to sort out the clusterfuck on the pitch only to get scolded for it.

For what it’s worth, though, I don’t think there’s any malice or slight intended from the other players. While the message about Jamie being the natural heir to total football might have been clearly communicated to us television audiences, I’m not so sure it was equally unequivocal to our boys in the locker room. Who knows what Coach Beard, bless his cunning and weird little heart, intends or doesn’t intend, but the bit about Jamie-coached-by-Pep was immediately overshadows by Jamie-the-beautiful-dum-dum, so I’m inclined to cut my himbos some slack for failing to consider that our boy of the godkissed right foot might have some privilieged knowledge. Besides, between Beard’s presentation and the game there are several days of Roy Kent’s School of Senseless String Sadism, so is there any wonder they’re a little fuzzy on most everything?

Also, I can’t help but think that it’s kind of a good thing that they other players feel comfortable standing up to Jamie when they feel that it’s warranted? In a way, their whole problem here is that they to some extent treat him like Zava’s successor – ie expect him to do all the work – but there’s also an important difference: for all their expectations, they still see him as part of the team and one of them, rather than some semi-deified soccer* superstar. That’s hugely important, I feel, for a team who once tended to bow down the the careless tyranny of Jamie Tartt in his prick era – and hugely important for Jamie too, who has worked so hard to go from one man show to teamplayer.

But yes: while Colin and Bumber was offering reasonable opinions in a reasonable way, given their understanding of the situation, Isaac was out of line. That’s in keeping with what we’ve seen of his character so far, though: he is given to outbursts. I’d like to think that after the match (and after Ted’s given one no. 9 his due in the post-game speech), Isaac offers some small apology. Nothing elaborate, just a clap on the shoulder and sorry I yelled at you, bruv, great playing out there and that’s that. Tempers run high on adrenaline, and I think Jamie gets that. Professional footballer and all.

I have argued that Jamie is concerned about the team turning on him if they perceive him as slipping back into bad habits and I stand by that – but I don’t really think it’s a crippling fear of Jamie’s. It’s a concern; he check the waters; he is brave; it works out and his confidence in his bond with the team and their faith in him is strenghtened. Admittedly, given Amsterdam and The Strings that Bind Us, I am getting slightly concerned that Jamie is so busy making sure he holds himself accountable that he forgets to others should hold themselves accountable to him too. We’ll have to wait and see how that develops before making any final calls on his state of mind in this scene, I think. (Ah, the dangers of metaing a text that’s still unfolding!)

Does any of this make sense to you at all? I fully get that this might not be the answer that you’re looking for; it’s intended to offer an alternative and slightly happier reading of the scene, but I fully respect that it might utterly fail to convince you. Sorry abou that, in that case, and thank you for the ask, anyhow: I had fun thinking about this!

Oh, and glorious username, btw. Fully support that.

*Obviously football is the proper and correct term but never let it be said I won’t engage in American terminology for the sake of alliteration.

#jamie tartt #3x07 #asks #eh might change my mind and all of this tomorrow #fluid readings baby #i'm all about that #my stuff

[subjectifymedia]

‘Ted Lasso’ season 3, episode 2 in conversation: There’s a part of me thinking maybe I should have stayed

The legacy of the great Roy Kent is at the heart of this week’s Ted Lasso, as a warm reception from his former club and a scar from a decades-old wound lead to a painful reflection over the way he’s chosen to live his life. Rebecca tries to beat Rupert to the signature of a difficult superstar player and Keeley goes to bat for a friend from her old life. Read on for our review of Ted Lasso season 3, episode 2, ‘(I Don’t Want to Go to) Chelsea.’

Natalie: This is Roy's issue about everything. His head is a fucking prison. He cannot accept love. He cannot ever just choose the thing that makes him happy.

Megan: He can't just let himself be happy with Keeley, no matter how much he loves her. Because he thinks he's not good enough for her, he's holding her back, that she's outgrown him. And even if she didn't give him a single hint that that is true, once it's in his head he can't get it out. And so he breaks up with her, because he can't let himself enjoy it.

Natalie: And because he thinks she will eventually do it first. This whole conversation is wrapped in a metaphor for his breaking up with Keeley — the whole "people think it’s better to quit than be fired" thing is basically what happened there with her. But I also can't and won’t write it all off as just being about Keeley. This relationship between Roy and football, Roy and Chelsea, isn't simply a metaphor or a form of sublimation. It matters to him, a lot, as its own thing. It has weight and value on its own. It's one of the biggest parts of his identity, his life.

#ted lasso #roy kent #trent crimm #keeley jones #jamie tartt #Rebecca Welton #Brett Goldstein

[armadillo1976]

Things I had to look up in Ted Lasso S3E01

What I’m not: American or British, or very well-versed in popular culture. What I am: curious and nerdy. So, a bunch of things I had to look up, for my future reference and for your convenience if you're in a similar camp:

“Doubt can only be removed by action” is a line by Goethe, supposedly? Does anyone have the actual German version? [edited to add: so it’s either „Die Tat ist alles, nichts ist der Ruhm“ or „Mit dem Wissen wächst Zweifel" but probably it’s misattributed / just one of those things people say and not an actual quote]

“What’s the buzz? Tell me what’s happening?” is a line from Jesus Christ Superstar

Beard is reading “The Miracle of Castel di Sangro”, which is a story of the unlikely success of a ragtag minor league soccer team in Italy; actually sounds like a great read, adding it to my list

Roy “finally watched” a film called Hoosiers, a title he doesn’t understand. Fair enough, since the term refers to residents of the state of Indiana, so it’s very US-specific – but for Roy, just like for me, it’s one quick trip to google away, so clearly both he and Keeley are being google-averse in this episode

Ted says, “What’s the frequency, Roy Kent-eth?”, which is a reference to a song by R.E.M. – so not very obscure, I should have probably got it – except the song title is a reference itself (to an incident when a journalist was attacked by a person repeating “Kenneth, what is the frequency?”, because he thought television networks were beaming signals into his brain, so that’s quite a story)

I get that “let Ted be Ted / let Rupert be Rupert” mirrors “let Bartlet be Bartlet” but I never figured Keeley for a West Wing fan so it’s more of a general sentiment I think? [a great note on this in the comments!]

Ned Flanders is a character from the Simpsons who does in fact look a bit like Ted

a reference that I did catch and that I’m intensely proud of myself for: “Forever Blowing Bubbles” on the West Ham stadium is the club’s song, and the reason WHY it’s their song and how it came to be is wonderful, look it up if you don’t know it but enjoy life being weird and whimsical

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso references #now i have forever blowing bubbles stuck in my head again

[altschmerzes]

PLS MY BELOVED GAV TELL ME MORE ABOUT THE SNAKEBIT WIP OWO

I WOULD LOVE TO. so that is part TWO of the bus curse 5+1 series, where the bus curse ruins people's nights, and that oneshot is DANI'S! explores more of a nuanced, emotionally complex take at dani, which i am. chomping at the bit for.

it is dealing with the concept of being 'snakebit' as an athlete - someone who is so unlucky it starts to stick with them, become their reputation. you hear it about superstars that suddenly experience a scoring drought. someone who gets the same injury over and over. snakebit. or, worse, injury-prone. once you get that label smacked onto you, there's no getting away from it. people will say it over and over until the end of your career and after.

roy notices on the bus home that dani doesn't look.... well. turns out this is because he's started getting sick and didn't tell anyone. he quickly takes a turn for the worse on the ride home, though not bad enough to stop at a hospital. just bad enough that it sucks. and everyone is flabbergasted that he would hide this but roy... roy gets it.

is chelsea captain roy kent snakebit? injury-prone veteran player roy kent signs with afc richmond.

yeah. roy gets it. roy gets not wanting snakebit to be the only thing people see when they look at you. he gets wanting to hide anything that might be wrong in case anyone sees that and then can't see anything else. but he also knows where that got him, and he doesn't want to lose dani to it, too. injuries, illnesses, bad luck, suffering, doubt, shame. leave them in the dark, and all they do is grow.

hopefully, he'll get that across before the bus gets back.

#gav gab #gav answers #fic: snakebit #sighonaraa #ask box games #writing liveblog #long post

[abubblingcandle]

🌹 (if you are still doing this) as I really REALLY struggled to decide on your poll

So did I! That's why I did it lol

I've shared a bit of the kidnapping fic a bit ago so here's a little fluff from the Jamie Babysitter Part 4 - It Takes A Village (Or a Professional Football Team)

“Micah!” Jamie shouts as the players line up for a team photo before the game. The scrawny new signing wingback startled at Jamie’s shout and turned looking around for another Micah. “Yes you Bianchi, heel,” Jamie clicked and pointed at the floor by his side. Micah Bianchi was only in his second month with the team and had arrived with a childlike wonder at getting to play with his superstar hero Jamie Tartt. Roy found it hilarious whenever he saw Jamie being followed around by his little duckling. Jamie however was just determined to do better than Roy Kent had handled superstar awe from little duckling Jamie Tartt.

#candle writes #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt #whumptober 2023 #candle's whumptober #ask box is always open

[melliemd]

In Ted Lasso, choices—especially ones that break a pattern or DON’T—are important.

Roy Kent chose to break the pattern when he refused to criticize a 17-year old and later walked off the set of the sports pundit show.

Higgins chose to stop helping people do bad things when he quit in season one, even despite the guilt keeping him in place because he had helped Rupert against Rebecca. He broke his pattern.

Trent chose to torpedo his career instead of masking behind journalistic ethics when tasked with doing something he viewed as wrong, despite being shown clearly to have previously been fine with living in that pattern.

On the other hand, Beard chooses to go back to Jane (in spite of her abuse), he doesn’t feel like he has anywhere else to go and so he chooses the thing he knows is there. He doesn’t break a pattern.

There are more, but you get the picture.

Why is this important? Because we’ve been presented with so many patterns this episode. Zava’s superstar antics, Trent’s observation at the end of the episode, Sam now possibly flirting with HIS employee, Ted isolating himself in response to trauma, and most importantly for this thread:

Rebecca going to her mother’s barmy psychic and despite dismissing it initially, becoming thrown upon seeing a “prediction” come true.

Why is this so important? Well, because in a show where choices and the breaking of patterns and cycles, Rebecca getting lured into a cycle free of choice is interesting. If you’re told exactly what to look out for, you don’t need to look for yourself. You just need to see what you’re told and then your brain will connect the unconnectable dots in some satisfying way, and you’ll live your life with these false truths.

In a show about CHOICES, the idea of “this just happens” is interesting. Not because it’s real, but because it presents a conflict for Rebecca. How long will she go down this road before she realizes she needs to escape? What mistakes will she make before that happens?

Coincidences just happen. But choices matter. They make your future. Rebecca doesn’t need to follow word association down whatever strange coincidental path they lead down. She needs to realize she can choose. She can choose how she wants to live, she can choose how she wants to love, she can choose who she wants to be. It’s a lot harder than things “just happening”, but it’s the only real way to escape the cycle and the pattern and live authentically.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #Rebecca Welton #Ted lasso meta

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

You Are In Love (Superstar Chapter 10)

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

Roy and the Reader settle into their life together.

Roy Kent x Reader

9.7k words

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Loves it.”

“Fan of yours?”

A smirk graced Roy’s face. “Huge.”

“Her parents like you?”

“I like to think so.”

“She smart?”

“Brilliant.”

“Funny?”

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

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

“Fucking gorgeous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

I turned to him. “Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fweet fweet fweeeeeeeeeet!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

“Alright. What the fuck is wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oi, you brought the blanket, right?”

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

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

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

“What the absolute fuck is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We both knew what he was referring to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a great picture of us.”

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

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

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

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

“Open the box.”

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

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

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

To my future wife

XOXO Roy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There was no lunch, was there?”

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My dad’s laugh was the loudest of all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

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

~

Taglist: @optimisticsandwichgladiator @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @sonyume @djarindroid @reading-blogs @thezimi @benedictscanvasmain @wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff @puckyou-forpuckssake @old-enough-to-know-better73 @ladygrey03 @soundofboots @justsomefunshit @geekgirl1996 @tedssweaters @queen-of-dumbasses @miaalltheway @di-essere-amato @shakespeareanwannabe @hotdoglamp @mal-adaptive-dreams @allthetroubleiveseen @netflix-addict @callmecasey81 @forgetmeaway @royalestrellas @kingleahhh @lemoonandlestars @ghxxxf @jill2629-blog @sunderland-6 @janalustare @ellouisa17

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

[beybaldes]

Karma is the guy on AFC Richmond, coming straight home to me!

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent × gn!famous!reader (loosely inspired by Taylor swift and Travis Kelce)

summary: “kisses with a height difference” requested by two anons <33

an: okay you can actually thank the queen of my heart @onceuponaoneshotfanfic for my sudden (although potentially one night only we’ll see if I get my uni essay done lol) return because she reposted a celebrity prompt list and it got my mind whirring oops love you tally thank you for breaking my writers (and reading) block <33

“Hot.”

One simple word had sent your 68 million instagram followers into an absolute frenzy, and half of them, you were pretty sure, didn’t even know who Roy Kent was.

“‘So nice of them to put this football player on the map?’ They do know I was famous long before you ever were, right?” You only laughed as Roy grew more frustrated, allowing him to scroll through your Twitter account while you made the both of you some breakfast.

“Hey, maybe they have a point?” You tried to stifle your laughter, knowing Roy’s eyes would be sending daggers into your back, though only for a moment so he could continue winding himself up over the things people were tweeting. “I mean Richmond tickets have now sold out for the rest of the season.”

Roy knew you were only joking. Well, kind of. The two of you had been together for just over a year now, recently celebrating your one year anniversary, but besides the odd article about each of you potentially seeing someone, no one knew you were together - let alone that you even knew each other. Keeley had been blowing up Roy’s phone since she saw the comment demanding to meet you, her favourite superstar, and you’d woken up to 37 missed calls from your dad, furious you hadn’t told him you were dating Chelsea legend Roy Kent.

Above everything, you’re still in disbelief Roy tried to hard launch your relationship in the comment section if your most recent instagram post on a random Tuesday evening.

“Hmm, and I’m sure your next tour is going to sell out 10 times faster now the world knows you’re with the great Roy Kent.” Roy had given up on reading tweets speculating about what his comment meant and if the two of you were together, instead choosing to press his bare chest agains your back, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you finished up breakfast. Fortunately you knew, Roy Kent or not, your next tour was going to sellout. Though you’d rather have Roy be by your side for it.

“Maybe if I’m lucky.” Putting down your fork, you turned in Roy’s hold to face him, standing on the very tips of your toes to press a lovingly slow kiss to his lips. Since dating Roy, you were certain early mornings were for breakfasts that take too long to cook and kisses that end too soon for your liking. Roy’s grip on you tightened and he dipped his head slightly, making the kiss as easy on you as possible. When you began to pull away, he only ducked his head further to press his lips back against yours. “Mmm, although I’d already consider myself very lucky.”

“That you are.” Roy murmured against your lips, immediately pressing them flush against yours when he’d said his piece. “And so am I.”

an: okay short and sweet but I’m hoping to get back in to writing and get up to date with my requests now that I’m settled at uni and with my new job. Missed you guys hope you all are well <33

#beybaldes writes !! #beybaldes summer sleepover !! #ted lasso x reader #roy kent x reader #roy kent one shot #roy kent imagine #another banger another banger by onceuponaoneshotfanfic from tumblr.com

[light-yaers]

I'm obsessed with Take Care so seeing you share Superstar just feels magical 😭

Thank you for writing my favorite Roy Kent series! ❤️

the roy kent girlies and guys gotta stick together you knoooow 🤍🤍🤍

#ask box

[meatmensch]

ouuugggaaahhh i cannot stay silent on the topic any longer i must tell you about my roy kent backstory/family tree headcanons. they are crazy sad btw. ft royjamie

his sister ruth (shout out to teddy-after-all for originating her name being ruth) is 2 years older than him. ruth is just as angry and proud and insane as roy, if not more. just has a bit of a better handle on it all, being a doctor rather than a footballer.

their parents were a mess and were out of the picture when they were really young so they barely remember them. their mom passed away of a drug overdose and their dad is still alive but in prison and he sucks so they aren't in touch.

roy's grandad (they didn't give him a name and i haven't thought of one yet) who we already know passed away when roy was nine was roy's mom's dad. he and his wife zivia raised roy and ruth and after he passed away it was just their nan raising them and she is still alive. she is a superstar and is theee matriarch theee protective angry badass bubbe (oh right. they're all jewish btw). she and her husband had been friends since they were small. they were born in poland and were just little kids during the shoah. (they gave themselves the last name kent to assimilate in britain, chose it bc of clark kent.)

that experience ofc really shaped them and greatly informed how they raised their kids + grandkids. zivia basically always emphasized the importance of anger. "it's your compass, it lets you know when you've been wronged. it's a tool. it's your inheritance. it's your birthright." etc. when roy or ruth would get in trouble for hassling a teacher or punching a kid at school or smth she'd be like "well did they deserve it" and usually they'd be like "yeah and here's why" and she'd be like "ok cool well then i'm not mad ur suspended in fact we're getting ice cream." when their grandad passed away she emphasized this sort of stuff too. "i know you're sad. i know you're angry. i know you're lost. i am too. it's ok. let yourself feel it."

as i said she's still around and living in a great retirement home and roy ruth and phoebe see her often. she takes great pride in the lives of her grandkids (+ great grandkid) and is always asking them about what's going on with them and checking in with them. "perform any amazing surgeries lately, ruth, my little miracle worker?" calls roy after every game, says one of three things.

"you played like shit." "you were fucking poetic out there." "you were alright." when it's the first, he usually laughs, happy to just talk to her after such a shit game, pleased by their little ritual. sometimes he growls or cries. he's never really hurt by her saying it, though, 'cause she's his dear old nan, and she's not being a prick, she's just being herself, and she's blunt. when it's the the second, it means more to him than all of the applause and celebrations with teammates and everything. when it's the third he does get kind of depressed and just changes the subject and they talk about whatever. as he nears the end of his career he hears a lot of the third and it really fucks with him.

roy has never brought anyone home to his nan for her to meet them. he also never came out to her directly. he just started mentioning shit about him being queer one day. they both preferred it that way (not for homophobic reasons on her part). when he's seeing keeley she starts to badger him. "am i ever going to meet her?" "maybe." he's cagey about it. it's a big thing and it kind of freaks him out. they break up before he starts to seriously consider it. once he and jamie have been hanging out all the time for a while, she badgers him again. "from how you talk about him, and what ruth and phoebe say, he's your best friend. you know, i had a best friend once [alluding to her late husband of many years, implying there might be something there between roy and jamie]. even if that's all he ever is to you, i want to meet him. you've never had a best friend. plus, he's a good friend of ruth's and looks after phoebe. he's a part of our family. shouldn't i know my family?" it kind of freaks him out, but he realizes, not much. because she's right. about everything

so the next time he ruth and phoebe go see zivia together they bring jamie. they get along alright. she's charmed by him, a little annoyed by him, respects him, and can really tell how close the two of them are and how well they fit together. she tells him so the next time they talk, when the two of them + roy are chilling at ruth's house. "he's an odd one. i like him well enough. you act like you've known each other longer than either of you have been alive. so, for you? i love him...certainly more than i liked o'sullivan for ruth" "come on nan"

#PRETTY SURE it was teddy-after-all who did it first. there have been so many fics in which she's named ruth at this point i might be wrong #this show is sick but does not honor 2 very important things that i love to see in a story. judaism. and the importance of family #which is barely even fair. they do focus a lot on family for certain characrers. but not for others and i would love to see more #roy is such a rich character. apple tv pls hire me to write the roy kent spin off #post abt ruth to follow 😁 #my posts #ted lasso

[whimsical-roasting]

not to be a fuckin psych nerd bestie, but my org psych professor worked on a paper (https://doi.org/10.1080/02640414.2023.2193005) about identity leadership for team functioning and wellbeing in athletics.. and I AM LOWKEY EXCITED TO READ IT FOR FUN SIMPLY BECAUSE OF TED LASSO HAHAHA

also, kinda makes me wanna read it and incorporate it into the fic i have of psych major!reader x jamie tartt?? i know you all saw a glimpse of the psych!major fic thingy and i most def wanna post more.. i dunno if i wanna write it out or just do my regular dot points format bc life is beyond chaotic and i procrastinate on writing my current assignments....

fucking ANYWAYS,, i just wanted to share that i'm excited about reading psych stuff & ted lasso stuff and merging the two because i fail to have boundaries and overindulge on things

EXCERPT FROM PAPER: "When Phil Jackson was appointed as head coach of the Chicago Bulls in the NBA in 1989, the team relied fully on its superstar Michael Jordan. In an effort to improve the team’s functioning Jackson sought to convince Michael Jordan to share the spot- light with his teammates (e.g., by passing the ball more to other teammates and allowing them to score, instead of taking all the scoring attempts himself). By doing so, it became clear that it was not only Michael Jordan’s brilliant individual performance that determined the team’s success, but rather, and more importantly, the energy that was unleashed when players put their egos aside and worked towards a common goal... (Jackson & Delehanty, 1995)"

OKAY BUT THINK ABOUT JAMIE IN THIS LIGHT... Ted trying to convince Jamie in S1/some of S2 to pass more.. and then end of S3 where Jamie is a cog for the team like kffjfhvfjhdfhj wow

AND THINK ABOUT HOW NEW MANAGER ROY KENT WOULD DO THINGS.. wow i tell ya man,,, psych is so cool,,,

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #me #roy kent #afc richmond #psych major #sorry i am so passionate #fuckin nerd lmfaooo #me blabbing to those who will listen