#Roy kent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 10 hours

Text

I'm Happy Just to Have You

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader

2.6k words

Warnings: Language, lying/sneaking around, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, fluff & flirting, protective dad, some self-deprecating talk

Just like every summer was spent running around Chelsea’s pre-season training, every night before the first match of the season was spent having dinner with the team. Your mother loved hosting the team in your backyard, with big bowls of pasta and salad on the tables put together to make one long table, and you always loved getting to sit among them. As a child, you’d draw pictures that you handed out to bemused players; as a teenager, you’d steal sips of beer and bat your eyes at the rookie athletes. Now, as an adult, you’d sit far too close to Roy Kent and monopolize his attention all night with jokes and sly attempts at flirting.

This year would be more of the same. After all, who were you to break tradition?

Of course, this year your dad raised an eyebrow at the little summer dress you wore, which you did your best to ignore as you helped your mother set the table, having skipped training to help her prepare the outrageously big meal. As the players started to arrive and help themselves to drinks, you chatted happily with them, pushing yourself to be even more friendly than usual, in hopes of throwing your dad off by making it seem like you were being extra affable with everyone, not just Roy Kent.

When the sound of two quick rings wafted outside from the front door, you had to stop yourself from sprinting inside. “I’ve got it!” you hollered to your mum before she could move towards the house. Surely, anybody could be at the door, right? It wasn’t as if Roy Kent had arranged some sort of doorbell 'signal' to ensure a few moments alone with you, right?

“Hey,” he hummed, leaning in the doorway, cool as ever. He glanced over his shoulder before pulling you in for a brief, heated kiss. You probably could’ve stayed there for hours, in his arms, his lips pressed to yours, if you weren’t in the doorway. His cool expression was replaced with a dopey grin when he let you go. “Brought you something.”

Curiosity crossed your face. “A gift? For me?” you teased.

With an eyeroll, he handed you a book. “Since we keep telling your dad we’re exchanging books,” he explained, “we should make sure we’re, y’know, exchanging books.”

You smiled and held the book close to your chest. “Clever, Kent.” After making sure you were still alone, you leaned close. “Kinda missed you today,” you admitted in a whisper.

“Missed you too, princess.” A quick kiss found your forehead. “Let’s go out tonight. After dinner. Grab a drink or something.”

Fuck, that sounded great. “I think my dad’ll think something’s up if I take the car so late,” you grumbled, sticking out your lower lip.

Roy chuckled softly at your bratty pout, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Sneak out, then.” When he saw your sour expression, he narrowed his eyes at you tauntingly. “Come on, Miss ‘I used to used to climb this tree all the time’. Put your money where your pretty mouth is.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “Maybe I will.” You smirked at him. “But you’re going to be pretty damn embarrassed seeing me climb that thing with ease after you could barely clamber up it.”

He let out a small, surprised laugh and looked ready to say something, some sassy retort no doubt, when his eyes flickered somewhere behind you. “Coach,” he greeted, straightening up.

“Kent.” Your dad’s gaze bounced between the two of you. “We’re all outside if you care to join us.” Despite his polite words, you knew this wasn’t a suggestion for the midfielder; it was a warning.

“Right, right.” Roy cleared his throat and turned back to you. “Like I said, no rush getting it back to me.” He gestured to the book in your hands. “But let me know what you think. I liked it.” With a curt nod to your dad, he briskly walked through the house, making his way to the backyard.

Once the sound of the closing backdoor reached you, your dad turned his attention to you, eyebrows raised. “Another book club meeting?”

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, he told me about this one the other day, said I might like it.”

Your dad gently took the book from your hands, scanning the cover carefully. His brows furrowed. “Didn’t you already read this?”

Lots of girls would kill to have such an attentive dad. Normally, it made you feel pretty damn loved. Today, however, it was a freaking curse. “I don’t think so,” you said. Lied, actually. “If I did, I guess it wasn’t memorable.”

“Hmmph.” He smoothed down your hair, the way he used to when you were a little girl. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

Once you stepped into your backyard, your dad was distracted by a couple of the guys who called him over to them. You busied yourself with setting things on the table, willing yourself to not to look at Roy, no matter how badly you wanted to lose yourself in those brown eyes and little smirks, because that would only tempt you to grab him and-

“Need some help, gorgeous?”

It was like your entire body melted as you sensed him behind you, his hand ghosting over your back for a fraction of a second. You wanted nothing more than to grab him and drag him up to your bedroom. Hell, that cologne he was wearing tempted you to turn and kiss him right then and there. Fucking Roy, he was going to get you in so much trouble. And dammit, he was so worth it.

After steeling yourself, you turned to glance up at him, offering what you hoped was just a friendly smile. “Sure, Kent.” You handed him a handful of forks, shivering when his fingertips slyly brushed against yours.

Roy offered you a small wink and turned to his task. Your eyes kept meeting over the table, eyes full of affection and teasing and about a million other things. Eyes that, if anyone noticed, would easily give away the heat between the two of you. You did your best to remind yourself over and over that your parents were here, that your dad’s hawklike gaze was definitely going to be working overtime. But still, you couldn’t resist taking the spot next to Roy as everyone settled in for dinner.

Normally, you set a respectable distance between yourself and the dreamy midfielder. Close enough that you could flirt, far enough that you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself. Tonight, however, you couldn’t resist scooching your chair a smidge closer, just close enough to be able to knock your knee against his and leave it there. You could see his ears tint red at the contact as his eyes zeroed in on the bowl of pasta in front of him, trying- and not quite succeeding- to hide his smile.

Deciding that Roy needed something of a break from you, you turned to your right to chat with Jules, a striker you liked very much. He was about Roy’s age, incredibly friendly and affable, and was the only young player your dad didn’t seem to mind you chatting with; probably because he thought of Jules as “safe” compared to the other players. Jules had married his childhood sweetheart, a lovely girl named Katie, who worked at a publisher and you considered a friend. She sometimes sat near you at matches, or even drove with you to away games a few times. They were an adorable couple, always smiling at each other and whispering what you assumed were sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Hopefully, chatting with the very taken striker would placate your dad into ignoring you for the rest of the night, so you could flirt with his star midfielder in peace.

Sure enough, at the other end of the table your dad engaged in spirited conversation with the other coaches, your mother was cooing over the baby photos an older goalkeeper was showing off, and your brother seemed very content listening to some of the guys recount a recent wild night out that had definitely made its way into the paper.

As you laughed at some story Jules shared about Katie’s mother’s recent visit, you felt fingers gently brush against your thigh; the familiar touch felt warm and affectionate. Out of the corner of your eye, you allowed yourself to glance at Roy, who was fighting a smile while debating a teammate about some recent action movie they apparently felt quite strongly about. He looked good like this; relaxed. Roy Kent almost never looked relaxed. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine if this was what he’d be like at one of those family dinners, smiling and rolling his eyes in between bites. When he wanted to be, he could be so charming. You wondered if he’d ever feel strongly enough about you to be charming with your mum and dad. And if they’d love you enough to give him a real chance.

“Alright there?”

The sound of Jules speaking had you snapping out of your daydream. “Hmm? Yeah, all good.” You offered him your most casual smile.

His gaze flickered between you and Roy for a moment. “How’s school?” he asked simply as he picked up his drink. “Any fellas hanging around? You know they’ve got to go through us first,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, pretending your face wasn’t on fire. “No fellas,” you insisted, doing your best ignore Roy’s fingers again flittering across your thigh.

“Hmm.” Jules narrowed his eyes. “Interesting.”

Late into the night, after everyone’d gone home, you retreated to your room with a wave to your parents. Once you heard their bedroom door shut with finality, you slipped on a sweatshirt and called Roy.

“You ready?” was his simple answer when he picked up.

“Yeah.”

In a flash, Roy appeared below your window, smirking up at you expectantly. Once you made sure your door was locked and turned off your lights, you opened the window, unable to hide the joy on your face as you took in the sight of Roy and his black leather jacket in the moonlight.

“Careful,” he hissed up, loud enough for only you to hear.

You simply rolled your eyes and shimmied out of the window. It was old hat, climbing down that big tree. Your hands and feet remembered exactly where to go, as if you were still sixteen and wild. When you glanced down, you saw Roy, arms open, as if he were ready to catch you at any moment, eyes wide and almost… worried. Fuck, it melted your heart.

When your feet firmly hit the ground, Roy raised his eyebrows at you, admiration all over his face. “Fuck,” he whispered. He took your hand. “Are you part squirrel or some shit, princess?”

A giggle slipped past your lips as you kissed his cheek. “You going to spend all night talking about climbing trees, or are you buying me a drink?”

Hand in hand, the two of you stepped lightly until you’d slipped through the garden gate. Once out of sight of your house, the two of you jogged down the street to his car, shy chuckles escaping every time you looked at each other. Once you reached his vehicle, Roy pressed your back against the car and gave you a proper kiss, allowing you to taste the chocolate cake everyone had eaten after dinner. Some part of you wanted to just stay like this, leaning on his car and tangling your tongue with his.

But there was no way you were going to give up the opportunity to let Roy Kent buy you a drink.

The bar he took you to was not the kind of place one might expect a Premier League star to hang out. It was small, dark, dingy, a little dirty. Roy eyed you carefully as he placed a hand on the small of your back to guide you to a booth, where he left you with a kiss to the top of your head. He returned with a pair of pints and his mouth in a straight line.

“This alright?” he asked as he slid in next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I know it’s not that nice-”

“We won’t get caught here.” You took a sip of your beer. “Right?”

Roy nodded emphatically. “Exactly.” He kissed your temple. “Brilliant thing,” he teased.

Without thinking, you let out a little scoff. “Brilliant,” you repeated. “Tell that to my professors, yeah?”

A frown immediately covered Roy’s perfect face. “Fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Shit. This wasn’t how you wanted to spend your time with Roy Kent. So far, your romance with him was something of a fantasy, one filled with longing glances exchanged on the pitch, stolen kisses, late nights in his bed. Sure, the two of you had shared childhood stories, and chatted nonchalantly about his job, but you’d been careful not to delve too much into your life. Sharing like that felt too real, too intimate, too much like something you’d do with a boyfriend, someone who’d stick around for a while, who’d still be there once the summer ended.

And that couldn’t be Roy- could it?

But fuck, he was leaning forward on his elbow and looking you in the eye with that intense gaze, the gaze that made you want to tell him every single one of your secrets, dreams, all the silly little details of your silly little life.

“I wrote a story last term,” you mumbled, slouching into his embrace. “I thought it wasn’t half bad. Couple of my mates read it, had lovely things to say. Turned it in, and my professor ripped it to shreds. Talked about it in front of the whole class, too.” You took a long drink of your beer, your cheeks burning at the memory. “Normally, I wouldn’t care too much, it was one professor’s opinion, but…” You shrugged. “I actually really fucking liked that story. Came across it earlier today, guess it's still on my mind.”

Roy studied you for a moment, his face hard, as if he were staring down an opponent on the pitch. “Fuck ’em,” he finally grunted.

Despite yourself, the corner of your mouth tugged upwards. “Very Roy Kent answer,” you teased.

He shook his head earnestly, not ready to joke yet. “No, for real,” he insisted. “You liked your story, right?”

“Well, yeah-”

“And you said your mates liked it too, right? Said nice shit about it?”

You looked at your drink, unable to stay focused for too long on his fiery gaze. “I guess,” you mumbled.

He tightened his grip on your shoulder, tugging you closer until his nose brushed against yours. “Then who gives a flying fuck what one professor thinks? Do you and I like every book we read?” You shook your head. “But that doesn’t mean someone out there doesn’t like it, right?” He pressed a kiss to your lips, tender and gentle, just like his words. “Not every story is for every person. But that doesn’t mean it’s automatically shit. Alright?”

Whether it was his words or his kiss, something about Roy had you melting into his embrace. “Alright,” you whispered.

Satisfied that you were no longer playing self-deprecating, Roy leaned back, although he kept you close. “However,” he continued, a teasing lilt to his voice now, “I’ve never actually read your writing. So, for all I know, you actually are shit.” He waggled his eyebrows at you. “Guess you’ll have to let me read your work sometime. Or else I’ll assume you write as well as you play football.”

“Maybe I’ll let you read something,” you said, biting back a grin. “Or maybe you’ll let me write about you sometime, Kent.”

Something resembling a blush settled on his face as he reached out and held your chin gently. His eyes flickered to your mouth briefly before settling back on your eyes. “Only if you promise to write a happy ending, princess.”

Taglist:@gee72sstuff@book-of-roses@kissykissymouth@emmy2811 @hart-kinsella @klaine-92@dearvoidgoodnight@misshall14@issieruby@royal-sunflower@kissmekent@itswhateveripromise@slaymybreathaway@darkmagazineblaze@larascorneroftheworld@infinetlyforgotten@caught-the-feels@rae4725@sisinever@cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782@dd122004dd@veryprairieberry@spacecluster @dark-academia-slut

#roy kent bright baby blue #Chelsea!Roy #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

22 notes · View notes