#roy kent x f!reader

[inbloomwriting]

a calm surrender II Roy Kent

Plot: Roy doesn't love her. In fact, he finds her irritating above anything else. And yet he manages to tell her in so many different ways.

Pairing: Roy Kent x female reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Reader takes Keeley's spot in some plot points - no disrepect to her though she's my favorite.

Notes: This is inspired by a "100 ways to say I love you" List. It’s 8.3k words, It's a big one.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

"It's enough for this restless warrior Just to be with you"

Take my jacket, it’s cold & You can have half

She’s irritating. Everything about her manages to get under his skin. The way she’s always smiling that big radiant smile of hers or the perpetual scent of jasmine and vanilla that seems to follow her anywhere. She laughs too loud, she’s a terrible driver and even worse at parking. The music coming from the physio room is mostly cheesy 80s and 90s pop songs that make Roy want to give himself a lobotomy. She’s irritating in every which way you look at it — and maybe that’s the exact reason why Roy can’t keep himself from looking at her.

Tonight is no exception. For some inexplicable reason, his eyes manage to find her across the room and in the crowd, every single time without fail. It’s not like it’s a conscious choice on his part either. It just happens. That sparkly green dress of her’s just seems to call out to him like the damn light across the bay at the Buchanan’s dock.

And the worst part is that she noticed. She caught his eyes on her more than once, even had the audacity to smirk back at him. During the auction, for a small moment, he thought she might bid on him when her hand just barely twitched and her eyes held a sense of infinite mischief. She didn’t though and for a second he could feel a string of disappointment pull at his heart. Not because he wanted her to bid on him or anything, he just wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of having to spend time with Cheryl Barnaby.

He managed to find her across the room all night — except for right now. Everyone’s on the dance floor. Keeley, Jamie, Ted, even Beard. But not her.

No one’s paying attention to him right now, if he were to just slip out of here, no one will notice.

It’s not like he wanted to be here in the first place. Sure, raising money for underprivileged children is something honorable and he would never let his own disdain for overly glitzy social events get in the way of doing the right thing. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though.

Emptying his glass with one last sip he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and steps out into the chilly air of a London night.

It’s funny, really, how the moment he stops searching, the green light calls back out to him and she steps into his vision. A glowing beacon of refuge, guiding ships through dark nights to safe shores.

The cold air nips at her skin, sharp and vicious and Roy doesn’t even have to get any closer to her to notice that she’s shivering. He can barely suppress the urge to roll his eyes at her. Of course, she’s cold, she’s only wearing the dress and some flimsy chiffon scarf thing around her shoulders. That’s gonna do fuck all to shelter her from the cold. Irritating. She’s so irritating.

The most irritating part though, is that he can’t help but slip out of his suit jacket. The most irritating part is that he can’t help but care.

“Take my jacket, it’s cold.”

There it is again, that smile of hers. The one he sees sometimes when he’s about to fall asleep. How ridiculous, he thinks, how foolish of him. How absurd it is to fall asleep to the image of a smile belonging to a girl that annoys him more than anything and anyone. (Except maybe Jamie).

“Are you — are you talking to me? Little old me? Are you being nice to me?”

“Jesus fuck, don’t make it weird. I’m always nice.”

She giggles and it’s bloody adorable. So adorable that a smile threatens to pull the corners of his lips upwards. See? Fucking irritating.

“You hardly talk more than 3 words to me when you’re in the physio room but — okay. If that’s your version of nice.”

“Take the jacket or not, I don’t care. I’ll let you freeze out here if you’re trying to be difficult. Means fuck all to me.”

That’s not true. They both know it. No matter how much Roy tries to deny or hide it, there is a soft heart buried inside the rough exterior. He just can’t risk showing that to everyone. Can’t have people getting the wrong ideas.

“No, please I — sorry I’m just — you make me nervous and when I’m nervous I talk a lot and then most of what comes out is just stupid nonsense or deflecting humor or something. I would really appreciate that jacket. It really is fucking freezing.”

Roy has been in the public eye for years now, he’s used to people being intimidated, nervous. Usually, it’s strangers though, people who don’t know him. Those that do, that work with him, usually lose that feeling pretty quickly.

“Why the fuck would I make you nervous?”

She just glances at him before turning her face back towards the street “Have you seen yourself?”

He’s not sure how to take that. Is it a compliment? Does she think he’s handsome? It’s not like it matters to him really. In fact, the thought that she might find him attractive is — say it with me — fucking irritating.

He contemplates asking her outright if this is something she does on purpose. If she’s deliberately trying to rile him up. The words are on the tip of his tongue when he notices her shiver once again and all that was on his mind vanishes against the desperate need to keep her warm.

“Jesus. Let me just — “

Jasmine. Vanilla. He smells it when he slips the jacket around her shoulders. He wonders if his jacket will smell like that, like her, when he gets it back. Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Not because it’s her or anything — just because it smells fantastic and Roy is not one to deny himself the simple pleasures in life.

“I really appreciate it, Roy.”

And the gratefulness with which she says it is not irritating at all. It’s endearing. It’s flutters-in-his-tummy kind of wonderful.

Instead of reacting like a normal, reasonable person with a simple “you're welcome”, he gives her one of his signature grunts. That’s as good a normal reasonable reaction as anyone can expect from him, really.

“What are you out here all by yourself for anyway? Trying to get kidnapped or something?”

“No,” there it is again, the giggle. Ugh. “ I’m waiting for my Uber. He’s — “She checks her phone, illuminating her face with the harsh blue light. He thinks she looks wonderful either way. Then scolds himself for thinking it. Some simple pleasures he has to deny himself. “ 12 minutes away.”

Roy isn’t quite certain whether or not he considers himself a good person. He tries to be, it’s a conscious effort each and every day. He helps out his sister, he gives in to all of Phoebe’s wishes even if it means having to play the princess yet again and never getting to be the dragon. He donates more money to charity than the press is aware of, leaves hefty tips whenever he goes out to eat and though he does swear a lot, he still tries to be polite if he can.

He tries to be a good person and a good person doesn’t let a woman wait outside in the cold dark night by herself. No matter how infuriating she is.

“Do you mind if I keep you company? Couldn’t live with myself if you got snatched up and I was the last person to see you alive.”

A laugh tumbles from her lips. A step up from a giggle and god does it send shockwaves through his traitorous heart.

“The press would have a field day if that happened. I can see the headlines, ‘Football legend Roy Kent involved in the disappearance of Richmond sports physio’ and then they use a picture of you from like 10 years ago with the really bad long hair that makes you look a little sketchy.”

“I didn’t look sketchy.”

“You looked a little sketchy.”

Roy glances at her through the corner of his eyes. She really is a dream in forest green, the sequins, and rhinestones reflecting the street lights like little kaleidoscopes. He’s almost certain he’ll dream in shades of green tonight. He’s sure he’ll see her smiling face.

“You look beautiful.”

The words fall from his lips before he can stop them and it makes him want to put his head through a wall. Fuck.

“Thank you —” she replies bashfully, “do you want some sausage roll?”

In all the scenarios running through his head of how this conversation could’ve gone, this is not one of the outcomes he expected.

“What?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Do you want a part of my sausage roll?” she chuckles and pulls a brown paper bag from her sparkly clutch bag. “I wasn’t sure if they were gonna actually feed us or just serve us rich people portions so I brought backup. You can have half if you want.”

She breaks the flaky pastry in two and holds one piece out to him. Even her nails are painted to match the dress. If he was any worse a man he would risk it all for just one taste of her and whatever black magic she possesses that gets so deeply under his skin. He is a better man than that tough, so he settles for a taste of the sausage roll.

“You’re a strange woman”

“Strange or smart?”

Taking a bite from the sausage roll, buttery and flaky and greasy, he must admit she has a point.

“Bit of both.”

“I can live with that.”

Silence settles upon them, well as silent as a London night can be. It feels weirdly comfortable. No expectations to be someone or do something. Just her and the city and the fucking Greggs sausage roll.

And — Elton John?

“Oh, I love that song!”

A string of pink lights adorns the top of the rikshaw as it turns the corner, loudly blasting Can you feel the love tonight. The driver catches sight of them and Roy can’t suppress the annoyed groan slipping its way out.

“Good evening can I interest you lovebirds in a — “

“No, fuck off!”

Elton’s voice gets quieter and quieter as the startled driver rides his rickshaw further away and back into the inky black of the night.

Lovebirds, he called them lovebirds. Thought the two of them were anything other than acquaintances. People pushed together by circumstances and coincidence. As if anything between them could ever happen. She’s already getting under his skin, sticks around his thoughts, and ghosts through his head without him ever giving her permission to do so. She’s all he can think about lately and yes he knows it sounds repetitive but god it’s so damn irritating.

“I would’ve liked to hear the rest of the song.”

Roy scoffs “Figures.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He turns to face her and, for the first time since he’s stepped out of the building and into this tiny bubble they’re sharing for just this fleeting moment, he looks at her. Really looks at her. With her sparkly dress and her lips painted a deep red like candy apples. With flakes of the pastry sticking to her lower lip and his jacket wrapped around her looking almost like this is where it’s always belonged.

He’s never had a heart attack before, he wonders if this is what it feels like.

“You play the worst fucking music when you’re working in the physio room.”

“Uh — are you insulting my taste in music? Are you really out here insulting the legend, sir Elton John? The Lion King soundtrack is a religious experience, okay?”

He hates that he can clearly tell by the glimmer of mischief in her eyes that she is joking more than anything. He shouldn’t be able to tell. Mere acquaintances can’t do shit like that.

“No, in fact, it’s a pretty fucking great movie. It came out when my sister was a kid though and I had to watch that shit a million times. You know how traumatizing it is having to watch Mufasa die over and over again?“

She grants him a look of understanding and shrugs her shoulders in agreement “At least it’s not Frozen, eh? “

“I have a 6-year-old niece.”

Roy Kent has a lot of things in his life that he takes pride in. His career and talent, all the hard work he put in to be where he is today. He takes pride in being a good brother and a loving uncle and maybe even a good friend and leader.

Making her let out a snort as she laughs at his Frozen-induced misery? That might be his proudest achievement to date.

“I’m glad you find my suffering amusing.”

“What can I say? You’re a funny guy, Roy Kent. So funny in fact that I almost bid on you at the auction.”

He wants to let out the most guttural scream in the existence of mankind. She can’t just go ahead and say stuff like that. Not when he is trying so hard to keep their interactions at the most basic level. Not when she already haunts his dreams. She’s irritating, Roy. Not charming or lovable or — beautiful. Or maybe she is all those things but most of all she’s annoying and infuriating and — oh he’s so fucked.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Oh, well I’m just a measly sports physician. Don’t get me wrong, it's good money but I don’t really earn quite enough to throw thousands of pounds at a man to have him spend time with me.”

He’d do it for free. Hate every second of it, naturally. But he’d do it for free.

Can’t tell her that though. Never. So once again he just grunts.

A silver Toyota pulls up to the curb, effectively bursting their little bubble of comfort as the driver leans down to look out the window. “You (Y/N) ?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

She makes a motion to slip out of the jacket, only for Roy to step in and hold it closed, keeping it in place, wrapped around her, and shielding her from the cold.

“Keep it,” his voice comes out all rough and husky. More than usual. It’s probably the jasmine scent getting to him, clouding his every sense. “Don’t want you to freeze on the way home. Just give it back another time.”

“Oh, okay. Well, thanks again. Goodnight, Roy.”

He opens the door for her and closes it softly once she’s settled into the car. Roy tries so hard to be a good man, a good person but in that moment all he wants to do is be a little bit worse, just a little bit. Just enough to rip the door open again, pull her out of the seat and kiss her stupid.

Instead, he wishes her a good night and sends her off before stepping out into the night himself. There is a smile playing on his lips all the way home and it’s so fucking irritating.

I was in the neighborhood & It’s okay I couldn’t sleep anyway

The door leading to her apartment is bright red and there is a little white sign and the picture of a dog with huge fucking ears that reminds him of Gizmo from the Gremlins. It says “Beware of the dog — might cuddle you to death.”

It’s cheesy as hell. He loves it.

He’s not quite sure how he ended up here. Losing is never fun. Feeling yourself slowly becoming unable to do the things you love, the things you were good at, and actively playing a part in your team losing? That’s absolutely mortifying.

Of all the places he could’ve gone, all the people he could’ve seen — he ends up in front of her door. Red and shiny like her lips that night.

It’s almost 1am and all things considered, this is a really dumb idea. She’s probably asleep and waking her up would be fucking rude. He should just go and forget this ever happened instead of knocking on her door in the middle of the night. That’s what the rational part of his brain tells him at least.

Roy was never really good at listening to the rational part of his brain.

Tiny barks, no doubt belonging to the dog on the sign, echo through the hallway before the door swings open just enough for (Y/N) to look at him with tired eyes.

“Roy?”

“I was in the neighborhood I — I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

It’s not a lie, really. He was in the neighborhood. He walked here specifically to knock on her door and see her.

“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Now that is most definitely a lie. Her eyes are sleepy, her hair disheveled and he can just about make out the pillow print on her cheek.

“Do you want to come in?”

He does. He shouldn’t but he really does.

The apartment is small but it feels cozy rather than cramped. The walls are lined with pictures, little reminders of happy moments and people she loves.

There’s one of him too, well him and Isaac and Sam and then her at the end of the line. He thinks it was taken at some get-together after a particularly hard-fought win. He likes to know that there’s a picture of him on her wall even if his appearance in the photo is probably more incidental than anything.

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, there is so much he doesn’t know about her. He doesn’t know where she was born or if she has siblings or if she always wanted to be a physiotherapist. But there are things he does know, like the specific way she likes her coffee and that she always gets a snickerdoodle cookie from the bakery down the road from the stadium, every Wednesday without fail. How she scrunches up her nose when she’s frustrated and that she snorts when something makes her laugh really hard.

“His name is Yoda. He’s a papillon and also my best friend.”

“Don’t let Sam hear.”

“Oh, he’s also Sam’s best friend.”

Yoda, it’s a fitting name. He does look like a Yoda.

“So what brings you here, Roy? At uh — “ she glances towards her open kitchen and the digital clock on the microwave “ 1:04 am?”

Should’ve gotten his story straight before he came here. What is he supposed to say? I felt like proper shit and wanted to see your smile? Surely not.

So he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Came to get my jacket back.”

Absolute dumbass.

“Your jacket? Oh uh. sure. Let me go get it.”

She regards him with confusion and curiosity, he can tell she’s not really buying his story.

“Or, if you aren’t in a rush, I was about to pop in a movie and pig out on some popcorn? Do you want to join me?”

This might be the first time he lets her see the smile she continues to put on his face.

“Fuck yeah, what are we watching?”

“Vernon is such a little bitch. Antagonizing fucking teenagers? What a loser."

“Right?,” (Y/N) agrees, taking a sip from her glass of rose before stuffing another handful of buttery popcorn into her mouth. “Bender needed someone to care, not just another adult yelling at him. "Such a loser. Hey, now that I think about it, you do give me John Bender vibes. All broody and mysterious.”

Roy just scoffs in response.

Her eyes fall onto his empty glass of wine resting on the little square table in front of the couch.

“You want a top-up?”

“No, I’m good. I should probably get going.”

He hates to admit it, it’s something he’ll take to the grave with him, but there’s something about rosé that gets to him. It makes him tipsy immediately. He doesn’t want to go home but the longer he stays the more he opens himself up to saying something stupid and fucking this up — whatever this is.

“Did you walk here?”

“Mmh.”

“Oh well I can’t in good conscience let you walk home, half a bottle of rosé in your system and dealing with all the emotions brought on by the breakfast club. Couldn’t live with myself if you got snatched up and I was the last person to see you alive”

Throwing his own words back at him should be infuriating, annoying. It isn’t. It’s lovely. She’s lovely.

“You can stay if you want. My couch isn’t the biggest but I think you’ll fit just fine.”

The sincerity in her eyes hits him like a dart to the chest. It’s something so simple as offering him her couch for the night but it means everything for a man who has grown so awfully accustomed to loneliness.

“If I stay, will you make me breakfast?”

“Fuck no”

Laughter fills the tiny living room and it takes him a second to realize it’s his own.

“I might be up for a Starbucks run tomorrow morning before work though.”

“Sounds great. I love peppermint lattes, those are fucking delicious.”

She grants him another smile as she gathers their glasses and the empty bottle and brings them to the kitchen before returning with a fluffy pink blanket for him. He thinks that smile could’ve just about killed him, thinks he might just die right here on her couch and it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Well goodnight, then. Hope you don’t mind Yoda”

The dog is curled up on Roy’s chest like a little bagel. It’s gonna be annoying later, he’s sure but hell will freeze over before he disturbs the little pup.

“That’s fine.”

“He snores, just thought you should know.”

“Makes two of us then, hope he doesn’t mind.”

Another laugh. Another tiny heart attack.

She’s by the door, just about to turn off the light and plunge the room into darkness, when she hesitates for a moment.

“Hey Roy,”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry you guys lost today and I — I can see you struggling but I just wanted you to know that it was not your fault. I need you to know that.”

The entire way here, he tried to make himself rationalize that. Make himself understand that losing is part of the game and that he did his best. But knowing your best might not be good enough anymore is a hard fucking pill to swallow.

Hearing her say that it’s not his fault, it takes the weight off for a moment. Not all the way, never all the way. But a tiny little bit and that’s a whole lot already.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Night, Roy.”

He falls asleep with the taste of rosé on his tongue, the snoring of a little dog in his ears, and the sight of her on his mind, all sleepy eyes and messy hair. She never looked better.

It looks good on you & I like your laugh

He’s positively buzzing with euphoria. They won, something no one thought was possible. They won and he scored the winning goal.

Spirits are high as the team and their friends have taken over the Karaoke place. Shots and drinks flow with no regard to the tab they’re raking up or the headache that awaits each of them tomorrow. None of that matters right now. Tonight is made for celebrating. Consequences don’t exist right here and now.

Rebecca burns the house down with her rendition of let it go and after a short intermission by Dani, singing a Spanish song that neither of them managed to join in with their non-existent knowledge of the language, the opening chords to another familiar song fill the room.

“Well, thanks for making us all look like amateurs, Rebecca,” (Y/N) says into the microphone as she takes her place on stage. Her words are laced with happiness and laughter and Roy thinks she must have him under some spell because he can’t manage to not smile when she’s around. It’s a bit ridiculous if he’s being honest.

“I will most definitely not be able to live up to that performance but I thought we could stay in the Disney bubble for a moment.”

Her eyes meet his across the room and when she winks at him it takes everything in him not to get up on stage and devour her. Fucking irritating.

“I know you all know this song so sing along if you feel like it. This one’s for you, John Bender.”

He knows it’s one of the cheesiest love songs ever, written for a movie about a cartoon lion. But sitting on the couch at the karaoke place surrounded by his team, having just scored a winning goal and listening to the girl that haunts his dreams sing straight to him and only him, he thinks Elton has a point. He can feel the love tonight. It’s in the smiles of his friends, and the voices coming together all chaotic and off-key singing along to the song. And there is love in her eyes, clear as day and undeniable.

“And can you feel the love tonight How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds Believe the very best”

The night is coming to an end, everyone’s found their way to their respective rooms — or whoever’s room they felt like staying at. Roy’s pretty sure he saw Rebecca’s friend enter Ted’s room but that’s none of his fucking business, is it?

“Okay, you can’t laugh though!” (Y/N)’s voice calls out from the bathroom and drifts towards the main part of the room where Roy is perched on the chair by the window.

This isn’t his room and really he knows he shouldn’t be here. But being alone right now sounded like proper torture. He wasn’t ready to leave this magical night behind yet. Not like this. Not when she sang to him and he had nothing to give her in return. So when she invited him to her room to watch yet another John Hughes movie on Netflix, he couldn’t do anything but accept.

“Are you sleeping in one of those weird fluffy onesies?”

“No, god no.”

“Then I don’t know why I’d laugh at you.”

When she steps into the room, he can see why she’d think he’d laugh at her choice of sleepwear. The white shirt looks not so white anymore, there is a hole at the bottom and a mysterious red stain by the collar. It doesn’t make him laugh though. It makes him fucking hard. Because that’s his name on the back of it. That’s a 2014 world cup Roy Kent England Jersey.

“Fuck me.”

He doesn't mean to let it slip but alcohol and euphoria have made his lips go loose.

“I knoooow, it’s embarrassing. I meant to bring something else but it’s just so comfortable.”

“It looks good on you.”

It does. He thought the green dress was it. Then he thought she looked absolutely adorable, all sleepy and natural. But this? This is the look that pushes him over the edge. This is everything.

“Yeah?” she asks and twirls around the room, not unlike Phoebe whenever Roy gifts her yet another new princess dress. He’s just such a sucker, can never say no when she asks him for something. “You just wait and see, I’ll steal your job soon enough.”

That makes him erupt into laughter yet again, he doesn’t think he’s laughed quite as much lately as when he is with her.

“I’ve seen you attempt to play before. I’m not worried.”

“I like your laugh,” she says, all warm eyes and wistful smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Something takes over, an invisible force pulling him to his feet and making him walk up to her. She’s leaning against the wall as he places one hand on her hip, the other on the wall next to her head. This shouldn’t be happening, he knows this. It’s dumb to believe that whatever tension there is between them can lead to anything. That’s just not in the cards for him no matter how much he wishes for it.

Girls like her don’t fall for boys like him. They never did, they never will.

“Roy Kent, you won today.”

Winning the game is the last thing on his mind right now. How could he ever think about winning right this moment when her hand is softly resting on his cheek and her nose gently nuzzling against his and the —

A knock on the door cuts through the moment making Roy let go and take a step back.

“Fucks sake.”

In his defense, Sam looks apologetic as he stands in front of the door, signature smile on his face. Good-natured and lovable. If this was any other moment Roy wouldn’t have been able to be mad at him. But this is that moment and he is a little pissed right now.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to disturb, I was just wondering if you had another phone charger. I can’t find mine and I know you always bring extra so — “

“Uh, yeah let me go get it real quick.” (Y/N) says and turns back towards the room.

Roy’s eyes connect with hers for a split second and it’s like a bucket of ice straight over his head. They both know whatever magical spell they had been under, it’s broken and gone and all that’s left now is a big old pile of what-ifs.

“It’s getting late, I should leave. Goodnight, (Y/N). Night, Sam.”

“We’ll reschedule, yeah?”

Tiny smile on his lips he nods his head in agreement.

He gets a soft “goodnight” in return and though he hates to admit it, the touch of her hand against his cheek lingers there all the way to his room and even further into his dreams.

Call me when you get home & We’ll figure it out

Rain pounds against the roof and windows like tiny bullets. A rainstorm has Richmond tight in its clutches so cruel and unforgiving the team can’t even train right now.

And yet for some reason Roy still finds himself in the workout room, trying to push himself to do just 5 more minutes on the treadmill. Just 5 more.

Actually, it’s not entirely true. He knows why he’s here. Part of him hopes that if he just pushes himself enough, he can overcome the pain in his leg and all the issues it causes. That if he just tries harder, he can go back to being the talented overachiever he used to be.

But it hurts. A sharp stabbing pain rushes through his knee forcing him to step off the treadmill. He hates this. In fact, it’s his worst fucking nightmare. Football is all he’s ever been good at, he can’t lose that. It’s his entire life.

If he’s not Roy the footballer, who is he? Some bloke named Roy with a dead career and no one to come home to? Now doesn’t that sound delightful?

"Roy?"

“Jesus, fuck!”

There she goes again giving him a heart attack, only this time it’s not because she’s being cute or anything.

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The smile on her face falls as she catches sight of him holding onto his knee. He can almost see the thoughts running through her head. She knows about his knee. If anyone knows how bad it is, it’s her. She told him not to overdo it. Said that would only make it worse.

He knows she has pity on him and he hates it. It’s irritating coming from everyone. Irritating and misplaced. Why would they pity him? It’s his own damn fault for not being good enough anymore.

But coming from her? That’s even worse. No one wants a guy that’s getting too old to do his job properly. That’s falling apart and breaking.

— Not that he wants her or anything. Oh, Roy, who are you trying to fool here? Of course, he wants her.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”

She raises her eyebrow in disbelief, in that bratty way that drives him crazy.

“I said I’m fine, (Y/N).”

“I hear what you’re saying,” she says and comes to stand next to him, crossing her arms in defiance. “but I can also see the way you’re holding your knee and that face you’re making. You’re in pain, love.”

Love. He doesn’t hate how it sounds when she calls him that. Irritating for sure but also — sweet.

“I’ll be fine! What are you even doing here?”

He hasn’t seen a lot of her ever since the night in Liverpool and while part of him was quite glad about it because he honestly wasn’t sure whether or not to bring up whatever had or had not happened between them, another part of him had missed her smile desperately.

“I work here.”

“You’re a fucking smartass, aren’t you.”

“I try.”

Fuck, even when she’s being deliberately difficult she manages to pull a smirk from him.

“I had some paperwork to do but by the time I arrived here, the storm was so bad that now I have to wait for it to stop before I can drive home. I hate driving when it rains.”

“Oh you should,” Roy returns, nodding his head in agreement “You’re a horrible driver in the best of weather.”

She responds with a scandalized gasp and a hand placed on her heart in mock upset “I am not a horrible driver! Take that back.”

“It took you 18 minutes to park your car the other day. I know because I saw it, we all saw it. Boys took the time and had bets going. Jamie won 20 quid.”

“Wha — okay I’ll have to have a word with the guys, you’re ridiculous. But don’t think you can change the topic on me, Mister. Is your knee getting worse?”

Yes, and he fucking hates it. Can’t even say the words out loud because that feels like admitting defeat. And that’s a terrifying thing to do.

Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have to say anything. A look is all it takes and she nods her head in understanding.

“That’s okay, Roy. We’ll figure something out.”

We will figure something out. We as in him and her. Since pretty much the beginning of his professional career, Roy had admirers. People who would latch onto everything he did or said and hold him to abnormally high standards he would never be able to reach. They adored him but they also didn’t know him. She knows him even when he tries so hard to keep her at arm's length. She knows him and is still in his corner, still has his back. The only people who ever did that were his family.

It’s an unusual feeling but he really really likes it. Even if it’s a little terrifying.

“What if — “ he takes a deep breath, trying to form the words that weigh so heavy on his heart “What if I can’t go back to how it used to be? What if this is the end for me?”

“Do you want me to be honest or nice?”

“Lay it on me then.”

“Things might not get back to how they used to be and there’s not really much you can do about it other than learn to accept it and then figure out a new place for yourself.”

“Football is all I have.”

“That’s not true but even if it was there is so much more about it than just the players.”

She’s right but it’s still a bitter pill to swallow.

“…and with that smile of yours, you can always go into modeling. I’m sure they’re always looking for new faces in the toothpaste commercial business.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“See! There’s that smile I was talking about.”

“You’re fucking insufferable sometimes.”

She is. He adores it.

“Oh, but you like it — right?”

“What?”

“You do — like it? Like me?”

It’s the first time he’s seen her act insecure. She’s always so bubbly and happy and smiling, he hates that he put any doubt in her mind that he does anything but cherish her.

“You irritate me, woman. Drive me up the fucking wall, every day.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No! Don’t say sorry. I love it. I think you’re a fucking knockout. Best thing since sliced bread.”

He does, he truly does and it feels nice to say it out loud for once. To admit it to her and to himself. It feels nice when she comes closer and when she rests her arms around his neck and it feels fucking phenomenal when her nose brushes past his and he can almost feel her lips on his.

Almost.

That’s until her phone beeps and she pulls away altogether.

“Ah shit, I gotta go.”

“Fuck sake. The universe hates me.”

“The universe doesn’t hate you, Roy Kent. We just have bad timing. ”

He’s not convinced.

“What about the storm?”

“I think the rain stopped, listen.”

Roy hears nothing. Where raindrops were drumming against the roof and windows just minutes ago, there is silence. He’s never wished for a rainstorm to persist more than he does at that moment.

“Well, call me when you get home at least. Roads will still be wet.”

“Aw, Roy, are you worried about me?”

His lips say no, but his eyes and his smile tell a different story.

You can stay & Is this okay? Can I hold your hand?

This is it. This is the end. He’s seen this one coming for a while now but he tried so hard. He trained and pushed and it was all for nothing. They’re losing and his career as an active footballer is over for good.

The door to the locker room opens slowly, almost cautiously and he’s just about to yell and whoever dares to disturb him, when his head snaps up and he sees (Y/N) standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing here? Game is still going, you’re the fucking Physio.”

“Good thing there’s more than one of us. I have to make sure all my players are okay.”

I’m not okay. That’s what he wants to say. He wants to scream it from the rooftops. He’s not okay. He’s not sure he ever will be.

“Get out, (Y/N).”

She can’t see him like this. Defeated. Broken. Old.

Instead of listening to him, she sits down beside him and holds an ice pack to his injured knee.

“As a physio, I need to tell you that what you did was really stupid.”

He knows it was. It was a calculated risk he was willing to take and if nothing else, he kept Jamie from scoring and the fans appreciated it. That was all that mattered at that moment.

“But as a friend and Richmond fan, I think it was brilliant. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself in the process.”

Silence settles over them and (Y/N) is just about to get back up when he grabs onto her arm and pulls her back down. “You can stay.”

“Okay.”

And for a long while they just sit. No words, no expectations. Just them.

Softly, almost like a whisper, he feels her touch against his hand, sliding her fingers between his.

“Is this okay? Can I hold your hand?”

It’s not okay. It’s phenomenal. It’s everything he could’ve wished for in that moment but never would’ve had the nerve to ask. It’s a promise that he isn’t alone in this. There is someone there holding his hand through the darkest of times.

A green light guiding him to safe shores.

“Don’t you fucking dare let go.”

Stay there, I’m coming to get you & I can't wait for tomorrow

Turns out, retiring from a successful football career does not mean you suddenly have a lot of free time. In fact, Roy doesn’t think he’s ever been this busy doing shit he doesn’t like.

Everyone wants an interview, a statement, a “what happens next”. It’s a lot of paperwork and contracts and shit he doesn’t care about. The point is, he’s fucking busy. So busy he hasn’t seen (Y/N) in quite a few days. Nothing has really changed since their moment in the locker room but somehow everything feels different.

It’s exactly 4:12 am when his phone rings. He almost doesn’t want to answer but calls at 4am usually mean bad news and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to his sister or Phoebe or (Y/N) or even (and he will deny this if you ask him about it) Jamie just because he couldn’t be bothered to answer his phone.

“Hello?”

“Royoooo.”

Oh. Oh!

A smirk pulls at his lips.

“(Y/N)?”

“Sorry —” she says and stops for a giggle “Sorry to wake you. I just — I was out with the girls and I didn’t plan on drinking but I did. They had a buy one get one free deal. It would be stupid to say no, right?”

“Right.”

"So, yeah."

“Go on. Didn’t just call me to tell me about the drinks, did you.”

“Oh, no. I just wanted to talk to you while I wait for my Uber. I miss you.”

“Do you?”

“So much!” her words are slow and slightly slurred. “Every fucking day. Like — god, I just wanna see your stupid handsome face.”

“It’s handsome, innit?”

“You have no idea! I just want to kiss you, so badly.”

Kiss him. She wants to kiss him. Sure, it almost happened twice but it’s still different hearing her outright say it. But then again, she’s drunk and by the time she wakes up tomorrow, she probably won’t remember half of what she’s saying right now.

“Where are you?”

“It’s that weird little bar around the corner from Sam’s restaurant. The one with the green door.”

“Go on and cancel that Uber.”

“Then how am I going to get home?”

“Stay there, I’m coming to get you.”

Roy isn’t quite certain whether or not he considers himself a good person. He tries to be, it’s a conscious effort each and every day. He tries to be a good person and a good person doesn’t let the woman he’s absolutely head over heels for wait outside in the cold dark night by herself. No matter how infuriating she is.

“Okay,” she agrees, a giggle slipping past her lips “Thank you. Can’t wait to see you.”

And though Roy had other plans for his weekend than picking up a drunk girl at 4 in the morning, he also can’t wait to see her.

“…and like it was mostly sugar, right? So I thought why not have another one. Turns out it was mostly vodka.”

“Who could’ve guessed.”

She’s cuddled up on his couch in one of his shirts looking into his eyes and retelling her night in vivid detail. Her story is slurred and a bit all over the place, blame it on her tipsy brain. It takes her forever to get to the point and when she does, the point doesn’t even make all that much sense. It doesn’t matter, he’d listen to her ramble forever if it meant he got to spend time with her wearing his shirt sitting on his couch — looking into his eyes.

“You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”

“I know,” she shrugs then scoots closer to him and wraps her arms around his “but you’re here so it’s only half as bad really.”

“If I’m feeling generous I’ll even make you breakfast.”

“You really are the dream, Roy Kent.”

She’s clawing at his chest, prying open his ribcage and burying herself where his heart used to be. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

“You have to stop saying shit like that. People are gonna think you’re in love with me or something.”

She pulls away slightly and looks up at him with those big eyes of hers before resting one hand on his cheek.

“Roy, I am. I thought you knew.”

He had a hunch, of course. Fostered a spark of hope in his heart that there could be something between them after all. But once you grow accustomed to loneliness it’s a little hard to let yourself believe.

“Do I need to show you to believe me?”

She pulls his face closer to hers and for a millisecond he wants to let go, but when he smells the alcohol on her breath he pulls back. This isn’t right.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re off your tits. I’m not kissing you like this. Our first kiss is not going to be some inebriated tongue-wagging. You hear me? I’m a hopeless fucking romantic, that kiss is gonna be special. I’m gonna kiss you stupid.”

She bites her lips to suppress the smile from taking over.

“So if I were to ask again tomorrow, you’d say yes?”

“Mh.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

At that she snuggles further into his arms and rests her head against his shoulder, a content smile on her face as she closes her eyes.

“Oh, I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

He doesn’t admit it, but neither can he.

I think you're beautiful & I’ll meet you halfway

“Roy?”

Her voice echoes through his house as the eggs sizzle on the stove.

“Why is there a small child looking at me?”

“Phoebe, stop staring at her you little creep!”

“She’s so pretty.”

She has a point.

10 minutes later the girls join him in the kitchen, walking in hand in hand and big smiles on their faces. Seeing them get along makes his heart grow approximately 12 sizes. That being said, the two of them teaming up against him sounds like trouble to him. Good trouble though. Trouble he loves to deal with.

“Good morning, Roy.”

“Morning. Pheebs, go sit down, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Okay, Uncle Roy.”

Once she’s out of the immediate earshot he turns back towards (Y/N). Though she tried her best to conceal it, yesterday's makeup is still smudged around her eyes and her hair is a downright mess. She’s wearing his shirt though, standing barefoot in his kitchen after bonding with his niece.

Sometimes life is fucking sweet.

“Don’t look at me like that, I know I look like a mess.”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“You’re delusional.”

“That’s not what you said last night. Think you called me the fucking dream if I recall correctly. Said you were in love with me.”

(Y/N) leans against the kitchen island, her hands flat against the countertop and her eyes trained on Roy.

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

Roy mirrors her position, arms resting on the kitchen island across from her. God, she really is so beautiful.

“Remember what you said?”

“Do you?”

“You promised me something, Roy.”

Roy Kent doesn’t make promises lightly. He thinks there’s hardly anything quite as heartbreaking and awful as breaking a promise. He prides himself in keeping all the ones he’s made.

It’s only right to keep this one too.

“Phoebe,” he calls out to the little girl without moving his eyes away from (Y/N) for even a second “Blindfold!”

The 6-year-old slaps her tiny hands over her eyes obeying her uncle's orders with no hesitation and no questions asked. He’s proud of her. Silly little idiot.

Leaning across the counter, his lips almost reach (Y/N)’s. She’s so close. So close.

Only —

“Fuck, I can’t reach. My knee.”

There’s so much love in her eyes as she regards him. It almost knocks him out.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you halfway,” She says and gets up on her tiptoes.

Across the counter their lips meet. There are no fireworks or butterflies or an angel choir singing. But there is her tasting of toothpaste and smelling his deodorant. Her and the feeling of belonging. Of comfort and domesticity and love. He loves this woman, undeniably and irrevocably.

It’s a great kiss. Fucking mindblowing. There is no need for rom-com-induced fairytale fantasies when you have the real thing and it is so much better than any story could ever be.

“Hey Roy,” she whispers against his lips as they come up for air.

“Hmm?”

“The eggs are burning.”

“Fuck!”

“You owe me a pound, Uncle Roy!”

Irritating! Both of them.

They’re his whole entire heart.

I love you & I love you

“I love you.”

It’s a normal fucking Tuesday when she says it for the first time. Really says it. Using those exact words. There’s nothing special about that day but with those words, she puts magic into it. The way she puts magic into his life every single day.

“Fuck you!”

“Sorry, what?”

She’s laughing. She’s always laughing and smiling that goddamn smile that makes him go all soft inside. Beautiful, lovely, knockout that she is.

“I said fuck you. I’ve been thinking about how to tell you all fucking week and here you go and say it first. You’re infuriating.”

Softly she rolls over so she’s resting on his chest, fingers softly tracing patterns into his skin.

“You’ve said it a million times before, Roy.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

Can’t hurt to say it again.

“I know. I knew. I always knew. From the moment you gave me your jacket.”

Of course, she knew. She took one look at him and it was like she got a view straight into his soul. Straight into his heart with all the vices and virtues, all his triumphs and defeats. All the good and the bad.

How fucking irritating. He loves her for it.

#roy kent x reader #roy kent x female reader #roy kent x f!reader #roy kent x fem!reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent imagines #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #inbloomwriting

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Unexpectedly Yours: Part 12

Fandom: Ted Lasso (Regency AU)

Pairing: Roy Kent x F!Reader

Summary: Lord Roy Kent still has yet to marry. He hates the notion that marriage is a way to ensure your status in society. You have delayed your debut to society for years because of the same idea. So what happens when two people who hate the idea of marriage are constantly drawn to each other?

Warning: sexual assault - noncon kissing

A/N: I have like 3 more chapters of this left and this series will be done!

Series Masterlist

"My lord, there's a-"

"Send her in," Roy grunts out, not looking up from the paperwork he has in front of him.

When the door to his study opens, he's hit with a strong familiar scent. He was expecting you, but that's not who stands before him. He looks up slowly and grits out, "Georgina."

"I'm sorry to appear unannounced," Roy's former fiancee looks at him sheepishly.

"And why are you here?"

She winces at his malice tone, "I needed to see you, speak with you. After seeing you at that ball, I-I've been thinking about you."

Roy narrows his eyes at her, "That right?"

"I regret breaking off our engagement. While I live a very fulfilling life, I-Rupert...he doesn't love me. Not as much as I thought he did."

Roy cocks a brow at her and she continues, "At the beginning of the marriage, he was very...attentive, loving. Now we rarely spend time together. I know he's having an affair with one of my handmaidens. It's-This is isn't the type of marriage I wanted from him."

He hums and stands, walking to the other side of his desk to stand before his former love, "I'm sorry to hear that, Georgina, but I don't know what you want me to do."

"Help me annul the marriage. Once my marriage with Rupert is annulled," she steps closer and runs her hands up her chest, "We can be together."

Roy's jaw clenches, "You already know that I am engaged to Y/N L/N."

The woman scoffs, "But she doesn't know you like I do, know how to...fill you with desire like I do," she pulls Roy by the collar of his shirt, pressing her lips to his.

"Alright, my love, we mustn't keep mother wait-" you step into Roy's study just in time to see Roy and Georgina break apart. You stand there frozen in confusion, looking back and forth between Georgina and Roy.

Roy immediately rushes to you, "Y/N, this isn't what it looks like."

You scoff, "Right," you turn on your heel and march out of Roy's study, trying to keep your composure.

"Y/N, please-"

"No," you abruptly turn around, catching Roy by surprise, "Here's what's going to happen, Lord Kent." he winces at the use of formalities, "I will go out to that carriage and tell my mother that you got caught up in business and you won't be able to make it. You will not follow me or try to contact me for the rest of the day."

Roy gulps and solemnly nods, "Alright."

"Enjoy the rest of your time with the Duchess, Lord Kent," you sneer and you're out of the Kent Estate, climbing into the carriage. Roy listens as the sound fades further and further away.

"Now, where were we?" Georgina's hand snakes up his chest again and he grabs it, tightly.

"You are to leave my property at once. Not only have you upset my finacee, but you might have ruined my chances to being with the woman that I truly love." he practically throws her hand away from him, "I will not help you nor will I indulge you in whatever fantasy you have of us being together again. I don't love you anymore, Georgina. Now leave."

The woman turns her nose up into the air, "Fine, but when she can't satisfy you like I can, don't bother reaching out to me."

Roy scoffs, "Don't worry, I won't." He watches as Georgina exits his home and as soon as the door closes behind her and hangs his head low. He runs a hand down his face and groans, "Fuuuuuck."

#roy kent #roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #ted lasso imagine #regency au #regency era au #f!reader #fem!reader #female!reader

[axelsagewrites]

Roy Kent*Future Mrs Gramma

Pairing: roy x f!reader, bestie!jamie x platonic reader

Word count: 1240

Warnings: drinking, angry roy, swearing

Masterlist Here

You and Jamie were the type of friends that wouldn’t see ach other for weeks, months even, then as soon as the other came into sight you were barrelling into their arms for a hug and to jump right back into your last conversation. So, when Jamie found out you were moving to London, only a ten-minute drive from his work no less, he was ecstatic to say the least.

As much as you loved Jamie you never particularly cared about football which weirdly made your friendship better but after Jamie had come round for drinks at your new flat in your drunken haze you decided it was a great idea to go down to Richmond to continue the celebrations. It only took 20 quid and a questionable grounds keeper to get in and soon you were drinking in the stands with your best friend.

“I’m on top of the world!” Jamie half screamed, standing on top of the seat beside where you sat.

You giggled as you hauled yourself up to stand on the seat next to him, “Woohoo!”

-

The sun light pierced your skull as your eyes slowly began to drag themselves open. The piercing ring of a whistle burned your ear as you pulled yourself up. Looking around you remembered where you were. Fuck. You and Jamie must’ve fallen asleep last night lying on the ground in a row of seats at least 15 rows back. On the upside this meant the footballers on the pitch couldn’t see you as they practised but, on the downside, they were already here!?

“Pst, Jamie,” you whispered as you shoved at the lump whose head had been lying opposite of yours. Jamie just mumbled something as he rolled on his side. Almost as if fate you could hear a very deep, and very angry voice yell “where the fuck is Tartt?”

“Get up,” you gritted your teeth, holding back gagging as you tried to both nurse your hangover and wake up the log beside you. you sighed before pinching his nose.

Jamie began to flap, swatting at your hands, before managing to sit up and out of your grip, “What the fuck man?” he yelled before his eyes fell to the pitch, “Fuck,” he mumbled as you face palmed.

“Tartt!” the voice screamed, heavy footsteps following.

Thank god you were at the furthest away seats. “It was nice knowing you Jamie,” you sighed, patting his shoulder.

“You’re fucked if he catches you too, ya know?”

“Fuck,” you looked up over the seat to see a relatively built man in his 30s thundering over to the section you were in.

“Who the hell is there?” the gruff voice called out as he climbed into the stands.

It was now or never. thank god your parents forced you to do track you thought as you pulled yourself to your feet and began to book it. you heard Jamies cheers as you began to essentially jump down the rows over the seats, all while trying not to spew. The man trying to catch you paused, debating which person to chase first as Jamie took off running the other way.

Sadly, he chose you. however luckily for you he tried to chase you into the seats, and you were, somehow, faster than him despite him being a professional footballer. The number of times you and Jamie had to run away from the people he’d mouthed off to had apparently came in handy as you jumped out the stands, onto the pitch, and began to sprint.

You could hear the man start to chase you but refused to turn around, instead heading straight to the exit, screaming, “I fucking hate you Jamie!” as you ran. Somehow you made it to the parking lot with the worst stitch of your life and a snapchat from Jamie keeled over laughing at the side of the pitch.

-

You swore from then on to avoid Richmond like the plague. That was until Jamie texted you saying he needed a lift cause his car had a flat tire. as you sat in the parking lot, tapping on your steering wheel bored out your nut you heard the metal door clang as it slammed open. You looked up, half expecting to see Jamie, and instead finally seeing those angry eyes up close. “Oh fuck,”

“You!” you could see him mouth, his finger jabbing at you as you locked the car doors. He stormed over, tapping on your window.

You let it down ever so slightly, “Hello,” you said, as if nothing had happened.

“Hi,”

“Can I help you?”

“Can you fucking-I-how-I mean-you run fucking fast!” he eventually managed out prompting you to raise an eyebrow, “Aren’t you gonna roll your window down all the way?”

“Last time I saw you, you were chasing me,”

“That’s cause you and your prick boyfriend broke into the stadium,”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said, and a strange look washed over his face you couldn't quite read, “Besides he said you made him run 30 laps hungover. I think we’re even,”

This time he squinted, his weird look vanishing, “Maybe I should make you run 30 laps,”

You couldn’t help but snort at his words, “Id like to see you fucking try,” you said as a few other footballers began to walk out, all looking away when he glared at them, “Roy, right?”

“Yeah, who are you?” he asked. You figured with witnesses now he couldn’t murder you so rolled the window down all the way and stuck your hand out to introduce yourself. His shake was firm, his skin rough as sandpaper, but for some reason you were sad to let go, “Id like to say it was nice to meet you,”

“Don’t worry,” you said, turning the car on when you saw Jamie finally sauntering out, “feelings mutual,” you said before beeping your horn and leaning out the window, “Get a fucking move on mate,” you called at Jamie before ducking back into the car. “And don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson. I hate running,”

“Me too,”

You tilted your head in confusion, a trait Roy found oddly endearing, “You’re a footballer?”

“I know,” he said as if talking to a small child making you roll your eyes, “What can I say? I’m a fucking idiot,”

“Alright grampa don’t be too hard on yourself,” Jamie grinned as he climbed into the passenger seat. You however turned around and smacked his arm, “Eh! What’s that for?”

“You told me three. Its fucking almost four you twat,”

“Practise ran over! blame him,” he said, pointing at Roy who was already rolling his eyes.

“Call us even then?” you sighed, turning to Roy. He nodded and started to walk away as you put the car into first gear only to be interrupted by Roy walking back over, “You, okay?”

“Yeah, just wondering,” he paused for a second, “You gonna be at the next game?”

You glanced at Jamie whose eyes were bulging out his sockets before laughing. “Dunno, should I be?”

“Wouldn’t mind it if you were,”

“Might just come then,” you grinned, “See you around Roy,” you said but all he did was nod and step away so you could finally drive off.

Jamie groaned as you drove out the parking lot, “Oh god you’re gonna fuck a grampa,”

“Not just any grampa,” you laughed at him, “I’m gonna be your step gramma.”

Ted Lasso Taglist: @gee72sstuff

General Taglist: @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate

#ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso x reader #ted lasson smut #ted lasso season one #roy kent #roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent x y/n #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff #roy kent fanfic

[discokicks]

BAD IDEAS (ON THE SAME PAGE) — JAMIE TARTT

a fic inspired by bad idea right by olivia rodrigo!

masterlist! song inspo! AO3!

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: football star jamie tartt is an asshole. he’s the one ex of yours that your friends always hated, one that you now all joke about, and one you haven’t spoken to in four years. however, after a chance encounter, the two of you reconnect, and he leaves you with his new number and a hundred questions about his reformed personality. but seeing him tonight would be a bad idea, right?

word count & rating: 11k (wowza), M! (18+! minors get away or i’ll narc on you to your guardians)

warnings: SMUUUUUUT, porn with plot, lots of suggestive language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sprinkling of a handjob, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), angst, mentions of alcohol, probable secondhand embarrassment, exes reuniting (it needs a warning sometimes), jamie tartt was an asshole and is now just a prick (in the best way possible), reader is a physio, major fluff, and swearing. also reader is american (bc the author is too. sorry </3)

authors note: well. i wrote it. olivia wrote this song for teenage girls in their twenties (me) only and i immediately thought of this fic the second i heard it. i'm calling this an exercise in smut writing before i embark on my aces (my roy kent series for my new friends) eventual-smut-adventure, so this evolved into something i wasn’t expecting but i had so much fucking fun writing it. god, i love jamie tartt. also! this is my first smut fic at this type of level, so go easy on me. hope you all enjoy. love you all tons! -mags

There are two universal truths in life. 

The first is that the coffee shop you frequent on your way to work will and will always have the best cold brew you’ve ever tasted. The second is that Jamie Tartt will and will always be a massive fucking prick, and you’ll never see him again for as long as you live.

These are two things you live by, and while they may seem rather mundane or petty in the grand scheme of things, they are the only truths you can count on these days. Especially when everything else is so up in the air.

However, the universe doesn’t seem to believe in these things as blindly as you do, and this becomes evident the moment that you step into the shop on a gloomy Wednesday morning. Because these two truths (well, they’re fucking bald-faced lies now aren’t they, huh?) are broken within approximately two minutes of each other with seven words.

It began when you greeted Natalia, the barista who was here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before your shift at the clinic with a wide smile. As soon as she saw your face, her expression turned apologetic, albeit a bit dazed.

“You’re gonna hate me,” she says, putting her hands on either side of the register. Your brows shot up at her words. “We just ran out of cold brew.”

Your face falls. “You’re kidding.”

“We were low on it this morning,” she starts to explain, “our stupid night-shifters didn’t prep enough last night. And it’s been selling like crazy today.”

“Seriously?” you nearly whine. “I might cry.”

“I’m sorry, Doc,” she apologizes, but she doesn’t sound too apologetic. Natalia’s eyes keep shifting to your left, the dazed look in her eye never faltering. Then, she says the fated seven words. “But he took the last of it.”

You turn your head in the direction she’s been looking, and your blood runs completely cold. You think you could drop dead and go to hell at this very moment, and it’d be a better existence than what awaits you in the next five minutes. And while this all may sound dramatic, you don’t care. 

You don’t care because Jamie fucking Tartt is standing across from you, newly long hair peeking out from beneath his hood. He’s engrossed in whatever’s on his phone, fingers flying back and forth like he’s texting. 

You think you could run. You’re pretty sure you could successfully make a break for it and leave Natalia high and dry without him seeing you. It’d be an easy exit, and you’d never have to see him again.

But then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks up. And the second he meets your gaze, his face falls in what you can imagine was a similar fashion to yours. 

Fuck.

Luckily, Natalia is none the wiser. She barely notices your expression, and with Jamie by the pick-up area, she can’t see the way he’s looking at you. So, instead of questioning you, she straight-up giggles.

“I know,” she practically squeals. “I was totally going to save you the last of it, but he asked for it. And I mean, c’mon. It’s Jamie Tartt. I couldn’t possibly say no to him.”

You tragically know that feeling all too well. Knowing you probably would have had a snappier, more cutting response to that if you weren’t in the most debilitating phase of shock, you settle for a quiet, “It’s okay.” You nod at her, brushing it off in an attempt to be casual. “I can settle for an espresso today.”

Natalia nods, tapping it into her register. “Same size as usual?”

“Yeah,” you say, not completely sure what you’re agreeing to. You glance over again at Jamie and find that he’s still standing there, staring at you, and you immediately blink away. “That’s fine.”

The rest of the transaction feels as though it takes a millennium and three seconds all at once. You’re still caught off guard by the time Natalia gives you your receipt with a dazed look in your eye that now matches hers. 

However, yours isn’t because you just saw your favorite Richmond player or your favorite reality show villain. It’s because you’ve just seen your ex-boyfriend and you’re about to walk over and stand next to him for a prolonged period of time.

Nothing about this scenario feels real. You hadn’t seen him in four years. Not since things ended as ugly as they had, with him leaving you sobbing outside of a club at three in the morning, letting you know that things were over between you two. And he hadn’t even given you a reason. It was just that he wasn’t ‘feeling’ it anymore.

You saw in a tabloid about three months later that he was now seeing Keeley Jones (yeah, having to compete with that did not sit well with you at all) and had drawn your assumptions from there. Whether or not he’d been seeing her behind your back or had broken up with you to be with her, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You were in your anger stage of the break-up and only knew one thing.

Jamie Tartt was a massive fucking prick, and you’d sooner walk on a bed of nails before you saw him again.

But now here he was. And there were no nails to be found.

You avoid eye contact as you pass him to wait for your coffee. There’s a piece of you that wants to say hi and play it cool, just to put on a show for him about how unaffected you were by everything that had happened. The other piece of you hopes that not a word is said for your entire time here.

Unfortunately, neither of those happen.

Jamie slides over to be near you, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands are stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket, and you wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t.

Instead, you can feel the ‘play it cool’ part of you rise up to the surface. You could do this. You could feign indifference. Fuck him, you could be cool.

You glance over at him and see that he’s pressing his lips together, eyes shifting around the coffee shop. It’s crazy how familiar you still are with his tells to know he’s desperately looking for a way to say something. 

You say it for him. “Hi,” you say simply. Cool and unaffected.

It’s as if the one word alone makes him flinch. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Hi—” He clears his throat after his greeting comes out cracked, and he stuffs his hands further in his pockets. “Hey.”

The awkwardness of this moment is killing you, and it’s taking everything in you to pretend like it's not. As you search for something else to say, you land on, “You took my cold brew.”

You can see his brows shoot up out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, fuck, did I?” 

You nod slowly. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I come in here every morning. Friends with the barista. Said she was going to save me the last of it, but…” You trail off and finally look at him. “She couldn’t say no to Jamie Tartt, apparently.”

You want to jump up and down about how well you’re doing right now. Maybe you are over him. Maybe you’ve finally moved past this shit, and seeing him once more is all you needed to solidify that. Maybe—

The second he chuckles softly with an apologetic smile, your confidence in those things shoots down. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Since when do you drink cold brew, anyway?” you ask, frustrated with the fact that he’s fucking laughing in front of you. “You were always a like, caramel macchiato or frappuccino asshole.”

The names make him laugh harder, shaking his head. “Don’t like those anymore,” he responds. “Sugar hurts me teeth. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “My fucking coffee.”

That chuckle continues with a shrug. “I’m sorry.” he says again. Then he pauses. “But it’s not like your name was on it, or anythin’.”

Your face draws blank, and immediately, Jamie can tell he’s made a misstep. And it’s not that you’re angry about the joke, it’s just the… everything. Him. The situation. Everything you can remember that you wonder if he bothers to remember too.

Before you can walk away, you feel his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats for a third time, turning you so that you’ll look at him. Your pissed-off expression meets his easy smile and it only fuels your anger more. “I was jokin’. I’m sorry I took your coffee. We can get ‘em to put your name on it if you want.”

“Whatever,” you mutter. It’s not the most mature thing you could have said, but frankly, you don’t care. You just want to get your consolation espresso and get the hell out of here. “What are you even doing over here anyway?”

You’re not sure why you ask it. You don’t know why you keep the conversation going. Jamie looks just as surprised as you are. “I moved over here a couple weeks ago,” he answers. “Got sick of the old place.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you reply. By the way that Jamie snorts, you know he recalls just how much you hated his apartment when you knew him. It screamed twenty-two-year-old AFC-money shithead and you would tease him about it constantly. “Was the empty beer bottle sculpture finally giving you mold poisoning?”

He chuckles again. “That came down shortly after we stopped talking.”

“Oh, so I was just lucky enough to see it in its final days?”

“Oi,” he says, pointing at you. “That thing was fuckin’ impressive and you know it.”

“Impressive in a dorm,” you shoot back. “Not a seven million pound flat.”

He bows his head in a guilty manner. “You remember that, huh?”

“Hard not to,” you answer. “You never stopped talking about it.”

He at least has the decency to wince at that one. “I know,” he says earnestly. It makes you look at him. He shrugs once more. “I wanted to impress ya.”

He did impress you. But not with things like that. He’d impress you when you watched him play, he’d impress you when he made you laugh, and he’d impress you on the rare occasion that he’d just be himself in front of you. Not some asshole footballer. Just him.

But you don’t say that. You say, “That wasn’t the way.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Got that now.” He rocks back on his heels again, like he’s not sure if he should say whatever he wants to. “I was a proper fucking dick to you, wasn’t I?”

That almost makes you fall over. Did he just say that? Did he actually just admit that? Out loud, here, for everyone to hear? Accountability? Unprompted? From Jamie Tartt? 

You want to glance around to see if Rod Sterling’s going to emerge from the bathroom to narrate the next couple of minutes of your life, but are too shocked to do so. 

Your surprise must show in your eyes, because Jamie laughs to himself. “Yeah. Wild, innit?” He shakes his head. “On a bit of an apology tour this year. Trying to build back some bridges, or whatever.”

The nod you give him is slow, still reeling from all of this. “Right,” you say lamely. “Building bridges.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you and for a brief moment, you think he may just mean it. The sincerity in his eyes is clear. “I was terrible to you. And I’m sorry.”

Whatever you were expecting when you stepped into this coffee shop on this rainy Wednesday, it certainly wasn’t this. And you certainly weren’t expecting your first time reuniting with him to go this way— with him apologizing to you. The actual words ‘I’m sorry’ just left his mouth. 

You genuinely don’t know who this is. Because it’s certainly not the Jamie you knew.

You saw flashes of this guy. Quiet moments during your short-lived relationship, typically when it was just the two of you. It’s the type of guy you always knew he could be if he tried. The type of guy you pushed him to be. 

(Your friends always taunted you about having the ever-horrendous I-can-fix-him gene, and they never quite let go of it. But it’s not like it wasn’t true.)

Those flashes are why you held out for as long as you did. If it were anyone else, any other asshole who treated you the way he did, you would have dropped them in a second. But he wasn’t like that. Not always, at least.

It was terrible to think like that. You’d been in a low spot when you’d met him and had taken even lower when he left you. You’d recovered tenfold from that and now knew your worth. 

But as he stands in front of you, apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and looking at you like that, you start to question it.

No! the logical part of your brain practically screams. Don’t you fucking dare.

You’re keen to listen to that for the time being. It hardens you. And all you can do is nod at him again. “Well, uh—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You cough awkwardly. “Yeah. You were. Terrible to me. And, uh… thank you. For saying that.”

So much for playing it cool. You want to slam your head up against the wall but hold yourself back from doing so.

He nods at you, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by one of the baristas calling your name. His cold brew’s sitting on the counter too, something the two of you clearly missed in the middle of your conversation.

When you reach for your drink, he grabs his too. He’s still staring at you, biting the inside of his cheek like he wants to say something. When you go to move around him, he stops you.

“Look, I just—” You look up at him expectantly, and his shoulders deflate. “I know you probably want nothin' to do with me. But, I just… I want to talk to you.”

Your espresso is hot in your hands. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

That’s when he says your name. Your actual name. Not the nickname that everyone calls you, not a pet name that he used to use, he says your name. And it makes you stop in your tracks.

It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb that your fucking name can send you back to the day you first met him and were completely taken with him. You hate it. And you hate the way it makes your walls come crumbling down.

“Please,” he begs. “Can we… Can I at least give you my number? It’s a new one, but I-I think I’ve still got yours. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But just so you can… I don’t know? Think about it?”

You wouldn’t know if he still had your number. You blocked him ages ago. But you doubt it. 

However, the more you think about it, the more you consider it. It’s the product of your resolve falling and well, everything else about him now. You think about it.

If you allowed him to give you his number, the ball would be in your court. You could do what you wanted with it. You could text him, you could tell him to fuck off, you could ignore him. It was up to you. 

And you don’t know if that’s worse or better.

You decide on better. The second you sigh, Jamie knows he’s got you. A wide grin breaks out on his face as you hand him your phone. “I’ll think about it,” you mutter. 

That’s good enough for him. He gives your phone back to you, new number inserted and new contact created. You’re glad he didn’t search for his old one. That one just says ASSHOLE in big capital letters with about a million gun emojis. 

(That was done by your previous roommates in an effort to get you to move on from him. You thought it was a bit overdramatic. You were never one for emojis.)

He’s smiling when he holds his coffee out for you. You stare at him blankly, thinking he’s attempting to cheers you. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “Take it.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Trade with me,” he clarifies and your expression turns to one of shock. “C’mon. You said it’s yours anyway, right?” When you don’t move he rolls his eyes. “Offer’s only good for another second. Me arm’s getting tired.”

At that, you sigh rather dramatically and grumble to yourself, trying not to act pleased by the gesture. You hand him your coffee and he gives you his. “Thanks,” you say. It was kind of him. 

His grin returns and he nods at you. “Alright,” he says. After a slightly awkward beat, he steps back from you. “It was good to see you, Doc. Really.” You’re taken back by how genuine his voice sounds and say nothing in return. “I’ll talk to you later?”

He says it as a question, hopeful and well-meaning. “Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally. “Maybe.”

That too, is good enough for him. Because he sends you one more smile, then walks out of the coffee shop with your espresso in hand. 

You’re still reeling from the interaction when you glance down at his your cold brew and see Natalia’s handwriting. She’s made it just as you like it, down to the milk and everything.

But below it is a small drawing. It’s a tiny shark fin with a #9 written inside, with little lettering circling around it.

Doo-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo.

You’re fucked.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” is the question that your best friend and former roommate Leah screams at you over drinks at a busy rooftop bar. So busy, in fact, that barely anyone looks over at the two of you.

You’d made the mistake of telling Leah that not only had you run into Jamie on Wednesday, but you’d let him give you his number. 

And you’d texted him after hours of deliberation.

It was something innocent, something you’d thought way too much about, but innocent still. You weren’t sure if you were ready to actually talk to him, but there was something about texting him that wasn’t so scary. Your guard was clearly still up, evident by how dry you were in your messages, and you were keeping your distance. You never texted back too quickly, didn’t ask many questions, and often left him on read. 

(Yeah, you’d turned your read receipts on for him. What about it?)

Your first text was a simple enough question, something that you’d been genuinely wondering about since you saw him. It was open enough for a conversation but not too forward. how’d you know my coffee order?

His response came in minutes later. Is that yours? Good taste. It was shortly followed up with, That espresso you drink was fucking disgusting though.

And that was that. That was how you started texting your ex again. That’s how you reconnected yourself with Jamie Tartt. That’s how you knew it was over for you.

And that’s how you’re pretty sure you’re about to kill your best friend.

Leah’s eyes were wild, somehow angry yet still disbelieving yet intrigued. But the intrigue was very minimal. Very minimal. It was hidden well by how pissed off she was at you.

She had every right to be pissed at you. She was the one who always warned you about him. She’d straight-up nursed you back to health when you broke up. She was the one who had to hear about him 24 hours a day until you were finally over him.

Leah had had a year of peace. And now you were killing her for good.

“You’re kidding, right?” she follows up with. Her grip on your arm is tight. “Please tell me your kidding.”

“Leah…” Your voice is weak.

It tells her everything she needs to know. “Oh, my God! Oh, my. God.” She puts her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’re fucking losing it and we need to have you checked out right now.”

“I’m completely sentient and in control of my own body.”

“Are you sure?”

You sip at your cocktail. “I reset a knee today. I’m pretty sure.”

“I think you might need to reconsider,” she says. “Because you just told me that not only are you talking to Jamie Tartt again, but you were the one who instigated it!”

You deserve this verbal beatdown and you know it. But all you can do is shrug. “Technically, he gave me his number. He’s the one who instigated it.”

“I’m gonna throw my fucking drink in your face,” Leah threatens, gripping her glass in warning. 

You roll your eyes at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” you say, even though you know you’re probably lying. Leah knows this too. “We’ve just been texting a little. It’s nothing serious.”

“Yeah, sure,” she deadpans. “Right. And even if I did believe you, what happens if it does? What happens if you get back in your weird, scary Jamie phase and he kills you again? I can’t deal with that.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you assure her, and this time it’s more confident. Because you know you won’t. Not this time. Not if anything happens.

You’d met Jamie when you were twenty-two. You were in your first year of your Masters program, slightly lost as in your move to London to finish your journey to become a physical therapist. Or a physio, as they called it here. Whatever. You couldn’t keep up with the names. 

You were shadowing a physio at the clinic you now worked at, assisting him as a part of your internship at one of the football tournaments the clinic worked at. It was a ton of big-wig footballers, some names you recognized, others you didn’t. But it didn’t matter. They were precious fucking cargo and you were so paranoid about screwing up that you barely registered who they were when you worked on them.

That was, until a twenty-two-year-old Jamie Tartt sprained his ankle and plopped himself down on your doctor’s bench. He looked at you, you assisted him, and you were wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice he was flirting with you. 

You didn’t realize until he asked you out. And the rest was history, for better or for worse.

You were surprised he went for you. You knew who Jamie was, what type of girls he liked to be seen with. They were singers and models and actresses. They weren’t you. 

(Perhaps that’s one of the reasons you liked him so much. Because he chose you. You didn’t like to think about that phase of your life.) 

But after six months of seeing him, he ended things out of nowhere. Right when you’d settled on the idea that despite it all, you might be in love with him. And that was that.

You hadn’t seen him since. Not until this week.

“Not gonna happen my ass,” Leah scoffs, bringing you back into the conversation at hand.

A sigh of frustration leaves your lips. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea;” you tell her. “I know it is. But, I don’t know. There was something different about him, Leah. He was just… like not someone I recognized.”

“Maybe because his hair is fucking long and stupid now.” She brings her glass to her lips. “His highlights look horrendous.”

“I actually like his hair like this,” you admit, earning yet another eye roll. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s changed. He probably hasn’t. But I…” You trail off with a shrug. “I don’t know. What if he has?”

Leah’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person she’s ever met in her life. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” she asks incredulously. “Babe, he was a prick to you. Like, category-five, prestige-level twat. Like, worst boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“I know,” you repeat. “And I said nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, and it goes south, I give you full permission to say I-told-you-so for the rest of my life, alright?”

Leah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she says. After a moment, she glances over at you. “I’m just looking out for you, y’know. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I definitely don’t want him to be the reason for that hurt again.”

You grab her hand. “I know,” you say once more. “And I love you for it. But if I’m gonna be stupid, I’m fully aware of when I’m gonna do it. And it’s gonna be my own fault.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Leah nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Fine. Your fucking funeral.”

“I’ll let you give the eulogy and allow you to call me a dumb bitch for ten minutes straight.”

“Sold,” Leah says, pointing at you. That slight intrigue you previously saw in her eye returns. “Okay, now that I’ve yelled at you, you need to tell me everything.”

And so you do. You tell her how he took your coffee, how you nearly threw up the second you saw him, how you played it cool until you didn’t. How he apologized to you. Joked around with you. Apologized some more. And then he gave you his coffee. 

You despise how excited you sound about it. Again, you’re trying to play it cool, but the people that know you the best can always see right through you. You’re excited about it. Excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to be excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to look down at your phone after you and Leah order another drink. Your heart stops when you see he’s texted you. 

It’s a bad idea to open the message when Leah excuses herself to go to the bathroom. What are you up to tonight? 

It’s past midnight on a Saturday and he’s texting you. It’s still preseason for him, so he might be drunk, he may not be. You’re three drinks deep and aren’t sure if you are.

It’s a bad idea to respond to him. getting drinks with a friend. You keep it dry.

It’s a bad idea to not look down at your phone until you finish the drinks you ordered. Because now, you’re definitely drunk and looking at it all with new eyes. 

Would you want to hang out tonight? No pressure.

It’s a bad idea to consider it. 

But it’s a worse idea to agree.

text me your new address. i can be there by 1:30.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re knocking on Jamie’s door, intertwining your fingers together when you realize you’re shaking.

The second you do it, you regret it. You’re no longer feeling the effects of your drinks. It wore off on the Uber ride over here. And everything seems like a terrible idea now.

God, what were you doing? He treated you like that and the second you see him again, you go running back? He was an asshole. He’d made you question everything about yourself, he’d made you cry, he’d made you experience every fucking emotion in the book and all it took is one text for you to be back on his doorstep?

Your roommate was right. This was a horrendous idea and you were an idiot.

However, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because Jamie Tartt’s opening his door and he’s got a stupid fucking smile on his face. And the second you see it, you know there’s no turning back.

“Hey,” he says as he opens the door. “You alright, love?”

You clench your jaw at the name, at his smile, about how casual he’s being, about everything. “Hey,” you say, avoiding his eyes to look around his flat. 

It’s a complete 180 from what he had when he first joined Richmond and what he had when you knew him. It’s a bit less mojo-dojo-casa-house-looking and something more mature. While you can still tell that a twenty-something guy definitely lives here, it’s decorated well, it’s put together, and it’s clean. No beer bottle sculptures in sight. He’s even got a fucking candle burning on his counter. Who the fuck is this and what did he do with the guy you knew?

Jamie follows you as you enter, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “You find the place okay?”

His question snaps you out of your flat-induced haze. “Yeah,” you reply. You clear your throat. “This is nice.”

That same, stupid smile returns, but it looks a bit nervous. “Yeah. I told you it was a bit different, huh?” he chuckles. He walks toward his island, rounding it as he speaks. “Needed a fresh start or whatever. The old one was gettin’... old.” He watches you as you nod, continuing to look around. “You still in the same place with the same people?”

“Uh, no. Different place. No people,” you answer. You’ve stayed on your side of the counter, actively keeping your distance. “Willa moved to New York last year and Leah moved with her boyfriend. We live in the same building, though, which is nice.”

The small talk is fucking killing you. You’re not even sure if he cared to remember your previous roommates' names, so this all could be pointless. You can’t believe you’re here. You can’t believe you’re actually standing here, talking to him about the past. 

But as you finish speaking, he nods like he’s listening. Maybe he is listening. Maybe he does remember. 

“I’ll have to see that sometime,” he ends up saying, and the implication of it makes your head spin. He wants to see you again. Or he just learned small talk common courtesy. Whatever it is, it’s driving you insane. You have so many questions for him, so many things to say, and as he wipes his hands on his pants again and nods over to his kitchen, he asks, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got—”

“Why did you invite me here, Jamie?” The question comes spilling out of you, rushed as if it were waiting on the tip of your tongue and simply couldn’t stand to stay in any longer. Jamie stops in his tracks to blink at you. The look on his face encourages you to go on. “I mean, I know I texted you first. But why… why did you text me tonight? Why’d you—” You grimace, trying to find the right words. “Why’d you give me your number?”

He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. But his eyes haven’t left you. “Because I wanted you here,” he finally says. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”

You want to say that you’ve been driven crazy all week because you feel same, but decide against it. Instead, you look away from him and scoff. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you, and your heart stops with every step he takes. “I felt like I was goin’ insane. I didn’t…” For a flash of a second, he looks shy. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. And I didn’t think you’d actually text me. I mean, I hoped you would, but…”

He’s right in front of you, but you still refuse to look at him. Your gaze has shifted to the floor. “I shouldn’t have,” you mutter.

The asshole has the nerve to chuckle, but it’s nervous. Your stomach churns. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him nervous. “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “I don’t deserve it.” He pauses and your throat starts to tighten. “I didn’t deserve you.”

That makes you look at him. Either he’s actually apologetic about everything, or he’s gotten really good at knowing everything you want to hear. “No. You didn’t.”

His fingers tentatively brush your arm and you allow him to take your hand. “I know,” he says. “I was a fucking prick. I get that now. I should never have… done that shit to ya.” You’re close enough to him now that if you moved an inch, his forehead would be up against yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. The action makes your throat tighten. “And I can’t fix it. But I…” He trails off again and looks you dead in the eye once he has the words. “I want to make it up to you.”

Your resolve is getting weaker and you hate yourself for it. You lean back against the counter, like that will put space between you two. “Jamie…”

“Please,” he whispers. His forehead finally meets yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. You don’t pull away. “Let me make it up to you.”

The last front you have standing weakly presents itself. “If you think,” you begin, breath shuddering as his hand meets your neck, “that one 2 AM hookup is going to make up for what you did, I—”

“I know it won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he does know. “But I want it to be a start.” The fingers on your neck are now tracing your jaw. And they tighten when he says, “Let me show you just how sorry I am, yeah? Let me make it fucking good for you.”

Jesus fucking Christ. That last front dissolves the second he says that, and your logic flips on itself. You came over here for a reason. You knew what this was. At least you got an overdue apology. Whether or not he meant it, is still up in the air, but if he’s promising things like that, then you might as well get something out of it.

You struggle to get a word out, so you nod against his hand. “O-Okay,” you finally stammer out. The way he’s looking at you gives you enough confidence to say, “Fine. Make it up to me.”

Jamie’s lips curl into a smirk and say, “As you wish,” before they’re on yours.

He’s softer than you remember. His lips aren’t chapped, he isn’t as aggressive with it, and he isn’t as rushed. Everything about him feels more mature and you struggle to understand how fast he could have changed in four years. But you’re not complaining. Not when he’s kissing you like this, with more practice and passion than you can ever recall.

His hand unlocks from yours to slide it up your sweatshirt, and it’s surprisingly warm against your back. Still, you shiver from the contact and you can feel him smirk once more against your lips. 

The action alone prompts you to fork a hand in his hair and tug at it slightly, reveling in the soft sound that escapes him. Everything about him comes back to you at once, and you’ve never been happier to know that the same things still get him. If he wants to play it like that, you can keep up.

His hands drop to grab your thighs and lift you onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily. Your chest is heaving up and down, lips swollen and wet. Jamie appears to be in the same boat. “Fuck,” he whispers, sounding even more out of breath than you. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, nose rubbing against it as he makes his way down. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Meant to tell you that at the shop.”

You’re too caught up in it all to play it cool, especially as he works at that one spot on your neck. “You look— fuck, you look good too. The long hair suits you.”

You feel him grin against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathily. “Looked like a prick with the old cut.”

You feel his teeth dig into your skin at that one, and you hiss. “You liked that prick,” he reminds you.

You were in love with that prick, but you ignore that thought. “I liked a lot of things about him,” you respond. While it’s honest, the accidental double meaning of it isn’t lost on you.

It’s certainly not lost on Jamie. “Yeah?” he asks again. He lifts his head to look at you, hand creeping up your leg. “What’d you like?” You grip his arm as it rises beneath your sweatshirt once more. “C’mon love. Tell me what you want.”

You hate the way your breath hitches the second his fingers meet your back. You know what you want. You want to see what he’s learned since you last had him. What he’s like four years later. What’s changed, what’s stayed the same. But you’re too embarrassed and much too proud to ask.

Instead, you decide to say, much too shyly for your liking, “You know what I want.”

He hums in agreement, other hand creeping dangerously close to the inside of your thigh. “I do, don’t I?” he murmurs. “Bet I know everything ya want. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Oh my, God,” you say under your breath, frustration creeping into your voice. The asshole fucking laughs at you. “I want you to make good on your promise. This seems far from it.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just making sure we’re still, y’know. On the same page.” He glances at you. “Right?”

You blink at him. You’re not sure you could have been clearer about what page you’re on. But that’s not what surprises you. What surprises you is the seriousness in his eyes. How he’s searching for assurance in yours. And you know that if, for whatever godly reason, you wanted to stop, he’d pull away immediately, despite how worked up he clearly is. 

It's the bare fucking minimum, but it's more than you’re used to getting.

So, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Definitely on the same page.” 

The grin he breaks out to is nothing short of breathtaking. “Good.”

“But—” you suddenly say, stopping him from leaning in once more. He freezes beneath your touch, brows furrowing. “This is… This is a one-time thing. You’re…” You trail off to find the word. “You’re apologizing to me. That’s all this is.”

His smile falters, dropping momentarily before returning with a bit less radiance. It’s his turn to nod. “Okay,” he says, fingers now toying with the edge of your sweatshirt. “Gotta make it count, then.”

And with that, Jamie presses his lips back to yours, grabbing you securely and pulling you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, grabbing the sides of his face, like that’ll stable you against him. 

This time, it’s more desperate. It’s more tongues and teeth, more force and intention behind each movement. He’s setting the pace, but you’re keeping up tenfold. While it’d been four years, you’re not sure if he’d ever kissed you like this. He’s passionate instead of aggressive. While he knows what he wants, he’s definitely not just going to take it. He may be leading but he’s listening to you. And that stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in a long time.

That much is clear, because you unconsciously let out a quiet sound against his lips. You can feel him smiling once more as he walks you slowly to wherever the hell his bedroom is. You’re caught up in him. And by the way he’s gripping you, you can tell he’s just as caught up in you.

So much so, that he completely loses track of where he’s going and accidentally slams you into his doorframe. You yelp, more because of shock than pain, and pull away to glare at him.

Jamie’s already apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Still gettin’ used to this place.”

“Well, figure out how to navigate better,” you respond, verging on a pout as you rub the back of your head.

“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He’s still got you against the doorframe. “It’s hard to see with your big head in me face. And I can’t kiss ya with, like, my eyes open. It’d be freaky.”

“I’ll give you a pass for that one,” you reply dryly. “Be weird instead of giving me a concussion.”

He’s walking you toward the bed when he mutters, “I’ll give you something, alright.”

Your back meets the mattress and you try to ignore the way he held his hand behind your head when he laid you down. You have under a second to adjust before he’s on top of you. The desperation returns and it almost takes your breath away.

He’s essentially straddling you, tugging at the waist of your leggings before he leaves one last kiss on your lips. He finally gets to pull your sweatshirt off, something he’d clearly been dying to rid you of since he first kissed you. You lift your arms up to help him, finding that you quickly start to do the same to him. You hear him chuckle as you attempt to get it up his back.

“I got it, love, hold on,” he says softly, tossing your hoodie to the side to take off his own. Your eyes immediately go to his chest and stomach and you refrain from reaching out to touch him. When you look up at him, you expect him to be smirking. However, he’s doing the exact opposite.

Jamie’s looking down at you like he can’t fucking believe you’re real. It’s jarring, seeing him like this, but you figure he’s in the same headspace as you and is still struggling to process that this is happening. It doesn’t matter, because before you can question it, he’s moving to press a kiss to your collarbone.

Your hand falls into his hair as he works his way down, mouthing the area of your chest. He pauses before he gets to the bra you’re wearing. His eyes flick up to yours. “Can I—”

You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, shifting to make it easier for him. He discards it to the floor with the rest. When he looks back at you, he releases a shaky breath and just stares.

He stares so intently that you begin to get self-conscious. “What?” you ask.

The question takes Jamie out of his trance. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just— I… Fuck. I forgot how beautiful you were.”

That spreads a warmth through you, one that pulls at your core. As you feel your face heat, you realize you have nothing to say to that. Luckily, he’s already moving on.

Jamie’s different. Really different. And you don’t realize how different he is until you start looking at him like you are right now. You were trying to convince yourself when you told Leah that he’d changed, you’ll admit that. But right now, you think you may have been telling the truth.

He grabs the waist of your leggings once more, lifting your legs to pull them off. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips as he struggles to do so. He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Missed that.”

“What?” you ask again.

“Your laugh,” he replies. “Missed that more than you know.”

The sweet words hit you like a bullet. The vulnerability in his voice is what gets you. Goddammit, when did he get so fucking nice? It drives you insane. But it also makes you quietly admit, “I think I’ve got an idea.”

With your leggings now gone, Jamie’s smile turns fonder. Gentler. He presses a kiss to your leg but says nothing in response. He simply places your legs down, eyes flicking down. He lifts his hand to trace down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your panties. The feeling makes you flinch.

He hooks a finger in the band, and your hips buck up to encourage him. His other hand spreads across your hip in a poor effort to keep you still. “Easy,” he murmurs. 

You huff out a breath. “You can—” Your breath hitches as two of his fingers push into your underwear. “Fuck, you can take them off.”

His lips quirk up. “Well, thank you for the permission,” he says. “But not yet. I wanna take it slow with ya.”

Your mouth parts. “Why?”

“Because it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” he answers, moving up to kiss you softly. He speaks against your lips as he says, “And I’ve apparently only got one shot to do this right. So I’m gonna make this last.”

You roll your eyes at his terribly disguised jab. “You’re a dick,” you mutter against him.

“And you’re—” He cuts himself off and a gasp escapes your lips as he cups your core and rubs his palm against it. “Fuck, love. You’re really fucking wet.” He’s positioned on you so that you can feel him getting harder against you thigh. “This all for me, yeah?”

His voice is cocky, while still sounding awestruck. The remaining dignity you have left makes you roll your eyes, albeit a bit embarrassed. “It’s for whoever doesn’t take their fucking time to give me what I want,” you bite.

Jamie draws back from you with a full smirk on his face. “That so?” he asks. The hand against you starts creeping up to the band of your panties. “And what is it that you want? You still haven’t told me.”

You scoff. “I told you.”

He pulls your underwear down your legs and the air around you suddenly makes you realize just how exposed you are. You told yourself you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this again. But here you were.

His fingers brush against the inside of your thigh, and you shiver once more. “No,” he tells you gently. “You didn’t. You just said you wanted me to keep my promise. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”

He’s moving closer and closer to the place you want him and you don’t know if you can take it anymore. You shift uncomfortably, as if that will cease the ache. But you know only one thing will.

So, you give him the answer he’s been waiting for this entire time. “You.” His gaze meets yours. “I want you, Jamie. Please.”

That breathtaking grin returns. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

And then he puts his mouth on you without warning.

You spasm at the contact, crying out as he uses both arms to hold you still. The second you calm down, one hand leaves your thigh and you feel him work two fingers into you. Fuck. He didn’t know that before.

And it’s not like he was ever bad in bed when you two were together. You’re not sure you would have stayed with him if that were the case. It’s just… he’s better now. He’s hitting everything nearly perfectly, not stumbling like he used to. He’s more confident. More assured. He knows what he’s doing.

And it’s fucking hot.

The sounds that fill his room are downright obscene. He’s gripping one side of you to keep you in place, splitting you open on his knuckles with the other. His mouth zeroes in on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a way that honestly has you close already.

“F-fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, Jamie. Don’t st— shit. Don’t stop. Please.”

Of course, the fucking shit he is, stops. He grins up at you, but continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You sound so fucking pretty begging like that,” he tells you. He’s just as out of breath as you are. He feels you clench around his fingers at the praise and it only eggs him on further. “Look so pretty too. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Jamie,” you whine again. He’s going too slow. Teasing. It’s not fucking fair. He’s supposed to be the one apologizing to you. “I need— Ngh. I need—”

“What do you need?” he asks. “Tell me.”

You think you’d kill him if you weren’t completely incapacitated. “More,” you manage to get out, wincing as he continues at his slow pace. You’re close. Embarrassingly close. “Just fucking more. Please. I’m—” You interrupt yourself with a moan as he shoves his fingers deeper into you.

“I know,” he nearly coos. “I’ve got you.”

And got you he does. Because not only does he pick up the pace, he stretches you with a third finger. The sting of it is momentary, and it subsides as soon as he bends down and swipes your clit with his tongue.

Your back arches. “Jesus fucking— Jamie. Oh, my God.”

He’s good. Of course, he’s fucking good. He’s Jamie Tartt. You’re not sure he’s ever been bad at anything physical in his life. Emotionally was another story. But that story didn’t matter right now. Not when he’s got you like this, and you’re teetering over the edge.

He pulls away from you, breath tickling your core as he speaks. “C’mon,” he chides. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you, love?” He takes your breathy silence as confirmation and nods to himself. “Yeah. You just need—”

He removes one finger and crooks the rest a certain way, deeper than before. Your heart may stop beating. He’s done something he did to you time and time again, something that he was actually really fucking good at, something he knew you liked years ago. When he looks up at you, he searches your eyes. And by the way they roll back, he knows he’s struck gold.

The smirk returns and he continues to work his fingers into you, smirk growing each time he hears you say his name. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s it. That’s still it.”

You could finish at any moment. The telltale heat is rising in your stomach, and you’re just waiting for the cord to snap. And then, as if your muscle memory takes over, you reach out for his arm.

But instead of letting you do it like before, he does something completely different. He intertwines his free hand with the back of yours and guides it to your stomach. And then he presses on your hand.

The pressure builds. You’re barely able to make any noise. And then—

“C’mon,” Jamie repeats. “Come for me, angel. I wanna see it.”

The cord snaps, and you do as you’re told. You come. Hard.

Jamie talks you through it, fingers still moving to coax your climax out of you. You’re sure you look pathetic, crying out and thrashing around in his bed, but you don’t care. You can barely fucking see right now.

It’s been a while for you. Or at least been a while since you’ve had anything that good. And it completely strips away any sort of attitude or frustration you had before.

When you finally come back down, you laugh softly, shaking your head and throwing your arm over your face. “Fuck,” you say through a chuckle.

You feel him shift, moving up the bed to hover over you once more. When he removes your arm from your eyes, you see that he’s smiling. “Nobody’s ever laughed after I’ve done that,” he tells you, a faux pout pulling at his lips. He bends down to press them to yours and you can taste yourself. “It better be a good fuckin’ sign.”

You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss. “Very good sign,” you assure him. It’s muffled against him, but you think he gets the point. 

It’s then that you catch him by surprise and flip the two of you over, straddling him in a way that makes him release a breathy sound that you’d missed dearly. But, something feels off.

Your glance down at him, expecting to feel or see fabric once you reach his leg. But there’s not much. Only what feels like boxer shorts. It catches you off guard. When did he take off his—

It doesn’t matter. It’s easier for you now. Especially as your fingers move across his abdomen, biting back a grin at the way he shudders. He looks up at you from his pillow.

“What are you doing?” he asks leadingly.

You shrug innocently, fingers toying with the band hanging low on his hips. “Returning the favor,” you reply. 

Jamie makes a noise of disapproval, placing a hand on your thigh like that’ll stop you. “I’m supposed to be the one making it up to you,” he states, but his voice gets less firm as you cup him through the fabric. “Fuck. Y-You don’t owe me anythin’. No favors.”

You shake your head, pulling at his boxers so that he springs free from inside. Your eyes travel back to his as you reach out and gently grab his cock, staring down at him with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure?”

He looks pained. You don’t know why. You’re offering a way to take him out of his misery. But still, he shakes his head and moves his arm from your leg to your back. 

He takes his turn to flip you over next. He swears under his breath as he does so, shaking his head when you land on your back.

“I told you,” he says, taking his boxers all the way off now. “It’s about you. Not me.” He shakes his head again, but this time it’s a bit more frustrated. When he speaks, it’s mostly to himself. “Can’t believe I just fuckin’ said no to that.”

A snort escapes you. “You’re a changed man, Jamie Tartt,” you joke.

He shrugs before placing his arms on either side of you. His voice teeters on teasing and earnest. “I’ve been trying to tell ya that.”

You’re not sure if it’s him, or the situation, or the sex, but you think you believe him. It makes your chest heavy. But you can’t admit that. You won’t let yourself. So, you keep that feeling tucked away, way in the back of your mind for safekeeping. You know it’s better like that. For your emotional sake, at least.

You allow yourself to prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him instead of responding to that, bringing him in closer. You can feel the length of him press against your stomach, and his groan vibrates against your lips. 

He pulls away, grinding into you. The heat of your body is making him go wild. “Can I—”

You know what he wants. And you want it too. “Please,” you say. 

He nods, moving to angle himself against you. You glance down to watch him, heat flooding your face as he strokes himself before glancing up at you. You nod in return, giving him the confirmation he needs. Jamie grins.

He slides in you slowly. The stretch is mild but grows as he hovers over you once more. It’s easy to adjust, having been warmed up moments before. But for Jamie, it’s not as easy.

He bottoms out almost immediately, tensing over you. His head bows, chin falling to his chest. “Fuck,” he curses. It’s quiet but straight-up sinful. “God, fucking— you’re so—” You grip onto his bicep as he steadies himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just— i-it’s been a minute. And you’re f-fucking tight. Jesus.”

You don’t mind. He feels good like this, despite the fact he’s not moving. Your hand travels from his arm to his hair, tucking a piece of it behind his ear before settling on his jaw. “It’s alright,” you tell him. “We’ve got time.”

Jamie’s eyes snap open at that, but he’s not looking at you like you thought he would. You were expecting a cheeky sort of smile, a smirk, something in that realm. But he’s not. He’s looking at you like…

It’s something you can’t define. Something you’ve never seen before. It churns your stomach yet makes your heart race. Neither of you says a word.

He just dips down to kiss you again and slowly begins to move inside you. Your lips part in a gasp, and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Your back arches into him.

Before you know it, he's breaking from you and is breathing heavy against your neck. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re just— fuck. You…” He trails off, mouth hovering over your collarbone. “You drive me f-fucking mad. God, everything about you. Y-you don’t even know, do you?”

The pace picks up. He’s thrusting into you harder now and your nails dig into his back. You hear him hiss at the contact, but neither of you seem to care. “Fuck.” It’s all you can say. “Fuck, Jamie.”

He’s clearly not done talking. “How’d I-I fuck this up? Huh?” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. His mouth is on your chest now and the feeling runs through you like fire. “Fucking idiot. Didn’t know what I had. Can’t believe I let you go.”

You clench around him and it throws him off kilter. You watch his jaw clench, hand beside you gripping the pillow you’re on. “You w-were an idiot.” Your agreement is much less effective when it’s closed out by a high-pitched moan.

“I know. Fuck, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Deserved better.” He continues to slam into you. “I wanna gi—” A strangled sound erupts from his lips. “Give you better. You’re so—” When he shakes his head, he looks wrecked. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Something about that sends a shock to your system. It makes you cry out and you can feel it. Your legs tremble around him. You’re close again. You’re really fucking close. 

He kisses you once more, deeper than before. It’s more frantic. Everything about him is more erratic. You can tell he’s getting there too. “Couldn’t stop,” he manages to get out, hot against your lips. “Couldn’t s-stop thinking about you. I missed you.” 

You clench around him again, the admission inching you closer. “Shit,” you say. “Fuck, Jamie, keep going.”

And keep going he does. His hand moves down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into it and that sends you into a fucking tailspin. He swallows the sound you make. 

“Missed you,” he says again, but it’s more helpless. Jamie fucking whimpers. “God, I f-fucking missed you, angel. Missed you so fucking much, I—”

You don’t hear the rest of what he says because you come the second he makes that sound. It’s white-hot. Blinding. Your legs twitch around him and you claw at him as he continues to rub your clit. You’re loud, but you don’t give a shit. It seems to spur him on.

He’s not far behind you. He spills into you with a groan, stomach flexing as he heaves over you, twitching inside of you. You’re still recovering from your own high as you open your eyes to watch him. You catch his expression for a moment before he’s collapsing into you.

You release a soft ‘oof’ at the sudden weight of him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and neither do you. You just breathe together. But after a moment you allow yourself to put a hand in his hair.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you tell him, but there’s not much bite in it.

You feel him chuckle. “Give me second,” he says. “Not as fuckin’ agile as I used to be. Took a lot out of me, alright?”

You roll your eyes but continue to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-six and like, the face of the AFC,” you tell him. “Richmond might have to shorten your contract if you’re dying after that.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Take that up with me Chairwoman then.”

You can’t help but laugh as you push him off of you, wincing as you feel him slip out. He lands with the same noise you did. “If she heard you complaining like that, she’d be on my side.”

Jamie grins at you, joining in on your laughter. He shifts toward you, grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. “You’re probably right. Shouldn’t be complainin’,” he says. He lifts your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re here.”

They’re sweet words. The casualty of them makes your heart swell. But that anxiety about him returns. One time thing, you tell yourself. Apology. One time. That’s all.

You pull your hand back softly and he glances over at you. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, like that one movement set off alarm bells in his head. You give him an uneasy smile.

Before you can move to get up or say anything or do something, he’s talking. And you have to refrain from wincing. 

“I know…” He looks away from you. Shy. “I know you said one time,” he says, as if he can read your fucking mind. “And that’s… That’s okay. I get that, yeah? But I—” Jamie wipes a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said. I missed ya. Really.”

You missed him too. But your walls have been rising back up since he started talking again. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” you tell him, only partially lying.

You feel like an asshole when he winces. Maybe you were being an asshole. Maybe it was finally your turn to do so. 

“Just…” He finally looks at you. “If you ever… don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” He waves it off in an attempt to look casual. You know he’s anything but. “You’ve got my number. Or whatever.”

The timidness in his voice makes your resolve soften. Even if you don’t see him again, you suppose you can let him down easy. He’s been kind enough tonight to deserve that. You nod at him as you sit up. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll let you know.”

It’s only slightly awkward as you get out of his bed and search for your clothes. He asks if he can call you an Uber home and you reject it, letting him know that you’ve got one on the way.

You can feel his eyes on you as you dress, ignoring the way they burn into you. You can tell he’s searching for something to say, or something to talk to you about but doesn’t know what.

You’re half-dressed before he can shoot himself in the foot and say something stupid. “Hey,” he finally says. You glance over your shoulder at him after you slip your sweatshirt on. “I’m really glad you texted me.”

The nice streak you’re riding on continues and you offer a small but genuine smile in return. “Me too,” you admit, ignoring the way that his own soft smile pulls at your heartstrings. 

Before you leave his room, you offer one more admission. You stop in the doorframe he hit you against, lips curling further upward. “It was really good to see you, Jamie.”

He props himself up on his elbow, smile growing. “Good,” he says, nodding. Then, like a prick, he winks at you. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You physically cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes and you hear him laugh to himself as you walkdown his hall. “Goodbye, asshole.”

He shouts a tired-sounding ‘bye!’ when you slip your shoes on, shaking your head as you look around his apartment once more. The candle on his counter is still burning, smelling of amber moss and palo santo.

You blow it out before you leave, knowing he’ll forget.

And as you do so, you feel yourself regress. Or grow. You’re not quite sure which one.

But it makes you curse under your breath and leave his flat immediately.

There is one more universal truth you forgot to mention. 

And that’s that the second you think you’re over Jamie Tartt, he comes back into your life and flips everything on its head. And it’s the only truth that’s been confirmed to you all week.

Because the second you arrive home and see that you have a text waiting for you, your heart picks up. You hate the way you get excited to see it.

I had a really good time tonight.

And the second he comes back into your life, you’re reminded that you’re not over him. Not even in the slightest. And it’s fucking debilitating. 

me too. 

And you know your friends are going to kill you the second you follow up with.

i’m free friday if you want to grab a drink.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfiction #bad ideas #the one who's not a loser but THEE loser #discowrites

[daydreamgoddess14]

Complaints Procedure

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent x F!Reader

Literally just 1.5k of pure filth. Sorry, not sorry?! 😅Taken from this prompt.

Inspired by this image:

~~~~~

You knew to avoid the locker room immediately before and after matches. The less than stellar performance of the team during the season had seemingly made everyone angry - even Sam was down. Jamie Tartt continued to annoy and degrade everyone who so much as glanced at him, and the so-called Captain looked about ready to throw in the towel. Getting rid of George Cartrick may have been a wise decision, but his replacement was certainly unorthodox. You had your work cut out for you in HR, it was like babysitting 2 year olds - they all still bit, kicked, and scratched. Seeing you always gave them the initiative to put complaints in, complaints that you had to be seen to legitimately deal with, even if dealing with it meant sitting the idiots involved down and giving them a telling off. You had never told off Roy Kent, though. The man terrified and turned you on in equal measure.

Just the low timbre of his voice made your heart pound and flooded your body with want. Training was long over, so you figured you were safe to take some paperwork down to Ted Lasso's office. Your heels clicked on the concrete as you made your way through the maze of rooms. Wage slips for the folks in the ticket office, holiday forms for the staff in the medical and treatment areas, and the weekly update on player relations that Ted had asked you to draft. Who was fighting with who, who had you had to threaten with suspension, and who you'd just had to give an arse kicking to. As you turn to leave Ted’s office, Roy is coming back in from the showers. With just a towel gripped in his hand. You look literally anywhere else. The ceiling tiles become particularly interesting. 

"Oi, what you doing in here?"

"Just dropping some paperwork off, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, just… thought I was alone, that's all." You drag your eyes from the ceiling to his, drawing an invisible line across his nose so you do not look any lower. "See something you like?" He teases, as if he knows it's taking all your will to not look at his chest or the towel. 

"Definitely not. I'm done now, I'll leave you to it." 

 

You're sure you must hold your breath on the walk from the locker room to your office because as soon as you shut the door, it all comes out in a whoooosh. As good-looking as he is, you can't stand his arrogance, dominance, and anger issues. You knew it was nothing new in football or in work at all, really. You'd seen every layer of the food chain, and it was always the top of the tree who thought they were gods gift. You knew he could be kind and thoughtful. You'd seen it for yourself with the younger, less experienced players and with fans too. It was definitely a certain calibre of person who set him off - the Jamie Tartts and George Cartricks of the world. You're still leaning against your office door when you feel and hear it knock. When it begins to open against your back, you have to jump out of the way so it can swing open. Fully clothed, Roy is on the other side. 

"Do I scare you?" He asked, frowning. 

"Course you don't scare me, I'm not a sodding child." You roll your eyes. "Did you need something?" 

"I might need to put in a complaint." You arch an eyebrow at him, 

"Really? Go on?" He took a step closer to you, so you take a step back. 

"I saw the way you looked at me downstairs -" you scoffed, 

"I did not look at you at all. I actively didn't look at you," you start, angry until you see the smirk. "Oh fuck off, did you come up here just for a laugh? I've got enough to deal with picking up 

after Jamie Tartt since he can't stop making everyone miserable." He holds up his hands in surrender. 

"Alright, alright, just a joke," he laughs a little. "You wanted to look though." 

"You are just like the other idiots. So full of your own self importance, you all think everyone wants you." He narrows his eyes and takes another step towards you.

"At the risk of sounding like any of those pricks, tell me you don't?"

"What makes you think-"

"Humour me." He looks at you like he might devour you at any moment, his eyes dark with just a hint of mirth. He knows what you think about when you see him. You feel your breath quicken, and the urge to press your thighs together is desperate, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of being right. Before he can catch you in a lie, he forces you to take one final step back against your desk and leans down to capture your mouth in a messy, obscene kiss. 

 

The shock of it makes you gasp, giving him access to deepen the kiss. Your hands grip at his shoulders to keep him close, trying to get him even closer if it's possible. He leans you back against your desk, the edge of it digging into the back of your thighs while his hands are trying to touch as much of you as possible. By leaning back on the desk, he can kiss along your jawline. It would be impossible now to make out that you don't want him, your greedy hands roam up his arms and into his hair and the sighs and moans he's pulling from you with just a kiss are insane. The length of his body presses against the length of yours and you feel him hard against your hip. Feeling how much he wants you only makes you need him more. Your hand brushes across the front of his jeans, making him jerk to meet it. He breaks the kiss and watches you breathlessly as you move to undo the button in the waistband. You can tell he's about to ask if you're sure, so you place a soft kiss to his lips,

"I want you to fuck me," you tell him quietly. There is still just a hint of hesitation in your voice, but it's more a fear that he'll reject you than anything else. 

"Fucking hell." He sighs into you. He grips your hips and turns you to face the desk, you rest on your forearms. He has your skirt rucked up around your waist in no time at all and nudges your feet a little further apart. You don't have the time or inclination to feel embarrassed or to consider something more meaningful. The singular thought in your mind is having him inside you. You hear the tear of a condom wrapper and feel him at your core. His hand cups you first, wanting to check that you're ready. "You're so fucking wet," he mutters almost proudly. He gives your hip a little squeeze of warning and pushes inside you. 

"God, Roy yesss," you hiss as he fills you completely. Fully seated, he pauses just a minute to reach down and sweep your hair to one side so he can kiss your neck, "please, Roy-" you push back against him, desperate for more. He takes the hint and pounds into you over and over. He’s hitting exactly where you need him with each thrust, and it's enough to have you believing in some sort of deity. You can feel the pressure building and you're so close to the edge it's overwhelming. "I'm so close, please daddy-" the words tumble from you, unfiltered and unexpectedly - that is a brand new one for you, and when you feel his pace slow just slightly, you're terrified that you've repelled him. He moans low in his chest and redoubles his efforts, unyielding, until you come hard, crying out his name. 

"Say it again," he whispers against your ear, his body draped over your back. His hand reaches around to rub circles over your clit and you're so sensitive that the payback is almost immediate and you can feel another orgasm building. 

"Fuck, make me come again daddy," you beg. He does exactly that within seconds of you asking, his own release coming at the same time. He holds your hips while your legs shake, his forehead resting on the center of your back. He slips out of you and disposes of the condom before turning you gently to rest you back against the desk. You keep your head down, chin to chest, mortified at what's just happened until his nose nudges against yours and he kisses you softly. 

"Holy fucking shit, I should threaten to complain again, that was insane," he breathes, still holding your hips and trying to get you to look up at him. 

"I shouldn’t ha-"

"No, don't do that. You're definitely going to say it again," he chuckles against you, "I fucking promise you'll say it again." 

 

FIN

#roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent imagine #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent smut #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #roy kent x you #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #rail me roy kent #pure filth #this is literally just sex

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Superstar (Superstar Chapter 1)

I'm no one special, just another wide-eyed girl

Who's desperately in love with you

Give me a photograph to hang on my wall, superstar

The Reader is thrilled to start a new job at AFC Richmond- especially since it means working with a certain player-turned-coach.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.7k words

Warnings: language (because Roy Kent); I’m a bit rusty so forgive my writing!

A/N: Been having some horribly bad writer’s block in addition to work stress. Thankfully my man Roy Kent helped me finally break through!!!

~

“Well, there she is!” Coach Ted Lasso waved enthusiastically as I parked my car in the staff lot. Next to him stood Rebecca Welton, who offered the tiniest of waves and something of an apologetic smile.

I took a deep breath, my hand hovering over the driver’s side door. First day on the new job: coach’s assistant. Between three coaches, there was a lot going on; they needed someone to handle communication, schedules, and small tasks so they could focus on training and (hopefully) winning. Having grown up just around the corner from Nelson Road, it felt almost like an honor to be part of the organization.

In a blur, Ted had firmly shaken my hand for what felt like an eternity, yammered off about a dozen Lasso-isms that I wasn’t quite sure I heard correctly, and ushered me into the building, all with Rebecca following along, interjecting short corrections and reassurances every time Ted paused to take a breath.

“And this here’s the locker room,” Ted announced with a small flourish. “Now, the boys tend to be pretty modest, the only one you may see too much of is Jamie, but if you just throw a towel in his face, he’ll take the hint.” He opened the door, gesturing for me to follow.

Rebecca touched my arm gently, that tight smile still on her face. “I should be going. But please, let me know if there’s anything you need. You’re in great hands,” she added, nodding towards Ted. “Welcome to Richmond.” With another touch to my arm, she was gone.

I followed Ted into the changing room. A few guys were milling about, still in their street clothes, chattering and beginning to put their things away. They looked up when I entered, offering small nods of acknowledgement. Ted rattled off their names, all familiar to me. I made mental notes about how each one smiled and shook my hand, trying to take snapshots in my brain so I could describe every moment to my family later that night.

After meeting all the players that Ted called “early birds”, I followed Ted into the coaches’ offices, where I was quickly introduced to Coach Beard, who nodded from behind a tattered copy of Either/Or.

“Now, Coach Beard and I share this office,” Ted was explaining. “You’ll be right through here. Hope ya don’t mind sharing!” He led me through the side door to another office. “I’m sure you know this ray of sunshine here is Roy Kent.”

My stomach jumped to my throat as the man in black track pants and a dark Richmond shirt glanced up from his desk. As if I really needed to be introduced to the man whose poster still hung above the bed in my childhood bedroom. Several kits sporting his name and number hung in my closet. Hell, for one birthday my jokester dad even got me a cardboard cutout of the man. It currently sat folded in the back of a closet in my flat, but it often made an appearance in my living room when I hosted game day parties with my mates.

I was pretty sure if I dug far enough in my parents’ attic, I’d find my school notebooks with “Mrs. Roy Kent” scribbled all over them.

And now he sat in front of me, staring up at me through thick eyelashes that made me go weak in the knees. A half scowl appeared on his face. “You’re the assistant then?” He offered his hand.

I nodded, praying that neither coach could see my body trembling slightly as I reached out to shake Roy Kent’s hand. “I- I am.”

Ohmygod ohmygod I’m shaking Roy Kent’s hand I’m touching Roy Kent Roy Kent spoke to me Roy Kent is looking at me ohmygod ohmygod.

It felt far too soon when he let go of my hand. “Well, as long as you keep your shit off my desk and don’t wear any rancid perfume, we should be fucking fine.” He nodded behind him toward an empty desk. “That’s you.” Without another word, he stood up, grabbed the notebook he had been drawing in, and left.

Ted beamed at me. “Well now, that went great! That’s about as charming as you can expect Roy to be, so count yourself lucky. Now, why don’t you get yourself settled and we’ll see you in the locker room in about ten minutes?”

~

“D’you like kebabs?”

I turned my head, pausing my fingers above my keyboard. “Excuse me?”

With a giant sigh, Roy swiveled around in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Kebabs. D’you like ’em?”

“Uh, I guess.” I scrunched my nose as I stared at him. After two weeks of working for Richmond, this was the first time Roy had spoken to me so directly. Up until now, it had been mostly grunts and growls in my general direction. But, after years of watching him on the pitch, I knew by the look in his eye that he didn’t hate me- at least, not any more than he hated the rest of the world. And that was fine enough with me.

“You guess?” There was that scowl. “You either fuckin’ like ‘em or you don’t.”

It took all my strength to suppress my grin. God, he was just as gorgeous as when I used to watch him play on the television. “Fine, fine. I like kebabs.”

With a suddenness that almost made me jump in my seat, Roy stood up. “Okay.” Without another word, he walked out of our office.

About twenty minutes later, a Styrofoam container slammed onto my desk. I looked up at Roy, who towered over me, a plastic bag clutched in his fist. He glowered at me.

“Thanks, Roy,” I managed, opening the box. Sure enough, kebabs. I smiled up at him, but his eyes were scanning my desk.

“That your family?” He pointed at a frame that held a photo my family had taken during a camping trip.

“Oh, yeah. My folks and brothers. They live not far from here. We grew up huge Richmond fans.”

His eyes continued to roam my work area. “What, no pictures of your boyfriend? Is he fuckin’ ugly or somethin’?”

My cheeks heated up. “No boyfriend.” Somewhere inside me, boldness surged forward. “What about you? I don’t see your model of the week on your desk.”

He smirked. Ohmygod he smirked. “I’m too fucking old for that shit now.”

“Uh huh.” I couldn’t make myself say anything else. All I could see was that smirk, and those brown eyes. Until I realized he was waiting for me to say something. Speak, you idiot! “I like kebabs,” I blurted. Shit.

The smirk softened slightly. “So I heard.”

For a moment he just stood there, smiling down at me. Then he cleared his throat, glancing at the bag in his hand. “Don’t tell anyone I got you lunch. They’ll be trying to make me some fuckin’ errand boy if they find out.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

With a small hmmf, Roy nodded and headed back to his desk. I smiled down at the container on my desk and returned to my work, ignoring my burning cheeks.

~

“What does Jamie Tartt smell like?”

“Is the gaffer really like that in person?”

“Did you pass out when you met Roy Kent?”

Swallowing the bite of pasta I had been chewing on, I grinned at my family. “Tartt wears a homemade combo of Tom Ford, Dior, and Juicy Couture that he calls ‘Tartt by Tartt’. Coach Lasso is exactly what he seems. And Roy Kent…”  I cleared my throat and prayed my face wasn’t completely red. “He’s fine.” My voice cracked slightly. “We, uh share an office. He got me kebabs for lunch last week.”

“Come off it,” I scoffed. “Or else I’ll take back those VIP tickets I got you for your birthday.”

“Ooh, Roy Kent bought you kebabs?” my dad hummed, grinning at me pointedly. “My future son-in-law, the football superstar.”

Before my dad could retort, the doorbell rang. I jumped up, relieved to have a distraction.

“I’ve got it!” I just about sprinted down the hall to the front door, confident it was our elderly neighbor asking to borrow the spare key, as she did at least once a week. Instead, when I threw the door open, I found Roy Kent on my parents’ front porch.

“We should really put a fucking tracking device on you,” he grumbled as he moved past me into the entryway.

I stared at him, closing the door. “Um, not to be rude, but why are you here? At my mum and dad’s house?”

He shoved a manila envelope into my hands. “Some papers Lasso wanted you to work on if you can this weekend. Said it was important. I dunno, I don’t fucking listen to him when he yammers.”

“Oh.” I placed the envelope on a nearby table and folded my arms. “And how-how did you know where I was?”

Roy wiggled his phone in the air. “You’re one of those idiots that has their Snapchat locations on. You’re gonna get fucking murdered one of these days y’know.”

Right. Ted had made us all join multiple Snapchat groups with him; he was adamant about keeping our streaks.

I couldn’t help but grin. “And you’re gonna murder me?”

“Not today.” A small smirk cracked through that grizzled face. “But apparently if I wanted to, you’d be easy as hell to find.”

“I’ll just have to keep being a good officemate then,” I supposed teasingly. Am I flirting with Roy Kent?!

“You’re doing a fine job so far.” Roy took a step towards me, looking down at me.

Is he flirting back?!

My brain short-circuited. “Um, well I…” I coughed, looking around the entryway, as if I hadn’t walked through it my entire life. “Thanks for uh, bringing those papers.” A question interrupted the high-pitched buzzing in my brain. “Why’d you bring it by the way?”

Roy cleared his throat and took a step back, allowing a respectful space between us again. “Told you, Lasso said it’s important.”

“Yeah…” I started slowly. “But I’m sure it’s something you guys could’ve sent Will to do. Or something Ted would probably love to do, tracking me down to my dad’s birthday dinner. Why are you-?”

“He’s here! He’s there! He’s every-fucking-where! Roy Kent!” Beaming, my dad burst past me and clapped a hand on Roy’s shoulder as Roy stared at him with wide eyes. “Oh hell, Roy Kent’s in my foyer!” He turned and faced me. “I can’t believe you got Roy Kent to come down here! You’re my favorite kid, you can tell your bloody brothers that anytime.” He grabbed Roy’s hand and started pumping it, reminding me of the first time I had met Ted. “It’s an honor to have you here. Absolute honor.”

I finally found my voice. “Dad, Roy’s just here giving me some stuff for work. He’s not here for your-”

“What kind of cake do you have?” Roy’s gruff voice interrupted.

“Chocolate,” my dad answered. “M’wife made it herself. And we have plenty of pasta if you’re hungry.”

Roy unzipped his jacket. “Then happy fucking birthday. Let’s eat.”

~

A half hour later, I was still in a state of shock. Roy Kent was sitting next to me in my parents’ dining room, chatting with my dad and eating my mum’s pasta. He took all everyone’s questions in stride, not seeming to mind how obsessed my brothers were. He only growled at them twice- once when they asked about his knee, and again when they said how much they like Jamie Tartt. Of course, they made kissy faces whenever Roy wasn’t looking, and my mum kept raising her eyebrows at me with a twinkle in her eye, but the dinner was much less painful that I had expected.

And getting to sit there with Roy’s arm pressed against mine? A dream come true.

My dad cleared his throat as my brothers began clearing the plates. “I think it’s time for presents and cake then?”

I stood up; my arm felt cold after having Roy’s arm keeping it warm. “I’ll be right back, gotta go get your present.” I pressed a kiss on my dad’s head as I passed by. “Don’t embarrass me,” I hissed, giving his shoulder a squeeze. He offered me an assuring wink.

I quickly went up the stairs to my old bedroom, not completely closing the door behind me. Since I was planning to spend all weekend a their house, I had just haphazardly thrown all my things into the room when I had arrived after work. I regretted it now, noting that my idiot brothers could be saying anything to Roy while I searched for the envelope holding my dad’s birthday card and the tickets to Richmond’s next match.

I groaned. “Where the hell-”

“Ah, this isn’t the fucking loo.”

I whirled around. Roy stood in my doorway, eyebrows slightly raised as he glanced around the room. My cheeks burned as I watched him take in all the Richmond posters, which disproportionately featured his bearded face.

He is never going to talk to me again, a panicky voice in my head whimpered.

To my surprise, a small smirk formed on his face as he quietly closed the door behind him. “Why the fuck are there so many pictures of me in this room?” he asked, a chuckle escaping his lips.

I cleared my throat and stood up, straightening out my top as I cursed my teenage self for being so obsessed. “I, uh, I told you. My family’s huge Richmond fans. You’re kind of our favorite player. Hence, my dad’s excitement when he saw you.” I winced. Lame, lame, lame.

“So…” He stuck his hands in his pockets, still looking around the room at the embarrassing number of photos of himself. “Does that mean I’m your favorite too?”

Somehow, my cheeks grew warmer. “I… I mean… I guess.”

His eyes moved upward and widened slightly.

Fuck.

“Is that a fucking poster of me above your bed?”

I shifted my weight, wishing that somehow the carpet beneath me would spontaneously turn into a black hole. “Oh, you know, gotta keep the monsters away somehow.” You’re fired. You are so freaking fired for being a creepy fangirl.

Roy let out a bark of a laugh. “That’s what I’m good for? Scaring away fucking monsters?”

With a groan, I covered my face and collapsed on my bed. “Please don’t tell anyone,” I grumbled. “This was my room when I used to live here, I was a dumb kid. I swear to God, my flat is normal. A normal adult flat.”

The bed squeaked as I felt someone sit beside me. When I peeked out between my fingers, Roy was looking at me with a hint of concern on his face.

“Hey, no need to be fucking embarrassed.” He glanced up at the poster that now laid directly above us. “Can’t say I blame you. I was young and hot.”

Despite my inner anguish, I moved my hands and grinned. “You’re not that much older now, Kent,” I teased.

He raised his eyebrows at me. “I’m still hot then?”

Before I could come up with some clever retort, Roy cupped my face and leaned close. “Please say yes,” he said softly.

I gulped, knowing he could definitely feel it. “Yes,” I whispered.

He gently pressed his lips against mine, a soft, small kiss that made me melt closer to him. His beard tickled my face as his hand stroked my cheek. Roy Kent is kissing me Roy Kent is kissing me Roy Kent is kissing me.

When Roy let go, a tiny giggle escaped my lips. He smiled at me- a real smile, the one I had seen maybe a small handful of times on television over the years. He opened his mouth to say something-

“Oi!” A loud knock banged on the door. “Mum and Dad want to know if you’re snogging Roy Kent in there!”

Roy grinned at me, still holding my face. “Don’t suppose I can tell your brother to fuck off?”

I wrinkled my nose. “’d rather you didn’t,” I whispered.

“Well then.” Roy stood up, stretching out his hand to help me to my feet. “Guess we should go have some fucking cake.” He nodded up towards the poster above my bed. “You should bring that thing to work sometime. I can fucking autograph it if you want.”

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

[iwritefandomimagines]

WRONG DECISION — ROY KENT

masterlist

pairing: roy kent x footballer!reader

description: you’ve just finished negotiating a contract to sign for arsenal, and the first thing you do is excitedly go to tell your boyfriend. you forgot, however, to factor in how he’d react to your choice of club. [based on a request]

warnings: swearing, jokey argument, a lil fluffy too

author’s note: kinda short and sweet but i hope you enjoy regardless !!! this is the first roy fic on the blog so i hope it’s okay. x

“I have news!”

Roy raised his eyebrows silently, waiting for you to blurt out what it was that you were so excited to tell him, you’d not even said hello first.

“Go on then,” he urged, and something in his face told you he already knew what you were about to say.

You perched yourself on the edge of your shared couch, where he was sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“So you know my contract is coming to an end and I said I wasn’t going to renew given the terms they wanted me to agree to?” you bit your lip, and he tilted his head, “Right.”

You’d just made one of the biggest decisions of your life and signed for one of the biggest clubs in England, and yet here you were suddenly terrified to tell your boyfriend the news.

How had you not considered that your boyfriend was a Chelsea legend and you’ve just signed for fucking Arsenal?

Sure — you were positively ecstatic at the opportunity, but you knew he wasn’t going to be all too impressed even if he did want the best for you.

As far as Roy was concerned, Chelsea were the club you should’ve set your sights on.

“I’ve been trying to keep my discussions with clubs secret from you in case they fell through, but I’ve just signed for fuckin’ Arsenal!”

You watched him grit his teeth for a moment before he forced a smile that was nothing short of sarcastic, before he then managed to muster a smile that could have appeared genuine if you didn’t know him so well.

“You’re mad,” you folded your arms across your chest, a teasing smirk on your face as you tried not to giggle at his petty irritation.

“Mad? Me? I’m not mad,” he replied, gulping, “This is big news, I’m proud of you.”

You quirked your brow at him, “Might wanna tell that to your face, babe.”

You watched his face switch through a number of expressions in a matter of seconds as he overthought how he was appearing right now.

He looked down for a moment, “I am proud of you,” he paused for a moment before looking back up at you, “But Arsenal? Really?”

“You’re just pissed I didn’t sign for Chelsea,” you tutted, “They didn’t even want me!”

“They fuckin’ did,” he countered, “They told me they did! They said they were going to try and make you an offer!”

You laughed, shuffling a little closer to him and placing your hand on his arm as you watched the veins on his forehead begin to appear as you made another confession, “Yeah, okay you’re right. They did.”

“You what?”

“They made me an offer…”

Roy went to interject, but you weren’t going to let him do so before you finished.

“But Arsenal made a better one,” you shrugged, not mad at his reaction but just rather amused, “I love you, babe, but I’m not going to just sign for Chelsea to keep you happy, you grumpy old sod.”

“Fair enough.”

You were silent for a moment, watching him fight the urge to make a comment until he no longer could, “It’s turning my stomach just thinking about you having to wear that kit, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t watch then!”

“Well I have to! I can’t not support my girlfriend, I’m not a total prick,” he grumbled, to which you quirked your brow, “I said not a total prick.”

“Then grow up and get over it, I guess. I’m a gunner now, baby! And you can’t stop it!” you singsonged as you walked away from him into your shared kitchen, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs as you took a sip from a glass of water he’d left on the side.

He shot up to follow you, parting your knees so that he could stand between them and holding them still.

“I am really fucking proud of you, love,” he smiled, “Even if you have made the wrong decision here and picked the wrong club.”

You shoved his chest softly in jest, scoffing, “Shut up!”

“Alright, alright,” he conceded, lifting his hands in surrender before cupping your chin with them, “I’m proud you’ve signed a better contract, and I will get over seeing you in that godawful fucking kit.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, pressing a quick kiss to his nose and watching him roll his eyes as you did so, “Better. We’ll work on it.”

He didn’t say anything, kissing you now in such a way that made it clear he really was proud of you.

Roy knew how hard you worked and how much you loved football, and to see how well you were doing for yourself made him immensely proud.

Sure, he was less than impressed that he’d have to spend at least the next season or so in the home end at the Emirates stadium cheering you on.

But for you, he’d do anything, really.

———

sorry this was quite short but i liked it as it was and didn’t want to add superfluous filler for the sake of it so kept it short and sweet <3 hope u enjoyed and thank you again for the request x

if you’d like to request anything, feel free — and in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

#roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent x y/n #roy kent x you #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso #roy kent fluff #roy kent imagine #roy kent imagines

[beybaldes]

but I ignore things, and I move sideways

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent x gn!reader

summary : “defending them against everyone, even when they’re not there to witness it” requested by anon

content warning : i make everyone out to be a dick for the sake of the plot

an : i <3 roy kent and I hope he is happy forever !! title comes from ‘growing sideways’ by Noah Kahan I really recommend great song and no skip album!!

“I’m just saying, since his injury, he has become a has been. There is no shame to it, it is just a fact.”

Usually, you’d let Jan Mass’s bluntness slide, given - as each member of the team had explained to you at some point - he wasn’t mean, just Dutch. Usually, his casual cruelness in the name of being honest didn’t concern Roy, however.

“Unfortunately, I have to agree.” Dani added, surprising you and the rest of the room. “If a baby was born today, they wouldn’t know ‘Roy Kent, football legend’ they know ‘Roy Kent, coach for Richmond.”

While Dani’s words greatly discredited and diminished Roy’s career to his post-injury life, his kinder explanation had the rest of the lads humming and nodding in agreement.

“Doesn’t make it any less mean.” You spoke up, everyone attention snapping to you, where you’d been sat in front of Roy’s old locker - you’d become somewhat attached to the seat in all your years with Roy spent in this changing room. “Yeah, sure, Dani’s right. A baby born today would probably hear about Roy Kent the coach before Roy Kent the footballer. But one search of his name would tell you otherwise.”

You couldn’t look at them as you spoke. Despite wanting to stand up for him, knowing you would regardless of who or what they were saying about him, it didn’t make you any less nervous. “He’s not a fucking has been though, is he? Each and every one of you take his criticisms as Gospel, work as hard as possible to meet his expectations and preach the Roy Kent effect like it’s the only thing keeping the team running. Is that a has been? Or is that a great fucking coach who works his ass off to keep you guys together?”

Sam placed a hand against your arm, your eyes snapping up to meet his. “Ignore Jan Mas, he is just-“

“Dutch. I know.” Turning to face the blonde that had started the outrage you were feeling. “But there’s a difference between being honest and blunt about it and just being fucking mean.”

You left the changing room after you’d spoke, fed up with the boys you had come to love like family. Unfortunately for them, you loved Roy more then you loved them.

“They were right.” Isaac growled, arms folded across his chest as he spent a moment staring down each and every person in the changing room. “We know that’s not true about Roy, and non of us stood up for him. We’re fucking cowards.”

The second the doors to the changing room had closed behind you, you bumped right into a firm chest, rough hands grabbing at your arms to keep you up. Upon recognising the heather-charcoal shirt, you melted into the touch, tucking your head into the junction of his neck and shoulder without a word. Before you could vent your frustrations to the coach, he pressed a kiss to your temple, leaving his lips ghosting against your ear and you in his arms.

“Heard you in there, sticking up for me.” Roy scoffed, though not offendedly. You could almost feel his heart beating out of his chest as he held you against him. “Nice of you.”

“Of course I’d stick up for you, Roy.” You pulled your head from the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and staring up at the dark haired man you loved so much. “I’d stick up for you anytime, anywhere, to anyone.”

Roy had never been good with words; and he knew he’d never be able to truly tell you how much your actions meant to him. He often thought of himself as a has been, someone past their prime who was still hanging around cause he had nothing else going for him - but you clearly didn’t think that, and that was enough for Roy. However, he hoped that as he pulled you in for a delicate kiss, featherlight and gentle in a way you weren’t overly used to with Roy, that you understood.

You did. Completely.

#beybaldes summer sleepover !! #ted lasso x reader #roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent one shot

[peterpparkrr]

Banter (Ch. 4)

Series: Banter

Pairing: Roy Kent x f!Reader

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

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

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

series masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh but move to say hello to him anyway.

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

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

Cool.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How have you been?" Roy asks you.

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

“Shit,” Roy replies.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Roy replies. 

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

As it turns out, talking to Roy is easy.

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

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

“I said what I said,” Roy replies.

You burst into laughter at the whole story. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good food,” Roy adds from beside you.

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

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

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

And you didn’t hate it.

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

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

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

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

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

“What was his name?” Roy asks. 

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

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

You laugh.

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

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

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

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

"Yeah," Roy replies.

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

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

"Me too.”

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

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

"Goodnight," You reply.

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

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

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

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #roy kent #roy kent fanfic #roy kent x reader #roy kent drabble #roy kent reader insert #ted lasso reader insert #ted lasso series #roy kent series #keeley jones

[buckychristwrites]

Could This Be | Chap. Five | j.t.

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: One minute, you're single and working for AFC Richmond as the team's medic. The next minute, you're in a fake relationship with the team's handsome striker who you know next to nothing about.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Discussions of Previous Emotional & Physical Domestic Violence. Cussing. Fake Dating

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy :)

Masterlist | Could This Be Masterlist | Main Blog

“Should we go in, then?” 

“Probably.”

Despite this, the both of you continued to sit in Jamie’s idling car. A slow trickle of rain fell on the windshield. From what you could tell, Keeley and Roy had not arrived yet. 

“Unless you want to wait for them?” You asked him. All he did was shrug. It was clear that he was anxious too. He kept pulling at the end of his jacket, you noticed, and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Raising your hand slowly, hesitantly, you reached over and placed it on his forearm lightly. He jumped at the contact before whirling his head to face you.

“It’s gonna be okay,” You said softly. He looked between you and your hand, taking a deep breath before nodding. Just as he was about to speak, you looked over his shoulder to find Roy and Keeley on the other side of the street, approaching the door to the restaurant. You nodded in their direction. “They’re here. You ready?” He nodded before turning the car off and climbing out. You did the same, walking to the other side of the car where he stood. He held his hand out for you, raising his eyebrows in question. Your heart rate picked up from the anxiety the gesture brought, but even still, you reached out and pressed your palm into his. He adjusted his hand to entwine your fingers into his own before leading you across the road.

Your breath caught in your throat.

It was so simple. Yet, you had forgotten what it was like to have your hand held so delicately. His hand was warm against yours, but in a comforting way. His fingers were wrapped tightly around your hand, but not too tight to where you felt like you were in trouble, yet not so loose that you felt like he was doing it out of obligation. Both of those feelings, you were all too familiar with. There was something about the way his fingertips felt against the top of your hand that was so… consoling.

It made you want to cry on the spot. But, this time, not from sadness, or fear.

You wanted to cry out of euphoria.

Keeley caught sight of the two of you first, her face instantly breaking out into a wide smile.

“I can’t fuckin’ stand how cute the two of you are,” She said, shaking her head as she opened her arms for a hug. You walked into them, Jamie hugging Roy at the same time. When Keeley pulled away so she could hug Jamie, you turned to Roy.

“How’s my favourite grumpy old troll?” You asked him as he kissed your cheek and hugged you. 

“I feel like I see enough of you pricks without having to spend a whole dinner with you,” He grumbled, although you could just make out the playful tone in his voice. You rolled your eyes at him. Jamie opened the door to the restaurant and allowed Roy, Keeley and then yourself to enter before following behind. His hand brushed against yours as the group approached the hostess, and, instinctively, you slipped your hand in his, entwining your fingers for him this time.

The fact that the feeling of your hand being held left you with butterflies in your stomach made you feel so stupid. It shouldn’t be this groundbreaking to your stupid brain that you were holding someone’s hand without being afraid. But you continued with it anyway.

The hostess led the four of you to your table right away, allowing you to sit at the window table. Jamie pulled your chair out for you, a deep heat filling your cheeks as you sat down under the suspicious stare of Roy Kent, who had already sat down. When Jamie’s hand left yours, your skin was left with a cold void. The waitress was already swooping over with glasses of water before your chair was even scooted in.

“Jamie, when did you become such a gentleman?” Keeley asked, her hand over her chest. He looked between the three of you as he took his own seat. Clearly, he hadn’t done something he felt was worth commenting on.

“Oh erm…” 

“Isn’t he such a gentleman though?” You interjected, saving him from answering. “He even brought me flowers when he picked me up. Beautiful bouquet of roses.” You put a hand on his upper arm and gave it a squeeze. “Part of the reason I like him so much, I think.” Roy, who had been taking a drink of his water, snorted, blowing bubbles into his glass and subsequently getting water all over himself. Everyone else at the table wordlessly decided to collectively ignore this.

“So,” Keeley said, resting her chin over the tops of her hands. “Tell me everything.”

You and Jamie exchanged a look. It was too much to expect the subject to not be brought up so early in the dinner. Though, you were hoping to at least have some bread before it was mentioned. 

“Well, obviously, we met at work,” Jamie said, throwing his napkin on his lap. You had to resist the urge to run your hands down your face.

Sweet fucking Jesus.

“Well, I’ve been enlightened,” Roy said, having just finished cleaning the water off his black button up shirt. 

“It wasn’t because of work that we started talking though,” You explained, smiling sweetly at Keeley, who was still eagerly listening to the two of you.

“Oh yeah, we ran into each other outside of work one day,” Jamie added. You looked at him before looking back at them. Now he was giving you something to work with.

“Oh? Where did you run into each other?” Keeley asked. You glanced at Jamie again right as he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“The Zoo.” It slipped out so fast that you weren’t sure who had said it until everyone turned to stare at you. You nodded, standing by your answer. “The London Zoo. We ran into each other there.” Roy turned to Jamie.

“Why the fuck were you at the Zoo?” He asked. Jamie looked positively offended by the question.

“I love animals.”

“Enough to go to the Zoo by yourself?” 

“Who said I was by meself?”

“Who were you with then?”

Jamie stammered for a moment too long before finally saying, “...Meself.”

“I personally love going to the zoo by myself,” You chimed in casually just as the waitress came by with a basket of bread and to take drink orders. 

“We all are aware of your passion about zoos and animals,” Roy said as he ignored the new presence looming over the table. “I’m talkin’ about ‘im.”

“I’d love some wine,” Keeley said happily to the waitress, entirely unfazed by whatever it was that was happening at this table.

“Just keep the whiskeys comin’, love,” Jamie added, giving the waitress a tense smile. 

“Same for me,” Roy said, glaring at Jamie. 

“I’ll just stick with water,” You whispered before taking a long sip. This was clearly going to be the longest night of your life, and while you would rather be drunk for it, someone needed to be sober. And you weren’t sure that someone was going to be Jamie, who had also been your ride.

“What were you doing at the zoo, Jamie?” Keeley asked. He raised his shoulders in a shrug.

“Just felt like walkin’ amongst the animals.” He took a long drink from his water glass, and you did the same.

“And you two just ran into each other?” She followed up. You looked over at him, imagining this fake meeting in your mind.

“Yeah,” You said quietly. “We got to talking, and then the next thing we knew, hours had passed and we had just been walking around in circles!” Keeley smiled as if she was watching a romantic comedy in real time. You felt like you were an actor in one. Playing out the scenes but none of them actually being your own.

“What’s your favourite animal at the zoo then, Tartt?” Roy asked as he took another drink from his water glass.

“Pandas. Easy,” Jamie said confidently, folding his arms in front of him. It took everything in you to not slide out from your chair and under the table. You reached over and put a hand over his.

“...Would be your favourite if they had pandas, like we talked about when we ran into each other!” You said through your teeth. Jamie smiled.

“Right. Fuckin’ love pandas. They should be at every zoo.”

“You had mentioned the African wild dogs were really good, if I’m remembering correctly,” You said as you scratched your forehead. Jamie snapped his fingers before pointing at you. 

“That’s what I meant. African wild dogs.”

“Yeah, because African wild dogs are so similar to fuckin’ pandas,” Roy retorted. You grabbed a piece of bread and stressfully took a very large bite. 

“It’s the fur pa’ern,” Jamie tried to defend himself, gesturing around his eyes. “They got the dark fur around their eyes, yeah? Similar to pandas.”

“Isn’t the bread here just amazin’!?” Keeley asked as she took a piece for herself. It was unclear if she was trying to alleviate the tension or if she just really thought the bread was good, but you were thankful for her input regardless. Both Roy and Jamie took that opportunity to take a piece of bread for themselves. The waitress came back with the drinks, setting them down and pulling out her pad for orders.

“We need a minute,” Roy told her before she could even get a word out. She nodded before wandering off again. You took the menu and opened it for the first time. Jamie, instead of reading his own, was looking over your shoulder.

“I recommend the fettuccine,” He said quietly, pointing to where it was on the menu. “Although their shrimp is pretty good too.” You glanced over the menu to see if Keeley and Roy were paying attention before turning your head slightly towards Jamie.

“I’m allergic to shellfish,” You whispered, desperate for the other two not to hear. 

“You’re allergic to shellfish?” He whispered back in a shock filled voice. You nodded.

“My throat will close right up.” You closed your fist quickly to demonstrate, causing Jamie’s eyes to widen. Roy dropped his menu loudly onto the table, making the both of you jump.

“You didn’t know she’s allergic to shellfish?” He demanded, sounding displeased, almost disgusted. You set the menu down lightly.

“It just hasn’t come up, Roy,” You said, trying and failing to not sound tired. “We’ve only just started dating. We’re still getting to know each other.” Keeley turned to Roy, putting her hand on his thigh. 

“Babe,” She said gently. “You need to calm down.” His eyes rolled upward, staring at the ceiling as she chastised him. “They’re our friends, yeah? There’s no need to quiz them, or interrogate them! They’re happy, and we’re happy.” His eyes fell on Jamie once again.

“Yeah,” He grumbled. “Happy.” 

Keeley turned around to face forward again, giving you another bright smile. You were so thankful for her at this moment. Though you knew that Roy meant well, you weren’t sure he always realised how incredibly intimidating he is. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t care. The waitress returned to take orders, and you did take Jamie’s suggestion to get the chicken fettuccine alfredo (no shrimp for you though). When she walked off again, you saw that Roy and Jamie both started and finished their whiskeys in the same gulp at the same time.

“What sort of things do you do together?” Keeley asked, sipping on her wine.

“Ride bikes!” Jamie was quick to answer on his own. This time, Roy turned to you.

“You fuckin’ hate cycling.” 

You shrugged, trying to remain casual. “I’m getting into it.” You tilted your head, trying to look thoughtful. “Jamie’s helped me… see the fun in it. Like he did with you!” He looked so homicidal that you had to look away while drinking your water to avoid laughing. 

“Sometimes we just run errands together, just so we don’t have to do them alone,” You added. “But also, obviously, to spend more time together.” Keeley looked lovestruck.

“Awww, you always talk about how much you hate doing errands alone!”

Which you did. It always felt so… sad to go to the grocery store or to the bank alone. Something about the fact that this was a lie made your chest hurt. 

The waitress swept in again, this time to deliver the plates of food. The serving size was smaller than you had thought it would be, especially due to the amount it was going to cost. You weren’t used to fancy restaurants, mostly going to the local takeout spots near your house that gave you enough food to last a few days. Picking up your fork, you dug into your plate, as everyone else already had. 

You looked over at Jamie, who you just now noticed had gotten the fettuccine as well. When he noticed your gaze on him, he raised his eyebrows in question.

“No shrimp?” You asked curiously. He shook his head, looking at you with knitted eyebrows.

“Didn’t want to risk it.”

“Risk what?” You asked. He pointed to you.

“You.” He looked confused. “Being near it makes your throat go-” He closed his fist tightly, just as you had done before. “-yeah?” You shook your head, biting back a smile.

“It’s only if I ingest it, or if it touches my food,” You explained. 

He let out a quiet, “Oh,” looking down at his plate before his eyes were on you once more. 

“Oh well.”

It was touching how he considered you when ordering his own food. There were specific memories in your head of parties (yes, multiple) thrown by your ex significant other where you couldn’t eat any of the food provided due to shellfish being involved. The sadness you had felt during those times was so vivid in your mind.

“Do you even know where the zoo is?” Roy asked, reeling the conversation back. You wanted to throw your fork at him.

“Camden,” Jamie answered without a second thought. You were surprised at the speed, but tried not to let that show in your expression. Roy didn’t say anything in response, just growling, as he always does, before turning back to his plate. 

Soon enough, your plate was empty. The food wasn’t anything to phone home about, and certainly not worth the price tag, but it was decent enough. Jamie hummed, making you look at him in time to see him gesturing towards his mouth.

“You got somethin’…” He said. You went to grab your napkin, but he was already reaching over with his own. “May I?” You caught his eye before nodding. It was delicate, the way he wiped the alfredo sauce from your mouth. It was also incredibly intimate, and you could feel the embarrassment filling your chest. He didn’t appear to notice as he pulled away. “There ya go, love.” 

The nickname caught you off guard. Of course, you had heard him refer to the waitress earlier in the same way, but you weren’t expecting the same treatment. Though, maybe that was on you for not. You tried to continue as normal, and not allow yourself to feel whatever it was that was boiling up in your chest. Was it anxiety? Was it delight? It was hard to say. 

The waitress came back with the check, which Jamie snatched as Roy began to reach for it.

“I got it,” Roy said with his hand held out. Jamie shook his head, raising his hand so his palm was facing Roy.

“Please.” 

“Give me the fuckin’ check, Tartt.”

Jamie didn’t say another word, instead just taking his credit card out of his wallet. When the waitress came by again, he all but threw them at her without breaking eye contact with Roy. 

The way Jamie and Roy naturally butt heads on their own without your intervention had always been funny, but it being worse now that you were involved made it all the more hilarious.

Before long, the four of you were standing to leave. Just as you turn to walk away from the table, you find Jamie standing there waiting with his hand extended out towards you. It was hard to pretend you weren’t excited to have your hand back in his. When your fingers curled through his again, it felt like cuddling up under a blanket after a long day at work. Like your hand was just meant to be held by his. In a fake romantic sort of way, of course.

The rain was still softly falling. Your eyes drifted upwards towards the sky once you crossed the threshold into the cool night air. As you and Jamie walked, your intertwined hands naturally swung back and forth. Roy and Keeley turned before getting too far. 

“Thank you for the lovely evening,” Keeley said, giving you a hug. Despite yourself, your hug back was only one armed, as you still had a grip on Jamie’s hand. He didn’t make any moves to break it either, as he said his goodbyes. When you turned to Roy, you gave him a small smile.

“Are you gonna start being nice now?” You asked him. He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be the nicest fuckin’ angel on the planet.” 

You gave him your most radiant smile.

“Thank you.” 

When you hugged him, he didn’t say another word, but he gave you a tight squeeze. And that was enough. You knew exactly what he meant.

One more set of waves were exchanged as Jamie and you turned to head towards his car. He opened the door to the passengers side for you, and when you flopped in, your hand fell from his, leaving the void once again. He ended up only having one drink, the other one abandoned on the table once the food arrived. You were grateful, as you didn’t want to drive his car. 

Jamie climbed into the driver’s side and shut the door. Staring at the steering wheel, a moment passed before he spoke. “I think that went alright.” 

You wrinkled your nose in thought.

“I think it went as well as one could expect it to.” 

As he pulled the car from the curb, you curled into your seat, the anxiety melting away now that it was just you and him.

“Glad I didn’t get the shrimp,” He mumbled. “Coulda killed ya.”

“It would’ve gotten us out of the dinner though,” You pointed out. “Wouldn’t have had to listen to you say there’s pandas at the London zoo.” He let out a loud laugh.

“I didn’t know!” He was laughing as he said this.

“That’s obvious,” You said, shaking your head. He shot you a pouty look, and you shook your head even more.

“We hadn’t even ordered at that point,” He pointed out. “So I woulda said it either way. Just couldn’t escape it.” You stared out the windshield, fighting the urge to laugh anymore.

“A shame.”

You watched the buildings go by as the car drove down the surprisingly sparse road. It was slightly dark, the only light being from the headlights and the post lamps.

“D’you know what though, I think we convinced Roy,” Jamie said happily. You rolled your head across the headrest to look at him.

“Maybe,” You said. “But he’ll probably still be mean to you.” He shrugged. 

“I’m not worried.” He made a nonchalant face. “He’s already mean to me.” You fought a smile.

“That’s true,” You said. “Although, you deserve it sometimes.” 

“Oi, when the fuck do I deserve it?” He demanded, staring at you as if you had betrayed him. 

“When you’re being a fucking prick?” You shouted back at him in a questioning tone. He fell back in his seat. 

“Yeah, alright.” A beat passed. “But most of the time, I don’t deserve it, right?”

You stared down at your hand, curling and straightening your fingers over and over to try and fight the tingling feeling creeping through them. It didn’t work, but you already knew why. If you imagined hard enough, you could pretend like a warm hand was still fit inside it. Maybe that was all you could do to fill the void. Just pretend.

“No, Jamie,” You said. “Most of the time, you don’t.”

~

TAGS

@daffieapple, @my-left-sock, @buckybarnex, @jelleeyfish, @ricciardhoe3, @picked-off-by-barzal, @lilweirdgal, @hotdoglamp, @loveslide, @rosea-h, @13-7-19-67-71. @wickedheartz, @xxenia14, @zazima, @alainabooks143. @geek-and-proud, @imagines-reblogged, @fuckifuckedup, @booklovingduck, @loveforaugust, @f1maverick, @jamieroyjamieroy, @meisterdani, @hanybunch, @batsy-bats1, @brianandthemays, @heletsmelovehim. @breepboopbap, @jellycolors

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #tedlassosource #ted lasso fanfiction

[miraclesabound]

All of This is Temporary

Summary: What should have been Mikey and Reader's special night goes sideways, and unfortunately, it never gets fixed.

Pairing: Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader, pre-relationship

Notes: This idea of Mikey and his friend getting thrown out of some VIP event came to me in a dream (and the music cue as well). A surprise cameo from one of my other favorite characters from a different show, because he showed up in the dream too. Also on AO3.

Warnings: Spoilers for The Bear, canon-typical language, classism, unrequited (?) love, addiction themes, tragic ending (mention of Mikey's suicide)

Tags: @pettyprocrastination, @cinewhore, @phoenixhalliwell, @nolita-fairytale

NOVEMBER 2021

The movie that Mikey won tickets for is at Doc Films , and given the place's history, you and Mikey are almost more dressed for an opera than a movie. He's done out in an old but clean tux, bow tie and cummerbund included - and you bought yourself a silver dress with matching clutch. You may not be a couple, but you take internal satisfaction in knowing how good you two look together right now.

The main thing that's important to you is that, at least from what you can tell, Mikey is fully sober this evening. You know you're not his keeper, but you feel some pride on his behalf - whatever he's strugging with, he's made the effort for you tonight, and that warms your heart.

However, that warmth sours in your stomach when you actually get to the theater. When you and Mikey walk in, it's clear that this is a much smaller event than you thought - and that you and Mikey are WILDLY overdressed. Of the maybe twenty total people there, the only other person dressed formally is a gruff-looking man whose hair is almost as dark as Mikey's is. In his case, he's wearing a strikingly modern all-black suit.

Mikey smiles when he sees the other man and gives him a hearty handshake. "Roy fuckin' Kent! What brings ya this way?"

Roy shrugs, but he accepts Mikey's handshake just the same. "Mikey Berzatto, ya old dog - just takin' some travel time - Coach Lasso fuckin' insisted... And who's this, then?"

Mikey introduces you, explaining that Roy had visited The Beef by accident a few years back during an exhibition tour in the States. "You better come in for a couple sandwiches tomorrow for lunch, ya hear me?" he tells Roy. "Won't take no for an answer!"

"Wouldn't miss it," Roy says. You and Mikey take your seats on Roy's other side.

A woman a few seats away chimes in with: "Oh, you two look so nice - is that your tux?" You don't care for the look of her - she comes across like someone trying to draw Mikey's sister Natalie from a mirror image only.

You want to believe that she's just being nice, but something about her tone is venomous, and Mikey must feel the same way. His response is icy. " 'Course it's mine, why wouldn't it be?"

"You're Michael Berzatto, right?"

"Yeah?"

"My cousins love your shop - I guess I'm just wondering why a sandwich shop owner would need to buy a tux instead of renting one; that's all."

If you didn't know better, you'd think she was trying to call you and Mikey tacky. Apparently Roy feels the same way, because he leans over towards her and says, "Oi, Pam, knock it off, yeah? Movie's startin'."

"Pam..." you think to yourself. "Why does that name sound familiar?" The lights turn off, and you smile to yourself when you hear a familiar musical sting playing for the movie intro.

"Don't call me by my name...all of this is temporary..."

You know this song very well, and you can't help but hum along. To your pleasant surprise, you swear that Roy is humming too. Who knew such a brash guy liked Halsey? Neither of you notice Mikey staring at you like you hung the moon and stars.

Suddenly the lights come up, and that woman who looks like Natalie's evil twin is standing in front of you, a sickening smile on her face. "Miss, you're going to have to leave," she tells you. "This is an exclusive event, and you're causing a disturbance."

Roy, God bless the man, speaks up for you - and thank goodness, because you feel like you're going to vaporize from embarrassment. "Pam, it's nothin', I was humming too."

"You're a VIP, Roy, and she isn't. It's my movie, and if I want her and her ridiculous disco ball of a dress out of here, that's my prerogative." Shit, you realize. This is Pam Stratford, the writer that Mikey enjoys so much. No wonder he was excited to get these tickets...

Mikey pulls you into his side - almost as if he expects Pam to take a swing at you. "Listen, I've always liked your work, but you don't get to talk to my g- - my friend like that - we got our tickets fair and square."

You can see that flash in Mikey's eyes that means either a bender or a fight is coming, and you don't want to see him arrested. Pam seems like the type to call the police in faster than they're needed. Pushing lightly against his chest, you say "Bear, it's ok, I'll just go..."

"Then I'm leavin' too," he says. "Roy, I'll catch ya tomorrow - Pam? You can go fuck yourself for bein' a snobby bitch." The silence is deafening as you two leave the theater, but the outraged look on Pam's face is almost worth it.

You shudder as you step out into the night air, even with Mikey holding you and blasting like a furnace. "It's cold - take me home?"

"Yeah, let's get you back before you freeze."

--

The train ride back to your neighborhood is quiet, and it's not until the two of you are walking up to your stoop that Mikey says, "Pam was wrong - you look gorgeous in that dress, and that's God's honest truth."

You smile at him. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

"Do we...wanna try this again some other time?" he asks, holding your purse for you as you dig out your keys. "Maybe not a movie, but some other excuse to dress up?"

"I'd like that, Bear," you agree. "Let's aim for after Christmas - I know how nutty things get for you during December."

"Then it's a date?" Mikey asks. He doesn't mean to put you on the spot, but if you don't feel the same way he does, he'd rather know now.

Your smile grows even wider. "It's a date - we'll nail down details after New Years." With a sudden burst of bravery, you hug him tight and kiss his cheek. "G'night, my bear."

--

Unfortunately, the holidays madness makes Mikey spiral in a bad way, and he never texts you back about the date. In fact, you don't realize as you turn to open your door that this will be the last time you see him alive.

#mikey berzatto #mike berzatto #mikey berzatto x reader #angst and tragedy #ships passing in the night #mikey the bear

[inbloomwriting]

inbloomwriting II Masterlist

Updated: 09-July-2023

Check individual posts for warnings. Thank you ♥

If I had you

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. Reader thinks it’s the easiest thing in the world.

A calm surrender

Roy doesn’t love her. In fact, he finds her irritating above anything else. And yet he manages to tell her in so many different ways.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x fem!reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tart fanfiction #roy kent x reader #roy kent x f!reader #roy kent x female reader #roy kent x fem!reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #fanfiction masterlist #inbloomwriting #ibwmasterlist

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Unexpectedly Yours: Part 8

Fandom: Ted Lasso (Regency AU)

Pairing: Roy Kent x F!Reader

Summary: Lord Roy Kent still has yet to marry. He hates the notion that marriage is a way to ensure your status in society. You have delayed your debut to society for years because of the same idea. So what happens when two people who hate the idea of marriage are constantly drawn to each other?

A/N: ive been waiting to use this gif...

Series Masterlist

Roy looked around seeing that everyone had stopped dancing, watching as you storm your way out of the ballroom. Eyes were glancing between your retreating and Roy's stunned look. He groans to himself and mumbles, "Fucking hell," promptly stomping his way out of the ballroom to follow you.

"Hey!" he calls out to you but you're ignoring him, "Stop!" he hollers again, following you to the gardens of the estate.

"Fuck," he grunts, picking up the pace and catching up to you, "Will you slow down for a moment?"

You whip around and push him back, "I've had enough of you!" you're seething, "Ever since you arrived, my world had revolved around you but not by choice! I'm tired of people telling me what to do. I'm tired of having this pressure to be with someone who doesn't want me! I'm tired of all of this!"

"Do you love Goodman?" Roy calmly asks.

"What?" you look at him confused.

"Because if you don't, then you shouldn't be with him. You deserve someone who makes you feel like you've been struck by fucking lightning. Someone who you're excited to be the first thing you see when you wake and the last thing before you sleep. You deserve someone who will worship the ground you walk on, but also someone who challenges you. Someone who admires your tenacity and passion. Does Goodman do that?"

You stare at him in silence and so he continues, "You think I don't want you, but I do. God, I want you," he states. He pauses to wait for any kind of reaction but you remain silent, "Ever since I came here, you're all I've thought about. You've consumed my every being. You've brought life back into me...but I don't think I'm a good enough man for you. I don't think I deserve love and I struggle to let people in. But every time I see you with Goodman, I think about how much I would regret not even trying to fight for you."

"I'm sorry I've hurt you and caused you so much distress since arriving to Richmond. That was never my intention. If you want me to fuck off, I'll obey your wishes. But if you care for me just as much as I care for you, I will do anything you ask of me."

You stare at Roy in silence. You're completely stunned by his outburst of a confession, but hearing his love and adoration for you...it stirs something in you.

You immediately grab Roy by the lapel, pulling him to press your lips against his. He's taken but surprise but then you feel his hands cup your face. His lips moving against yours in the heat of the moment causing a fire to burn in your belly. You feel absolutely consumed by him in this kiss until-

"Y/N L/N!" your mother screeches and you immediately pull away, lips swollen and slightly out of breath.

Your mother is followed by your father, Keeley, Jamie, Jeffrey, and Clara. Your father is trying to calm your mother as she bounds towards you in a furry, "What on Earth do you think you two are doing?! Such a scandal!"

Roy steps forward, "Ma'am, I'm sorry-"

"You'll have to marry now!"

Your eyes widen, "Mother-"

"No! There's no choice now. You have to marry Lord Kent because if word gets out that not only you two were unchaperoned but also found in such a compromising position, you'll be ruined! Not to mention the disrespect on Mr. Goodman!" she gestures to Jeffrey and he looks at you with sympathy, but no malice. He gives you a nod and mouths, "It's okay," which already lightens the load on your shoulders.

Roy clenches his jaw, straightens his back and says, "I'll marry her."

You whip your head to Roy and you look at him in surprise. He completely turns to you and grabs your gloved hand, "I meant what I said, Y/N. Truly. If you'll have me, I will do anything you ask of me, anything to make you happy."

You find yourself breathlessly nodding, "I'll have you," you turn to your parents, "We'll marry."

Your mother nods in satisfaction, "Good. We'll be taking our leave then," she immediately grabs you by the wrist and starts dragging you away.

Roy then steps up to your father, "Will you be available tomorrow afternoon to discuss affairs, sir?"

"I will, my Lord."

Roy nods and sees to walk back towards the house leaving behind your father, Keeley, Jamie, Jeffrey, and Clara.

Jamie claps Jeffrey on the shoulder, "Sorry, mate, looks like that courtship isn't happening."

Jeffrey shrugs, "As long as she's happy. However, I thought her and Lord Kent didn't get along."

Clara sighs, "It's complicated, but it seems they've uncomplicated it...finally."

_________________________

You don't listen to your mother as she scolds you throughout the entire ride back home. You stare out of the carriage with a small smile on your lips. The lips that Roy kissed.

Your father, noting the dreamy look on your face, sighs and places a hand on your mother's lap, "Darling, I think that's enough."

"But-"

"I'm not sure why you're upset, honestly. You wanted them to be together, yes?"

Your mother huffs, "Yes, but I didn't want it to happen so scandalously!"

"The only people who found them were us and her friends. I doubt they'll tell anyone."

"But-" your father gives her a pointed look and she drops the subject. She looks back at you, also noting the look on your face and she's no longer upset. You look so...in love. Your mother hopes that Lord Kent will keep his word and do everything to ensure your happiness.

____________________

When you arrive back home, you bid your parents good night and head upstairs. However, instead of going to your room, you head straight to Cece's.

You slowly open the door and peek in, "Cece?" you whisper.

You watch as she rolls in her bed, "Y/N?" she sits up, rubbing at her eyes, "Is something wrong?"

You slip into her room and sit at the edge of her bed, "I have some news that I think you'll like."

That seems to wake her up as she sits up in bed, "What is it?!"

You chuckle at her excitement, "Roy and I will be getting married."

Her eyes widen and jaw drops, "What?! Really?! Tell me everything!"

You giggle, "I will but let me change and I will come back and tell you everything."

She groans, "Y/N! No! Tell me now! I've been waiting for this for months!"

"Fine, fine," you pull your young cousin close and tell her the events of the night. She was squealing and jumping in her bed.

"I knew it! I knew it! I told you he loves you!"

"Ssshhh!!" you pull her back down, "Mother and father will be upset if they knew you're awake!"

"Well, that's your fault for waking me!"

You softly smile at your cousin, "You should go back to sleep now."

"I can't! I'm too excited to talk to Phoebe about this!"

You quietly laugh, "Well try your best to go back to sleep, hm?"

"I'll try," Cece says as she slips back under her covers. You pull them up to her chin and you kiss her head. As you walk back to her door, she calls for you, "Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad you and Roy are finally together. Now you live happily ever after."

You nod, "Thank you, Cece. Good night," you exit her room and softly close the door behind you.

You let out a deep breath and head to your room, ready to sleep after such an eventful night.

#roy kent x reader #roy kent #roy kent imagine #f!reader #female!reader #fem!reader #ted lasso imagine #roy kent au #regency au

[axelsagewrites]

Roy & Jamie*Decide

Pairing: roy x f!reader/jamie x f!reader

Kinktober Day twenty-seven: double penetration with Jamie Tartt and Roy Kent: they both like you and when they came to settle it once and for all neither of them expected this out come

Word count: 1812

Warnings: rivalry, threats, roy hating jamie, competitive sex, multiple orgasms, f! receiving oral, m! receiving oral, p in v sex, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

“Who the fuck keeps buzzing?” you muttered as you rushed downstairs to answer the incessant doorbell ringing. “What-oh.” You stopped yourself as you ripped open the door, “Hiya,”

Roy grunted as he pushed past, Jamie giving a nod before glaring at Roy as he followed in. “Okay then,” you said, shutting the door behind them before crossing your arms as you followed them to the living room, “And how can I help you boys?”

“You need to decide,” Roy said bluntly, a trait you usually appreciate but now was just downright confusing.

“Yeah. Me or grampa,” Jamie said earning a growl from the older man. You mentally face palmed at the two of them. See you had been friends with benefits with Jamie for a while but that all stopped when Roy had asked you out on a proper date. That date had turned into several however the whole relationship had blown up a while ago over something so trivial.

You’d insisted on taking a break from boys and dating, especially footballers, however that didn’t stop a few flirts here or there or the occasional slipping and falling into one of their beds. “How am I supposed to decide that?” you asked, arms flailing, “you’ve hardly given me any notice,”

“Well, I’m smarter,” Roy said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jamie screwed up his face, throwing his arms to the side, “Well I’m fitter,”

“I’m taller,”

“I’m faster,”

“I’m way more romantic than this twat,”

“And I don’t make her feel like she’s cuddling a bear,”

“And I’m not some immature baby,”

“Well, I’m better in bed,”

“Like fuck you are!” Roy bellowed, looking at Jamie like he had two heads, “I have mastered my technique, you probably cum before you’ve even got your knickers off,” he spat at Jamie making you giggle. After all he wasn’t wrong about his technique.

Jamie shot you a nasty look before turning back to Roy, “I give great head, tell him,” he insisted pointing at you, but you just held your hands up, not risking getting involved, “Bet I could last longer than you grampa. You’re shooting dust now,”

Roy pushed Jamies shoulder and finally you decided to jump in before they beat the shit out of each other. “Boys! Enough,” you said, getting in between them, “Both of you are good in bed alright? Now kiss and make up,”

“No,” Roy grunted, glaring at Jamie.

“Nah fuck that,” Jamie said, “I want an answer because I know for a fact, I made you cum more than he ever did,”

“Prove it,” Roy growled when an idea sparked in your head and a grin took over your face, “What are you smiling at?” he asked, suddenly scared at the mischief on your face.

“Well, there is one way you two could ya know, settle this debate,”

Jamies head tilted as he genuinely considered the arrangement however Roy quickly barked out a fuck no. “What? You scared grampa?” Jamie asked, gently punching Roy’s chest making him growl and try step closer only to be pushed back by you.

Roy looked down at you, the same heated anger in his eye but a new spark behind, “Bed. Now. You,” he said, pointing his finger in Jamies face, “we have to talk first,”

You quickly slipped away and rushed upstairs, not wanting to possibly be a witness to Jamies gruesome murder, and headed to your room. Deciding just encase this did happen you slipped into something less comfortable and threw your other clothes, a baggy t shirt and shorts, back on.

A few minutes later you heard footsteps as you waited patiently on the bed. When they walked in you went to open your mouth, but you were soon cut off by Roy’s lips slamming onto yours. you melted into the kiss as his hands reached under your shirt, growling at the feeling of the lace against your skin.

He pulled back only to rip the shirt over your head and push you back onto the bed. “Eh not so rough,” Jamie protested but Roy turned to look at him with a smirk.

“She likes it, don’t you love?” he said, looking down at you in a way that made your mouth go dry and all you could do was nod in excitement, “See?”

Jamie rolled his eyes as he pushed in front of Roy, “Let me show you what she really likes, alright?” he said, moving to kiss your lips softly as he hovered over you. his lips were sweet and soft and soon began to kiss down your neck, then chest, then all the way down till he was kissing your inner thigh, and a shiver ran down your spine, “See?” he smirked as his fingers slipped under the waist band of your shorts, pulling them down with ease.

“Watch and learn grampa,”

“Jamie don’t wind him up-fuck,” your gasp cut you off as Jamie moved your panties to the side to kiss your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves with his tongue. For a moment you wondered if having Roy watch this was a bad idea but that soon went away when you felt his fingers teasing your hole.

You whined as he slipped two fingers in, curling them with slow precision. A warm feeling spread through your stomach as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it gently before running his tongue over it once more. Your hips began to buck lightly but Jamies spare hand quickly moved to pin them down as his fingers began to brush against a familiar spot.

“Fuck-I-fuck,” you tried to speak, to ask if this was a good idea, but the knot in your stomach felt ready to explode as moans left your lips. As his teeth brushed your clit you couldn’t stop it anymore. Your body tensed, a loud moan leaving your mouth, as your orgasm washed over you like a ton of bricks. Jamies tongue didn’t stop however, he was determined to ride this out with you.

That was till Roy grabbed him by his collar and ripped him off of you. before you could as questions, he was flipping you onto your stomach and as his hard on hit against your ass you realised, he’d gotten rid of his trousers at some point during the show. He pulled you up onto your knees, ass proudly on display for him.

“Any prick can do that with his mouth,” Roy said, running his tip up and down your slit, making you shiver when it brushed over your already sensitive clit, “But this is even better,” he said, pushing his tip in slowly making you whine and a quiet hiss come from Roy.

You whined as he slowly sunk his thick member inside, gasping as he pushed it the final way in. “Fuck you take me so well,” Roy groaned, his hands tightening on your hips. He waited a moment, just long enough for you to adjust before he began his thrusts.

They were exact and precise and making filthy moans fall from your lips. His hand moved to slip around your hips, finding your clit and rubbing sloppy circles onto the sensitive nerves making you cry out and whine.

Your eyes screwed shut as Roy pushed your back down, deepening your arch so he could hit a new spot. A spot he had found so many times before making your walls squeeze around him. A familiar knot began to build in your stomach as your hands gripped the sheets tightly.

Your eyes opened for a moment to see Jamie stood, his eyes glued to yours and an evident bulge through his trousers. The sight of him watching in awe was enough to tip you over the edge but Roy’s thrusts did not stop for your moans or the way your body tightened as you came around his cock.

“You wanna fuck her, don’t you?” he grunted, his eyes locked on Jamie who began to stutter something out, “Do it then. Fuck her pretty little mouth,” Roy said as his hand gripped your hair, pulling your face out of the sheets, “Cmon darling don’t tease the poor boy,” he scolded, a smirk on his lips.

Jamies eyes snapped down to yours as your arms pulled you up. He stepped closer to the bed before pausing, “Are you sure- “he began to ask but you reached forward, pulling him closer by the waist band of his joggers, “Fuck it,” he mumbled, quickly fishing out his cock.

It looked painfully hard and glossy precum shone from its tip. His hand moved to cup your cheek for a moment before he guided his tip closer. You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue slightly out making Jamie groan at the sight. “Fuck,” he murmured as you took his tip in your mouth.

His hand moved to rest on the back of your hand, guiding your mouth down his shaft. Roy had slowed his thrusts as Jamie had gotten himself situated but with the sight of you taking him all in Roy began to thrust harder, making your head bob up and down on Jamies cock.

Jamie groaned loudly, his hand tightening in your hair as his tip began to hit the back of your throat. It was as if they timed their thrusts perfectly however you soon found yourself moaning as you felt your orgasm approach for the third time.

The moans vibrated down Jamies shaft, his cock twitching in your mouth as he began to moan shamelessly, his hips bucking and sending his tip further down your throat. Roy’s thrusts became harder, making your head bob further down till you felt Jamies pelvis hitting your nose and Jamies hand grip your hair tightly as curses fell from his lips.

“Oh god-I- “he gasped before you felt a salty feeling spill down your throat.

No sooner had Jamie pulled himself from your mouth did Roy pull your body up, your back flush against his chest as he continued to fuck you, now chasing his own peak as your third crashed down around you. Jamie watched in a trance as your tits began to bounce and you fall apart around Roy’s cock for a second time.

However, Roy soon began to grunt, curses falling from his lips before he couldn’t contain himself any longer, “Oh fuck-I-fuck fuck fuck,” he gasped as he spilled inside you, holding you tight against him as his orgasm washed through him.

After a moment Roy moved to help you lay down before essentially crashing on the bed beside you. Jamie moved to sit on the bed beside you, Roy on your other side, and push the hair out of your face.

You looked between the two boys as a realisation washed over you, “How the fuck am I supposed to choose after that?”

#roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent smut #roy kent imagine #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso smut #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt smut #jamie tartt imagine #kinktober

[csigeoblue]

Double Date Part 2 - Roy Kent x Platonic!Reader (Ted Lasso)

A/N: Roy being the bestest friend and keeping you safe. Part 1 It was pretty late when you made it inside Nelson Road. You kept your hoodie up to try to cover as much of your face as you could. Grateful the guy who lived in the Stadium let you in the door after you mentioned Roy's name without asking any questions Walking through the tunnels with the lights flickering only enhanced your sense of dread. You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched even though you knew no one else was there at this time of night. While you didn't have a good plan, you knew you could hide in the boot room since it had the most privacy and leave through the tunnels in the morning before the team arrived.

Keep reading

Yeah you could've called Roy but it was late and you didn't want to put him out over this. He'd told you a thousand times that Luke was bad news but you swore up and down he wasn't anything other than a gentleman. What a liar you turned out to be. By the time you made it inside to the boot room, your adrenaline had faded. You finally felt safe and curled up on the floor behind the boot wall.

____________________

When Will showed up in the morning, he was ready to tackle the day. Although he never quite won over Nate Shelley while he was around, the Greyhounds had been very receptive to his little improvements he'd made to Nate's processes. Because of this he liked to start off the day in the locker room reviewing everything he'd set out the night before and sprayed a lavender scent there and in the boot room to start the day off right. Not today though. Upon entering the boot room, he knew something was off. There were dirt tracks left on his floor! He followed them cautiously around the corner of the boot wall to find... you. fast asleep. Oh wait are those scrapes on your face?! Blood? Oh dear. Will checked his watch and knew that the coaches should be here any minute. For now, you didn't show any signs of waking but the room was chilly so he took towel and laid it gently around you in case you were cold. With that he left the room as quietly as he could to find Roy ideally but Ted would do too.

______________________

"Ey, uh.. Coach Kent?" Roy continued ignoring Will who'd stood at his door for 5 minutes already before saying anything.

"Coach, Sorry to disturb you so soon after you've arrived but you're needed in the Boot Room." Will fumbled his way through the sentence but he finally got Roy's attention.

"Why the fuck would I need to go to the fucking smellyarse Boot Room first the in the fucking morning?" Roy didn't yell but Will was nodding along polite as he is. He took a deep breathe and finally told the whole truth.

"Because I found your friend Y/F/N Y/L/N in there asleep when I came in this morning with her face a little cut up. Coach, I think she spent the night here."

Roy was up and out of his chair before Will could even finish his sentence once he said you were the reason he was needed in the boot room. Fuuucking hell. What did that prick do to you?

His answer came shortly after that thought as you started mumbling and twitching in your sleep.

He had been just so angry that evening. Ever since that double date, things got worse. He was mean and a little picky before but that night when you arrive home he slammed the door and turned on you, shoving you to the ground. You felt your heart leap into your throat afraid that he would come back so you locked yourself in the bathroom until he went to bed.

"You fucking bitch, you tried to upstage me with your friends huh?" CRASH. There goes the lamp from your coffee table falling into pieces on the floor.

"No no, that wasn't it. I didn't want them to think you were mean when you called your trainees idiots is all. I was trying to fix it. I'm sorry I'm sorry."

"You think I'm mean? You were trying to fix me? I am the best damn thing to ever happen to you. Where would you be without me?" CRASH except this time the glass he threw at the wall was too close to your face and the some shards ricocheted off the wall scraping your face a bit. It was in that moment that you woke up with a start arms flailing, knocking the blanket Will had draped over you away.

"Don't touch me!" Roy's heart broke as he watched you take in your surroundings as you realized you weren't in that horrid memory but at Nelson Road with him in front of you arms up in surrender.

He stayed right where he was as you took deep breathes to try to calm your breathing but it wasn't working. Your panic was increasing instead of subsiding. As you dropped your head on your knees and wrapped your arms around your legs to form a ball, Roy sat down next to you taking you under his arm so you were curled up against him. He texted Keeley.

RK: Y/N is here. It's bad. I don't car what she says she can't go back to that prick. He hurt her. She's going to stay with us for a bit. That okay w u?

KJ: Ofcourse love! Fuck that piece of shit. Do you need me to come there?

RK: Not yet, I've got them for now. Can you ready the guest room just in case? *Keeley reacted with a heart emoji.

Roy smlied at his phone and then pulled you closer.

"Fuck that guy. Fuck what happened. I'm here and you're safe."

#fanfiction #fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #roy kent #will the kitman #keeley jones #tw abuse #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent x reader #roy kent fic

[daydreamgoddess14]

Red Card

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent x F!Reader

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

The anticipation was at a whole different level. For the first time in history, a woman would referee a Premier League football game. The FA had played a blinder from a marketing perspective - a local girl from Richmond itself - refereeing a Richmond vs. Man City match - the top two finishing teams of the previous season. Sky Sports, BT Sport, Match of the Day, ESPN… every single football broadcaster or news outlet was on site. It couldn’t get any more high profile. It had been all anyone had talked about for weeks on end. Roy was sick of hearing about it, talking about it, and reading about it.

“New Trent?”

“What do you think about a woma-”

“Reffing the next match? It’s about fucking time. Should have been done years ago. The league might be saying all the right things and making a big deal out of it, but it’s only disguising the fact that they haven’t bothered utilising female referees until now.”

“And what do you think of the referee chosen for the match?”

“Did I offer you a fucking follow up, New Trent? She’s a fantastic ref, and has a great eye. I’ve seen her run some lower league matches and it’s high time she had a role in the Prem.” He looked around for his next victim, “You with the… bald spot?”

“And will you be saying the same thing if she books one of the lads next week or a decision doesn’t go your way?”

“Course I fucking will. I don’t suddenly change my opinion of any of the other refs? We’ve all got jobs to do and roles to play. I don’t think we can ask for anything more than for any of the referees to be fair and equal. I don’t give a shit who we’re on about, that applies to all of them.” He looks around for any other burning questions, “Right, fuck off then you lot. I’m done for the day.” He rose from the desk and left the bustle of the press conference. In the office, Beard and Nate were looking over plans for the next week while the team milled around the gym and treatment rooms.

“Tough presser?” Beard asked.

“No more than fucking usual. All anyone is talking about is the new-”

“Female ref? The news is everywhere. As if the match wasn’t high profile enough as it is.” Nate filled in, a bundle of nervous energy.

“Yeah, well we’ll be fine. Just gotta make sure the boys keep their heads down. The new ref isn’t their problem, they don’t need to even be thinking about that.”

“But they will, because that’s all they’re hearing about. We haven’t had this much press coverage for ages, the match sold out months ago. They may not have to think about her, but the whole situation does impact their whole build up to the game.” Beard declared.

“Right, get ‘em in here.” Roy grimaced. Nate dashed off to assemble the team. “Alright lads?” There were a few murmurs and replies. “I know there’s a lot of noise around this one - some of it is to do with us and the City game, some of it is none of our business. I suggest you steer clear of the news for a few fucking days. There’s no need to watch it at all. No Twatter or whatever you fucking use. Just stay off that shit for the rest of the week, yeah? Any news you need, you hear from us. I want to keep the positivity we’ve got for the new ref, so if you’re asked about it by the paps on the car park, be fucking nice. Otherwise, you don’t watch or listen to all of the fucking fuss about the weekend, alright?”

“Coach.” Isaac nodded in agreement, the other players followed his lead.

~~~~~~~

The noise was deafening, the stadium packed to the rafters. You hovered at the side of the pitch with the other officials, warming up until it was time for the meet and greet of the team managers. The two managers were like fucking titans of football royalty. You were about to meet Pep Guardiola for god sake. And if you even think for one second about meeting Roy Kent, you might just pee your pants. Pep is great, wonderful - the boss! But you grew up not twenty minutes down the road, so Roy is firstly, the literal definition of local hero, and secondly, the big crush of your early 20s. You spent many Euro Championships and World Cups in the pub singing his chant and ogling his legs. Fortunately when the Premier League and media ask about your neutrality, they don’t ask whether you’ve experienced sexual fantasies about any of the players or managers. At least you’d only be admitting that about one person and not, like, a whole team. And you would never admit it publicly. The home crowd roars as the Richmond team is announced, you make your way to the space between the two dugouts ready to greet the players. They all shake your hand as they pass you, with a few nods of encouragement and words of support. The same applies to the Man City team, you’re determined not to be starstruck in front of Pep Guardiola so you shake his hand with a big smile and wish his team luck. You turn to Roy Kent and his large hang engulfs yours. You whack on your big smile and offer the same affirmation as you did to Pep. On the pitch, you speak momentarily with the two captains and blow your whistle for go time. 

The trouble with Premier League football is just that, it's Premier League. Top flight. The best of the best. Keeping pace with these players was a job in itself, being in the action without impacting it or getting in the way was another, and being the all seeing, all knowing one was… yet another. Your mind (and body) are pulled from goalpost to goalpost, and it's really no surprise that the referee is often blamed for poor decisions. It's impossible to see every single thing that happens on the pitch. You're making good decisions so far, nothing out of the ordinary. Shortly before halftime, one of the Richmond defenders nearly dislocates his shoulder, going in hard on Haaland. It feels cruel to punish him, but it's part of the job, so you have to award Man City the free kick. From the other side of the pitch, you can hear Roy Kent over the sound of 60,000 people screaming the same thing. Haaland scores, of course. You hang back while the teams leave the pitch at halftime, but he's waiting for you in the tunnel. 

"The fuck did you give a free kick for?!"

"You shouldn't be collaring me out here, but to answer your question, the tackle was too much."

"Bullshit, it was a fair tackle and McAdoo would have hurt himself more than Haaland."

"Bullshit. Haaland has got about 5 inches and half a stone on McAdoo."

"5 inches is fucking nothing." He smirks.

"Really?” You arch an eyebrow at him, “did you seriously choose today to make a dick joke?" Utter disbelief is written all over your face, you shake your head and leave him cursing himself in the tunnel. Halftime was supposed to be a moment to catch your breath, not waste it on fighting with Roy Kent. You knew better than to get into it with managers. They saw the action from the sidelines and only had so much impact and influence. They took their lack of control out on officials all the time, it was supposed to be your job to stay calm and walk away, not engage. You ignore him on your way back to the pitch, he's just inside the exit of the tunnel and he could be there to apologise but he could very much be there to shout at you some more. The second half is just as eventful, Richmond are pushing hard for at least an equaliser, and Man City are loath to let them get it. When Obisanya has a shot on goal, which goes wide, City are pleading for a goal kick, but it's not. You award the corner, and Rojas sweeps a beautiful pass into Tartt, who sends the ball straight into the corner of the net. City scores again shortly afterwards, and you have to keep your head to make sure no one is deliberately trying to cause injury to anyone else. When Tartt goes down just outside the area, you request VAR footage to aid your decision before calling for a free kick. He scores, but it's an immediate offside and Roy Kent looks like he might explode. When play resumes, Colin Hughes gets a goal straight away. The game ends in a 2-2 draw, but the fans and teams both seem appeased. 

~~~~~

By the time the press conferences are over, Roy's had more than enough. He (respectfully) disagreed with your first free kick decision, but praised your other choices and overall declared you "No better or worse than the other pricks." The stadium is starting to clear, and the Man City bus has just left. Richmond players make plans to get food at Ola’s. When Roy sees two of the officials only just leaving, he sends the others ahead and makes his way down to the away team and visitors facilities.

“I hope you’re here to apologise.” She states dryly as he approaches.

“Yeah,” he looks bashful, “the dick joke was a dick move. Sorry.” She looks so serious, he’s not sure the apology is accepted until he spies a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Was pretty funny. In alternative circumstances.”

“Noted. Congratulations anyway, noise from the press has all been good so far.”

“Nice to know my performance will be scrutinised forever while every mediocre male referee gets a pass for another week.”

“I’m sure your performance will only improve.” He inwardly groaned. She was going to laugh in his face. A dick joke and then godawful flirting? It was only what he deserved.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ll pass that direct quote on to The Sun.” 

“They’ll have a fucking field day. Richmond manager does shit job at flirting with the only female ref in the league? They’ll probably go and interview the poor woman I called my girlfriend when we were in year 6.”

“Flirting?” 

“No,” he scoffed, “no, course not. I didn’t mean that. Just a joke.” You cocked your head at him,

“Should we start again? Hi, you must be Roy Kent, I’m the first female referee in a Premier League game in 31 years. Well, actually it’s more like 135 years but the FA are trying to make themselves look marginally better.”

“Nice to meet you. Great job on the match, I respectfully, completely, disagree with that fucking free kick in the first half but other than that… no complaints.” He steps closer, you’re showered and changed but he can still smell the fresh grass mingling with the citrus and spice of the products you use. The combination is incredible - like summer and sunshine.

“I wouldn’t give a shit if you did have any complaints. Looking after your feelings isn’t in my job description.” You take in his height, broad shoulders and dark eyes and the long dormant crush rises to the surface immediately. You hadn’t taken much notice since you stopped having posters on your walls all those years ago, you’d only caught a few of his appearances as a pundit. He’s gorgeous, despite his surly appearance there’s an unmistakable twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Like he’s having fun with whatever this tension is that bubbles between you. And when he does smile at your commitment to fairness, it takes your breath away.

“Good to know the FA can rely on you staying neutral then.” He says quietly. Anticipation crackles in the air and fizzes in your stomach. You match his playfulness in your response, and step into his personal space,

“I don’t think there’s anything here that could sway me to any team in particular.” You smile, “not yet, anyway.” He waits until you’ve definitely left the room before he lets go of the breath he’s been holding. 

~~~~~

You’re dragged out by your friends to celebrate that night, even though your legs ache like you’ve done a 10km run. It wasn’t so much the running, you specifically trained for that, it’s the constant change in direction and the intensity of having your attention focused on so many things at once. If the FA thought they could throw you under a bus by giving you such a high profile game, you’re pleased you proved them wrong. The bar is crowded and noisy and you’ve already spotted a couple of the Richmond players - it was bound to happen in a relatively small town if they couldn’t be bothered to go right into the city. You’re at the bar ordering when you feel a hand on your hip and someone standing very closely behind you, a hand raises above you holding a credit card, and gestures to the barman. You’re about to lose your shit when you hear his voice rumble behind you,

“I’ve got these, mate.” He steps to your side when the person next to you moves, but his hand lingers, “I hope buying you a drink doesn’t make you question your bias?”

“Not at all, I’m afraid you’d have to work much harder than that.” He looks even better than he did a few hours ago, desire coils inside you and you instinctively draw your thighs together. It doesn’t help when he noticeably looks at your mouth, red lipstick is your ‘go to’ for a night out.

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Your drink is put on the bar next to you and you lick your lips before taking a sip. Neither of you has broken eye contact. You hear your name from a few feet away at the edge of the dance floor.

“Excuse me,” you raise your glass to him, “thank you for the drink.” 

“Bruv, is that the ref from today?” Isaac steps up beside him.

“Yeah, yeah that’s her.”

“She’s fit. You gonna ask her out?”

“Dunno Isaac, bit fucking old for that shit now.”

“Nah man, I just seen the way she looked at you-” he shakes Roy’s shoulder, “ooooh! Get it boy!” Roy rolls his eyes and smirks, watching you get dragged to the dance floor. He knows he must be old because he’s only been standing pitchside for the match and wouldn’t be caught dancing. You’ve run your legs off and then still managed to get them into that sequined mini skirt and up dancing. You can feel his eyes on you but you’d rather keep your back to him and try and carry on as casually as you can, if you turn around you know you won’t be able to stop staring. At least with your back to him, you can ignore him. Plus you know your arse looks great in this skirt, it was literally the sole reason for buying it in the first place. With all the running and training you do, you’re conscious of your strong thighs and hips but sometimes, just sometimes, they make you feel powerful. Eventually, you have to duck out of the dancing - mimicking a timeout to your friends. Roy is exactly where you left him at the bar and the alcohol makes you bold. You squeeze back in next to him and take a sip of his drink, yours is long finished. 

“Help yourself.” He smirks, his hand moving to your hip again, hidden by the darkness of the bar. You put a hand on his thigh and lean in slightly, taking some of the pressure off your feet. You’re close enough that he can see your breath hitch as his thumb finds a patch of exposed skin at the waistband of your skirt. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” You ask quickly, pushing your nerves down. He nods and finishes most of his drink, offering the last of it to you. Outside, word has gotten out that half a football team is at the bar and everyone is out for a glimpse of Jamie Tartt. You push past the photographers with Roy’s hand at the small of your back and into a nearby taxi.

~~~~~

“Please tell me there aren’t any fucking rules about this,” Roy mumbles somewhere in the valley between your breasts.

“I have no fucking clue, and I don’t really care right now.” You gasp, breathless as he leaves a mark on your soft skin.

“No? No danger of a red card?” You laugh and it’s musical and magical and neither of you have had this much fun in ages.

“No red cards for Roy Kent. Probably makes a fucking change.”

“Oi, cheeky. I never got that many.” He’s moved down again, unzipped your skirt and thrown it behind him somewhere.

“Fucking liar. They literally use you as an example of trouble players. Oh, fuck-” he bites your thigh.

“A good example or bad example?” His tongue sweeps over your clit and you nearly rocket off the bed until he hooks his arms over your thighs and pulls you back down to him.

“Oh god, bad example,” You feel him hum against you as he works you to your peak,

“Shame, I’m a changed man.” 

“Uhuh, ok,” you whisper, unable to think or speak any more coherently.

“How's your neutrality holding up?” Your hands tangle in his hair,

“Fuckkk, sooo good.”

“I’ll have to fucking try harder then,” he chuckles. You’re about to beg for mercy when he pushes two fingers into you and curls them to just the right angle that has you seeing stars. When he comes back up to kiss you, you rock your hips against his and he helps roll you both over, sitting up so he can still kiss you. His kisses are rough and needy, making you grind down against him. When you nip his neck, he pulls gently at your loose hair, whimpering and god, you’d do anything, anything to have him make that sound again. It only makes you rock harder against him, desperate to feel him inside you. When he finally pushes into you, your body clenches. You rise and fall onto him over and over, grateful for those powerful thighs he can’t keep his hands off. When he brings a hand between you both and circles your clit, you drop your head into the crook of his neck and bite down to stifle your moan. You feel his hips stutter under you as you both come, making you drop your own rhythm. You collapse in a tangle of limbs and sheets against him. 

“If you ask me again if you’ve swayed me yet, I’ll bite you.”

“You’ve already fucking done that,” he laughs. “Still need to try harder?” 

“Hmm, there’s no harm in trying again. You might win me over.”

“And over and over?” He kisses you again, so slowly it’s intoxicating. 

When you wake in the morning, it’s to the sound of his phone ringing. He tears himself away from where he’s curled behind you, the length of his legs against yours, his chest against your back and his arms around you.

“Yeah,” his voice is low and rough with sleep and it’s enough to have you roll over and press your body back into his. You can’t hear the other person, but he hangs up quickly and opens a link they’ve sent. It’s a picture on Twitter of the two of you leaving the bar together with his hand on your lower back with the headline “RED CARD FOR KENT?”

“Told you you were fucking trouble.” You laugh.

FIN

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