#weird goodbyes???? that's roy kent.

[jopzer]

i just think roy kent is such a the national ass bitch.

#beebles #roy kent #ted lasso #they literally wrote mr. november about him #argue with the wall. #weird goodbyes???? that's roy kent. #the national is to roy what mitski is to jamie #that being said. #the only heartbreaker/there's nothing left for you/why didn't you stop me? are all roy songs.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Something There (Chapter 12)

6.8k words

Roy Kent x Reader

Warnings: Language, fluff, references to smutty things, absolute fluffy fluff

Series Masterlist

A/N: This has... taken a while, lol. Honestly, I've been struggling with how to end this, mostly because I don't want to say goodbye to Roy and Bucky! But, all good (or at least halfway decent) things must come to an end. (Plus, I already know there'll be some blurbs featuring these two!) I hope you enjoy, and thanks for coming along for the ride ❤️

“What would you say is your greatest accomplishment?”

Roy nodded towards me and smirked. “Can I answer for her?”

Another “Manager Monday”. Apparently, people liked seeing Roy and me sitting together and answering questions. According to Keeley, the internet referred to us as the “Mum and Dad” of Nelson Road. It was weird and a little flattering, if I was being honest. And, frankly, getting to goof around and not-so-subtly flirt with Roy on camera during work hours was a pretty good deal.

“No, you cannot,” Keeley chuckled. “Go on then, greatest accomplishment.”

“Winning my Olympic Gold Medal,” I answered, elbowing Roy when I heard his good-natured snicker. “It was something my grandpa and I talked about for as long as I can remember. And he did come see me win it. After that, whenever he introduced me to people, it was always, ‘This is my granddaughter. She’s an Olympian.’” I smiled at the memory before turning to Roy. “What’s yours? That year you led the league in red cards?”

Roy’s smile had my heart doing somersaults. “You fucking know it.”

With lots of laughter and poor attempts to hide our flirting, we got through a couple more soccer-related questions before Keeley broached the topic we both knew she was dying to get to.

“So, the internet has been debating between two couple names for you two,” she announced mischievously. “‘Boy’ and ‘Rocky’. Which do you prefer?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Keeley,” he growled, as I snorted, “We’re not answering that.”

While we were more than happy to let our friends at Nelson Road know about our relationship and annoy them with our PDA, we had agreed not to make any big public show of things- at least not until the season ended. We were enough of a distraction when we were just a few blurry photos the night of the gala; we didn’t want to take away any more media attention from the club, not when our teams were on the verge of something great.

Keeley rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. But once you two go public, you know better get used to those questions, alright? Because you guys are really fucking cute, and the internet loves you already.”

“We are pretty cute, I’ll give you that,” I chuckled, taking Roy’s hand and smiling at the grumpy coach- my grumpy coach.

In return, he leaned over and pecked my lips gently. “That better not fucking end up online,” he warned Keeley, thick eyebrows raised threateningly.

“We’d break the internet with that little kiss,” she teased, winking at me. “Better be nice to me, or I’m leaking that clip.”

“Careful,” Roy replied with a nod in my direction, affection sparkling in his eyes. “I heard this one’s got a mean right hook.”

~

Roy leaned on the doorframe, enjoying the view. Who would’ve thought that just watching someone put on makeup would make him so fucking happy?

But seeing her standing in front of his bathroom sink and applying that red lipstick had his heart skipping a couple beats. He liked this domestic thing, the sleepovers and the driving to work together and the making dinner and… everything. He wanted more of it, he realized. He wanted more of her. The word was on the tip of his tongue, the word that had been floating around in his head since they got together, since the gala if he was being honest. Maybe even before that, he didn't fucking know. But it was too soon, he knew. Things were already going fast enough and, although she was diving in headfirst just as hard, Roy was still worried about scaring her off.

Her playful eyes met his in the mirror. “Can I help you, Kent?” she teased.

He shrugged and pushed himself off the doorframe so he could stroll over casually. “Just admiring the view.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a slow kiss to her cheek. “I like when you wear that color.” Another kiss to her temple. “Especially when it ends up on my neck,” he hummed.

“Fuck off,” she chuckled, elbowing him gently. “Come on, let me finish getting ready. Otherwise, you’re going to be late to your game, Coach.”

“Fine,” he growled. “But after the match?”

She whirled around and grabbed his face gently, her eyes bright. “After the match, I promise my lipstick will be all over your neck.” She pressed her body close to his. “And maybe some other particular places.” Her red lips formed that smirk he loved, the one he couldn’t believe he used to find annoying. “But only if you win.”

Roy grinned, eyebrows raised at her appealing offer. “Well, lucky for me I’m the manager of a winning team.”

“That is lucky,” she purred, nudging her nose against his. “Now then, can I go put on my new Greyhounds kit?”

His grin widened. “You got a fucking Greyhounds kit?”

She shrugged. “Of course. I’m part of Richmond. I like the fellas. And I’m pretty obsessed with their pain in the ass manager.” She smiled. “It’s about time I start rocking some Greyhound gear.”

Roy’s heart was soaring. He loved wearing her name and number on his back, even if it made their relationship obvious to anyone who was paying even an ounce of attention. And he’d be lying his ass off if he said he hadn’t pictured what she’d look like wearing his name on a kit. Granted, some of those pictures in his head were in his bed rather than at a match, but still. What a fucking dream come true.

“Alright,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Hurry up then, Coach.”

Roy probably would have skipped to the living room if it weren’t for this shit knee. With no one around, he didn’t bother hiding his stupid grin, the one he found himself wearing quite often these days. The internet had gone a bit wild with images of him wearing her name on his Whippets kit; he could only imagine the silly little fan edits and TikToks that would surely follow this match.

“What d’you think?”

Roy’s old man heart nearly stopped in his chest. The bright red and blue material hugged her figure perfectly, tempting him to rip it off of her and forget all about his match. The little Greyhound logo settled beautifully over her heart, just like the Whippets manager had weaseled her way into his. He was officially obsessed with the picture in front of him, he decided.

“Fucking perfect,” he hummed. He twirled his finger in a circle, eyebrows raised. He just needed to see one more thing. “Give us a spin, then.”

Her grin widened as she turned around, something mischievous in her eyes. Roy sat up a little straighter, unashamed to be so obviously excited to see-

“Does that fucking say Tartt?” he spat, pure disgust smeared across his bearded face.

Her laughter rang in his ears, almost magical enough to make him forget about this absolute betrayal. He narrowed his eyes at her as she turned back around, shameless amusement on her face. “What’s the matter, Roy?” she teased as she made her way over to where he slumped on the couch. “Don’t you think I look good?”

He reached out and tugged her onto his lap, doing his best to keep his stern expression. “I think,” he growled against her shoulder, pawing at the material, “that you need to take that fucking thing off.”

With a giggle, she grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch, reminding Roy of the night of the gala- their very first night. “Ah, no time to change, I’m afraid.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, careful not to leave any lipstick on his face. “Let’s go, Kent.”

Still grumbling and growling, Roy allowed himself to be pulled off the couch and dragged out of the house. When she wasn’t looking, he shook his head and smiled softly at her. Even with such a stupid name on her back, Roy still thought that seeing her in a Greyhounds kit was his new favorite sight.

He just couldn’t wait to rip the damn thing off of her.

~

“Let’s fucking go, Greyhounds!” I screeched, ignoring the way Keeley covered her ears.

After everything that had happened this season, both on and off the field, it was hard to believe it was coming to an end. Tonight, the Greyhounds were only one victory away winning the Premier League. And, after weeks of wearing Jamie’s name and other players’ names on my back just to mess with Roy (and the internet), I was proudly wearing his name and our number on my Greyhounds sweatshirt.

Keeley leaned close and held out her phone. “You’re already trending,” she teased, showing off a blurry photo of Roy and me entering the stadium, with me wearing Roy’s name and my signature red lipstick as I smiled up at the Greyhound manager. “And so is this.” There was Jamie Tartt, entering the stadium, wearing a fanny pack and, as usual, a hat. Unlike usual, this hat didn’t say “ICON”; instead, it proudly proclaimed “ROCKY”.

I rolled my eyes as the guys took their places on the field. “Is that a reference to that stupid ‘couple name’ thing?” I groaned. “Because you’re all supposed to be helping us keep quiet, you know.”

The sly way Keeley narrowed her eyes had me almost squirming. “Yeah. Because the way you two act during Manager Mondays and wearing each other’s kits is really discreet.” Suddenly, her suspicious expression turned somber, giving me a new urge to fidget. “How’s it all going by the way? You and him? The two of you seem pretty damn happy these days.”

“We are,” I assured her, not bothering to stop my wide smile from filling my face. “He’s… well, you know how he is.” I gave a soft chuckle as I looked down to the pitch and watched Roy lean over to say something to Coach Beard. Perfect, I decided. That was how Roy was; perfect. From the way he stood during games, shoulders squared and all business, to the way he always stole a quick kiss when our paths crossed at work, to the way his strong hands tenderly adored me in bed, to the lazy afternoons on his couch, to the phone calls and texts that flooded my phone whenever we were apart, to the way he made me laugh and smile in between all those moments. Roy Kent was fucking perfect. “He’s Roy.”

Keeley’s voice brought me out of my thoughts. “I do know how he is,” she said carefully. The little clearing of her throat had me turning my eyes to her. Her eyebrows knitted together, as if she thought I would slug her at any moment. “And I hope this isn’t totally inappropriate, but we were talking last week- and he was saying he’s so fucking happy,” she quickly added, probably seeing my slowly raising eyebrows. “He’s just worried about being… clingy?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at how completely apprehensive my friend looked. “Oh, Roy’s clingy as fuck,” I said. “But I like it.” I shrugged, my eyes returning to the gruff man on the pitch that had weaseled his way into my heart. “I… I’m clingy too,” I admitted. “I think that’s why we work, actually. We’re both pretty intense people, we both do everything at full speed, you know? So, one person’s idea of ‘too clingy’ is my idea of ‘absolutely fucking perfect’.”

The smile on Keeley’s face was filled with joy and a bit of relief. “I’m so happy to hear that,” she said, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers. “Really. He deserves the best and you-” She smacked a kiss to my cheek. “-are the fucking best, babes.”

~

The tips of Roy’s fingers tingled as he stared down Jamie, who was making a mad dash towards their opponent’s goal. There were only moments left before stoppage time ended in a tie and the match inevitably went to extra time, which had been a dangerous place for the Greyhounds all season long. If Jamie couldn’t beat both the clock and goalkeeper, it felt like their season would end in defeat. And Roy couldn’t have that. Not this season. Not when everything seemed to be ending so well, on and off the pitch.

Only one defender stood between Jamie and the goal. Roy held his breath as he watched Jamie move this way and that, doing a maneuver he knew Tartt hadn’t learned from any of the coaches on the pitch; he’d learned this particular move from the Whippets. And he’d apparently learned it well, because suddenly Jamie was in front of the goal, kicking the ball and-

“JAMIE TARTT SCORES!”

Less than a moment later, the familiar sound of the referee’s whistle had all of Nelson Road in pure pandemonium. Roy sprinted onto the field, not caring about his stupid knee, and was instantly swallowed by the swarm of blue that was his team. He grabbed and hugged whoever was close by, not caring to see anything other than their wide eyes and wider smiles. He wondered ever so briefly if anything in his career would ever live up to this moment; he knew nothing before ever had. And, if he was being quite honest, he could live with this being the happiest moment of his career.

He was hugging Jamie tight, mumbling something about being fucking proud of the prick, when he heard some of his players call his name in teasing voices. He knew those tones; he’d been hearing them a lot lately, caused by one thing- well, one person- every fucking time.

Sure enough, when Roy glanced over his shoulder, the sight made his smile grow.

There she was, clad in her Greyhounds sweater, running at him. He knew she’d regret this run in the morning- they’d probably spend the whole next day icing ankles and knees- but she didn’t look like she cared. In fact, she looked like she didn’t care about anything other than Roy.

She threw herself into his arms and let him envelop her in a tight hug, one far too tight for two platonic managers to share.

“I’m proud of you,” she huffed into the crook of his neck. “So fucking proud, Roy.”

He released her slightly so she could gaze up at him, her eyes full of adoration and joy. Deep in his chest, Roy held a hope that she would stare at him like this for the rest of their lives. “Fucking come here,” he murmured, his hands leaving her hips to cup her face.

At some point over the season, Roy had lost count of how many times he’d kissed this woman. There were some kisses that were irrevocably stamped on his heart- their first kiss while sitting on his couch listening to Sam Cooke, the kiss in the rain after he’d given her the Team USA football, the sweet kiss they’d shared after he asked her to be his girlfriend- but this was probably his favorite so far. It was soft and slow, and it made the roar of the crowd go silent in Roy’s mind. He knew there was no going back from this; there would be photos of this kiss in the papers, and he’d definitely be asked about it in the post-match press conference. They’d once again be the subject of rumors and speculation, with Twitter users trying to put together a timeline and reanalyzing every little interaction they’d had over these last few months. It was going to be pure fucking hell.

But thankfully, his own personal heaven was in his arms.

When they parted, she wore a wide grin, the kind that made his heart skip a beat. “Congrats on the win, Coach,” she chuckled as she ruffled his hair. “Can’t believe you guys beat us to it.” She kissed his lips effortlessly, as if she kissed him on the pitch every day. “Whatever happened to ladies first?”

Roy shook his head and tightened his grip on her. “Just means the Whippets get to be the grand finale.”

“Grand finale,” she repeated, giving his jacket a tug to pull him back to herself. “I like the sound of that, Kent.”

Roy could’ve stayed on that pitch forever, holding her and kissing her, finally able to show everyone how he felt about her and how she miraculously felt about him. The feeling of winning the whole fucking thing, and having his girl in his arms, and hearing his team shout and celebrate, it was intoxicating as hell.

But, as Keeley reminded him with a giggle, there was pomp and circumstance to get through.

His whole body shook with excitement as he stood by Rebecca’s side and received the trophy. In the smiling crowd, he locked gazes with those familiar eyes. Could his smile get any bigger? he wondered. Surely that would be the morning headline: Richmond’s Roy Kent finally knows how to smile. And damn, if it wasn’t something he wanted to keep doing.

Once things began to die down on the pitch, Keeley began herding him towards the press conference he still had to do before celebrating with the team. He kept an arm wrapped around the Whippet’s manager as he finally made his way through the halls, to the familiar door that led to the press room. He paused in front of it, thinking about all the less-than-stellar moments he’d had in there. Announcing his retirement. Watching Jamie have a meltdown. Throwing a chair at George fucking Willows after being asked about Keeley. Being asked intrusive questions about his love life and the drama of this season. Some crappy things happened in that room, he admitted to himself.

But today? Today he walked in with his head held high; for the first time in a long time, Roy Kent felt nothing but good about himself and his life. His team was officially the best in the Premier League, and he had the girl of his dreams to kiss after the match. He allowed himself a smile as he settled in front of the cameras, enjoying the surprise on the reporters’ faces when they caught sight of his expression. In the back of the room, Keeley gave him a thumbs up before wrapping her arm around the Whippets’ manager, who shot him a wink that had his stupid grin widening.

Yeah. This might be the best fucking day of his whole fucking life.

The clamoring began before he even sat down. Roy rolled his eyes, albeit good-naturedly for once, and pointed to a familiar face, a reporter he didn’t fully hate. “Yeah?”

“Coach Kent, how does it feel to lead the Greyhounds to do the impossible?”

Roy leaned into his seat, determined to at least look relaxed. “Feels fucking great,” he said. “And I’m going to ignore that ‘impossible’ thing.” He smirked at the tittering from the reporters. “Because honestly, this team is fucking incredible. And anyone who thought this was ‘impossible’ for those lads hasn’t been paying attention.” After answering a few questions about the season and the match, he could see the journalists beginning to get restless. It was clear what they would be asking next. He pointed to another raised hand. “You.”

“A certain coach had an… interesting way of congratulating you,” the reporter asked in a timid voice. “Anything to say about that?”

For a moment, he glanced to the back of the room. Not to Keeley, like he usually did during these things, but to the pair of eyes that gazed back with a beautiful mixture of adoration and teasing. Another wink encouraged him to lean forward on his elbows and ignore the heat rising in his cheeks. “There’s a lot I can say about that,” he chuckled. “But, all I will say is this-” He looked directly at those bright eyes. “-I’m fucking mad about that woman. She seems to think I’m alright, which is nice. And she continues to be one of the most impressive managers I’ve had the honor of watching on the pitch. And I am looking forward to seeing her and the Whippets kick some serious ass next weekend.”

More questions were hurled at him, mostly excited and kind ones, but Roy didn’t really hear them. He was too focused on trying not to simply sit and stare at that pretty face that smiled at him and made him feel like he’d won more than the Premier League.

~

I pulled my dark blue blazer on and turned to get a good look at myself in the mirror. Dark blue blazer, white blouse, best jeans, hair up in a ponytail, red lipstick applied, necklace my grandfather had given me around my neck. This was it, I decided. This was the outfit of a Women’s Super League-winning coach.

“You look fucking amazing.” A pair of strong arms wrapped around me as a scruffy kiss smacked my cheek. “Like a fucking winner.” Roy smirked at me in the mirror. He looked damn good in his white Whippets kit, the number six on his back and something that kind of looked like love in his eyes. If my entire season wasn’t on the line, I’d be debating ripping off that jersey and throwing Roy onto the bed. “Gonna wear your gold medal?” he teased.

With an eyeroll, I slipped out of his grasp and sat on my bed. “Just toss me my sneakers, Kent.”

Roy raised an eyebrow as he moved towards my familiar Converse that sat perfectly next to the closet. “Wow, I get to touch the Match Day shoes? What an honor.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled as I took the shoes from him and tugged them on. “I’m hoping your luck from last weekend rubs off on me and the Whippets.” I knew that underneath my joking tone, he could hear my nerves. Roy always seemed to know what was going on beneath the surface.

Sure enough, he sat down next to me and took my hand. “Oi.” His voice was as soft as his gaze. “You’re going to be fucking brilliant.” He kissed my forehead. “Your team is incredible. You are incredible. You’re Coach Bucky. World Cup winner, Olympic champion, NWSL Coach of the Year.” He shook his head as he rattled off my résumé with a smile on his face. “You’ve fucking got this.”

“I know.”

He raised his thick eyebrows at me expectantly. “But?”

“But…” I sighed heavily and let my head fall against his shoulder. “There’s just so much pressure,” I murmured. “It’s our first season. And with all of my personal drama…” I closed my eyes. “I have to win. I have to show that I’m a fucking winner. If I don’t, I’ll forever be that slutty American who slept with Roy freaking Kent.”

He gave me a light shove. “Oi, I thought you liked sleeping with Roy Kent.”

“Roy,” I huffed. “I’m being serious. I need to win today. I have to prove that I deserve to be taken seriously. Everything I’ve built this year is on the line. If we don’t do this, I don’t know-”

“Babe.” Roy shifted and lifted my legs until they draped over his lap. His arms felt like a warm blanket as they wrapped around my waist and tugged me close. “You don’t have to prove shit to anyone. You’re lightyears better at this job than I am-” A snort slipped out of my nose. “-and everyone knows it, no matter what happens today. You are brilliant and accomplished. And if it’s not this year, it’ll be next year.” He gave me a squeeze. “But I believe in you. Your team believes in you. Rebecca and Keeley and all the Greyhounds believe in you. Fuck what anyone else says.” He kissed my forehead, lingering for a moment. “You can always just punch them anyways.”

Fucking Roy, making me laugh and forget my anxiety. As I smiled through my nerves and kissed his mouth, probably smudging my lipstick, all I could think was how badly I wanted him to make me laugh for the rest of my fucking life.

~

The feeling of pride in Roy’s chest was unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life. The energy of the stadium vibrated through his whole body, and he couldn’t help the lump in his throat when he saw how absolutely packed the place was. He walked confidently into the owners’ box holding Phoebe’s hand tight. He smiled down at his bouncing niece, with her bright eyes and her own Bucky kit. She was talking a million miles a minute, reminding him of Keeley, chattering all about how well she knew the Whippets would do and asking if Roy was really going to take her onto the pitch after the match if the Whippets won. Her yammering only stopped so she could give Keeley a hug and take her seat next to the blonde.

“Ready to see your girl in action?” Keeley teased over Phoebe’s head as Roy took his seat.

His broad smile would have been enough of an answer. “She’s gonna be so fucking brilliant,” Roy laughed. “I can fucking feel it.” He narrowed his eyes at Phoebe’s expectant face. “Add it to my tab,” he grumbled.

To his surprise, Phoebe shook her head. “You get a free pass today, Uncle Roy,” she informed him earnestly. “It’s a very big day for Bucky and you’re probably very stressed.” She nodded, her demeanor comically matter of fact. “So, I’ll let it slide. Just for today.”

“Thanks, Pheebs,” he chuckled, kissing the top of her head. He nodded to Rebecca as she took her spot on Keeley’s other side. “Boss,” he greeted with a salute.

“Coach Kent,” she replied, a sparkle in her eye as she saluted back. “Beautiful night for a game, hmm?” Despite her calm tone, Roy could see the way her fingers drummed on her lap nervously.

He smirked at her. “Ready to be the owner of two winning teams?”

She shook her head, holding back a laugh. “Not thinking about it,” she announced firmly. “I am just going to enjoy the match, cheer for our girls, and feel proud of them no matter what.”

Keeley, Roy, and Pheobe all just stared at her until a smile broke out across her face.

“Alright, yes, I’m fucking ready!” She turned her attention to the field, where the Whippets were beginning to line up. “Let’s go, Whippets!”

The quartet were joined in the box by Beard and Nate and Jamie, who looked quite comfortable wearing Kira Malone’s name on his back. There were deafening cheers all around as the Whippets were introduced. Roy’s whole body felt warm as he bellowed their names; even without being head over heels for their manager, Roy would feel beyond proud of these women. He’d watched them work all season long, through sweat and injuries and fatigue and the harsh media. And they’d done it all with smiles on their faces and their heads held high. They were impressive and inspiring, and Roy already knew they would win that trophy.

And they had ninety minutes to do it.

After the players were introduced, the Whippets’ coaches stepped forward to shake hands with the opposing coaching staff.  Of course, every eye in the owners’ box turned to Roy with mischievous smirks on their faces.

Not that Roy noticed. He was too busy jumping to his feet so he could cup his hands around his mouth and bellow, “Let’s fucking go, Buck!”

With that colossal voice of his, no one was surprised to see the manager look up in their direction. Her red-lipped smile was clear as day, and they all oohed teasingly when they saw her blow a kiss up towards them.

“Obviously that was for me,” Jamie joked, turning around and winking at his manager.

“Fuck off,” Roy chuckled as he resumed his seat. He gave the striker a light shove before turning his attention back to the pitch. Fuck, how was he supposed to focus on the match that was starting when she was down there, looking strong and confident and powerful- not to mention gorgeous. His heart hammered in his chest as he watched her in her element, shouting excitedly at her team and reaching out for Luke’s hand every now and then. Some part of him wanted to watch her forever; the other part of him couldn’t wait for the ninety minutes to end so he could wrap his arms around her and celebrate her victory.

A stray piece of popcorn smacked him in the temple and diverted his attention.

Keeley shot him that shit-eating grin and tossed a fresh piece of popcorn into her mouth. “You’re drooling, Roy-o.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and reached over Phoebe’s lap to steal a handful of Keeley’s popcorn. “Yeah, yeah,” was all he could manage. He smiled down at Pheobe, whose attention was rapt with the match in front of her. “Having fun?” he asked loudly, amused to find that her trance was just as intense as the one he’d just been in.

All the little blonde could do was nod, mouth slightly agape, as she watched the Whippets score their first goal of the match. The entire stadium was on their feet, deafening with their shouts and cheers as the players embraced. But of course, the only thing Roy could see was their manager and the way she looked up at the owners’ box, right at him.

~

Lucas was holding my hand so tight he was going to cause permanent damage to my blood circulation. Not that I cared; we had succeeded in keeping the game tied 2-2 all through stoppage time, and now Amanada Camacho had managed to secure a penalty kick. With my free hand, I gripped my necklace tightly, as if the little gold charm would somehow direct Amanda’s kick into the right direction.

The forward made her move, running towards the ball, and gave a powerful kick-

That sailed perfectly into the corner of the goal, out of the goalie’s reach.

In unison, Lucas and I let out sharp screams and crashed into each other’s arms, trading kisses on cheeks and foreheads. When the referee blew her whistle, we sprinted onto the field, greeting our mob of Whippets in a pile of hugs that evolved into a mountain of players and staff tumbling over each other. It was loud and chaotic- and beautiful. Somewhere in the reveling, tears had formed in my eyes, but they didn’t fall until I found myself face to face with Rebecca’s glowing smile and own teary eyes.

“Well done,” she said simply, wrapping me in a tight hug. “Well fucking done.”

I melted into her embrace- fuck, how was this woman so perfect that even her hugs were the best?- and finally let the tears fall. “Thank you for believing in me,” was all I could manage.

She shook her head. “That’s just the Richmond way,” she chuckled as Keeley approached us.

The blonde wrapped us both into a group hug, chattering about how brilliant the girls had been, how brilliant I had been, how we were going to have the biggest celebration ever once we left the stadium, how I’d better have brought a change of clothes like she’d instructed me so we could party properly.

But her excitement was drowned out by my beating heart when I caught sight of a pair of beautiful brown eyes sparkling at me.

“Kent!” I shrieked, breaking free of my bosses’ warm embraces. I sprinted towards him, this time under stadium lights and falling confetti rather than pouring rain, and launched myself into his arms. He caught me with ease, lifting me and letting me wrap my legs around him. With a couple of first place finishes under our belts, we were finally free to be as publicly insufferable as we wanted- which I planned on taking full advantage of. I figured a dramatic kiss on the pitch was a good start, and Roy seemed to agree as he attached his lips to mine hungrily.

“So. Fucking,” he huffed into my mouth between kisses, “Proud.” He held me tighter, pressing my chest harshly to his. “You’re amazing.”

I finally removed myself from the kiss so I could bury my burning hot face in his shoulder. He let me plant my feet back on the ground, but kept his arms firmly around me. “Roy,” I murmured, realizing I had something important to tell him. “I-”

“Bucky!” Phoebe jumped onto my back, nearly knocking me over.

“Pheebs!” I laughed, turning away from Roy so I could hug his niece. “I’m so glad you came,” I gushed. “Your team wins a championship next, right?” When I glanced up at Roy over Phoebe’s head, he was already gazing at me, something soft on his face. He’d been doing that a lot lately, I realized as I returned his smile. This gentle stare that held something significant, something I felt sure one of us would break down and say soon. Something I’d wanted to say since I first ran out in the rain to him.

But I didn’t have time to think about that. Not when my team was calling for me to join them to be crowned the Women’s League champions and hoist the trophy in the air and beam with pride as cameras flashed in our faces.

I was still beaming as I held Roy’s hand in the club the Greyhounds and Whippets took over to celebrate both of our victories; Rebecca was something of a blubbering mess as she took the microphone early in the night and thanked both clubs for their hard work, thanked our coaching staffs for surviving the wild ride that had been our season (Beard raised his eyebrows in our direction, clearly remembering being frustrated enough to lock us in a shed), and above all thanked Keeley for being her partner in the adventure of establishing what she knew would be a great legacy of women’s football in Richmond.

By the time Rebecca finished and called me up to make my own speech, I was close to joining Rebecca in her tears; unfortunately, I knew I wouldn’t look as graceful as she did once my waterworks began flowing. So instead, I focused on smiling as I kissed her cheek and took the accepted the microphone from her.

“How’re we feeling, Richmond?” I was answered with cheers and shouts from our teams and their loved ones. “I’ll try to keep this brief so we can get back to partying- although my Whippets probably already know I’m not as capable of brevity as the Greyhounds say Coach Kent is.” The mere mention of Roy’s name provoked catcalls and wolf whistles from both squads. “Calm down,” I laughed, shaking my head when I caught Roy’s not-really-annoyed eyeroll aimed at Jamie. “I just want to say thank you,” I continued once the commotion subsided. “Thank you to the Whippets, for all of your incredible work and dedication. I think we made it clear to the Women’s Super League and all of England that W.F.C. Richmond has arrived.” Cheers again filled the club, as well as my heart. “Thank you to our fearless leaders Keeley and Rebecca, for believing in us every step of the way.” Keeley’s little bow alongside Rebecca’s refined wave had me giggling into the microphone. “A special thanks to our dear Greyhounds. It was an adjustment learning to work together-” Coach Beard’s exaggerated groan could be heard loudly over everyone else’s teasing hums. “-but we managed.” I shot Roy a wink that was returned with a blown kiss. “And, personally, more than anyone else I have to thank my right-hand man.” My eyes found Lucas’s. “Luke,” I sighed. “You formed me into the player I was so proud to be. You mentored me into the coach I’ve become. You were insane enough to follow me here for this adventure, you held my hand during every scary moment and picked me up every time I fell. We came here for greatness-” I shrugged, gesturing to the assembled group of champion athletes. “- and I think we fucking found it.” Both teams hollered in agreement, but still managed to hear my last few words: “Richmond on three! One, two, three-”

“RICHMOND!”

In a blur of cheers and hugs and kisses, I finally found myself back in Roy’s embrace, accepting the chaste kiss he pressed to my lips.

“Wanna sneak off for a moment?” he hummed in my ear. “After that, I need to give you a proper kiss. And if I do that here, I think Beard might actually be fucking ill.”

I leaned into his touch. “Can’t have that,” I teased back.

We wandered away from the bar, ignoring the eyerolls from our friends when they caught sight of our lovesick expressions. We had warned them early on; they were going to miss the days of our screaming matches and insults. These days, instead of walking in on arguments, they walked in on make out sessions. Jamie had more than a few times accused us of trying to make him go blind. Even Keeley grimaced when I asked if she wanted to continue Manager Mondays next season, clearly regretting asking us to be more affectionate once we were public.

All season everyone bitched at us about getting along. We were only giving the people what they wanted.

Roy clearly knew what he wanted when he found a dark, isolated corner where he could press my back against a column that hid us from view. His mouth melded with mine as his hands lazily stroked up and down my sides. I sighed against his kiss and snaked my arms around his neck, pulling him flush against me. My mind was filled with thoughts of the weeks ahead of us; sure, we’d have a shit ton of press, but once the circus was over, this was all I wanted to worry about. We’d floated the idea of going on some fabulous vacation together, turning our phones off and isolating ourselves in a little bubble of sex and food and laughter. I’d told Roy we could settle plans once the seasons were ended, which he had seemed thrilled about. Or at least as thrilled as Roy could manage. But as I kissed him harshly and melted in his arms, I briefly considered that spending our entire break locked in his house with nothing but takeout, movies, and his bed sounded just as good as whatever destination he had in mind.

Still, we’d worked hard and gone through a lot; we deserved a damn vacation.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he mumbled as he began to wander down my neck. “Seeing you on the pitch today… and up there with your speech…” He groaned softly and pressed a slow kiss to my collarbone. “Don’t think I’ve ever loved you more than I do right now.”

My grip on him tightened as my body tensed up. Not bothering to hide my wide smile, I tugged at him until his face was inches away from mine. “You love me?”

His smile was sloppy and bashful, my favorite sight. “Fucking ’course I do,” he murmured as he brushed some hair out of my face. “You’re something special, you know that? I think I’ve loved you since that moment in the shed at the fucking retreat, hearing you say we were both going to win the whole fucking thing. Called it ‘fairy tale shit’.” He touched his nose to mine. “This right here, this is some fairy tale shit.”

“It is,” I breathed before closing the space between your mouths, pulling Roy into a tender kiss. Before I could deepen it into something a bit harsher, he pulled back, eyebrow quirked playfully. “What?” I chuckled.

“I love you,” he whispered, raising both eyebrows now.

I nodded, trying to hide the grin that was growing on my face. “So I heard.”

He rolled his eyes and took my face in his hands. “Anything you care to say to me, Coach Buck?”

He knew. Of course he fucking knew. He knew from the way I kissed him and the way I looked at him and the way I held him close whenever I could. He knew from the way we made love at night and made breakfast together in the morning. He knew from the way our fingertips brushed when we passed each other at work. He knew from the million little things we shared every day.

But sometimes, a fella needs to hear the words.

“Fine,” I huffed, all faux exasperation as I tugged his face back towards mine. “I guess I love you too.”

Taglist: @optimisticsandwichgladiator@reading-blogs@callmecasey81@ladygrey03@puckyou-forpuckssake@royalestrellas@shineforever19@rae4725@burnafter-reading@her-fandom-sanctum@infinetlyforgotten@giggling-sewer-ginger@whataloadofmalarkey@agentstarkid@kingleahhh@tortilla-maria1@geekgirl1996@amatswimming@meg-ro@spicyraccoonlordking@spaghetti-dad187@needlesthreadandbuttons@elissaaa@imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme@reverieisaway@djskakakaksjsj-blog@thatonedogwithablog@allthetroubleiveseen@sunderland-6@netflix-addict@paranormal-is-my-life@jill2629-blog@itsbuzzfeedbitch@pretzelactivist@amieinghigh@kashee-h@beingalive1@mythicalbinicorn@needyomega@kno-way-home@janalustare@sssatorus@its-a-rich-mans-world@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@hesitant-alien33@katie-sheep-111@bonesbonesetc@seacactusplant@thebookwormlife @dreamscape22 @rae4725@timelordhunterandmysterysolver@littleesilvia@anonurs@itswhateveripromise@chewymoustachio @gcidrvsh @katdahlali @ohwauwdoritos @lemoonandlestars @perfectwhispersvoid@seatbacksandtraytables@kingleahhh@maackiimoo @isuspectitwasthenargles @bannsshheeebiittcchhhh @charkachow @gcstnml @queen-of-the-downtown-scene

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

[dpr-stay]

The Power of Old Ladies | RK

Roy Kent x Reader

Warnings: I wrote this like two years ago and haven't read over it, Did anyone say OOC!?, ignore how many times i start a sentence with ‘you’, I’ve only watched season 1. also swears, lots of swears.

WC: ~2.3k

Hiya Barbies, i just wanted this out of the drafts. read warnings btdubs. not edited and not proud!!

With a sigh, you turned and opened the car door, walking down the driveway to the entrance of Meredith’s house. Meredith was friends with the lovely lady, Doris, you were hired to look after after she’d lost most of her mobility. After a number of nasty falls and spells in hospital her family had decided that she needed a carer, and you were hired.

A condition that came with your hiring was that Doris, as part of her family's efforts for her to be more social, had to spend some time per week with her friends doing whatever she wanted to. You weren’t about to object, and were more than happy to be her chauffer back and from her girl’s nights. 

Well, what used to be their girls nights. 

You knocked three times on the door, hearing the TV inside go from blaring to slightly-less-blaring before the door opened and there stood Roy, the unlikely, good looking, addition to the girls’ yoga nights.

He smirked as he surveyed you, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms. 

“You here to rid Doris of her good time?” He questioned loudly, a protesting uproar coming from another room in the house. You chuckled in response and stepped past him into the house.

“I could stay for a little longer I suppose.” You relented and his smirk turned more genuine as he pushed off the wall. He closed the door and started walking in the direction of all the noise. 

“Is she having fun?” You asked as you followed him.

“A ball.” He replied flatly, as though referencing something you wouldn’t get. You shrugged in response as you turned the corner to see Doris on a couch surrounded by her mates, shrieking as a contestant fulfilled a task on Love Island. 

“I wish I could have as good a time as them.” You sighed, shaking your head as they screamed. A scoff came from beside you.

“I could treat you to a much better time.” 

It was weird, the first time Roy had opened the door to you, he was very cold, his stare penetrating deep into your soul. This was probably because of your incredibly startled reaction, you having to explain through stutters that Doris hadn’t told you that a guy was joining them. 

He had merely grunted before calling for Doris, the muscles in his neck highlighted as he turned and in his arm as he clutched the doorframe. Was it really your fault for suspecting something was up when he’d turned back around to look at you? No normal guy that attractive would spend his evenings with a bunch of older ladies doing yoga and watching reality shows. 

When Doris had rolled her way over to the door, you’d watched him lift her up with ease, your jaw dropping as you watched him pick up her wheelchair and lift her down the lip of the frame. He said goodbye to Doris with a gruff fondness before making eye-contact with you and grunting again. 

When the door had shut, you’d taken a second to deeply breathe before turning to the smirking older lady. You didn’t know the door hadn’t been closed fully before you’d started to tease Doris for hiring a stripper. Doris had laughed, but hadn’t corrected you.

The next time he’d opened the door, his face was a bit more relaxed though it was still cold. You barely noticed the imperceptible change, only truly noticing it after he’d turned back from calling for Doris, catching you mid-stare.

He’d cleared his throat, making you drag your attention from the lines of his neck to look at his eyes, your face flushing as a knowing glint reflected in his eyes. You waited for him to say something but he remained silent for a few seconds, making you squirm a little before finally speaking.

“I’m not a stripper, by the way.” His face was pretty much devoid of motion apart from the concealed humour in his eyes. You gasped at his words, knowing he’d overheard you teasing Doris.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve just never seen you before!” You tried to excuse but he brushed you off by extending a hand.

“I’m Roy.” He said and you looked at his hand before shaking it, replying back with a smile and your name. He’d had no discernable reaction aside from the relaxing you’d mentioned earlier. 

It had taken Roy a while to warm up to you, your brief interactions not exactly providing ample time to get to know someone, but he’d eventually accepted you into the fold of the women he’d slowly begun to watch reality tv with.

You’d only have time to come in and watch with them when you were early, something you had been trying to do more, if only to have more time with Roy. As you’d spend more time with Roy, his mask would slowly begin to melt and he’d start slightly teasing (at least you thought it was teasing) you, such as right now. 

However, when he’d tease you, you were able to tease him back.

You turned to him, eyebrows raised after registering his words. He glanced at you from the side of his eyes. 

“Oh fuck off, you know that’s not what I meant.” You grinned at his response.

“Oh do I now, Roy?” He rolled his eyes and pushed your shoulder as he passed you, reaching the couch and sitting down in front of it.

You followed and placed your hands on either of Doris’ shoulders. She squealed again, jumping as her hands came to your shoulders and you laughed.

“It’s just me, Doris dearest. How are you feeling?” You inquired, leaning forward as she turned around.

“I’m feeling like a spring chicken right now. Look at those abs!!” She cried and pointed to the TV where a young man was practically naked aside from his speedos and grinding on a palm tree. You scrunched your face as you watched. Doris turned back to you and caught your face.

“You don’t like it!?!??” She almost screamed, drawing every person in the room's attention to you. You stuttered as you tried to think of a response.

“W-well it’s just that-“

“Do you think he’s ugly!??” Was fired at you from Meredith.

“Well no-“ You started, spluttering.

“Is he too short for you?!?” Maureen shouted from her spot further down the couch

“I don’t really care-“ You grimaced.

“Do you prefer your men older?” Came calmly from Roy, silencing everyone in the room. You whipped your head to him, your eyes as wide as saucers. Then the room burst into whispers as the ladies turned to each other, still looking at you both.

He smirked from his place on the floor as he watched your bewildered expression. You schooled your expression into something less affronted and spluttered, trying to find a way to reply.

“I suppose you’ll have to find out the hard way Roy.” You said, trying to retain your composure and unfortunately aware of how weak that comeback was. The noise level of the gossipers rose at your showing. 

Roy rolled his eyes at your dramatics before he scoffed and stood up, walking in front of Doris and giving her a hand up. You grabbed her wheelchair from a cupboard outside the room and guided it to the side of the couch as Roy helped lower her into it.

Soon Doris was comfortably seated and watching the rest of Love Island, and you were standing awkwardly beside Roy, both of you watching the TV. You thought for a moment before leaning sideways, invading his personal space, to begin speaking.

“I still can’t believe you spend two of your week nights watching love island and, what is it, Lust Conquers All?” He snorted at both your statement and the girls on TV shielding their eyes from a guy's poor attempt at the worm.

“I have nothing fucking better to do.” He replied monotonously and you scoffed.

“Sureee. You enjoy nothing about this.” You said sarcastically, creating a cross with your arms. He rolled his eyes and nodded.

“You know,” you smirked. “If you hate doing this so much, I could treat you to a much better night.” 

This caused him to start, jerking forward before whipping his head to you. You smiled at the unusual display before he scowled.

“Don’t joke about shit like that.” He shook his head and turned back to the tv.

“I’m not joking Roy.” You replied and turned back to you. He took a minute before pausing to scrutinize your face, searching for something. After a second it was apparent he didn’t find it because he nodded.

“Sure, when’s your next free night?” You drew back shocked and he instantly went on the defense.

“I just told you to not fucking joke about this shit.” He said quietly, trying to not let the gossips hear.

“I’m not joking, I just thought you’d say no!” You defended yourself and he opened his mouth to speak.

“If you thought you were going to get rejected, why'd you even ask?” He asked, skeptically. 

“You miss 100% of the chances you don’t take!!” You exclaimed, shoving your hands out in front of you in emphasis. You were met with a reception of shushes from the ladies in front of you, a sort of ceremony happening on the screen. Scrunching your face at their dramatics, you turned back to Roy who was looking at you with a flat expression. A raised eyebrow clued him in to start speaking.

“You just reminded me of someone who I’d never like to fucking think about while looking at you.” He uttered and you shook your head, disbelief covering your features. He sighed before speaking.

“Would you like to go out at some point?” He asked quietly and you immediately nodded. He sighed again, this time in relief and shot you a rare, genuine smile. That had you reeling, unused to the man expressing emotions through smiles. You normally had to decode his eyes and eyebrows.

“I’ll text you.” You said and he nodded, both of you turning back to the TV with degrees of smiles on your faces. The show played out for a bit before eventually ending, you both content to stand beside each other. 

The ladies in front of you started chatting about the episode, you joining in when you had something to share and Roy occasionally lobbying insults to specific people which had the group cheering.

At some point, Doris had leaned back to give you a look which you had learnt was her ‘I’m tired, take me home’ look and you’d nodded, walking to her and making an excuse for the other women, not allowing Doris to be swayed by their attempts to get her to stay.

Roy had followed you as you wheeled Doris to the door, ignoring the increasingly dramatic ways the women were all shouting goodbye to each other over your head, instead letting an easy smile cover your face.

You’d eventually made it to the doorframe before stepping back to open the door, Roy swooping in and picking Doris and her wheelchair up before moving past you. You got a good look at his arms as he did this, the muscles straining in them. 

Was this on purpose? After tonight, you weren’t quite sure.

He put Doris down on the driveway, going as far to wheel her to your car as you closed the door to Meredith’s house with a loud ‘goodbye’ that resulted in more salutations being screamed your way.

You met Roy as he walked back to the house, making eye contact with each other before he leaned in to whisper in your ear. You held your breath as you felt his exhales grazing your neck.

“You do have my number, right?” He slowly whispered and you then slowly deflated, realising you did not, in fact, have his phone number. 

You shook your head and he drew back, one of his eyebrows raised. You met his look with a guilty one, your shoulder beginning to bunch up near your head in a shrug. He just shook his head before holding his hand out.

You, albeit confusedly, placed your hand in his and he sighed before hitting it away. You brought your hand to your chest, holding it as though it burned, and he muttered “Phone” before you realised what he wanted.

Whoops.

You quickly reached into your pockets and dug out your phone. After unlocking it you gave it to Roy who quickly created a contact and put his number in, handing it back to you and watching as you registered the fact that you hadn’t known his last-name til that second.

Your eyebrows furrowed. Roy Kent. Where’d you heard that before?

“Your last name is Kent. I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before, should I know you from somewhere?” You asked after a second and his eyebrows shot up, his jaw dropping. Dam, that’s probably the most emotion you’ve seen displayed on his face, even more than the smile he had earlier. You were winning tonight.

He blinked for a second, rearing his back before continuing to blink as though he was confused. He eventually shook his head and coughed.

“Uhm, no?” He said and you nodded. Oh well, must’ve been someone else.

“Oh. Well, I’ll text you about when I'm free.” You finally said and Roy nodded slowly before clearing his throat again.

“Yeah, sounds good.” He spoke in his low voice and you nodded, turned around, and began to load Doris in the car. Roy stood watching you as you made your way to the drivers side, hesitantly returning the wave you gave him which was strange.

As soon as you’d turned the street Doris had burst into laughter, but refused to tell you why.

bam bam bam baybee tell me if you liked it or not, gonna go post on ao3

#roy kent x reader #roy kent fic #roy kent x you #roy kent x y/n #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent scenario #roy kent imagine #afc richmond x reader #ted lasso fic #ted lasso x reader #i'm sorry #i need the reach

[wlntrsldler]

hi!! i hope you’re doing well :). can i please request either “and you're telling me you wanna kiss me but we shouldn't cause we're just friends." or “when you found me i was a train wreck” with sam obisanya? i’m not picky either way i just thought they’d both be good and couldn’t decide hehe. thanks!!

kissing in swimming pools | sam obisanya

based on the song kissing in swimming pools by holly humberstone: "when you found me i was a train wreck."

description: the first "i love you" f!reader (she/her)

warnings: language-- it's ted lasso, what did ya expect? fluff! sam in loveeee.

word count: 1356 words

ted lasso requests are open | main masterlist

There were only three things that Sam Obisanya was sure of. 

The first is that his father will be proud of him no matter what he ends up accomplishing in his life. He was sure that if life didn’t pan out the way that it did and he wasn’t a famous footballer, his father would still be as proud as he is of him. He was lucky in that sense– that he had a father who never once made him doubt whether he loved his son or not. Sam knew that he wouldn’t be half the man that he is if his father wasn’t his father. And in his opinion, he thinks he ended up pretty decent. 

The second thing he is sure of is that Ted Lasso was put on this earth to be AFC Richmond’s coach, even if it was just for the short time that he did. Some pretty spectacular people had coached Sam, Roy Kent being one of them, but Ted was something special. Not only did he make Sam a better player on the pitch, he also made him a better man. Whenever he does something wrong, he always repeats the words, “Be a goldfish,” in his head, over and over again. When he’s having a bad day, where everything seems to be going wrong, he closes his eyes and the word “Believe,” on that bright yellow paper is the image in his head. 

The third and final thing Sam Obisanya is sure of is that if he was asked who was the love of his life, he would say you with no hesitation. 

He watched you dance with Keeley to some random 2000s pop song on the dance floor. Beard and Jane were engaged in some weird dance routine that had people raising their eyebrows, but Sam figured they were able to act however they wanted since it was their wedding night. He couldn’t help but smile as you threw your head back in laughter as Keeley tried to do the shuffle in her heels. 

“Oi,” Jamie nudged his arm, “You reckon Y/N will still be your date at Jane and Beard’s 25th wedding anniversary?” 

“Absolutely,” Sam replied before Jamie even finished his question, “I love her. There’s no one else for me, Jamie. I don’t think anyone can ever compare.” 

Jamie let out a breath, eyes widening as he took a sip from his bottle, “Sheesh, bold claim, man.”

“Honestly, I know she’s the love of my life.” 

“This is cute and all,” Colin interrupted, leaning across the table to meddle in Sam and Jamie’s conversation, “But have you told her that?” 

Sam shook his head, a goofy smile on his face, “No, not yet. I don’t know how I should tell her or what she’d say. I don’t even know if she feels the same way about me.” 

“You won’t know ‘til you tell her,” Jamie said, “And for what it’s worth, I think it’ll be a good response.” 

Sam took a sip of his own beer and then placed the bottle on the table. He cleared his throat, dusting off his dress pants. As the song transitioned to a slow song, he walked over to where you stood with Keeley on the dance floor. He tried to ignore the sounds of cheering from the table of footballers he just left, but he couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip to control his smile. 

Keeley was facing Sam so she noticed him before you did. She shot him a wink and bid you goodbye by squeezing your arm. As Keeley walked away, you turned around to find Sam with an outstretched hand. 

“May I have this dance?” He asked though he was already pulling you into him. 

“Always,” you responded, draping your arms around his neck while his hands found their way to your hips. You swayed slowly to the sound of the music, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. You knew that there were others on the dance floor, hell, you knew that the newlyweds were right beside you, but somehow at that moment, you felt like it was just you and Sam. “Y’know, before I met you, I always thought that people were lying when they said that when they’re with their partner the whole world disappears.” 

“What do you think now?” he asked, spinning you around elegantly, “Do you feel that way with me?” 

“Mhm,” you answered. You let your right-hand cup his face. He nuzzled his cheek against your palm, a sigh of contentment leaving his lips. You rubbed his skin with the pad of your thumb, cherishing the way he melted under your touch. “When I met you, I was a train wreck. I was always working. I never took time to take care of myself and for a while, I really did forget how to take care of myself. Then you came along…” 

His smile turned shy as if he couldn’t believe that you were giving him the credit he deserved, “Then I came along…”

“Then you came along and reminded me how beautiful life could be if I just slowed down and took some time to breathe, to experience life, to smile,” you trailed off, not sure how you were going to word the next part. You took a deep breath, halting your movements before saying, “Sam, I lov-”

“No!” He exclaimed, a bit too loudly. He made a face of embarrassment, looking around the dancefloor to see couples staring at him oddly. Keeley, who was dancing with Roy, gave him a questioning look, “Apologies, everyone.” 

You chuckled quietly, moving his face to look at you again, “No?” 

“No- I mean- yes!” He babbled, “I mean, I don’t want you to say it first. I need to say it first. But I do, too. I do. I do love you.” 

You placed a soft kiss on his lips, giggling as you pulled away, “I love you, Sam Obisanya.” 

Sam chased your lips, unable to contain the smile on his face, “I like how that sounds.” 

“What?” you teased, “You like it when I say I love you?” 

“Can’t get enough of it,” he mumbled against your lips, “You’re gonna have to say it at least fifty times a day. Texts don’t count because I don’t get to hear your pretty voice say it. Phone calls are okay and voice memos are the last resort. I would prefer it if you were in front of me when you said it, though. ‘Cause then I will get to kiss you.” 

“You don’t ever need an excuse to kiss me, Sam.” 

“Thank God for that,” Sam said, spinning you one last time as the music came to a stop. 

As you fell back into his arms, he couldn’t help but imagine you at your wedding; how beautiful of a bride you’d be, how the lads would be cheering for Mr. and Mrs. Obisanya when the two of you walk into the reception, how in his vows, he’ll recount the moment he realized that he was going to marry you. 

You walked back to the table with Sam, hand in hand, with a glow that all of the boys noticed. Dani and Richard were fawning over something on Isaac’s phone, calling you and Sam over to take a look at it. When you saw the picture, tears pooled in your eyes. In the photo, you were staring up at Sam, laughing a bit as he stumbled over his words. Isaac managed to capture the exact moment Sam told you he loved you for the first time. Sam draped an arm over you, kissing the crown of your head, as he chuckled at how stupid he looked in the picture. 

Throughout your relationship, there were many “I love you’s” that followed, many photos that were taken and shared, and many other weddings you attended. But that photo, imperfect, silly, and a bit grainy, was your favorite moment– your favorite “I love you,” your favorite photo of the both of you, but it was taken at your second favorite wedding. Your favorite wedding was your own.

#ted lasso #ted lasso fics #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso imagine #sam obisanya #sam obisanya imagine #sam obisanya x yn #sam obisanya oneshot #sam obisanya fluff #sam obisanya x y/n #sam obisanya x reader #frances writes #frances song fics

[burnthoneydrops]

Hi could you please possibly write and imagine where Jamie tartt surprises you at work (I work in childcare) cause he knows it’s been a stressful day. Thank you

Proud of You (j.t. x teacher!reader)

pairing: jamie tartt x teacher!reader

warnings: language

word count: 742

a/n: awww this request was so cute! It got kinda weird in the middle but i thought it was funny so enjoy!

Cooking breakfast was the only thing currently calming you down. Your first day as a new teacher was freaking you out, but right now, you were just focused on not overcooking your eggs. As you pushed the eggs around in the pan, your phone buzzed. Jamie texted you, wishing you good luck on your first day, as he knows how nervous you’ve been for basically the whole summer. You adore the idea of being a teacher, but now that it’s actually a reality, you’re feeling a little more apprehensive than you thought. 

After finishing up breakfast, you’re packing your bag when you get a FaceTime call. “Hey love, what’s up?” You ask, now staring at Jamie’s face through a screen. 

“Just finished training with Roy, wanted to see how you were feeling,” he explains. Training with Roy was something they started last season, before Roy became the new manager, and even though he technically didn’t need to anymore, you thought it was cute. 

“Oh, you know, fucking nervous but trying not to show it”. 

“Afraid it might manifest and you’ll actually have something to worry about?” Jamie tilts his head. This boy knew you so well.

“Yeah, but if I don’t think about it, it’ll be fine. How was training?” 

“Good, yeah. Roy’s knee is still bothering him, though he insists that it’s not”. You grab your bag, placing it over your shoulder before you open your front door, grabbing your water bottle and keys on your way out. 

“He knows he doesn’t have to keep doing this right?”

“Yeah, I tell him all the time but we keep doing it anyway,” Jamie sighs, though you know he also likes the one-on-one time. “Alright well I’ll let you drive off. You’re gonna smash it babe, no doubt”. He fist bumps you through the screen. 

“Thanks love, I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” 

“Sounds good”. You say your goodbyes and hang up. Now you’re sitting in your car with nothing but a black phone screen and your thoughts. Instead of dwelling too much in the dark abyss that is your anxiety, you decide to blast some music as you pull out of the driveway, hoping you won’t have a noise complaint from your neighbours later. 

The kids are an absolute nightmare. Sure, they’re seated comfortably on the reading rug, but you can see them judging you behind their curious eyes and- calm down! They’re just nine year olds, what are they going to do? It’s not too long into story time that your headmaster knocks on the door and alerts you that all the children are to meet in the gymnasium for a surprise assembly. You gather all the children in a straight line and walk them to their desired location before sitting them down in a row at the front of the collection of benches. 

“Now, we’ve got a special guest- or two special guests for you rather. Please, put your hands together for…AFC Richmond’s new manager Roy Kent and star player Jamie Tartt!” The headmaster starts the round of clapping as he steps aside. Jamie and Roy waltz in front of the children, and you have to keep your jaw clenched, lest it fall open in surprise. 

“Well, as you all may remember from last time, I’m not much for public speaking or school, but this time I’m Richmond manager, so we thought it might be good to have an updated fuck-about, and teach you lot some new tricks”. The kids all start to cheer as Roy swings his arm, signalling to them to move to the playground. As they all start walking, Jamie lingers behind just to catch up with you, tapping you on the shoulder lightly. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You question, keeping a slow pace with him. 

“Convinced old Royo to do another school visit so I could come see you, that’s all”. 

You throw your arms around his neck and stop both of you in your tracks. “You are the sweetest boyfriend on the planet Jamie Tartt”. 

“Alright, alright,” he laughs, “not in front of the kiddos,” he picks your arms off of him. “How are they by the way?” 

“About as scary as I thought, but I think I’ll make do”. 

“Proud of you babe, always am,” Jamie sneaks an arm around your waist as the two of you keep walking. He always did know how to keep a smile on your face.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagines #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #roy kent #afc richmond #ted lasso imagines

[hilsoncrater]

idk how that WIP fmk ask game works but i’d be curious to hear ur thoughts on any ted lasso wips you have !

HELL yes tysm!! i LOVE talking abt WIPs

fuck - the story you just want to read instead of having to write it yourself

i have the outline done for a tedtrent western film AU inspired by a convo with @stevecarrington @tomlinfonda and @larkin21 !!

the fic is set in the 60s, right as the western genre is going out of style. rebecca owns a film studio (richmond studios) in hollywood, and wants to blow up its reputation to get back at rupert. so she has higgins cast ted, a high school drama teacher from kansas, to star in an upcoming western film. she then personally hires trent, an established director well-known for being a cold-hearted bitch to work with, to direct the movie. the film itself is risky, as it subverts cornerstones of the western genre. this is the film's synopsis:

Mason "Badlands" Morris (Theodore Lasso) is a lone cowboy rider hired for a job he don't normally do: escort a Miss Josephine Fairfax (Keeley Jones) from Kansas all the way to California so she can reunite with her beau Jack (Jamie Tartt). To ensure no untowardness, her uncle Ezra (Roy Kent) accompanies them, himself desperate for a change. Over the course of 14 days during the spring of 1856, the trio face unexpected challenges and uncover secrets which would best be left buried.

the fic spans from the first initial table read all the way to release day. shenanigans and unlikely romances ensue. i have everything for this SO clearly mapped in my head and on paper, but i know it's going to be a massive undertaking putting it into words. so if i could just...read it instead that'd be amazin LMAO

marry - the story you're obsessed with writing and never want to stop working on or thinking about

break me, shake me, devastate me (come here baby) is one i cannot stop writing/thinking about. the second and final chapter for it is going to be at minimum 7k words long because i keep adding more details in or reworking scenes. especially since the james lance interview dropped and we got more trent lore. the flipside to this is that i'm chewing my nails, sweating over the fact i haven't updated in 12 days. i deadass tried to update this past sunday but!! no!! it didn't feel complete yet. so hopefully this weekend it'll happen

grief and longing are my favorite themes to write about, which this fic explores. i have a playlist titled "grieving" that i made purely to listen to while writing this fic.

kill - the story you're most frustrated with and would rather just put it in the trash (or a high shelf somewhere to forget about for a long time)

i've kind of already done this, but there's a royjamie fic i'm bashing my head against the wall about. i got inspired by AURORA's songs "forgotten love" and "soft universe", specifically the lyrics:

You are the reason I can dance Within a fire of goodbyes, of goodbyes I can lie in a dark room without the feeling that I'm lonely

and

My body falls off the side of her bed And now I know what love feels like Don't let me turn into pain All of this is loveliness Chaos came, we laid our head Down on the feather cotton bed You find a heart and catch your breath Let the universe go red Speak to me, speak to me With love in your words Make for me, make for me A soft universe

basically the fic is about different times roy and jamie sleep together in the same bed. it explores their unspoken codependency and the soft intimacy they share underneath their weird dynamic. the reason i'm frustrated is that i cannot seem to find a good enough explanation for why they start sharing a bed LMAO

currently i have something inspired by the fonda/redford film Our Souls At Night, where jamie shows up at roy's door one night and is like "i can't sleep, mate. i miss having a person next to me."

we'll see though. maybe i'll find motivation for the fic again

#thank you for the ask!!!!!

[thetarttfuldickhead]

A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

11 (& 12).

“Babe, that smells amazing!”

Keeley’s arms wrapped around him from behind, and Roy smiled, unseen. “Careful,” he told her gruffly as he took the pan of shashuka off the stove. “It’s hot.”

“Mmm, isn’t only thing that is.” She waited until he’d put the food down on the table before she slipped into his arms, claiming a kiss. “What are we having today?”

In spite of Keeley being the one with an actual time to keep in the morning, Roy was usually the first one up. Old habits, and he liked having breakfast ready for her when she came down. It made him feel useful, being able to do that for her, and the way she smiled at him over her avocado toast with scrambled eggs or peanut butter blueberry smoothie warmed him in a way not much else did lately. Or ever had, really. Roy Kent had never been what most people would call an exceedingly happy person.

Even by his low standards, though, the past six months had been fucking bleak. Losing football, even if he had always known it was coming, even if it had always been just a matter of time, was like having not only his heart but his lungs and brain and every-fucking-thing ripped out, leaving him an empty, useless shell, stumbling around the void where playing once had been. If it hadn’t been for Keeley, and maybe Phoebe, he wasn’t sure he’d still—

“It’s shakshuka,” he told Keeley. “Eggs in tomato sauce with feta cheese and spices and herbs and shit.”

“Sounds good.”

It was good. Between them they polished off the entire pan, and then Keeley kissed him goodbye and was off and Roy was left with the cleaning up and nothing much to do for the rest of the morning. In the afternoon there were a couple of games he’d watch in preparation for this week’s Soccer Saturday, but until then, he was free as a bird.

Free as a bird with a broken wing limping around on the ground and doing fuck all for either himself or anyone else.

Roy filled up the dishwasher, and took out the trash. Scrolled through his phone looking for new breakfast recipes to try. Read two chapters of The Girl Who Takes an Eye for an Eye. Read a recap of yesterday’s La Liga games.

At least Keeley had been right about the pundit gig. It was fucking stupid, but being around football again, even in this diminished capacity, was hell of a lot better than trying to distance himself from it entirely (coaching Phoebe’s team aside). Might even have been borderline fun, if it weren’t for Cartrick’s ignorant, pointless drivel, and the fact that it regularly saw Roy subjected to both the sight and discussion of Jamie Tartt.

Ever since their bizarre run-in at Hus’, Roy had, annoyingly and in spite of his best intentions, been unable to excise Jamie from his thoughts. He didn’t give a shit about the little prick, and yet he couldn’t stop wondering what the fuck had been going on with him at the kebab shop. (Why the fuck had he left City? How the fuck had he convinced anyone at Richmond he wasn’t a total wanker anymore? When was Lasso going to realize that you couldn’t play Jamie like he was playing Jamie?)

Good fucking thing Richmond were in the Championship, which at least meant that the pundits spent way less time on their games (and certain prick players) than they would have if they still played in the League.

The doorbell rang.

“Delivery for Mr. Kent,” a chirpy young woman with a non-descript parcel in her arms called when Roy opened the door with a scowl on his face.

Roy’s eyes narrowed. Had Keeley taken to buying things online for him now? Roy sure as hell hadn’t ordered anything lately, and who else would think to have shit delivered here instead of Roy’s actual house?

“Who is it from?” he asked, but the woman just shrugged. It didn’t say.

Roy signed for the parcel, and carried it inside. He placed it on the kitchen table and stared at it for a moment. Was this some weird fan or stalker bullshit? There’s been some of that, people sending him all sorts of stuff throughout the years, but usually to the club rather than his house, and usually back when he was still with Chelsea and on top of the fucking world.

He called Keeley. “Did you buy me something online and have it sent to your place?”

“No? Why, did you get a delivery?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. Talk to you later. Love you.”

He hung up. Stared at the parcel some more, and then he shrugged. Fuck it. Wouldn’t be much of a loss anyway, if it turned out to be a bomb and he was blown to bits.

Inside the parcel was a flat square box, carefully wrapped in royal blue with a white bowtie. Chelsea colours, Roy’s brain immediately supplied. Maybe it really was an old fan, who somehow hadn’t gotten the memo that Roy was fucking finished. A has-been. Just some guy named Roy.

For a moment, he was tempted to just throw the whole thing out and forget about it. But curiosity got the better of him, and he tore away the wrapping paper, to reveal…

… a jigsaw puzzle? That’s what the box proclaimed anyway, only it made no sound at all when he shook it, and the picture on it, while familiar, sure as hell wasn’t any Roy had ever seen on a jigsaw before.

And he would have seen it, had it ever been produced. It was him, long-haired and dressed in Chelsea blue, caught in the motion of scoring the prettiest goal of his career, against United back in 2014.

Roy stared at it for a long time, letting his finger trace the curve of the ball as it flew towards the goal. Then he opened the box, and found it filled with bubble wrap. Presumably someone had taken the time to use it to fill up the box, to make sure the smattering of puzzle pieces he discovered in a neat bag underneath didn’t give the surprise away. Stuck to the bag was a small, printed note, which simply read:

3000 pieces is a challenge. You as good at jigsaw puzzles as you were at playing football?

Roy snorted. Football was an art, sweat and tears and bloody hard work. How difficult could a jigsaw puzzle be?

Still, it was one hell of a gift. It must have been Keeley, right? In spite of her denying it, who else would have a, bothered to get Roy anything at all, and b, come up with something so thoughtful?

She really hadn’t sounded like she knew what he was talking about on the phone, though.

He’d save that mystery for later. Right now, he had 3000 puzzle pieces to show who was boss.

12.

It took Roy the better part of four days to finish the puzzle. To his surprise, he enjoyed it, and initially rather wished he knew whom he had to thank for the thoughtful gesture. Then things took a turn for the crazy, and he rather wished he knew whom to grab by their shirt and demand what they hell they were up to.

On Wednesday, he took Keeley out for dinner to celebrate her successful closing of the Bantr deal, and before they even had time to order, a bottle of Tattinger arrived at the table, courtesy of someone who wished “the best midfielder of all time a very nice evening (and congratulations Keeley, you’re a superstar too)!”. Roy’s increasingly loud inquiries about whom had sent it over nearly got them thrown out of the restaurant.

On Thursday unexpected sleet fell over London, covering everything in a heavy wetness that froze as temperatures fell. Roy had spent the afternoon Christmas shopping, and as he slipped and slided over the slick pavement back to his car, he was already cursing how bloody fucking difficult scraping the ice off the windshield was going to be. But when he arrived at the parking lot, it had already been taken care of, by an unseen someone who had then seen fit to scamper off and leave Roy equally disgruntled and grateful.

When Roy came back from the TV studio on Sunday someone had decked his entire front porch with Christmas lights and decorations in black and silver, with red accents. It actually looked pretty nice – which didn’t change the fact that it was an utterly bonkers thing to do.

There were other gifts as well. On Tuesday he received a bottle of Macallan from 1982, the year of his birth, and on Friday it was a gift card for a massage in a luxury spa in Mayfair. Roy considered regifting the latter to his sister, but ended up spending a fucking glorious afternoon there himself. Though he did regular physio for his knee, he hadn’t had a massage since he quit football and lost access to the Richmond therapists; it had just never occurred to him to book a private appointment. It would now.

He asked Keeley repeatedly if she wasn’t the one doing it all, but she consistenly denied it, to the point where she forbade him from asking again, urging him to talk to the police if he was concerned about a stalker.

Roy wasn’t concerned, exactly. He was confused more than anything, both about what was actually going on, and about his own feelings on the matter. There was no denying that whoever was behind this spent stupid amounts of time and money on it, and that they seemed to know a great deal about Roy; both what he might enjoy, and where he was at any given time. That was objectively creepy and weird, and Roy had found himself looking over his shoulder more than once in the past week.

At the same time, there was a part of Roy that relished the attention, and had secretly started to look forward to each day’s new surprise. It brougth a sense of excitement to his otherwise painfully dull days when Keeley was away at work.

But yeah, Roy admitted to himself as he sipped coffee and watched Phoebe skate around the ice rink in Canada Square Park on Monday, it was fucking strange too. He probably should be more concerned. Maybe he ought to—

“Uncler Roy, look!”

Phoebe had come up next to him, and was pointing up into the the grey London sky. Roy followed her outstretched finger and gave a sharp curse. Above them a small airplane flew across the park, trailing a banner reading ROY KENT YOU ARE A LEGEND behind it.

Yeah, Roy thought while handing Phoebe a quid for swearing, he absolutely ought to find out who was behind this.

#did not have time to put 11 up on tumblr yesterday so we're doing a double post today #VAGUE hints of suicidal ideation #due to #roy kent's canonical depression #also featuring #jamie's lack of chill and sense of boundaries #roy kent #keeley jones #roy/keeley

[cavehags]

fmk: Roy Kent, Keeley Jones, Jamie Tartt

oh god!!!! i do think that sex with roy kent is necessary to snap me out of my current mental illness. i would really make a fool of myself giggling and being weird because i simply don't know how to behave with male crushes but it needs to be done!

being married to keeley would be lovely - as nate said, the affection of someone as warm and keeley would be so wonderful 🥰

and so i have to say goodbye to jamie tartt </23

[thecomicsnexus]

The Secret Origin of the Golden-Age Superman

SECRET ORIGINS #1 APRIL 1986 BY ROY THOMAS, WAYNE BORING, JERRY ORDWAY, GENE D’ANGELO, AND TECHNICALLY JERRY SIEGEL AND JOE SHUSTER.

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

The planet Krypton is in its death throes with only hours before its Uranium core explodes. Respected scientist Jor-L and his wife Lara place their infant child, Kal-L inside of an experimental rocket and launch him into outer space just as the planet explodes.

After hurtling through space, it touches down in the wooded areas of Smallville on the planet Earth. John and Mary Kent discover the rocket and rescue the child. They admit the infant to a local orphanage but when the agency fails to adapt to Kal-L's physical peculiarities, they decide to award custody of him to the Kents.

Naming him Clark, the Kents raise him as their own son and raise him to be an honest and noble human being. As he grows into adulthood, Clark discovers that his strange alien powers have only made him more powerful than ever.

Following the natural deaths of his parents, Clark relocates to the city of Metropolis where he attempts to get a job as a newspaper reporter at the Daily Star. Managing Editor George Taylor denies him the opportunity, unless he can somehow prove himself as a reporter.

Clark begins investigating the local crime scene. Rather than track down clues as a mild mannered reporter, he instead dons a colorful costume and becomes the super-hero soon to be known as Superman.

Superman learns that a woman named Evelyn Curry is to be executed for the murder of a labor leader named Jack Kennedy. A man named Sims tells Superman that Evelyn is innocent, and that the true murderer is a lounge singer named Bea Carroll. Superman interrogates Bea and forces a confession from her. He then races to the governor's mansion where he personally delivers the signed confession in the hopes of granting Evelyn an 11th hour reprieve. Evelyn is found innocent and the governor grants her a full pardon.

Changing back to Clark Kent, he delivers the story to George Taylor who rewards him by making Clark a full-time staff reporter. Clark meets fellow wordsmith, Lois Lane, and takes notice of her sudden fascination with Superman. However, understanding the need to protect his secret identity, Clark forces himself to play the part of a bumbling coward – a demeanor that quickly earns him Lois' enmity.

A few nights later, Clark and Lois attend a nightclub and a group of goons (led by Butch Mason) begin hassling them. They push Clark aside and kidnap Lois. Clark changes to Superman and follows their car down the highway. He quickly captures them and rescues Lois. After which, he makes quick work of the thugs' vehicle. Superman flies Lois back to her home, warning her not to put this account in the newspaper.

The next day, Lois tries to convince George Taylor about her encounter with Superman, which he doesn't believe. As Lois ponders about doing an interview with Superman, Clark arrives in the Daily Star office, with Lois giving a rather low opinion about him. Clark suspects that she is thinking about Superman.

REVIEW

It’s a good thing this wasn’t called “useful origins”, because they spent a whole issue in a character that was no longer going to be published (the character was just retired at the end of the Crisis). Sure Geoff Johns would bring him back eventually, but that was never the intention.

Other than that, this is pretty much the Superman feature from Action Comics #1. Roy Thomas does here what he was already doing in All-Star Squadron, taking the original stories and adding a few things. It’s a bit annoying to me that Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster didn’t get writing credits for this particular story (well, there is technically a note about it, but this is pretty much Siegel’s story and Boring and Ordway are sometimes doing exact replicas of Shuster work. I don’t know, it felt weird. And as usual, Thomas doesn’t exactly add much to it, he just adds things that would appear later (or namedropping Hitler), but he didn’t really improve over the original story. In any case, in 1986 not everyone was familiarized with this story (I imagine, there were many reprints of Action Comics #1 and Superman #1, but most people would be more familiarized with the Silver Age Superman), so you could say that for many readers, this was the first time they were reading this origin. It was a different time, and I guess the industry had space for Roy Thomas retellings.

What makes this issue stand out is of course, Jerry Ordway (also fresh from the Crisis).

In the end, this origin came out at a time where readers were trying to move on. But I understand why people at DC felt like they needed to say goodbye to this version of the character.

I give the issue a score of 7.

#jerry ordway #wayne boring #dc comics #comics #review #1986 #modern age #secret origins #superman