#roy x reader

*Roy’s POV* 

The crisp, expensive paper crinkled under my calloused fingers. I found the small, red envelope propped against the coffee maker, my name scrawled in Y/N’s looping handwriting. A slow smile spread across my face as I pulled out the card- a simple, elegant thing with a single arrow piercing a heart. Inside, the message was short. 

To the man who already has my heart. Your real gift is waiting in the bedroom. Don’t keep me waiting.

My smile turned into a predatory grin. I took the stairs two at a time, the quiet of our apartment amplifying the quickening beat of my own pulse. The bedroom door was ajar, soft candlelight spilling into the hall, casting dancing shadows. I pushed it open. And the hair left my lungs. 

Y/N stood beside the bed, backlit by a dozen flickering tea lights. She was a vision wrapped in dark crimson lace and sheer black silk. The lingerie was less an outfit and more a strategic revelation. A corset-style top cinched her waist, pushing her breasts up into exquisite, trembling curves barely contained by intricate lace. The matching bottoms were a whisper of fabric, a triangle of lace over her mound, with silk ribbons trailing down her thighs. She left her hair down. Her lips, painted the same deep red as the lace, curved into a knowing, challenging smile. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Roy.” She said, her voice a low, smoky promise. 

For a long moment, I just stared, drinking her in. The candlelight played over the planes of her stomach, the dip of her navel, the long, smooth lines of her legs. I saw the faint blush on her chest, the way her breath hitched slightly under my intense scrutiny. I took a single, deliberate step into the room, letting the door swing shut behind me. 

“Y/N…” I said, my voice rough, scraping from my throat. Another step. I could smell her perfume now, something rich and vanilla- sweet, mixed with the warm wax scent of the candles. 

“Do you like it?” She asked, a hint of playful nerves finally breaking through her confident facade. She shifted her weight, the movement making the silk whisper against her skin. 

I closed the final distance between us. I didn’t touch her, not yet. I stood so close I could feel the heat radiating from her body, could see the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. My eyes, dark and hungry, traveled down from her eyes, down the column of her neck, over the lush swell of her breasts, down the tempting junction of her thighs barely hidden by lace. 

“Like it?” I repeated, the words a low growl. My hands finally came up, but I didn’t grab her. I skimmed my knuckles, feather-light, up the outside of her silk-clad thigh, tracing the ribbon. She shivered violently. 

“Y/N, you can’t give me that kind of gift and expect me to behave.” 

The last word was a bare whisper against her lips before I captured her mouth with mine. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a claim. A release of the coiled, aching tension that had built from the moment I saw the card. My lips were demanding, my tongue sweeping into her mouth with a possessive hunger that made her moan into me. My hands finally found her, one tangling in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, the other splaying across the small of her back, pressing her flush against me. 

She could feel the hard, insistent ridge of my erection straining against my jeans, pressing into her stomach. She arched into me, her own hands flying up to clutch at my shoulders, the firm muscle beneath my shirt a familiar and thrilling anchor. 

“Roy… please.” Y/N breathed, her head falling back as I lavished attention on her neck. 

“Please what?” I murmured against her skin, my voice vibrating through her. My hands slid down from her breast, over the curve of her hip, and dipped between her legs. The silk was already damp, heat seeping through the thin material. I pressed the heel of my hand against her, applying a firm, grinding pressure. A sharp, broken cry tore from her throat. Her knees buckled, and I held her up easily, my arms like iron around her waist. 

“Please…” She begged again, the word meaning everything and nothing. 

With a rough sound of approval, I spun her around, guiding her toward the bed. I laid her down on the cool duvet, the crimson lace a stunning contrast against the white. I followed her down, bracing myself over her, my eyes burning with unchecked desire. I made quick work of my own clothes, my shift joining the growing pile on the floor, my jeans and boxers kicked away. Then I was back on her, my naked skin hot against the silk covering hers. 

I kissed her again, deep and slow now, a counterpoint to the frantic energy humming between us. My fingers found the ribbons at her hips. With a deliberate, slow pull, I untied the bow on one side, then the other. The silk slithered away from her hips. I didn’t remove the lace panties, not yet. Instead, I hooked a finger under the side and tugged it aside, exposing her. I looked my fill, my breath catching. She was glistening, swollen, utterly ready for me. I lowered my head. 

“Oh, God, Roy!” Y/N’s back arched off the bed as my tongue found her, flat, hot, and perfect. I didn’t tease. I feasted. My mouth settled over her, my tongue leaving broad, slow strokes through my slick folds before zeroing in on her clit. I sucked the sensitive bug gently into my mouth, and Y/N’s hands fisted in my hair, her hips lifting off the mattress to meet me. 

The sensations were overwhelming. The wet, hungry sounds I made, the expert, relentless pressure of my tongue. The delicate lace of her lingerie, still mostly in place, rasped against her sensitized skin with every tremble of her body. Pleasure coiled tight in her belly, a spring winding and winding. 

“I’m… I’m gonna…” She choked out, her thighs starting to shake around my head. 

I pulled back, leaving her gasping and empty. I looked up, my mouth and chin wet. My eyes were black with need. 

“Not yet.” I commanded, my voice raw. I surged up her body, my weight settling between her thighs. I nudged her entrance with the thick, blunt head of my cock, the contact making us both shudder. I looked into her eyes, seeing her desperation, her love, her utter surrender. 

“You started this, Y/N. Now you’re going to take every last bit of it.” 

I drove into her in one smooth, powerful thrust, burying myself to the hilt. The fullness was exquisite, a perfect, stretching burn. Y/N screamed, a raw, unfiltered sound of pleasure. I stilled, buried deep, letting them both feel the incredible tightness, the heat, the absolute connection. I dropped my forehead to her, my breathing ragged. 

“Mine.” I growled, the word a vow against my lips. Then I began to move. 

I set a rhythm that was pure fire, deep, deliberate thrusts that had Y/N clawing at my back, her nails digging into my skin like she was trying to anchor herself to reality. Every slide in and out was heaven, her tight, wet heat gripping me like a vice, pulling me deeper. I could feel her pulsing around my cock, those little flutters that told me she was right on the edge again. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” I graoned against her ear, nipping at the lobe before dragging my teeth down her neck. My hips snapped forward harder, grinding my pelvis against her clit with every plunge. The lace of her corset scratched deliciously against my chest, a reminder of the sexy little package she’d wrapped herself up in just for me. 

“You’re all mind, baby.” 

Y/N response was a whimpering moan, her legs wrapping around my waist, heels digging into my ass to pull me closer. 

“Yes, Roy! Fuck, yes! All yours. Always.” Her voice was wrecked, breathy, and it sent a bolt of possessive heat straight to my balls. 

I shifted my angle, hooking one of her legs over my shoulder to hit that spot inside her that made stars explode behind her eyes. She cried out, her walls clenching so hard I had to grit my teeth to keep from blowing right then. Sweat slicked out skin, the candles flickering shadows over us like we were in some primal ritual. I captured her mouth in a messy, devouring kiss, tongues tangling as I fucked her harder, the bed creaking under us. 

“You gonna cum for me?” I rasped, breaking the kiss to watch her face- those flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes glazed with lust. My thumb found her clit, circling it rough and fast while I pounded into her. 

“Cum on my cock, baby. Milk me dry. Show me how much you love it.” 

Her body obeyed before her words could, shattering around me with a scream that echoed off the walls. Her pussy spasmed, hot and relentless, dragging me over the edge with her. I buried myself deep, roaring her name as I came, flooding her with thick ropes of cum, our bodies locked together in that perfect, shuddering release. 

We collapsed in a tangle of limbs and lace, my weight half on her, half off, both of us panting like we just ran a marathon. I pressed a soft kiss to her temple, then her jaw. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.” 

She smiled up at me, sated and glowing, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest. She pulled me down for a slow, tender kiss that promised we’d do this all over again.

“A’right, in ya go.” With a shove the prisoner stumbled into the cell.

Iron cuffs rattled against the prisoner’s wrist. The cell was small, making it difficult for the prisoner to turn. The Sheriff slammed the bars shut with a final clunk.

“Want me to put my hands through?” The prisoner asked.

The Sheriff looked at him barking a laugh. "Those are stayin’ on."

A sigh came from the man as he retreated into the cell, taking a seat on the worn-out cot, they called a bed.

You entered the building, door swinging shut behind you. You were a little older than the prisoner.

“Evenin’ Sheriff.” Your voice was dry, somewhat hoarse. Your hair was a mess that went right alongside your unkempt beard you sported on your face. You were tall with some muscle to back it up.

"Evenin’, where ya been?" the sheriff asked.

"Down at the saloon, talkin’ to the town’s folk. You should try it sometime. People gon’ think you’re a hermit with how you never engage with 'em." You responded. Then your eyes shifted to the extra guest in the building. "Who ya got there?"

"Ah, ya. Meet our latest outlaw. Notorious Roy Goode." Sheriff proclaimed proudly, hands on his hips.

You raised your eyebrows, obviously not believing it.

"Don’ give me that look. It’s really him." The sheriff defended himself.

"And you just happen to catch him, did ya?"

Well, yeah. I am a lawman. It’s what we do." The sheriff rubbed at his face.

"I kinda surrendered to him." Roy chimed in.

The two of you glanced at him. You let out a chuckle, side-eyeing the Sheriff.

“A’right. So….I didn’t actually catch him. Anyway, you’re on guard duty tonight. Cause I’m goin’ home.” He huffed, slightly embarrassed. Adjusting his hat, snatching up his coat he headed out the door. “I’ll be back come mornin’. NO visitors.”

"Whate’er ya say, sir." You shook your head, watching the other man leave.

You waddled your way over towards the cell, leaning against the bars. "Ya really Roy Goode?"

"Yes, sir." Roy responded lazily, sitting down, legs slung across the cot.

You took in his appearance in the dim light of the lanterns. A young handsome man with short hair, and rough beard. But what took you the most were those blue eyes. Vibrant. Sad looking.

Roy made sure not to meet your staring gaze. He’s been stared at before. It always made him feel like a sideshow attraction.

You let out a hum. "You don’t look like the killin’ and robbin’ type. Just gonna say it. Your poster don’ do ya justice. Don’ look that evil."

Roy shrugged. He’d heard that before from others he had crossed paths with. He was becoming a changed man over the years once he woke up to all the hell he’d been raging with Frank and the others. He wanted out of that life. Surrendering was the only option he really had to be safe for a while.

You sucked your teeth, pushing yourself away by going back to your desk. Drumming your fingers on the wooden top, your mind thinking. "Say, I’ll be right back, 'mk."

Roy nodded, not looking in your direction. It wasn’t as if he was going anywhere.

A few minutes later, you returned. A tin plate in your hand with a small ration of food on it. Reaching the cell bars again, you held the plate out. "Here."

Roy shifted, pushing himself up. He took the plate with hesitation of course. The law didn’t tend to show him kindness. With a dip of his head, he murmured a ‘thank you’, and took a seat to begin eating.

As you made your way back to your desk, Roy’s eyes watched briefly. You plopped tiredly into the wooden chair. The angle that Roy had made you look more of an outlaw than he did. Rough-looking, years of work, stress, and sun aged you. In between bites, Roy called out, "What’s yer name?"

Your gaze turned back to the man speaking. "Ya ain’t your typical outlaw, are ya? Unless ya want my name to be put under a notch in yer belt."

"It ain’t like that." Roy semi-protested. He genuinely wanted to know your name.

"It’s (Y/N)." You replied. You saw no harm in telling Roy. Though you were always wary of prisoners asking for names. In the past, it never led to a good outcome. Outlaws were notorious for killing the law without questions; they also had a dark look in their eyes, especially behind bars. But when you looked at Roy, you didn’t see that. You just saw a young man, sadness in the eyes, maybe a little lost at times.

It wasn’t long before Roy finished what he had been given. He cleared his throat to get your attention, as you had taken the time to sift through some papers on your desk. Getting up, you once again return to the bars. Half-looking, you took the plate from Roy. Your hand grazed a little of Roy’s, and you both paused with a held breath, then it was gone. You set the empty plate down and out of the way for now before going back to your papers.

Roy wanted to ask you if he could get his handcuffs removed, but seeing how in-depth you were with your work, he’d wait for another opportunity. He took the time to lay down on the cot, chancing a little sleep when he could get it.

You fumbled with more of your papers as you got everything settled and filed properly. How the sheriff let the mess go, you’d never understand. How the Sheriff let the mess go , you’d never understand. Or maybe the Sheriff didn’t care. Whatever the reason, it was a damn inconvenience.

Leaning back in the chair, it creaked softly. Hands behind your head, you glanced towards the cell, since it had grown quiet.

Roy was on his side, eyes closed, in a light sleep. Of the many outlaws that had the misfortune of taking a stay here, Roy was by far the best-looking one. You thought. Your mind bordered on the perverse. You weren’t particularly a lonely man. There were plenty of whores in town who could fill that need. But looking at this man, it stirred a deep desire. Those soft features, the lean body laced with slight muscle under the clothes.

A groan rose in your throat the more you thought about it.

What would it be like…

You were sure if you tried, Roy would resist you. But how much resistance could he really put up being chained and locked in a cell?

You bit on your lip, a weak attempt at drowning out the lustful thoughts. You couldn’t help it. You couldn’t take your eyes off the other man. The more you stared, the more your thoughts delved into the obscene. Imagination running wild. Picturing you pinning the smaller man against a wall, tearing off his clothes, abusing his body. Helpless and unable to defend himself. You figured if Roy was going to hang, you’d never get another chance to let the images become reality. You could feel the tightening of your pants, your dick getting hard by sheer thoughts under your clothes.

You took the time to check outside; the town had grown still. The time of night where only the bugs and critters were awake. Only a few streetlamps produced light, and not a soul was there to rekindle the oil burning out. Closing the door quietly, you scooped up the key ring, quickly holding them so they don’t clank together causing noise. Your eyes darkened with a downright scary want. A predator eyeing its prey in the dark. Carefully, the key thunked over, turning the lock open. Moving as slow as you could, you slid the cell bars back. With a hard swallow, you hooked the keys onto your belt as you stalked over. Your shadow was cast over the sleeping frame of the outlaw.

Feeling a shift in the air, Roy stirred. His eyes went wide with you standing over him. A lump in his throat. He wasn’t afraid, not truly. The law had always been weird towards him. But this. The obscurity of your eyes. They screamed danger. Pushing himself up into a seated position, Roy kept his eyes locked onto you.

You moved swiftly, gripping the connecting chain of Roy’s handcuffs, jolting the outlaw to his feet, his hands above his head. Without care, you dragged him next to his cot, crashing his legs against the edge causing some pain, before his back slammed against the wooden wall of the cell.

"What…?" Roy began to present his complaint, but you hushed him.

"Don’ say a word." You had Roy’s arms above his head, pinned against the wall. Roy wriggled under the pressure. Just as you suspected, he would put up a fight. "Ya could make this easy on yerself," You growled, moving your face closer. "Don’ fight it."

Roy narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t going to die like this. That was his assumption of the situation, misreading your true intentions. Roy swallowed, tightening his jaw, as your hand wrapped around his throat. Raising his knee, he rammed it up into you.

You grunted, wobbling slightly, maintaining your grip. You squeezed your hand. Then crashed Roy’s head into the wall, dazing him. You cursed under your breath, your throbbing erection pulsed with pain from the sudden impact.

"Fucker, told ya not to fight." You hissed, pressing your body into Roy to still any movement.

Roy was losing some feeling in his arms from their position, getting that tingly feeling. He shifted his head, blinking back clearing the blurred vision. Launching a wad of spit into your face, angering you further.

You squeezed hard around his throat. “Yer gonna regret that.” You growled cutting off his airway. Roy’s face started to turn red.

Roy choked and coughed sucking in the much-needed air. Forcing his face to turn to yours. You harshly landed a kiss onto Roy’s lips. You also pushed your body as far as it could go into Roy, flattening him into the wood behind. The outlaw’s eyes blew wider, a new fear sinking into him. He could feel the outline of your length through your pants. He tried his best to move his body; it refused to budge under your weight.

You smirked, rolling your hips ever so slightly, driving home what was in store.

You pulled off the kiss, watching him gasp, breath ragged, desperate for air. Your eyes bore into him with a predatory glint. There was going to be no way out of this.

He twisted his body, desperately struggling. You had him at your mercy. Filling you with satisfaction. One hand on the handcuffs, roughly pressing his wrist into the hard wood above him. Your other hand sinking low.

Fingers passing his ribs made Roy’s body jerk, shifting to move away. But there was nowhere to go. Continuing towards his waist, your fingers splayed, slipping under his clothes.

Roy made more futile attempts, pulling desperately—muscles screaming, eyes wide darting around. He never moved more than a fraction. Your smirk widened, hand moving over his hardened frame. Then moved lower, cupping Roy’s crotch boldly. Feeling that hard curve through the denim.

He choked a whine, pressing further into the wall, frantically still trying to escape the defiling grope. Feeling so vulnerable.

Your palm rubbed, drawing down his outline, feeling it grow harder.

Roy gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. Fighting back tears. A pathetic whimper came out with a breath.

Your palm was rough against his pants, friction dragging along his length, had heat crawling through Roy’s body.  You smirked, the shine of your teeth flashing by the way he was responding. You leaned in, inches from his face. “Make’s it easier, when ya don’ fight. See?” You pressed harder.

Roy’s face contorted as he fought the surge pulsing in his veins. Each struggle became weaker. A few more whines escaping his lips.

Releasing your hand briefly from the cuffs, you attacked his shirt. Ripping it open with a RIPP sound. The fabric tore, buttons flew, the outlaw’s chest on full display—pale skin under those olde clothes. Eyes tracing before your hand moved, twisting roughly at his nipples.

Roy cried out, the twist painful, he thrashed his body and you quickly grabbed the handcuffs keeping him pinned.

Another slam to keep him in check, then your hand was down his pants. Shoving past the waistband, tearing some of it. Finding your fingers wrapping around his hard dick. The grip was harsh, crushing.

Roy bucked, kicking his boots out. His head smacked against the wall. A loud sob echoing off the iron bars.

A heavy breath puffed out as you leaned near his ear. “Not likin’ this outlaw?” You laughed darkly, squeezing and rubbing.

Roy whimpered, mind flooding with humiliation. Every fiber screamed this was wrong. Instinct to find some way out of this. His body, however, betrayed him. Slowly succumbing to the assault.

Your touch was invasive, the weight of your body against his pressing. All of it was a violation. He didn’t want it, yet his gut was tightening a small coil of pleasure—bleeding like an open wound. You bared witness to this internal struggle. Observing the tears fall. Mind still holding, but the body giving in. Not noticing the way his hips had begun to roll against your presses.

His hips bucked more as you squeezed, watching his face closely as it flip flopped between agony and pleasure.’

“Yeah, feelin’ it now ain’t ya.” You muttered, grip tightening with a cruel twist.

You ground your hand and body into him, forcing him to feel it all. He bucked. It was becoming overwhelming. Shame and fear slowly losing to need. What his body needed. A soft thud, head tilted into the wood. A mixed cry emitted from his throat. Dick throbbing. Hips rolling.

Another shameful buck of his hips against your hand and he hit his first climax. Cum spewing into his pants. Creating a small dark spot, staining his pants. You milked him until he was trembling and limp. Sagging into the wood wall of the cell.

Withdrawing your hand with a triumphant smirk, you left him feeling used and dirty by something he couldn’t control.

This still didn’t satisfy you. Your own hard length pulsed with unmet need. Not giving him time to really process or relax you ruthlessly tugged his pants down. Shoving them down his hips, letting gravity take care of the rest.

Roy’s eyes filled with clarity from the sudden exposure. A new wave of terror coursed through him. Before he knew what was happening you had spun him around and was forcibly pressing his face onto the wall. Splinters scraping his face. The handcuffs—still secured dug into his wrists, holding his arms awkwardly—leaving his back and ass exposed. Pressing your body flush to his, you rolled your hips making him feel your erection. Hard. Eager.

You struggled having to juggle holding him in place and getting your pants down with one hand. Still gripping the cuffs, you managed to unbutton your waistband, fumbling and clumsy as you did. Your cock was free, veins throbbing, and dripping.

“Don’….please…” Roy pleaded. A weak thrash of his body. A soft whimper.

A cute effort to fight you off.

You groaned, pressing closer, “shhhh, now. Thrashin’ like a wild horse. S’all right. Imma break ya in.” You mocked, adjusting your grip on his cuffs, so that your other hand could brace his hips. “Ain’t no use n’ tryin’. Yer gonna take all of me, deep.” Pushing your dick forward, already slick against his trembling exposed entrance. “It’ll hurt sure, but then…then you’ll stretch. You’ll give. And then It’ll feel damn good.”

The words were unkind laced with malice.

With talking done, without any warning you thrust inside. Causing Roy’s body to arch so violently, his skin scarped along the wood as you breached. A scream tearing from his throat. Your dick stretched, and tore, as you forced it through the tight entrance. The pain was immense.

He sobbed, tears falling uncontrollably. Despair and agony wracked his body. His tears blurring his vision. Forgoing the need for slow and easy you instead thrust hard and fast. Each drag stretched his hole, making each thrust easier.

Rocking and scraping his body, the pain was a constant pressure. When his body stretched and opened further it got used to the invasion. A faint flicker of pleasure crept through. Roy hated it. Hated himself. Body arching once more to greet the sensation.

A thrust. And another. Brutal and hard. “Yeah, take it!” You growled. “Atta, boy. Fuckin’ made for this cock.”

You needed a better grip. More control needed. Since Roy was still fighting. You grunted, letting go of the cuffs. Letting Roy’s hands clattered heavily into the wood. Now your hands were free to grip his hips. You were sure with how hard you were holding it would leave bruises. You thrust. Deeper. Faster. Pulling his hips back with a snap.

With each thrust you pulled him flush, hips crashing together.

Roy was whining again. At more frequent intervals. Mix of pain and unwanted pleasure. Each impact made his head thud gently against the wood. Face raw, little scratches and cuts present. Tears staining his cheeks. At some point you noticed his hips, against his will, pushed back to meet yours.

“Good.” You snickered. “Close….can taste it.” You drove your hips, crashing repeatedly.

Roy’s muscles clenched. He cried out. A broken sound. As you ruthlessly drove into him, his body sank as another climax hit him. Cum spilled in thick ropes from the tip, spraying the wall, shamefully.

With a moan and a few more thrust, your own body tensed. Cum poured into his ass. How waves of release flooding his insides.

Panting you pulled free. POP.

Roy’s legs buckled under him. With no care you let him slide down the wall into a heap on the floor. Exhausted and shaking. Body aching, sore, and abused. He was a mess. Torn shirt, tangled pnts, cum seeping down his thighs.

It felt like an accomplishment.

Smirk plastered on your face. You tucked your softening dick back into your pants. Wiping awa a few stray drops of cum with the back of your hand.

On the ground Roy was still trembling. Humiliated he pulled at his clothes—well what remained of his clothes—back on. The shirt was too torn and left him exposed as it hung off him. Shakily he tugged his pants up. Raw and stained. The now loose waistband offered no support or comfort in covering the shame.

He shot daggers at you, with wet teary eyes. There was a furious anger blazing within them.

You returned the look with a smug grin. Turning away, keys in your hand, you slammed the cell shut. A loud CLUNK and it was locked. Sealing Roy back inside the hell hole.

Too tired to move Roy slumped against the wall. His body was screaming. Not just from physical pain, but from the misery and filth you left him with. He closed his eyes begging for oblivion. A way to escape. Images replaying.

Your violent abuse.

The way his body gave in.

There was too much effort to reach the cot that sat beside him. So, he stayed there, a broken thing. His ragged breath filling the growing silence.

Acting like nothing had just occurred, you sank back into the wooden chair. Rifling through papers. Gaze drifting towards the cell. A smile still on your lips. The nights duties, the filing, the quiet solitude—it all felt infinitely more satisfying now. Leaning back, you were filled with a warm sensation.

Roy’s cries and surrender now living inside your mind like a trophy.

A layer of quiet filled the jailhouse.

“Don’t be getting that on my carpet!” you warn, alerting everyone to your presence. 

Your daughter, Maisie, skips out next, waving. “We’re painting Uncle Roy’s nails!”

“Lucky Roy!” She’d been calling him “uncle” for the past year, though neither of you is related to the footballer-turned-manager. Maisie picked it up from Phoebe, and Roy hadn’t seemed to mind, since you’re practically best friends anyway. You’re constantly trying to tire the kids out with play dates at one another’s house, or else exchanging babysitting duties so one of you can have a free night. Of course, Roy isn’t a single parent like you, but he watches Phoebe enough that you’ve formed a bond over the years, one that stemmed from your shared love of your chaotic children. 

That bond has blossomed into something much more than you bargained for, though. After all, he is Roy fucking Kent, and his rough exterior matched with his hidden, softer side was always going to be your downfall. But since he’s been in and out of relationships and never made a move, you’ve let the small crush lie, trying to distract yourself with dates. 

Terrible, terrible dates.

Like the one you had tonight. 

“You’re back early.” Roy emerges last, leaning against the doorframe as he blows on his wet-varnished nails. “It wasn’t the one who speaks like someone’s pressed fast-forward on the TV remote again, was it? I told you they’re a loser.” 

“No. No, it was someone far, far worse than Fast-forward Frank.” You sigh and try to ignore the flickering in your chest, because gruff footballer Roy Kent is currently being pampered by two ten-year-olds and seems to be enjoying every minute. 

“Fuck,” he deadpans. “I’ll grab the wine.” He wanders back into the kitchen. 

You huff again, kicking your shoes off your aching feet and heading into the living room, where the girls are painting one another’s nails. It was at least nice to snuggle up on your couch and watch, legs curled under you. They’re arguing, of course, but you’re good at tuning that out most of the time. 

“You look very nice, Y/N,” Phoebe compliments. “Are you dressed up for my Uncle Roy?”

“No.” Even so, your cheeks flush, and you can’t help but hope he noticed your appearance before you left earlier. In fact, you’d been wondering all through dinner why he’d pursed his lips, jaw ticking, as he’d looked you up and down with shiny, dark eyes. It hadn’t exactly been the look of a man who lusted after you. More the disapproving stare of a father about to tell his child to go and change. “I went on a date.”

“What’s a date?” Maisie asks.

“14th of April,” Phoebe answers confidently. You smirk, glad when they return to their own little world. 

“Right girls,” Roy says as he comes in. “Go and play upstairs, now. We’re talking about adult stuff now.”

“And you should be in bed,” you remind, because you suppose that one of you has to be the responsible parent, and it certainly isn’t him.

The kids groan but trudge out of the room, leaving you in peace. Somehow, that’s even worse. You don’t really know why; you’ve had lots of awful dating experiences, but tonight, you’re just… exhausted. You don’t want to have to keep searching for something that most people find without a problem. You don’t want to meet new people who you don’t connect with, don’t even really like, just because the alternative is sitting at home with only a child for company, or sometimes Roy. 

Roy places the wine on the coffee table and raises his brow. “Go on then. Tell me what was wrong with this one.” 

“It’d be quicker to tell you what’s right. They started by telling me to put a blanket under me in their car so I wouldn’t scuff their leather seats. And then when I told them I had a kid, they looked me up and down and said ‘ah, yeah, I can tell. Have you looked into cosmetic surgery?’” You wrinkle your nose as Roy scoffs. 

“You’re joking!” 

“I wish I was joking.” You rest your head against the couch cushion, closing your tired eyes. “They tried to order a salad for me after that. I told them fuck off, I’m having the garlic bread. They didn’t like that.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Do you have their address?” Roy is already scrambling to get up, and you aren’t sure if he’s joking or not. 

You roll your eyes and tug him back down. “Stop it.”

“I’m not fucking joking. Where does this wanker live?” 

Okay, you realise. Not joking. His jaw is clenched, brows even more furrowed than usual. You’ve seen him angry before, but never… seething. It rolls off him until you yank him down a second time. 

“I don’t need you to beat them up. I need you to drink wine and tell me I’ll find the right person one day.” You pout as you pick up your wine glass, only half-joking.

His nostrils flare, but he settles down. “You will find the right person,” he reassures. “People are just dicks. You deserve better than all that shit.”

“I wonder sometimes,” you admit. “Nobody wants a single parent. I’m a package deal, and… well, there’s a reason I’m still single after all this time.”

“Oi.” He nudges you, draping his arm around the back of your couch so you smell his aftershave. You turn into the warmth, the comfort, though there is so much space between you still. More than you’d like. In another life, he might have been the one you were looking for. In another life, you weren’t searching for a good, healthy, passionate love, because you’d found it long ago, in the schoolyard where you met. 

But you’re in this life, you remind yourself, and you’re a far cry from the people Roy has dated before. It’s clear you’re just friends. You always will be. 

You lift your brows, waiting for whatever lecture he’s about to give you. 

His eyes pierce yours. “Don’t even bother going there. You and Maisie deserve the fucking world, and fuck anyone who isn’t going to give it to you.” 

The words pierce your heart, and something damp and warm trickles from the corner of your eye. A tear, you realise too late. 

Roy sighs, the rough pad of his thumb brushing it away. You’re not surprised by his gentle touch, though most people might be. You know him too well to think him anything other than tender-hearted and caring to his core. 

“Don’t get fuckin’ upset over that prick. Please, sweetheart.”

“No. I’m not.” You sniff, feeling pathetic. “I’m just overwhelmed. Tired. That’s all.” 

His touch drifts to your hair, brushing through the strands and tucking a few behind your ear as your eyes flutter shut again. You could stay like this for a long time. For forever. He has no idea just how much you need him, how much better things feel when he’s around. It would just make sense, you and him — if you took away his fame, at least. You love one another’s kids. You’d become family over the years. You trust him with every fibre of your being as the one steadfast person you can count on. 

“Y’know, you’re the person I’d call in the middle of the night if I needed to bury a body. Or if I thought there was a ghost in my house or something,” you admit. 

His face crumples. “Ey?” 

“Just…” You lean into him, burying your cheek against his chest. “You’re the only person who hasn’t let me down or left me.” 

His movements are stiff as he wraps his arms around you, but he melts into you quickly, holding you to him until you’re not sure where you end and he begins. You hear his heart echoing in your ear. Feel the prickly bristle of his beard against your skin. It’s the safest you ever get to feel, and it’s rare you allow yourself to be so vulnerable. But tonight, you can’t find a reason to keep pretending. 

“I never would,” he whispers. “If it was me, if you gave me a chance at a family like yours… I wouldn’t fucking waste it. They’re idiots, all of them. You and Maisie are precious. You deserve the best. Don’t stop until you find it.” 

You pull away, pulse racing. It’s never felt right to address your feelings before, and perhaps tomorrow you’ll regret it. Maybe you’ll lose him, even, but you believe him when he says he isn’t going anywhere, and you have to know…

“What if I already have?”

His frown lasts for minutes, hours, as he looks down at you. And then you see it dawn on him, and you don’t want to hear how this story ends. You don’t want to be rejected twice in one night. You stumble up. “Forget I said that. I had a couple of drinks at the restaurant, and I’m all… loopy. I’m going to get some snacks. Are you hungry?” The drinks were non-alcoholic, but he doesn't need to know that.

“No,” Roy says. 

It’s all he gives you. The message has been delivered loud and clear. He doesn’t want you. Tears sting your eyes as you leave the living room, heading into the kitchen. You catch your reflection in the window and almost break down entirely. You’re an idiot, and you’ve gone and embarrassed yourself in front of the one person you can be yourself around. 

You grab a tissue, drying your tears, but fresh ones fall all the same. 

And then your back prickles and you know he’s followed you. 

“Oi,” he breathes gently, tilting your chin up as he reaches you. “What are you getting upset for?”

“I’m not,” you lie pathetically, looking anywhere but at him. “You can head off if you want. I can watch the girls tonight and drop Phoebe off—”

“Can we just rewind a minute? Do you… Do you think that you and me…?”

“No! God, no. No. No, no, no.”

“Oh.” He nods, leaning back on his heels. "So no then?"

“No!” 

“All right, I fucking get it.” He lifts his hands as though they might wipe it all away. “I just thought that’s what you were saying before, on the couch. I thought…”

“You should stop thinking, Roy.” You offer him a flustered smile, your face burning. “Honestly, let’s just forget about it.”

“Right. Fine.” More silence. And then: “What if I don’t want to?” 

“Don’t want to what?” 

He shrugs. “Forget about it. What if… we’ve both already found the right people?” 

Your body is electricity now, and you can barely breathe. “What… do you mean?”

He scratches his stubble, lowering his gaze. “Well, I could take you on a date. I’d be much better at it than the losers you’ve been seeing.”

You’re caught off-guard, hands trembling, “Is that what you’d like?”

“Well, I did. I mean, I’ve wanted to. I just… you’ve already said no. Several times. So I suppose I got my answer, and that’s that.” 

“Well, I didn’t think you saw me that way. You’ve never asked before. Is this, like, a pity thing?”

“Fuck no!” he blurts too quickly. “I mean, no. 'Course not. And you’ve never mentioned it before either, by the way. You’re always going on all these fucking dates. When was I supposed to ask? Between Fast-forward Frank and that fucking woman obsessed with her pet ferret?” 

You blink, puzzled. “I mean… if you asked, I wouldn’t have gone on dates with Ferret Fiona.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “Now she fucking tells me.”

You don’t like the implication that you’ve been the one holding him back. “Well, it’s not like you’ve ever tried, is it? I mean, I’ve been single for years and you’ve never made a move, even before all this online dating palaver! And you’re not exactly easy to read, by the way. You’re always frowning, even when I’m trying to bloody well impress you! What was I supposed to think? That you fancy me when you always look like this?” You moulded your expression into a big, dramatic, brooding glower and hope it encapsulates everything that is Roy. 

He crosses his arms over his chest, looking angry now. Proving your point. “Oi! I don’t do that with my lips,” he points out. “And you’re always talking about how badly you want to find someone when I’m sitting right fucking here! That’s mixed signals, mate.”

“It was me hinting! Hoping!” you shout. “I was just waiting for a sign, or something, but you never treated me like anything more than a friend!”

“Because I didn’t want to be like that creepy Allen bloke you dated last year! He was your friend too, if I recall!” 

You sigh, realising the conversation is going in circles. You look at him. He looks at you. Both of you are breathless, wild-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and you know you’ll always remember the way he looks, standing in your kitchen, infuriated and perhaps more open than ever before, because you see it now; that dark look in his eyes was never a guard, never a sign of being just friends. It was want, need. 

It was everything you already feel. 

“Why are you two arguing?” a meek voice interrupts. You both look to the door to find the girls hovering in the hallway. 

“We’re not arguing,” you assure quickly. 

“It’s adult stuff,” says Roy at the same time. 

“We don’t like it when you argue,” Maisie says. “Especially when you’re supposed to get married.”

“What?” you question sharply, turning red all over again. 

Phoebe nods as though corroborating Maisie’s story. “We’ve planned it all. It will be next June at McDonald’s, and Uncle Roy will bring you flowers, and we’ll all have milkshakes afterwards.”

You put your head in your hands, peeking through your fingers and surprised to find that Roy is smirking. “Sounds like a shit wedding, Pheebs. Where’ve you got this idea from?” he says.

“Well, Mum said you two will end up together because you clearly fancy Y/N and it is invevitable.” 

A laugh bubbles in your own throat at her attempt to say inevitable, though you’re still too stunned to speak. 

“See?” Roy whispers. “Everyone else knew. It's fucking invevitable.” 

You shiver, lowering your hands to meet his gaze properly. It’s soft and intent, nothing like the anger of a moment ago. 

“All right, girls,” you say. “Get your pyjamas on. We’ll be up to say nanight in a minute.”

You usher them away, closing the door to when you hear their footsteps on the stairs. You’ve never been more aware of his presence, the fact it’s just the two of you — you don’t even know who you are without the kids jumping about, sticking their noses in. 

“Have I fucked it all up?” he asks finally. 

“No. Have I?”

He shakes his head. 

“Then what now?” you question. “What does this… mean?” 

“Well…” He leans against the counter, fidgety as he smiles again. “I’ll take you on a decent fucking date for starters. No kids, and no more of whatever the fuck this argument was.”

The thought leaves you feeling cracked and seeping with excitement, though you try to play it cool. “Okay. That’s a good plan.” 

“Right. Good. Then… are you free Friday night?”

You inch closer to him, timid suddenly. “I don’t know. My usual babysitter is busy.”

He rolls his eyes and tugs you toward him so that your torsos collide, and then his fingers curl around the nape of your neck and you can think of nothing but the way his lips look, and what it must feel like, having them between your thighs, beard grazing your skin. 

“You’re an idiot,” he rasps. 

“Takes one to know one.” You lick your lips, then his mouth his on yours, rough and ready and desperate. You let him in, let his tongue explore your mouth. You know you shouldn’t. The girls might come back in, might already be listening, but you’ve wanted this for so long. 

You both have. 

You’re breathless when he stops, his hands lingering just above your belly as he bites down on a groan. “If I don’t stop now, there’ll be trouble.” 

You’re not willing to let go, though, and you rest your hands on his chest as you kiss his jaw. “And?”

“And I’ve waited a long fucking time to do this properly. Give you the care,” he kisses your nose, “you deserve. Sweep you,” another kiss, this time at the outer corner of your eye, “off your fucking feet. So I’m going to.” He steps away. “Friday. Seven. Find a new babysitter, and make sure they’re free all night.” 

With that, he steps away, leaving you wanting more. 

“Uncle Royyyyy!” Phoebe is calling. “Will you read us a story?”

He grins, kisses your forehead, and then is gone. You’re not sure your knees will hold you up if you follow, but you listen to him talking to the girls, making them laugh, and you have never felt more right, more complete. 

Independence

Throughout Roy’s developmental years, he was always treated with excessive handholding, rules and over exertion of authority.

This has led Roy to feel resentful of constraints.

In his former years, Roy relished the freedom and exercising autonomy through the Outlaws.

Roy really appreciates the sense of freedom you give in your relationship.

Roy: “Would you be upset if I cancel our date tonight? Jason’s back in town.”

You were fully dressed up, ready for your hot date.

Y/n: “Nope.”

And you really meant it.

You took advantage of your hot fit and took yourself on a date.

The flexibility you give him is one of the key factors to your loving relationship.

Adventurous Spirit

Given Roy has spent most of his free time training and practicing the art of archery, Roy needs a romantic partner who shares the passion of adventure.

Roy: “Wow… I never seen anyone shoot the ground when the target is only 5 meters away.

Y/n: “I was just testing the bow resistance…”

Roy: “Uh-huh…”

Whilst you may not be the most talented archer or most fit individual. You are always keen to try and participate.

Your enthusiasm to do better is infectious and Roy just loves and appreciates your willingness to try and do better, especially when it comes to his interests.

Y/n: “Roy did you see, did you see?! I hit the outer ring!”

Supportive and Empathetic

Roy has had to endure many hardships throughout his developmental years which has plagued him every so often during his adult hood such as;

Addiction issues - not only does Roy have past entanglements with addictions which leads him to live a clean life. He had developed a critical eye for intentions, as a trusted friend was the cause to his addiction. Now, Roy analyses everything for deeper motivations. That’s just the result of the trauma and it’s a the reality in which you had accept. Whilst it can be insulting and exhausting to be under the microscope, you always speak your mind freely and bluntly.

Relationship dynamic of being in a team - it’s a struggle for Roy to build trust in others due to his past experiences. He has trouble letting people in, but once your in, you most certainly not getting out. You appreciate the value in which Roy holds you and makes you feel extra safe and comfortable knowing that Roy, no matter what, will always be there for you.

Responsibility as a hero - Roy has had to endure the heavy burden of protecting society as nothing more than a well trained human. Society is never short of criticism and Roy is hard on himself enough as it is. This can lead to feeling emotionally and physically strained. Roy cannot handle the criticism of his short comings when it comes to his romantic entanglements too.

Roy: “Y/n, baby, I’m so sorry I missed your birthday party, it’s just, this woman, and her child-“

Y/n: “Roy! I had the best birthday ever! I took lots of photos, so you could see it all when you finished your patrol. But we can do that later, do you want me to draw you a bath? Have you eaten yet?”

Roy: *pant* “aren’t you-“ *pant* “upset with me?”

Y/n: “Don’t be a silly goose, I know you wouldn’t miss anything intentionally, must’ve been really important. We’ve been together for years, think I don’t know you by now?”

Sense of Humor

Even in the hardest of times, it’s at times easier to just have a laugh.

Roy appreciates that you don’t take difficult situations to seriously and just have a laugh with him.

Roy thinks your extra-adorable since you kept notes on his funniest one-liners.

"Some days, I wish I was a firefighter. All you have to worry about is fire."

"We're supposed to be professionals, yet here we are, running around in spandex, talking to ourselves."

"All these costume changes, and I'm still trying to figure out my life."