#truther

Tyler called her out by saying she fell in love with his monstrous side—didn't deny it

Tyler said they're two black hearts ready to pillage the world together—didn't deny the two hearts AND the together part

Weems said she freed Tyler (we know it was uncle fester's fault)—didn't deny it

Enid said she's the reason Tyler's free—didn't deny it

drabble below!

he doesn’t so much start dating jamie as he does just. end up spending All his time with him. It’s slow, at first. morning trainings turn into breakfasts together turn into showing up at work together turn into dinners together turn into roy suggesting, for the sake of early rising, that jamie sleep over. to make training easier, of course.

it happens every few weeks. then every few days. until eventually, jamie’s de facto bed is in roy kent’s guest room, his clothes are in roy kent’s closet, and his shampoo, conditioner, and 10-step skin care products are crammed into roy kent’s bathroom. it comes to a head when jamie leaves for a week to visit his mum. no warning. he’s just gone.

there’s a text on roy’s phone which reads: “gone to see me mum, soz abt training xx”

roy’s internal world is flipped on its head, the same way it was when keeley got busy, the same way it did when he was dropped, freshly 10 years old, at sunderland. when his grandfather died and he was left with nothing but a ratty blanket and the notion of a bike ride.

he takes the train up to manchester the same day jamie leaves. he only realises once his feet are planted firmly on ma tartt’s doorstep that he’s being absolutely, unequivocally insane.

the door opens anyway.

jamie looks quizzically at him, head cocked, dyed hair flopping to the side.

“fuck’re you doin’ here mate?”

“fuck’re you doing here, tartt?”

“nunya,” jamie prods.

“fuck off,” roy grumbles, turning heel to go.

“it—“ jamie starts. roy stops. “it’s me dad.”

“what?”

“he’s… been in rehab, he’s s’posedta come down here an’… apologise, i guess.”

“oh.” roy feels like the biggest idiot on the planet earth. bigger than dinosaurs. bigger than the megalodon (phoebe has recently formed an obsession with large teeth and the creatures in which they reside). “fuck.”

“yeah,” jamie snorts. “fuck.”

“sorry.” roy shuffles his feet.

“what’re you doin’ here?” jamie presses.

“i dunno.”

“come on, coach. what is it? you don’t come to my mum’s house for no reason, what?”

“i’m gonna go,” roy grumbles. this time, he really does start to walk away. Unfortunately, at his age and in his state he is far outclassed by the smugly spry young man bounding around to block his path.

“did you miss me?”

“fuck no!” roy’s face burns red. it’s far too close to the truth.

“you missed me!” jamie beams. “aw, coach. i’m flattered.”

“i’m gonna kill you,” roy begins a half-hearted threat.

“did your bed feel empty?” jamie’s eyes twinkle with mirth. roy fills with murderous rage. and shame. and a bit of arousal. he tamps that one down for the moment.

“fuck you,” he growls. “…yes.”

in all honesty, his house without keeley’s soft voice felt like an echo chamber of his own misery for the months it stood empty. when jamie took her place in the crevices of his home, it felt… whole again. something filled, previously empty. roy feels full, when jamie is around. to rip that feeling from him feels inhumane.

it’s surely unethical and it’s surely unprofessional and it’s surely wrong in about a million other ways, but roy doesn’t want to be alone anymore. he thought he could do it — he’s been doing it for long enough — but he can’t. not since jamie.

and jamie. right, yes, jamie. the jamie standing before him that exists in person and not only in roy’s head. he’s staring, transfixed. mouth slightly agape. roy realises with a start that he’d been joking, when he asked.

“sorry,” roy murmurs. “i’ll— i should—“