#PATIOS KENT

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

You Are In Love (Superstar Chapter 10)

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

Roy and the Reader settle into their life together.

Roy Kent x Reader

9.7k words

Warnings: Language, allusions to smutty things, adults drinking, teeny tiny talk about insecurities, some of the most self-indulgent and fluffy writing I have ever done in my entire life

Author's note: I'm feeling really emotional about posting this final chapter, and I just really want to say THANK YOU. This story really helped get me out of a writing slump, and your love & support has been a huge part of that. I've loved spending so much time with these characters, but more than that, I loved getting to share this story with you. From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU. I hope you enjoy all this sugary sweet fluff!

~

Roy stared at me in utter disgust, as if I had just told him I was becoming a Man City supporter or hated The Sound of Music. “That is the fucking worst combination of words in the history of the fucking world.”

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “Brunch with Keeley and Jamie is not torture, Roy.”

“To me it is,” he growled, pulling back the blankets and crawling into bed.

“Come on. It’ll be fun. Keeley’s one of my closest girlfriends, and Jamie’s your best friend,” I pointed out as I followed suit, pulling the blankets over us.

Roy let out a deep groan. “Why the fuck does everyone keep fucking saying that?” He turned to face me, propping himself up on his elbow. “I want to really, actually, literally murder him. I fantasize about it almost as much as I fantasize about you. How the fuck is that friendship?”

I shrugged and kissed the tip of his nose. “Everyone has their own love language. And violence towards Jamie Tartt is yours.”

“Want to know my love language when it comes to you?” he asked suggestively, his hand snaking its way under the t-shirt I wore. “I’m fucking fluent.”

“I’d prefer if your love language was going to brunch,” I teased, giving him a playful shove.

He grunted, annoyed at my lack of response to his flirting. “Fine. But I’m drinking as many fucking mimosas as I want.”

The next morning, Roy begrudgingly sat at a patio table across from Jamie, listening to Keeley and I gossip and giggle over mimosas and a ridiculous amount of food. Suddenly, she lit up.

“Oh! Roy, there was something I wanted to run by you.” She took his grunt as the signal to continue. “So, with the Greyhounds doing so well, there’ve been lots of requests for interviews and stuff, y’know? And there’s this hot new talk show, hosted by…” She took a quick look at her mobile. “Ryley Sharp. Two Ys. And his people reached out to see if they could get a gaffer to come on for a chat.” She shrugged. “Would you be interested?”

Roy narrowed his eyes and downed the mimosa in front of him. “Why me? Doesn’t this seem more Ted’s kind of shit?”

Keeley shifted, shooting Jamie a glance. Jamie nodded encouragingly; he’d clearly heard this whole pitch already. “I could ask Ted, but…” She thought a moment. “I mean, you’re a household name, so it would be very good ratings. And, as a friend, I was thinking it would be a good opportunity for you to…” She trailed off, her eyes flickering to me.

“For me to do what exactly?” Curiosity floated behind his stony expression.

“To control your own narrative,” Keeley finally said. When she saw the confusion on both our faces, she continued. “Listen, I know you hate the media-”

“I wish they’d all die in a fiery explosion and then have all their ashes fed to feral hogs who eat their own shit so there’s just an endless cycle of their ashes being eaten and shit out for all eternity,” Roy confirmed.

Keeley nodded slowly, glancing at me as if to ask ‘This is your boyfriend?’ “Right. But think about it this way. You’re a very public figure, Roy. And now that the two of you are done pretending you’re capable of hiding your relationship, you’re going to be going out in public together. And you are going to be photographed together. And your name-” She turned to me. “-is going to become known as well. And I assume none of us want a repeat of… you know what.”

A snort flew out of Jamie’s nose. “Boy-toy Roy,” he cheeked.

Roy bared his teeth. “I have my taxidermist on speed-dial.”

“Boys,” I scolded. “Keeley, please continue.”

“Thank you,” she hummed. “Now, Roy, if you go on this show, you’ll talk about Richmond of course. All about how well they’re doing, how great Ted is, how you see yourself in the lads, that sort of thing. And then, Ryley’ll ask you about yourself. Particularly…” She gestured towards me. “This way you get to decide what people know about you. No room for speculation from the press, no room for making shit up to sell a magazine. Just ‘I’m Roy Kent, I’m in a very happy relationship with the world’s fittest woman, and we have an adorable dog’.” She offered up a hopeful smile. “What d’you think?”

All three of us looked at Roy expectantly. He shoved a piece of fruit into his mouth, then reached over and grabbed my mimosa and gulped it down.

“Tell me about this Ryley Sharp prick,” he finally muttered, taking my hand under the table.

Keeley perked up and gestured to a passing waiter to bring more drinks. “He’s not too bad actually. I’ve watched his show before. Bit of an airhead, but very sweet. And I’ve asked around to see what people have to say about him. Not a bad word from anyone. He’s absolutely not the gotcha kind of guy. He’ll ask you lots of easy, soft questions, make you look good, give you the opportunity to gush about this one here-” She winked at me. “-and he won’t go into anything you don’t want to go into.”

Roy grunted, tapping the table. He glanced at me. “What d’you think?” he asked earnestly.

I looked back at him. His eyes were unsure, eyebrows all scrunched. He’ll do whatever I ask, I realized. He wanted to make me happy, to help me feel safe and secure. And fuck, I wanted to do the same for him.

“I think,” I started carefully. “I think you should do what you want. Keeley makes some really good points about getting out in front of things and not giving the media room to speculate, but if it’s going to kill you, don’t do it.” I squeezed his hand. “I’ll support whatever you decide.”

“Hmmf.” He looked my face over, thoughtfulness in his expression. “Fuck it.” He looked at Keeley. “I’ll do it, but I’m not saying nice things about that prat.” He nodded at Jamie.

Keeley squealed, ignoring the outraged look on her boyfriend’s pretty face. “Ahh! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She grabbed her phone and began typing rapidly. “I’ll pop by tomorrow with all the details. And a backstage pass for you,” she added, winking at me. “And don’t you worry, Roy, I’ll be there the whole time to make sure it goes well, I promise.”

He nodded curtly. “Yeah, well.” He cleared his throat. “I can still swear and shit, yeah?”

~

I smiled watching Roy through the mirror as the makeup woman attempted to powder his face. He was wearing his signature scowl, along with a charcoal suit that hugged him beautifully. At Keeley’s insistence and my prodding, he had gotten a haircut and tidied his beard. All in all, he managed to look even better than he did on any of my old posters.

I really get to go home with this man, I thought with a giggle as I nestled further into the couch I shared with Keeley in the greenroom. Noticing the giddy way I was watching him, he met my eyes in the mirror and cracked a smile.

“No, you’re not putting makeup on me when we get home,” he warned.

“Spoilsport,” I teased as the door opened and a production assistant entered to let Roy know that he would be on after the commercial break, which meant it was time for all of us to leave the greenroom.

Keeley linked her arm through mine as another assistant led us to a pair of audience seats that had been reserved for us to watch the interview. “I made sure they told Roy exactly where we’re sitting,” Keeley assured me as we settled in.

Sure enough, as soon as Roy walked out onto the set to thunderous applause, his gaze found mine. I wondered if the viewers at home would also notice the tiny twitch of his mouth when our eyes locked. He plopped down into the stylish chair by Ryley Sharp’s desk.

We had gotten to meet Ryley Sharp before the show, and Keeley had been right about him; sweet and a bit of an airhead, in the best possible way. He was very excited to have Roy on the show and was thrilled to know I’d be sitting out in the audience with Keeley. He was completely onboard with everything Keeley had discussed with us and thought that Roy wanting to chat about me during the interview was simply “adorable”.

Keeley gripped my hand as Roy was interviewed. I was hugely impressed; he was almost charming and nearly friendly, he actually answered questions, and he even managed to keep his “fucks” to a minimum. It was the best interview I’d ever seen him do, and I’d probably watched every single one he’d done in his entire career. Multiple times.

My cheeks hurt from smiling so much as I listened to the audience laugh at some cheeky comment he made about Ted.

Ryley Sharp shifted in his seat, running a hand through his bleached hair. “Alright, so it looks like things are going well for you, Roy. Happily retired from a massively successful career, coaching Richmond to one of the great underdog stories of our time. What about in your personal life?” He raised his eyebrows. “Got a girl?”

Roy shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “I actually do,” he admitted, his eyes flicking in my direction as the studio audience ooohed.

“Roy Kent, are you squirming?” Ryley Sharp humorously gasped, leaning forward.

“Do I have to answer that?” Roy asked, a teasing edge in his voice.

Ryley Sharp shook his head. “Not if you agree to tell us about this girl of yours..”

Roy nodded. “Sounds like a deal to me.” He gave a small cough. “She’s, uh, she’s amazing, yeah. We work at Richmond together and, I dunno, we clicked. Decided to give it a go, and so far, so good.”

“Descriptive as always,” Ryley Sharp teased, eliciting some light chuckles from the audience. “Mind if we do some lightning-round questions to learn more?”

Roy nodded firmly. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”

Ryley Sharp cleared his throat. “She like football?”

“Loves it.”

“Fan of yours?”

A smirk graced Roy’s face. “Huge.”

“Her parents like you?”

“I like to think so.”

“She smart?”

“Brilliant.”

“Funny?”

Roy bobbled his head. “She thinks she is.”  He winked in my direction as the audience chuckled.

Ryley Sharp’s friendly smile widened. “She pretty?”

“Fucking gorgeous.”

“And am I to understand…” Ryley Sharp perked up a little. “She’s here in our studio audience?”

Sharp had come up with this idea, explaining that the audience would find it charming as hell. Keeley had left it completely up to us whether we wanted to go along with it, and I’d left it up to Roy, who surprised us all with his yes. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Roy sit up straight and turn his gaze back to me.

“Um, yeah, yeah she’s here.” He gave a little nod in my direction. “Sitting right over there with our friend Keeley.”

Sharp waved to someone off-stage. “Could we get a mic out there?” he called.

In an instant, the same production assistant from earlier was standing next to my seat, holding a microphone. Roy gave me a thumbs up as Ryley Sharp turned his attention to me.

“Why don’t you stand up, love?” he asked as the house lights came on and a camera turned my way.

Keeley pushed me to my feet as my face burned. I smiled and gave Roy a little wave as the production assistant handed me the mic. “Hi,” I said timidly, suddenly hating the sound of my own voice.

Roy smiled, a full smile, and nodded back. “Hey,” he called tenderly. Even from my seat, I could see his eyes were full of affection.

Ryley Sharp cleared his throat playfully. “Alright, lovebirds, back to the interview.” He focused on me. “So, Roy Kent’s girl, eh?” I nodded, suddenly bashful. “What’s it like dating this guy, hmm?”

I lifted the microphone to my face. “Lovely, actually. He’s a pretty good one.” The wink Roy sent me bolstered my confidence.

“Alright, I’m sure all the hardcore football fans out there are dying to know.” Sharp looked at me with mock seriousness. “What is the most romantic thing Roy Kent has ever done?”

My eyes drifted from Ryley to Roy who raised his eyebrows at me. He spoke up. “It’s Paris, innit?”

I nodded, biting back a grin. “Can I tell them about it?”

Roy sat back in his seat and shrugged, as if it were totally normal for us to have a conversation on national television. “Why the fuck not?”

I turned my attention back to Sharp. “Um, well Richmond had gone to Paris for a friendly. And after the match, Roy here surprised me by taking me to the Louvre.” More ooohs from the audience. “After hours,” I added cheekily, garnering more hooting. “And we had a lovely time. Dinner and champagne, the kind of thing only a retired footballer can afford to do.”

Sharp joined in the audience’s chuckles. “Goodness. If that’s a date, I can’t wait to see what his proposal’ll look like!”

My cheeks burned, but I tried to maintain my composure. “Yeah, well, you and my mother have something in common then,” I joked, earning a laugh from the whole room- most especially Roy, who was shaking his head and looking at me like I was the most wonderful, special thing he’d ever seen in his life.

Ryley Sharp asked me a couple more questions- about Oscar and about what Roy and I liked to do when we weren’t at work- before wrapping it up. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for Roy Kent and his lovely girlfriend!”

As the audience gave a hearty round of applause, I handed the microphone back to the assistant and looked at Roy, who was still staring at me. I blew him a kiss, and he looked down, clearly blushing. He turned back to Sharp, shaking his hand and looking uncharacteristically cheerful.

After the show wrapped, Keeley and I made our way back to the greenroom, where Roy was chatting with Ryley Sharp. He offered me a smirk when he saw me and placed a kiss on my forehead.

“You were fucking brilliant,” he murmured in my ear.

Ryley Sharp reached out and shook my hand. “How’d it feel?”

I cleared my throat. “It was fun,” I admitted. “But not something I could do every day. Don’t know how you all live with being famous.”

Keeley giggled and nudged me. “Oh, so you don’t want me to set you up with a modeling contract then?”

“Hell no,” I laughed. “Being Roy Kent’s girl is more than enough attention for me.”

~

Life became predictable. Easy. Routine. And I loved every moment of it.

We’d spend our days at Nelson Road, with Roy in training and me doing my best to bring some semblance of order to the coaching staff, eating lunch together almost every day. Our evenings were often spent with Phoebe and Oscar, making dinner together, playing, and watching movies until Roy’s sister came for pickup. Nearly every night was spent together, either at his place or mine, and our mornings were spent waking up in each other’s arms. On weekends we were with the Greyhounds, or taking Phoebe on outings, or meeting up with friends, or just sitting on the couch and reading.

From time to time our picture would end up online or in a magazine: playing at the park with Oscar, or sharing an embrace after a Richmond victory, or getting drinks with Keeley and Jamie. More often than not, the picture featured a blurred gesture on Roy’s part, but he could always be counted on to point out how stunning he thought I looked in the photos.

Amidst this domestic bliss- or “the boring life of dating an old geezer”, as Roy called it- was one thrilling constant: Richmond was still winning. They’d bounced around the top four spots over the course of the season, but there was actual expectation for them. More than one pundit even selected them as their pick to win the “whole enchilada”, as Ted and Dani loved to say in unison. Things came down, in true dramatic fashion, to the last match of the season, which would be against Arsenal.

Roy had already gone running with Jamie and was showered and set to go by the time I woke up, so he sat on the bed with Oscar and read as I got myself ready. He not-so-stealthily watched me over the top of his book as I dug through the half of the closet I was slowly taking up and cleared his throat.

“Wear the sweater,” he mumbled, absently turning the page of his book.

I turned to him. “Hmm?”

He glanced up at me again. “The fucking lucky sweater,” he repeated. “We could use all the fucking help we can get. Wear it.”

“Oh.” I looked at the sweater that was always in his closet. I wore it at home all the time, wore it out for errands occasionally, but had never worn it to a match. It felt a little silly, and I didn’t feel the need to give anyone fodder to tease us with. I turned back to Roy, who had set his book down by now. “Won’t I look a bit funny, wearing your name with you there in the dugout next to me?"

Roy sat up, his face soft. “I mean, people should get used to seeing you wearing my name.” He paused, tilting his head. “Right?”

I felt myself blush. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t thought about marrying Roy someday; I’d been thinking of that pretty much since I hit puberty. And the topic had been one that our friends and colleagues teased about from time to time. And it was something I felt myself wondering about more and more lately.

“Oi.” Roy was grinning at me, clearly amused by my silence. “Don’t worry, I’m not fucking proposing after the match or anything like that.” He stood up and came over to where I was, wrapping his arms around me. “I mean, someday, sure. But not today.” He kissed my forehead. “Alright with you?”

Roy Kent wants to marry me someday. Roy Kent wants to marry me. Roy Kent wants to fucking marry me.

I gave an embarrassed laugh and returned his hug, pretending that he hadn’t just filled my heart with more love than I knew how to carry. “Alright. I’ll wear the fucking sweater then.”

Clad in my dark blue sweater, KENT screaming across the back in white lettering, I stood by the coaches all game long, screaming and cheering louder than usual. Rebecca had been lovely enough to get my family amazing seats, and I swore I could hear my father’s shouts above the rest of the crowd. I tore my eyes away from the gameplay to check the clock, which was fast approaching the 100th minute. By some incredible miracle, we were up 2-1 and just needed the ref to blow the fucking whistle.

As we watched the boys do all they could to keep possession of the ball and push towards Arsenal’s goal, I felt Roy grip my hand tightly and heard him muttering “Come on, fuck, come on,” under his breath non-stop.

Fweet fweet fweeeeeeeeeet!

“Holy fuck!” At the sound of the final whistle, Roy picked me up and spun me around, squeezing me so tight I swore I’d have bruises the next day. Everyone from the dugout raced onto the pitch, where the team was screaming their heads off, jumping on each other like children.

I spent God knows how long on that field, hugging sweaty men and kissing their faces, shouting out expressions of pride over the roar of the fans who were forcing their way onto the pitch. Roy finally pulled me back to himself with urgency, as if he couldn’t bear to be far from me for long.

“Are you fucking crying?” There was a loving edge of teasing in his voice as his thumb swiped across my cheek, which I hadn’t even realized was wet.

I nodded, not caring that I was full grown woman weeping over a football match. “Fuck yeah I am,” I confirmed. “They fucking did it, Roy.”

He shook his head and wiped away more of my tears. “We fucking did it. You’re part of this team. Don’t you ever fucking forget that.” He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my chin, every square inch of my face. “I love you,” he mumbled as his mouth finally found mine.

“Love you too,” I managed to huff out between kisses that were slowly becoming heated as the boys began shouting the Richmond chant at the top of their lungs and formed a conga line. “Watch it, or Jamie’s gonna give you another warning about keeping things family-friendly.”

“Fuck it. If they wanna broadcast this, we might as well give ’em something worthwhile.” With that, he dipped me backwards, latching his lips to mine in a way that could only be described as cinematic.

That kiss was as if he’d managed to peer into every girlhood fantasy of mine and decided it wasn’t enough. As if he’d taken every great rom-com kiss and wanted to show them how it was done. I knew my girlfriends were sitting in a pub, cackling with glee about how I had twenty-eight posters of this man in my childhood bedroom and was now snogging him on national television. I knew my parents were in the stands, my mum beaming with joy at seeing me so in love, my dad playfully grumbling and asking if Roy really had to kiss her like that, but unable to help the smile on his own face. I knew we’d have to endure lots of teasing at the team celebration, with the guys egging Roy on to kiss me like that again, and with Roy giving in after having just the right amount of shots that would make him forget to be grumpy. And I knew I’d be thinking about this particular kiss for a very, very long time.

As I touched his face, wondering how long we could get away with this embrace before we crossed over into truly insufferable, my mind drifted back to our conversation that morning, and an obvious realization hit me: I want to kiss Roy Kent for the rest of my life.

~

Rebecca’s email took me off guard. It was a week since the Arsenal match, and Roy was outside putting our suitcases in the car while I double checked the reservations for the weekend holiday we’d planned to celebrate the end of the season. It was supposed to be a simple, easy weekend, full of food and drinks, relaxing, reading, maybe a little sightseeing if I could convince Roy, and no football whatsoever. Just us, a normal couple. But now Rebecca’s email would be looming over my head the whole time.

Roy noticed. Of course he noticed, he noticed everything when it came to me. We had stopped to have lunch and for once, I was quiet. He tilted his head at me as I poked at my food.

“Alright. What the fuck is wrong?”

I looked up at him, the concern in his eyes contrasting with the harsh way he spoke. “Nothin’,” I lied.

He shook his head. “Come off it. I’m not going to spend my first chance to actually relax in months with you not talking to me. You’ve got me too used to all your fucking prattling.” He reached out and took my free hand as his voice softened. “Come on. We’re supposed to tell each other things. Fucking vulnerable, remember?”

Despite myself, I smiled at our favorite word. “I, um, got an email from Rebecca this morning.” I squirmed, not quite looking at Roy.

“Doesn’t she know it’s your fucking break?” he teased, clearly trying to help me relax. “Fuck does she want?”

I set my fork down and took a deep breath before I spoke at hyper speed. “Rebecca wants to make me the Assistant to the Director of Football Operations. Working directly under Higgins. She says they both were very impressed with everything I did this season, and they want to see what I can do with more responsibility. And Higgins wants more time with his family, and he and I get along so well already, and it would be a really great opportunity-”

“I know.”

His suddenness caught me off-guard. “What d’you mean you know?”

He bobbled his head in that nervous manner of his, half-smile playing on his lips. “Rebecca and Higgins came to the gaffers before the Arsenal match and asked what we’d think of the move.”

My stomach fluttered as I stared at him. Fuck, I should have ordered a drink.“And what did you tell her?”

Roy sipped the beer he’d been smart enough to order. “Told her she could fuck right off if she thought she could move you out of our office.” He smirked and shrugged. “And that you completely fucking deserve it.” He leaned forward earnestly. “You’re too fucking good to stay down there with us, babe. You should be running the whole fucking club, not just bossing around me and Ted and Beard. You are going to be amazing. I’ll fucking manage to figure out how to get to interviews and press conferences on time, I promise.”

Tears I didn’t realize had formed threatened to fall when I saw the excitement and pride glowing on his face. “Just put a fucking reminder on your phone, you idiot,” I managed to choke out.

“See, it’s that loving, patient guidance I’m going to miss when you’re upstairs plotting your hostile takeover of the football world.” Roy lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. “Almost as much as I’ll miss seeing your gorgeous face every time I walk into our office.” He squeezed my hand. “Take the fucking job.”

“It’s a pretty great job,” I murmured, gazing at our hands. “And I mean, who knows, maybe someday I could have Higgins’s post.”

Roy’s smile widened when he saw me seriously considering the position. “Ruthless woman. I’ll let Higgins know you’re coming for his job.”

He earned a laugh from me. “We’ll see how I like being his assistant first,” I assured Roy. I squeezed his hand, thinking. “I’m just really going to miss sharing an office with you, y’know?”

He shrugged. “Guess we gotta figure out a way to make up for all that lost time.” He paused, taking a sip of his beer as his eyes suddenly became shifty. “Say, what do you think of that flat of yours?”

I almost choked on the sudden shift in the conversation. “My flat? It’s fine. I like it well enough.”

Roy’s face became serious. “But d’you really like it? Because I’d be willing to move in, but fucking Oscar’s spoiled and likes having a yard. I really think he’d prefer it if you moved in with us.” He licked his lips anxiously. “I’d fucking like it too.”

Roy wants to live together. Roy wants to live together. Roy wants to live together. “You want me to move in with you?” I squeaked, wondering, as I often did, when I would wake up from the dream I was living in.

“You already have your own key. You’re there even more than your own flat. Half your shit is already in my closet. I fucking hate it when you’re not there. Besides, you can’t fucking cook, so I’d like to make sure you’re well-fed.” He shrugged. “D’you want to?”

He was doing that thing. That thing where he acted like something was insignificant and casual, like it didn’t matter too much, when underneath he was a ball of nerves, anxiously waiting for an answer. It was a defense mechanism, for sure. A way to make sure people knew that whatever they said didn’t matter to Roy, even though I knew that what I said mattered to him very much. It was, in my opinion, one of the most adorable and attractive things he did.

I didn’t make him sit in that nervousness for long. “Yeah. Yes. Definitely.” My smile was probably the dopiest, silliest one I’d ever worn. “I’d love to.”

“You sure? You don’t seem too thrilled.” Roy grinned and leaned back in his seat, staring at me for a moment. “Look at you. Kickass new job, moving in with your dishy boyfriend. Your life fucking rocks.”

“I’m sorry, did you just call yourself dishy?” I snorted.

He cleared his throat, cheeks tinted pink. “Fucking saw someone call me that on Twitter the other day. Figured my girlfriend would agree.”

I shook my head and laughed. “God, what’re you going to do without me in the office telling you when you sound like an absolute wanker?”

~

The off-season involved a lot of moving on my part. First, I had to pack up my entire flat and move everything into Roy’s house; luckily, Roy was right when he said that half of my things were already at his place. He’d managed to wrangle the players who weren’t away on holiday to help us move all the boxes one afternoon, rewarding them with pizza and beer, which somehow evolved into a karaoke party in Roy’s- our­- living room, with Oscar jumping from person to person, just waiting for someone to drop a slice of pizza.

It was well past midnight by the time everyone left; I assumed Roy would want to go straight to sleep after the exhausting day we’d had. Instead, he dragged me into the kitchen once I’d changed into an old Sunderland shirt of his.

“Didn’t you have enough pizza already?” I asked, stifling a yawn. “’m ready for bed.”

“Just have one thing to do first,” he mumbled, rummaging through the fridge. “Grab a couple of glasses from the bar, yeah?”

Rolling my eyes, I did as I was told, picking up a pair of wine glasses that Keeley had gifted us in honor of the move. When I brought them back to Roy, I stopped in my tracks.

On the counter was a chilled bottle of champagne and a tiny cake, just perfect for two. Roy leaned on the counter, eyeing me carefully, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What’s all this then?” I breathed, blinking from either the tiredness or the surprise. Maybe both.

Roy shrugged, picking up the bottle. “Fucking celebrating of course.” He opened the bottle with ease, but not without champagne starting to flow out. “Shit, bring me the glasses,” he laughed, trying to avoid spilling everywhere.

The kitchen filled with sleepy giggles as we managed to get most of the champagne into the glasses rather than on the countertop. Once we’d finally gotten our glasses filled properly, I sat in my usual spot, with Roy opting to stand next to me, gazing at me softly. He held up his glass.

“Welcome home,” he murmured, tapping his glass to mine with a small clink.

My cheeks warmed as I sipped my champagne, staring at Roy as he did the same. Maybe it was the late hour and my tiredness, but it didn’t feel real, moving in with Roy. And it wasn’t even because it was Roy freaking Kent; rather, it was because I found it hard to believe anyone was capable of feeling the intense love that burned in my chest as Roy handed me a fork and slid the little cake towards me.

We ate and drank in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the clinking of forks against the plate and Oscar pattering around and our soft chuckles every time our eyes met. After Roy put everything in the sink, mumbling something about taking care of the dishes in the morning, he turned to me, sleepy smile on his face.

“Oi, you brought the blanket, right?”

I had this one particular blanket that had always laid on my couch in my flat. My gran had made it, and it was, without a doubt, the warmest, comfiest blanket in the universe. Roy had gotten in the habit of stealing it from the first time he’d come over to watch The Sound of Music and often brought it to bed when he spent the night. Honestly, there was a very real chance he asked me to move in just so he could have the blanket at his house.

“Um, yeah, it’s one of these boxes somewhere…” I ran my fingers through my hair, eyeing the ridiculous number of cardboard boxes that now decorated Roy’s- our­- house.

Before I could suggest he waited until the morning to look for it, he had already walked over to one of the boxes and started digging. Since he clearly was not going to bed until he found it, I figured I might as well do the dishes. I was rinsing the glasses we’d drank champagne out of when I heard-

“What the absolute fuck is this?”

When I turned around, there were two Roy Kents in the doorway. One was my boyfriend, shirtless and ready for bed, eyebrows raised higher than I’d ever seen them, his mouth wide open in amusement, laughter bursting out of him. The other was cardboard, clad in his Richmond uniform and wearing a scowl.

“Oh fuck!” I nearly dropped the glass I was holding. “You weren’t- that box was supposed to go to my mum’s- shit!” I was choking on embarrassment as my face turned redder than a tomato.

In all the years I’d spent watching him on television and the countless hours I’d now spent in his presence, I had never heard Roy Kent laugh so damn much. He was doubled over with laughter, wiping away tears and making so much noise he woke up Oscar.

I turned off the sink and stormed over, folding the cardboard cutout back up and tossing it on top of the box it had come out of. With a huff, I turned to Roy, who was finally starting to breathe again.

“It was a gag gift from my dad for my birthday a few years ago,” I mumbled, not looking at his smug face. “Kept it because my mates and I thought it was funny to bring out when we watched matches at my place. I was going to take it to my mum’s, figured one of these days I’d sort through all my… football things and throw some stuff out and decide what to do with the rest.”

Seeing the humiliation on my face, Roy sobered up and grabbed my shoulders. “C’mere,” he chuckled, tugging me close to himself. “Please tell me you were not going to throw that thing away.”

I shrugged, still avoiding his gaze. “Probably. I dunno. Wasn’t planning on deciding that right now.”

“Hey.” He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at the tenderness in his eyes. “Don’t you dare be fucking embarrassed.” He tilted his head when I let out a little hmmf. “Did I… did I ever apologize for bringing up your posters that night?”

We both knew what he was referring to.

“Dunno,” I muttered, knowing full well that the answer was no. We’d never brought up that particular comment.

“Oh.” Roy’s hands slid off my shoulders and he grabbed my hand, leading me to the couch. We sat, and he kept my hand in his. “I’m sorry. I… I never want you to feel embarrassed about having a fucking crush on me, alright?”

I shrugged, glancing away. “It’s… it’s silly. All those posters and the sweater and now the freaking cardboard cutout. It just reminds me what a crazed stalker fan I was before we met. Makes me feel a bit embarrassed.”

He smiled and shifted closer. “It might be a little silly,” he agreed. “But it’s also fucking flattering.” He brushed some hair out of my face. “Y’know, when I first saw all that stuff in your room, I thought my heart was going to fucking stop. Because there you were, my stunning new officemate, with my stupid fucking face on your walls. Even the really bad pictures.” He shrugged, suddenly bashful. “Made me realize I had a real fucking shot with you.” He gestured towards the folded-up cutout. “So, I know when you see that shit, you feel embarrassed and all, but when I see it, I remember how fucking excited I got when I realized that you were at least attracted to me. And how seeing you get all flustered, just like you are right now-” He poked my nose affectionately. “-gave me the guts to kiss you.”

To punctuate his point, he leaned over and gently pressed his lips to mine, reminding me of that moment in my bedroom, where he sat on my bed and asked if he was still hot and kissed me for the first time. It felt just as surreal now as it did then, and I asked whatever god was out there to not let me wake up from this dream.

When Roy pulled back, he wore that same fucking smile, the one I didn’t think I’d ever get used to seeing. “Right. Help me find the fucking blanket so we can get some sleep, hmm?” Holding my hand, he helped me to my feet, and the two of us set to work, looking for the blanket so we could finally go to our bed.

~

Working for Higgins was an easy adjustment. I loved my new office upstairs; I had put up photos of Roy, both of my little orange sticky notes, a couple drawings from Phoebe, pictures with Keeley and Rebecca, Oscar, the team, my family, Roy’s family. The handmade card that Ted, Beard, Roy, and the whole team had signed to congratulate me on the promotion sat on my desk, alongside a framed photo of Roy kissing me after the final game against Arsenal, courtesy of Keeley, who’d found it in a tabloid.

I loved having my office right next to Higgins, who liked to pop in for a chat in the late mornings, and brought in treats that his wife made for us to share, and tapped out a beat on our shared wall when I played my music loud enough for him to hear. He listened excitedly to my ideas and suggestions, and he quickly stopped referring to me as “Assistant to the Director of Football Operations” and began calling me “Assistant Director of Football Operations”; it was a change everyone at the Dog Track was quick to adopt.

But I had to admit, my favorite thing about my new office was the window by my desk. As much as I missed my office that I had shared with Roy, this office had one great advantage: the view. My window overlooked the pitch, where I could watch training. Meaning, I could watch Roy. When my window was cracked open, the way it always happened to be when the team was on the pitch, I could hear him screaming “Whistle!” and swearing at Jamie. Sometimes I’d just stand by the window and watch for a bit; that always managed to catch his eye, and I was always rewarded with a smirk and a wave from Roy, sometimes some teasing whistles from the team or a cheerful “Howdy!” from Ted.

After a bit more than a full season working upstairs, I found myself skipping from Higgins’s office to mine. We’d been pursuing a great young player out of Mexico, someone Dani had brought to our attention, and we’d finally signed him. And, despite my insistence that this was a team effort, I had been instrumental in making it happen. So, Keeley and Rebecca decided to take me out to a celebratory lunch, one that Rebecca informed me would take the rest of the afternoon and also required me to dress nice. Accordingly, I had worn heels and a springy little dress that had made Roy’s jaw drop with a soft “Whoa” that morning as we got ready for work. Seeing that man check me out still managed to make my heart flutter with delight.

After popping into Higgins’s office to let him know I was heading out, I went back to mine to open the window and shout down a quick goodbye to Roy. Instead, I found an empty pitch. Weird.

I figured they must have gone into the weight room or something, just a spontaneous change of plans. Par for the course with Ted in charge. So, I made my way downstairs, thinking I’d pop into Roy’s office to see if I could get a proper goodbye.

The changing room was eerily quiet, as was Ted and Beard’s office. I poked my head into Roy’s office, which I hated to admit looked empty since I’d moved upstairs. It was especially empty without Roy. With a small hmmf, I paused to glance over his desk, smiling when I glimpsed the picture of us that sat on his desk, a selfie in front of the Mona Lisa that he’d grumbled good-naturedly about.

“That’s a great picture of us.”

Roy stood in the doorway, kebab takeaway container in hand. He smiled and walked over to me, placing the Styrofoam box on his desk. He kissed my forehead sweetly and let his eyes trail over my face.

“Just wanted to say bye before I head to lunch,” I explained, giving his leather jacket a friendly tug. “You look nice, by the way. Interview today?”

He shrugged. “Just didn’t want to be in fucking workout clothes all day,” he mumbled. He nodded towards the takeaway box. “Got you somethin’.”

I frowned. “Kebabs? Roy, I told you I’ve got lunch plans with Keeley and Rebecca.”

“Open the box.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Roy, I’m gonna be late. Can’t you just toss these in the fridge, and I’ll eat them tonight? Or you can eat them. Or-”

“Just open the fucking box,” Roy said with a laugh, eyebrows raised. “Shit, you really never fucking shut up.”

Narrowing my eyes, I picked up the surprisingly light container. I glanced back at Roy, who nodded at me, encouraging me to open it. With a sigh I opened the lid. Instead of finding our usual lunch, there was a small, velvet box inside and a little orange sticky note that simply read:

To my future wife

XOXO Roy

I snapped my head up to look at Roy, whose smile had grown. Hands shaking slightly, I picked up the black box, letting the Styrofoam container plop back onto Roy’s desk. When I opened the little box, I gasped.

Inside was a diamond ring. It was simple, a small diamond, the exact kind I’d described to Keeley and Rebecca at our sleepover so long ago. I looked back up at Roy, whose eyes had that old anxiety swimming in them, alongside affection and tenderness.

“I’d get down on one knee, but, y’know,” he mumbled, offering up a bashful smile. He cleared his throat. “If I could go back to the first time I bought you kebabs for lunch, I’d have done this. Because every minute of not being married to you is a big fucking waste of time.”

My breath caught in my throat as I blinked back tears. “Roy,” I gasped, my eyes shifting back to the beautiful ring.

He reached over and took the ring out of the box and held it up to me. “What d’you say?” His voice was soft, tender, full of adoration to an extent I’d never heard. “Please say yes.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the familiar phrase. “Yes.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, my heart bursting at the feeling of his smile against mine.

To my surprise, he pulled back. “She fucking said yes!” he hollered, slipping the ring on my finger.

In an instant, every Greyhound player, along with Ted, Beard, Rebecca, Higgins, and Keeley, burst into the tiny office, shouting and cheering and hugging each other with even more joy than when they’d finished first. Someone- Dani and Colin and Sam, I presumed- started throwing confetti around the office while we were ambushed with hugs and kisses and congratulations.

Keeley and Rebecca smothered me in their arms, offering their own words of excitement and joy. I looked at them suspiciously.

“There was no lunch, was there?”

Rebecca scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Roy asked if we could find an excuse to dress you up,” she admitted, tears in her eyes.

Keeley, who was openly crying, held up her phone. “And a good thing! Look how fucking beautiful you look!” Sure enough, I looked gorgeous in the photos Keeley had managed to take of the proposal. But my eyes were drawn to Roy’s face and the absolute joy that could be seen there.

I felt someone grab my hand and tug; Roy smiled down at me as he pulled me close. “Did I do good?” he murmured. When I nodded, he grunted. “Good. I’m actually impressed that these muppets could keep a fucking secret.”

As he pulled me into a proper kiss, Jamie and Sam started a chant that everyone quickly joined in: “He’s here, he’s there, he’s gonna marry her! Roy Kent! Roy Kent!”

~

The night before the wedding, I packed a bag to go stay at my parents’ house, where Keeley, my maid of honor, insisted on having a sleepover so she could see the shrine, as my childhood bedroom was often called.

Her mouth widened into that Cheshire-cat grin as she took in all the posters. “Holy shit, it’s even better than I imagined!” she giggled, setting her things down. “You’re telling me that Roy saw this, and that’s what made him decide to kiss you?”

Sitting down on my bed, I chuckled. “I know. He must’ve really fucking liked me.”

Instead of joining me, Keeley meandered around my room, pointing out different posters and tittering at them. She turned to me, eyebrow cocked. “Alright. Which one is your absolute favorite?”

I bobbled my head, grinning. “Well, there’s always this one.” I pointed above me to the poster of a young Roy that my dad and I had argued over the placement of. I stood and skipped over to the closet. “Or this one.” Taped inside my closet was a picture of a shirtless Roy running, the one that I’d secretly ripped out of a magazine when I was sixteen and spent far too many hours drooling over.

Keeley howled with laughter at the sight of it. “Holy shit, no wonder you’re marrying him, he looks fit as fuck there. Has he seen this one?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” I answered, joining in her snickering. “That’s the one secret I’m going to keep from my husband, thank you very much.”

We spent the rest of the night sitting on my bed, gabbing and giggling and sharing the champagne Keeley had packed in her overnight bag, until Keeley knocked out next to me. I gazed up at the ceiling, staring at Roy, unable to believe what my life had become. When I had put that poster up, I was a giggling young girl, fantasizing about what it would be like to meet the guy on the poster, the one who made me betray my family and watch Chelsea matches. And in mere hours, I’d be standing in front of that same man and marrying him.

Oh, if only my teenage self could see me now.

As excited as teenage me would be about marrying Roy freaking Kent (and the fact that we got to shag that gorgeous man), she’d be even more excited to find out that he was kind. And loving. And funny. And good with dogs and kids, despite himself. And that he loved The Sound of Music and reading. And that he was a damn good cook. And that he begrudgingly sang Spice Girls songs on road trips. And that he loved us.

Before I drifted off to sleep, I blew a kiss to the Roy on my ceiling, silently thanking him for his role in introducing me to the real Roy Kent.

~

My hands started to sweat as I heard the violins playing. Keeley had squeezed me tight and shoved my bouquet in my hands before walking down the aisle, where Roy stood with Jamie, who he’d asked to be best man through gritted teeth. After Keeley went Phoebe, in her poofy dress, who, at this point, was probably more excited about the wedding than anyone else.

As I took my position in front of the closed doors, my dad linked our arms, smiling at me with gentle pride. “You ready?” With my mouth insanely dry, all I could manage was a firm nod. “Roy Kent,” he clucked, shaking his head. “You’re really marrying Roy fucking Kent.” He kissed my cheek. “And more importantly, you’re marrying someone who loves you the way you deserve.”

“That I am,” I managed, taking a deep breath as the doors opened.

Roy’s eyes lit up the moment he saw me, just like I knew mine did at the sight of him. As a surprise, I’d asked the violinists to play the wedding march from The Sound of Music for my walk down the aisle; I could see the moment Roy realized it, because he threw his head back and rolled his eyes cheekily.

After my dad kissed my cheek and placed my hand on Roy’s, Roy leaned forward. “My fucking Maria,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“My Captain von Trapp,” I countered with a wink.

~

Rebecca had meant it as a joke when she offered to let us use the Dog Track as our reception venue. But Roy and I jumped at the offer, thinking it was fitting, considering how central A.F.C. Richmond was to our relationship. In the days leading up to our wedding day, we spent hours transforming the pitch into a proper party space, surpassing all of our expectations.

After allowing people to mingle with appetizers and drinks, Ted, who we’d allowed to play emcee for the night, called us forward for toasts. Roy sighed and rolled his eyes, more of a reflex than anything else, and gripped my hand tight as we walked to the stage that Keeley had managed to have brought in.

Roy took the microphone from Ted with a grunt and a curt nod. He let out a deep breath and brought the microphone to his mouth. “Right. So, for some reason, everyone thinks that prick over there is my best friend.” He pointed at Jamie, who stood up, looking prouder than when he was named Player of the Year. “But honestly, this right here is my best friend in the world.” He turned back to me, ignoring the offended scoff from Jamie. “From the moment I crashed her father’s birthday dinner, she’s become my very best friend.” He cleared his throat and gave his head a little nervous scratch. “So, most people who know us know the story of how we got together. Dad’s birthday dinner, posters in the childhood bedroom, secret relationship that apparently everyone at Nelson Road fucking knew about. But, I’ve never told anyone about how I was basically a fucking stalker before any of that.”

I looked over at Roy quizzically. He smirked and continued.

“See, I fancied her the fucking moment I met her. Like, Ted brought her into the office, and I couldn’t say a fucking word. I think I told her not to wear any rank perfume and then just slouched off.” Everyone gave out a light chuckle. “Then I bought her lunch, as a way to, I dunno, make conversation. And we sort of started chatting at work a bit after that. And then this one Friday night she leaves early. And Ted says that he forgot to give her some papers he’d wanted her to work on over the weekend, and he’s all ‘Oh well, she can get it Monday’. But me, being properly whipped at this point, I fucking say ‘I’ll take it to her’.”

My jaw fell slightly; this whole time, I had thought Ted must’ve begged or bribed Roy to bring me those papers. Had he really brought them just to see me?

“I made up some shit about how she told me whereabouts she lived and that it wasn’t too far from my place. And now, looking back, I don’t think he fucking believed me.”

“Nope!” Ted called out with a hearty laugh. “I knew you were in love!”

Roy playfully shot Ted his favorite gesture and continued. “So, I realized I had no clue where she lived. And I felt like an absolute wanker. But then I remembered, we were on some stupid Snapchat group with Ted.”

“You’re welcome!” Ted chimed in again.

Roy rolled his eyes. “And this gorgeous idiot had her location on. So, I did what any sane guy would do: I fucking stalked her. And I turned into fucking Hugh Grant in Love Actually and went knocking on every door in that neighborhood like a right idiot. Until finally, I knocked on a door and saw this beautiful face.” He smiled gently at me. “And I realized right then that I loved that face. And I wanted to see that face every day.” He leaned over and gave me a small kiss. “So, I just want to say, I fucking love you. And I am so happy that I get to see your face and buy you kebabs for the rest of my life.” He took the champagne flute that Ted was holding out to him. “To Mrs. Roy Kent.”

“Mrs. Roy Kent!” everyone repeated, clinking their glasses together and sipping their champagne.

I toasted with Roy and took the microphone he offered me. “All I can say,” I started as everyone quieted, “is that dreams really do come true, and sometimes you get to marry the guy on the poster.” Everyone gave a light chuckle before I went on. “Honestly, though. Anyone who knows me knows that I have had a monstrous crush on this beautiful man for years. Pretty much since the day he made his debut. My poor dad had to watch me put up posters of a Chelsea player on my walls. Best day of his life was when Roy Kent came to Richmond, because it finally meant me putting up Greyhound posters.”

My dad’s laugh was the loudest of all.

“But I realized that today I’m not marrying some guy on a poster.” I turned to Roy and looked into his eyes. “Today I’m marrying Roy. The fit guy I met at work who cooks and who is a wonderful uncle and who loves Dan Brown novels and makes me happy.” I knew my smile was big and silly as I gazed at him. “When I met you, it was a dream come true, getting to know my big celebrity crush. But now, the life I’m living is better than any dream. And I love you for that. I absolutely love you.” I leaned over and planted a heated kiss on his lips, eliciting wolf-whistles from the Greyhounds. Blushing, I raised my glass. “To Roy!”

“To Roy!” came the echo, amidst cheers and sips of champagne.

Rot was relieved when the toasts were over (especially Jamie’s surprisingly tearful speech). We went through the rest of the motions- first dance, dinner, cutting the cake- and finally came to the part of the evening we were most looking forward to: the party. We danced with our friends and drank, reveling in the joy we all shared.

I was enjoying a dance with Beard when Roy grabbed my hand, saying he needed to show me something.

“Roy, can’t you wait until we leave for our honeymoon?” I teased as he led me away from the dance floor.

He rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I think you talk so fucking much just so I kiss you to try to shut you up,” he quipped.

We came to a stop at the edge of the party, where a flat wrapped package sat alone. I stared at Roy quizzically as he picked it up and handed it to me.

“I think your office can use some more décor,” he started slowly. “Especially because I heard some rumors about Higgins thinking about early retirement.”

I sighed and bit back a smile. “There has been talk,” I admitted. “Nothing set in stone, but I am definitely in the running to eventually become the D.F.O. once Higgins is ready to hand over the reins.” I gestured to whatever it was I held in my hands. “But what’s this?”

He bobbled his head. “Wedding gift. For your office. I’ve owed you this for a while now.”

My curiosity growing, I quickly opened the gift, letting the paper fall to the floor. It was something in a frame. I turned it over and threw my head back when I saw it.

It was the poster from my ceiling, the one Roy and I sat under when we kissed for the first time, only now it was framed. And more importantly, autographed.

“You’re an arsehole,” I laughed, cupping Roy’s cheek and pressing a kiss to his lips. “And I fucking love it.”

He shrugged, taking the poster from my hands and laying it down so he could hold me, leaning his forehead to mine. “Told you I’d autograph it for you,” he mumbled before peppering kisses all over my face. “I think it’ll look fucking great in your office, don’t you?”

I laughed and nodded. “Even if I don’t become D.F.O., I’ll still have the best office decorations in the building.”

Roy pulled back, studying my face carefully. “Fuck that. You’re going to get it.” He kissed me again. “After all, you’re a fucking superstar.”

I let out a small huff, embarrassed by the praise. “Roy-”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

And with that, he shut me up in the best way he knew how.

~

Taglist: @optimisticsandwichgladiator @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @sonyume @djarindroid @reading-blogs @thezimi @benedictscanvasmain @wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff @puckyou-forpuckssake @old-enough-to-know-better73 @ladygrey03 @soundofboots @justsomefunshit @geekgirl1996 @tedssweaters @queen-of-dumbasses @miaalltheway @di-essere-amato @shakespeareanwannabe @hotdoglamp @mal-adaptive-dreams @allthetroubleiveseen @netflix-addict @callmecasey81 @forgetmeaway @royalestrellas @kingleahhh @lemoonandlestars @ghxxxf @jill2629-blog @sunderland-6 @janalustare @ellouisa17

[mamawasatesttube]

@deadchannelradio said:

obsessed w "civ hostage" kon. obsessed.

THANK you for giving me the opportunity to talk abt this one bc it is, if i do say so myself, funny as hell. like, i talk a bit hurt/comfort character study etc game, but i am also just a guy who deeply, DEEPLY enjoys some good old fashioned shenanigans.

SO. to set the stage: we have conner kent, good ol sweet country boy conner kent, spending a weekend in the big city to visit his buddy tim. things are going well, for the most part, until tim and conner make the mistake of going to hang out at a nice café. why?

the cafe is SO nice that it is, in fact, right next to a bank!

they are in gotham city (uh oh!).

the bank gets robbed.

sirens start blaring, the gcpd are there, the robbers burst out of the front door frantic to get to their getaway car, and oh, hell, the gcpd is right there, they need some kind of leverage to not get their tires shot out from under them--

they need a hostage!

there's a cafe patio full of civilians right there!

this guy who's jumped to his feet as if to get between all the guns and his buddy? oh sure yeah he'll do cmon grab him get him in the car lets go lets GO MOVE IT MOVE IT

FLOOR IT LETS GO KEEP A GUN TO HIS HEAD MAKE SURE THE COPS SEE WE HAVE HIM LETS GO

[!] Congratulations! Your Conner Kent is now a Civilian Hostage™! In order to protect his secret identity, he may not use any of his powers to escape. Make sure he doesn't run his mouth too much, or else getting shot will reveal that he's bulletproof!

tim, left at the cafe: what the fuck. kon, sitting in the getaway car: what the fuck. the bank robbers, who have no idea what they've just brought upon themselves: phew! that was quick thinking!

what follows is a progression of increasingly more ludicrous conversations as kon desperately tries to control his inability to shut the fuck up. the bank robbers start to argue.

"boss, he's just a teenager!" one argues. "he isn't even from here--look how much he's talking about his grandma. i feel bad. we don't have to keep the guns on him at all times, do we?"

"if he doesn't shut up about his grandma, shoot him in the foot," boss grouches.

"oh, please, don't do that, sir," kon wheedles, valiantly resisting the urge to ttk the duct tape off his arms so he can gesture rudely at the big boss. he does his very best big, innocent doe eyes instead. "my grandpa bought me these boots, and he passed a couple years back!"

"oh, now look what you did!" a third guy exclaims. "he's gonna talk about BOTH grandparents now!"

kon looks back and forth between the bank robbers. two out of three are glaring; the first one, the sympathetic one, tries to smile at him.

kon looks at them all some more.

tim is somewhere up in the rafters of this random gotham wharf warehouse by now, he's sure. this will all be over soon. he doesn't have to keep resisting the giggles too much longer. right?

"could i convince you guys to let me go?" he blinks so sweetly. so innocently. "shucks, i can sweeten the deal! how's this?"

he flutters his eyelashes a little. smiles so innocently.

"i'll give you my grandma's apple pie recipe--"

this is the worst day of these bank robbers' lives.

tim, in the rafters: forget the robbers. I'M gonna strangle him.

anyway, red robin swoops in to rescue Sweet Innocent Country Boy Conner Kent. of course, he can't stay long, but he makes quick work of the hostage situation.

Sweet Innocent Country Boy Conner Kent is more than happy to give a quick statement to the press outside, of course. he looks directly into the camera and gushes about how amazing it was to have red robin himself rescue him! he's so suave and mysterious and cool, and his hair smells so nice--

tim, who is the only one who knows that kon is just very smugly patting himself on the back for finally convincing him to try his fancy shampoo and conditioner set: :|

trending on gotham twitter: Red Robin Smells Like Rosewater

tim is going to kill Sweet Innocent Country Boy Conner Kent. he's gonna do it.

"i'll fucking leave you there next time," he tells kon, who is scrolling through all the tweets with glee. "see if i come rescue you ever again. i'll let the assholes with guns keep you."

"sure you will, rob," kon agrees oh-so-sweetly. tim is going to throw things at him. kon is so smug. god dammit.

but hey, at least he makes tim some apple pie afterwards.

[lukeevangelista]

Okay dating Luca but being Nolan’s sister and like trying to hide it from him but he sees the two at a party and goes off.

I’m making this take place when Kent and Nick were in town AND they won. They did not lose in this

I also apparently get really dramatic when I’m tired so enjoy ?

———————————————————————————-

"You realize you need to be more subtle, right?" You fussed at Luca as he walked into your dorm, glaring at him.

"I don't understand why we just can't tell him." he groaned as he flopped backwards on your bed.

"Because he'll kill you." You shrugged, "He'll literally have your head on a silver platter Lu."

"What about you?"

"I'm his little sister." You chuckled, "He's not going to say anything to me."

**

You had found Luca at the party your brother was hosting. You had found him nudged between Adam and Mackie, him grinning at you as you sat down in front of him, nuzzling between his legs as his hands played with your hair.

What you didn’t see was your brother on the back patio, staring at his little sister between his teammates legs.

“If you squeeze that beer any harder, you’re going to cut yourself.” Nick said as him and Kent looked towards you.

They knew you pretty well considering you were a sophmore and hung around sometimes because of Nolan- and the fact you were friends with the current sophmores.

“Are they-“ Kent was cut off by Nick jabbing him in the ribs with his elbow.

“I don’t know, but we’re about to find out.” Nolan said as he slammed his beer down on the railing before walking inside.

“Fantilli-“ Nolan raised his eyebrows as he stood in front of the table, eyeing you two, “Out of everyone-“

“It’s not like that Nol.” You said as you stood up, seeing people starting to stare, “Can we go outside and talk about this?”

Nolan slacked his jaw as he grabbed your by the forearm, tugging you outside.

“The fuck?” He seethed, “My fucking teammate? That’s who you had to choose?”

“It just happened Nolan!” You said, flinching slightly at his tone, “We didn’t mean for it-“

“But you did. Or you wouldn’t be with him.” He said, lowering his tone the moment he realized how it was effecting you.

You stayed quiet as you watched Luca open the sliding glass door, him walking over to stand beside you.

“I-“

“Shut up Luca.” Nolan cut him off almost immediately, “I don’t want to hear it.” He said, “I’m not okay with this.” He glared at you two, your heart shrinking as you knew your brother was truly upset with you.

It broke your heart knowing he was this mad, but honestly you expected it.

“Oh god.” He said as he leaned across the porch railing, letting a chuckle escape his lips before whipping back around, “I’m really not okay with this.” He continued talking, you two just staring at him, allowing him to get it off his chest, “At all.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re okay with it.” Luca lowly said.

“Luca, I’d really suggest you stop talking.” Nolan said as he took a step forward before rolling his eyes and throwing his hands down, “You know what? Fuck this. Fuck both of you.”

[lovesosweeet]

KNOW IT ALL x THE BAND CAMINO

part 4

a calum hood songfic

read 1 / 2 / 3

Tillie wasn’t avoiding Calum. At least, she didn’t mean to. She just didn’t know what to say. So instead, she stuck to her safe zones whenever she found herself near him. Mostly, she just talked to Michael or whomever she was with that night as a romantic interest. For the last three months or so, that’s been Nick. Tonight will be no exception.

Tonight is the night of her annual Halloween party. Even before her music took off, Tillie always went all out for Halloween. Nowadays, it’s a scene filled with tons of other young musicians, influencers, models, and general creatives in LA. It was the event of the year in her social circles, and she loved it. 

She normally goes all out for her costumes, and this year, although the costume was basic, was iconic. She had found a vintage red lace corset on Ebay a few months ago and ordered it instantly, deciding she’d build her costume around the piece. 

She paired it with a matching red miniskirt, rhinestone-covered platform boots, and a sparkly pair of devil horns. Tillie knew she looked good, and she wanted everyone to see. 

Per her request, Michael came early with his wife, looking very cute in their matching Avatar: The Last Airbender costumes. Nick had a training session today, so she knew he’d be late, and Tillie hated it when the first person who showed up was someone she didn’t know that well. Michael and Crystal filled the role quickly and brought a 12-pack of Tillie’s favorite beer: Pabst Blue Ribbon. 

Now that the party has been going on for a few hours, Tillie’s condo is full of people and the space is vibrating with the music she has blasting. She lost Nick about thirty minutes ago when his teammates showed up and needed help finding the bathroom. Most of the thirty minutes she has spent on her balcony, both taking puffs from a joint and sipping her now empty can of beer. 

Calum steps out for a smoke break, feeling claustrophobic and stressed about being in Tillie’s home since they’ve still not spoken in over a year. He’d seen Nick arrive an hour or two ago, so that confirmed she was still seeing him. He regretted taking shots before leaving his home once his stomach started to let him know it was unhappy with that choice. 

He’s clammy and nauseous as he pulls his cigarettes out of his back pocket, lighting one up.

His heart nearly stops when he looks to his left and sees the devil sitting on a patio chair. 

“Uh, hey, Tills,” he says. His mouth is so dry suddenly. It takes a lot of willpower not to stare at the sheer material of her corset top or the slight glossy sheen on her lips. His nausea feels amplified at the sight of her and the fact that they’re now trapped with each other. There’s no turning back now, for either of them.

“Hey, Cal.”

He doesn’t know what to say after that.

“I like your costume,” she says after he doesn’t say anything else. 

He stares at the lit cigarette held between his fingers. “Thanks.” He felt incredibly basic putting his costume together. Clark Kent. Not exactly an original idea.

He wants to tell her she looks incredible, because, well, she does. 

Tillie sighs, not sure how much else she can say with his limited conversation. She puts out her joint and stands up, pulling down the hem of her skirt. “I’ll leave you be,” she says quietly before she retreats to the safety of the dozens of people inside, being swallowed by a million more conversations that don’t include the awkwardness that is any interaction with Calum. 

When she re-enters her home, she finds Michael talking to Ashton, both of them looking concerned.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, her eyes looking back and forth between the two of them. Strobing multicolor lights and an obnoxiously loud remix of ‘Thriller’ are the backdrop of their seemingly tense conversation. 

They turn to face her and both of them go pale. 

“Uh,” Ashton starts.

“Um,” Michael says, a panicked expression formed on her best friend’s face. “Nothing.”

Tillie rolls her eyes. “You’re both useless.”

Normal people would be curious about their conversation, but not Tillie. If they don’t want to tell her, she doesn’t particularly care. She sidesteps them, scanning the room for Nick so she can catch up with him. He’s tall enough that he’s easy to spot.

As she walks away, she catches a fragment of Michael and Ashton’s conversation.

“Guess they didn’t talk out there.”

She approaches Nick and his teammates, and they all start cheering and clapping. “There’s our stunningly sexy host!” Nick says, holding his arms out for Tillie to hug him, which she gladly does. 

“Tills, this is great,” one of the guys says.

She flashes her smile at him. “Thanks, it’s my favorite part of the year.”

“Makes sense,” one of the other guys adds. 

“Tillie’s been freaking out all week about getting everything in order,” Nick explains, which makes Tillie pinch his arm, hard. She doesn’t want people to know the painstaking effort she went through to put the party together. That’s not her vibe.

“I haven’t been freaking out. Just excited for the party of the year!” She reaches for Nick’s cup as she cheers, taking a big gulp of whatever concoction he has in the plastic container. “I’m gonna go get a refill, care to join me?”

Nick follows her like a lost puppy to her kitchen. Tillie grabs herself another can of PBR from her fridge while Nick just stands beside her. She also grabs a handful of peanut butter M&M’s and pops one into her mouth. Her man follows her lead and grabs a piece of candy. They stand there for a few minutes, their silence masked by the general chaos of everyone else in the kitchen, but Tillie freezes when Calum and Luke enter the kitchen.

Cal freezes in the doorway.

“I’ll grab you a vodka soda, Cal,” Luke says, knowing Calum is about to run away.

Calum stares at Tillie for a few seconds before ducking out of the room quickly, making Tillie sigh. She’s not going to do anything or say anything. She wishes they could just have a normal conversation again. 

Tillie throws the last three of her M&M’s into her mouth before she grabs a solo cup and pops the cap off the large bottle of vodka on the table. She pours an ounce or so of the liquor in and then grabs a can of La Croix from the fridge, filling up the rest of the cup with it before handing it to Luke. 

“I know how to make a vodka soda, Tillie,” Luke says. He’s laughing, making himself a rum and Coke.

“Can’t I do something nice for my friend?” She asks.

Luke eyes her. Tillie is a lot of things, but she is not the kind of person who just does something nice for people without being asked. It doesn’t make her a bad person or even a bad friend, but it’s something that sticks out to Luke when Tillie just makes a drink for Calum. 

“You’re Luke, right?” Nick asks. He’d hung out with Michael a few more times since the VMA’s, but he hadn’t seen the rest of the 5SOS boys since then.

Luke smiles and nods. “Yeah, that’s me. Sorry, I know we haven’t really gotten to talk to each other yet, but I’ve heard great things from Tillie and Mike.”

Nick grins. “Well, she speaks highly of all of you. Her ‘four children’ is what she says whenever she talks about you.”

Tillie rolls her eyes. “I don’t speak that highly of them.”

“I mean, I feel like I know all of you based on how much she talks about you,” Nick adds. Tillie smacks him on the arm, wanting him to shut up. She hates talking about emotions and her feelings. She’d rather not have Nick share all her love for the boys of the band she’s spent so much of the last few years with. 

“Aw, Tills! I knew you loved us.”

“Yeah, she does!” Nick says. He’s not great at taking hints. “Except, she doesn’t say much about one of you… I know you’re Luke, and there’s Mike, obviously, and then… Ashton? But there’s a fourth one.”

Tillie wants to kick him in the balls right then, but instead, she puts her beer can to her lips and chugs half of its contents. 

“The fourth one is Cal,” Luke says. He’s smirking as Tillie squirms with discomfort. “He and Tillie were pretty close for a while there. Interesting that she’s not said much about him.”

“Lovely chat, Luke. We’ll see you later,” Tillie says, grabbing Nick’s hand and pulling him to the makeshift dancefloor in her living room. She places his hand on her waist and raises hers up to the ceiling while she starts dancing to whatever bass-driven beat that’s playing through the speakers. 

Music thuds through her veins, mixing with the alcohol from her beer nicely enough to make her lose herself in the crowded room. Tillie isn’t sure how long she stays on the dance floor with Nick, but eventually, he just stops dancing as an alarm on his watch goes off. She pouts up at him, and he looks vaguely apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve gotta go. Early flight tomorrow.”

Tillie frowns. Why hadn’t he mentioned that before now? 

“Oh.”

Nick smiles at her as reassuringly as he can. “I’ll call you when we land tomorrow?”

Tillie regroups mentally and nods, taking on a fake smile for the billionth time in her life. “That works. You can stay here if you want, you know?”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t have any of my gear and I don’t want to disturb you when I leave in the morning.” He bends down to kiss her before he starts to leave the party. 

Tillie tries her best not to be disappointed, heading straight back to the kitchen for another beer to try to mask her feelings and put on a show for everyone. People like Tillie for being confident and brash and funny. They don’t like her for being sad or emotional or sensitive.

She wants to step away from the mass of people for a minute, so she ducks into her bedroom for a moment to herself, but as she crosses the threshold, she’s welcomed the sound of someone gagging in her bathroom. She’s annoyed that someone took it upon themselves to use her en suite bathroom, meaning they had to walk through her messy bedroom, and they’re puking in it. She walks up to the slightly ajar door and lightly raps her knuckles against it.

“Okay in there?” She asks.

Her only answer is the sound of the person vomiting again. At that, Tillie opens the door, deciding the person probably needs some help if they’re throwing up more than once. None other than Clark Kent is doubled over on her bathroom floor.

Fuck, she mouths to herself.

“Shit, Cal,” she whispers. She springs into action, grabbing her bottle of water from her nightstand and kneeling down next to Calum. He’s speechless as she hands him a wad of toilet paper to wipe his face off and holds the water out to him. Stunned, he wipes his face before tossing the paper into the toilet, Tillie flushing it alone with his puke as quickly as she can. 

Tillie stands up straight, once again adjusting her mini skirt as she does, and then she holds her hands out to Calum to help him to his feet. He requires far more assistance than he does when sober.

“Can I lay down for a bit?” Cal asks with a meek voice that nearly makes her heart stop beating.

“Of course,” she says, guiding him back to the bedroom, where she helps him into her unmade bed. She kneels again, untying the shoes on his feet and pulling them off. 

Once Calum is situated in her bed, she pulls a blanket over him. His eyes are screwed shut in discomfort. Tillie takes that as a sign that she should leave him be, so she slowly retreats to the door, but then Calum stops her.

“Wait, Tills.”

She sighs. “What’s up, Cal?”

“Why do you hate me now?”

“I don’t hate you,” she says, almost too quickly. 

Calum laughs bitterly. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

“Calum, I promise, I don’t hate you.”

“You haven’t spoken to me in a year, Tillie. A whole year.” His voice cracks and Tillie feels a knife in her heart, but she’s the one who put it there. She doesn’t know how to reply. He’s not wrong, but, at the same time, she knows that he hasn’t spoken to her either. She knows that it’s on her, even if it’s a two way street.

She’s the reason there’s a divide between them, and they both know that fact very well. 

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Another bitter laugh comes from Calum. “No, you’re not.”

Fuck. Fucking hell. That’s all Tillie can think. She wishes she could run away and end this conversation here, but she knows she can’t. They’re having this conversation in her bedroom, which is where, ordinarily, she’d escape to. 

Is she sorry? She doesn’t know, but she knows that’s what she should’ve said in that space, so that’s what she said.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” she confesses. She thought she should apologize, but that’s not good enough for him. 

“Maybe start with whatever the fuck made you just dip out of my house one morning and leave me with just a sticky note that said, ‘I need some space. I’m sorry.’”

Tillie makes a sharp intake of breath, her own words coming back and biting her in the ass. She knew it was a low blow when she did it, but she didn’t know how else to handle that situation. She knew she wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye and tell him it was over. Whatever ‘it’ was. 

She can’t tell him why. She hasn’t told anybody why.

“Cal, I just did what I thought was best and it was at your expense. Again, I’m sorry.” Now, she at least partially means it when she apologizes. She isn’t sorry that she hasn’t spoken to him. That much he should’ve expected, but leaving the note, she is sorry for that. 

“Doesn’t matter now, though, does it? You’ve got Mr. Famous Basketball Player now.”

Tillie sighs frustratedly. “Those two things are unrelated. Don’t circle this back onto Nick.”

“They seem pretty related to me.”

She groans, running her hands through her hair. “I’m not doing this right now, Calum.”

As she exits the bedroom, she hears Calum mumble words that hurt her just as badly as she’s sure she’s hurt him.

“Sure, run away instead of actually owning up to the mistakes you’ve made like always. You’re a fucking one trick pony, Tillie.”

Tillie holds back tears as she runs to Michael, grabbing his hand and pulling him to her balcony for some privacy. She doesn’t say anything before she hugs him, needing him to help calm her down. He’s happy to help, and gives her the hug she needs. Even Michael doesn’t know what happened between Tillie and Calum, but he knows Tillie well enough to know that whatever decision she made regarding Cal, it wasn’t ill-intentioned. She's a self-preservation girl to her core, but she doesn't ever mean to harm anyone.

Calum is one of the only people he’s ever seen her actually love.

read next part

a/n: anyone have theories of what happened betw tillie and cal to cause all this ~tension~????

[fugengulsen]

The Grateful Dead and a group of other rock bands of the times including the Jefferson Airplane, took a lease out on the old Carousel Ballroom on Market Street in San Francisco (formerly the El Patio) back in 1968 which only lasted for several short months. During that time however there were many great shows and dance/concerts that took place. Not to forget the ALWAYS great Tuesday night Jam Sessions for just a Buck! The posters that came out of that period at the Carousel were certainly some of the BEST of the times.  It was a Saturday night, back in 1968 that Moby Grape, along with It's a Beautiful Day and Sweet Rush started their two night engagement there at the Carousel Ballroom. The original poster is printed on white stock and measures only 8½" x 14½". A fairly small poster compared to many of the others at the time. It was printed only once and is quite difficult to find these days in any condition! The artist for this piece was L. Kent Hollister.

[acommonloon]

a lure

One bright Friday a friend was saying there were no more door to door sales. Another disagreed immediately saying there were. A few of our group recounted stories, most old but some more recent about sales persons at the door, and one mentioned the dreaded J.Wits and a grandma who said she’d go to their church if they’d go to hers. I thought, we rarely get anyone at the door but...

The next day I happened to pop in the livingroom as the doorbell rang. I'd been on the patio with music playing, D was hanging up laundry. I'd gone in to grab my phone off the charger otherwise neither of us would have noticed the young woman at the door.

At first glance through the storm door glass, I saw she was slim with straight blonde hair that didn't quite reach her shoulders. She wore slacks and a polo with a company logo. Her face was lightly freckled and she'd just sat her bag down on the step to rub something on her face. When I opened the door, I think it startled her.

I've been replaying our interaction off and on ever since, trying to figure out what seemed so off putting about it.

I've been a communicator since I was 18, when the Air Force gave me a job doing that. I meet new people constantly as part of my job, I'm used to putting people at ease.

I wasn't bothered someone was at our door, I was properly dressed, I greeted her with a smile and a hi, so I was surprised she seemed so uncomfortable yet determined to hide it as she began her obviously rehearsed pitch.

She threw out her hand as she said her name was Abby, I shook it lightly, then, conscious of how I loomed over her, I moved back to sit in the rocker next to the front door. I belatedly realized the other chair, normally next to me, was missing, I hadn't replaced it after repainting the deck, but I was sure she would be gone quickly so I simply asked what I could do for her.

She apologized for having lotion on her hand then asked that age old door to door sales person question, "So I guess you're the father of the house?"

<sigh> we're doing this. Yes well there's no kids living here now but yes, I'm Shane.

She rushed on saying she was a college student from Ohio, Kent State... in Ohio.

I smiled through discordant thoughts of old news clips of student crowds, smoke canisters, and gun shots clashing with the mundanity of “There aren't door to door sales anymore. "

I realized this was going to take longer so I invited Abby to move down the porch to where there were two chairs. Then I excused myself to find D to rescue me or at least share whatever this was. The house replied to my calls with silence. <sigh>

I returned and Abby resumed her pitch saying this was her summer internship, all four years, she'd worked for a company called Southwestern Advantage selling children's books. She said it with gusto. Had I heard of it?

No

Her delivery was bright, emphatic, and unnatural, I couldn't imagine she'd been doing this for four years.

<Oh boy> I said, "Let me see if my wife wants to come out."

I stepped inside again and called out for D. Again silence. I imagined her standing still absolutely quiet. She hates strangers at the door. I wasn't giving up until I found her. I said, "Um there's a woman at the door selling kids books, want to come see?"

I returned alone and Abby resumed, still using dialog I found unnatural and uncomfortable.

I listened as she said this was her first time in this area which, I had no reason to disbelieve and everyone was so nice!

I had every reason to disbelieve that and suspected she'd been told off more than once. I could imagine how that might make her skittish. <sigh> I began to wish this could be over.

She mentioned some of the people on the street she'd already met, using one's first name, Able, twice as if that would break the ice. I didn't know that person so...

I said, “Look it's fine, can we skip the sales patter and get to what you'd like to sell me."

She gasped. "Oh no no, this is just me." She said. "By the way, I don't know what it was, but when I first walked into your yard, it smelled so fresh. Do you know what that is? "

<sigh> ...... um maybe the water feature? I replied

Yes maybe.

Then I said, "They did spray the yard two days ago.

she replied, but doesn't that usually smell bad?

Yes

Okay, I'd asked to go off script so my bad.

Then she asked, "Have you seen me on Facebook?"

What, uhhh no. I didn’t explain that unless she was a bar, brewery, or restaurant, I'd never see her on Facebook.

Well that's okay she assured me, here’s someone you might know. She said a name then tilted her tablet so I could see a picture of her shaking hands with the county sheriff. Isn’t that a great picture? she asked. <sigh> okaaay.

Yes Abby, so to be honest, we have a house full of books for kids. Our kids have asked us to stop buying books for our granddaughters because they have so many. We sometimes still do if we happen on one we really like. So could you just show me your books?

Okay sure straight from the bookmobile that’s what I call my car she giggled. Then she pulled a book from her bag and asked, Do you know why peacock feathers are pink?

It sounded like a question I’d heard before but I was really desperate to get this over with so I didn’t say anything but just raised my brow in question. Because they eat pink shrimp! They’re clear so…

I don’t remember how I convinced Abby I wasn’t buying any books but she had the hutzpah to ask if I’d advise her of who else on the street might be interested. I warned her away from two neighbors who I thought would be mean and told her of two who had kids and mercifully she left.

When I walked in D was standing right there. So? She asked.

So what? I replied.

I can’t believe you didn’t buy any books? She laughed.

Yeah me either she was the worst.

Oh I saw her on Facebook D said. No way was I going out there.

I looked at her trying to convey my feeling of disbelief and betrayal.

Yeah two teachers bought books from her. Not the smartest teachers.

[cobycobsy2k]

Alternative, Season 2 Episode 9 Part 1 of 2: “The party at the Capp Mansion”

Veronaville, Capp Family Mansion

It was night and Kent's birthday party was taking place; Consort wanted everything to be great and impeccable, that's why he was controlling the butlers so that his son's party would be great, on the other hand, the guests were in the patio having a good time.

Ulysses (excited): Wow, I can't believe we're inside the Capp mansion!!

Simon: I can't believe this is happening either haha, I think I'll go try some of that jelly over there.

At that moment, Eddie arrives disguised as a superhero, who looked at everyone confused.

Eddie: Why is everyone dressed like they're going to a wedding or something?

Desiree (Trying not to laugh at Eddie): Didn't you read the dress code that was on the invitation?

Eddie: No, I thought it was a costume party!

Desiree (Laughing a little): Hahaha, don't worry, the invitation simply said that we all had to come dressed formally!

Outside the mansion, Renee and Monique were arriving at the party, both of them very nervous.

Rénee: My parents won't believe that I entered the Capp mansion! What a thrill! Aren't you excited Monique?

Monique: Yeah hee... I've just never been to a party like this...

Upon reaching the patio where the other guests were, the girls saw Kent Capp himself who looked a little sad at the party, until he saw them enter. The blond boy shyly approached Renee and Monique, especially the latter.

Kent (smiling sweetly): H-hi, nice to meet you, my name is Kent Capp, welcome to my party, I hope you are well

Rénee (while she went to where her friend Desiree was): Nice to meet you Kent, Hi Desiree!!

Kent: And what's your name?

Monique: My name is Monique, Hee... I really want to thank you for inviting me to your party

Kent: You're welcome! Why don't we talk better and I'll show you some things from here?

the two boys were talking and having a good time without caring that they were in other parts of the mansion, Kent felt something in Monique that was very special and he didn't know that she was, the same with the girl with brown hair.

Kent: So you're from Bitville, that sounds great!

Monique: Well, my mom says that I was born in Pleasantview, but we had to move when I was one year old.

Kent: Wow, that's interesting, well, I've spent most of my life here in Veronaville, rarely leaving the mansion... But I really want to go to school like the other kids.

Monique: Why don't you tell your dad so you can go to class?

Kent: Father doesn't listen to me, he says that I could have an accident if I leave the mansion, and he doesn't want the same thing to happen as in 1985... But hey, do you want to dance a little haha?

Monique: Sure, even though I'm not good at dancing!

The two boys began to dance in front of the moonlight, Kent felt super happy to have met Monique and she also felt the same... Will this be the beginning of a great friendship?

[glideline]

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[kentconcrete]

Kent Concrete Masters

Kent Concrete Masters is your local specialist in all things concrete in Kent, Washington.

From driveways to patios, slabs to foundations, we’ve got Kent covered. Concrete isn’t just our job—it’s our passion. We’ve poured, shaped, and perfected concrete structures across Kent and the surrounding areas.

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[ottawarealtor]

Happy Thursday Everyone!

Checkout our new rental listing in the best part of Downtown Ottawa Centre town as right next so many restaurants, shops, cafes and more all walking distance away. This studio apartment comes with a underground parking spot also which is heated.

429 KENT ST #506, Ottawa K2P 1B5 Listed for Rent at $1829/Monthly plus hydro Studio Apartment / Balcony/ Full bath/ In-unit laundry/ 1 parking spot Available as of July 22nd

Beautiful and modern urban living inside this bachelor apartment in Centre town. You will love the proximity to many great shops, restaurants and entertainment, transit and more. Featuring hardwood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows with lots of natural light and a covered balcony with views of trees. Open kitchen with granite countertops, stainless steel appliances and In-suite laundry! Lots of space for desk, bed and small living area. Full bath with deep tub and updated tiles. The building has an amazing rooftop terrace with gas BBQ’s, lounge chairs, bench and patio table to enjoy with family and friends. A heated underground parking is included!. Parking space # 29 on first level. Book your showing today

You can also see the detailed tour of the condo rental here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_O5JU0GZqI8

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[yaphankwines]

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[premiumhomeimprovements]

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2. Increased Property Value Investing in a patio can significantly boost the value of your property. Prospective buyers are often attracted to homes with appealing outdoor spaces, and a stylish patio can make your home stand out in the market.

3. Enhanced Aesthetic Appeal Patios can dramatically improve the visual appeal of your backyard. With various designs, materials, and finishes available, you can create a patio that complements your home’s architecture and reflects your personal style.

4. Versatility and Functionality Patios offer versatile spaces that can be used for a variety of purposes, from outdoor dining areas and kitchens to lounge spaces and garden retreats. Their functionality makes them a valuable addition to any home.

5. Low Maintenance Modern patio materials are designed to be durable and low-maintenance, allowing you to enjoy your outdoor space without the hassle of constant upkeep.

Why Choose Premium Home for Your Patios in Adelaide?

1. Expert Craftsmanship: At Premium Home, we pride ourselves on delivering exceptional craftsmanship in every project. Our team of skilled professionals is dedicated to creating patios that meet the highest standards of quality and durability.

2. Custom Designs We understand that every home is unique, which is why we offer custom patio designs tailored to your specific needs and preferences. Whether you desire a contemporary, minimalist look or a more traditional, ornate design, we can bring your vision to life.

3. High-Quality Materials We use only the best materials to ensure your patio is not only beautiful but also built to last. Our selection includes a variety of options, such as natural stone, pavers, and concrete, allowing you to choose the perfect finish for your space.

4. Comprehensive Service From the initial consultation to the final installation, Premium Home provides a comprehensive service to ensure your patio project runs smoothly. Our team will work closely with you at every stage, offering expert advice and support to achieve the best results.

5. Customer Satisfaction Our commitment to customer satisfaction is at the heart of everything we do. We strive to exceed your expectations with every project, delivering a patio that you will enjoy for years to come.

Transform Your Backyard Today

Adding a patio to your home is an excellent way to enhance your outdoor living experience and increase the value of your property. With Premium Home, you can trust that your patio will be crafted with the utmost care and attention to detail, resulting in a beautiful and functional outdoor space.

Get Started with Premium Home Ready to transform your backyard with a stunning patio? Visit Premium Home to explore our range of patios in Adelaide and get inspired by our previous projects. Contact us today to schedule a consultation and take the first step towards creating your perfect outdoor retreat.

Contact Information:

Website: https://premiumhome.com.au/

Phone:   +61 (08) 8268 5144

Email:  sales@premiumhome.com.au

 Address: 78 North Terrace Kent Town South Australia 5067

At Premium Home, we are dedicated to helping you create an outdoor space that you will love. Discover the best patios in Adelaide and start your home transformation today!

[jennicresswell]

The Killing Jar

Living a more rural lifestyle has brought with it things I hadn’t expected.

While I am enjoying the boon of darker skies, lower traffic noise, plentiful and vibrant birdlife, I had not anticipated the downsides:  endless dead flies and other insects piling up in the gap between window and blinds, a crushed beetle caught in the window shade, tricky negotiations with spiders when using the shower, and then this morning – horror of horrors - a pair of drowned mice in the watering can.  I’m usually fastidious (if that’s not an oxymoron) about providing a stick to aid wildlife in climbing out of such treacherous places.  But it being so wet and rainy, I had not anticipated animals using the watering can as a water source, with so many other natural options in plentiful supply. 

I’ve long since had my revelation about this sort of casual death by humans – the unintentional destruction of other living beings whilst going about some mundane human task.  I first came to this conclusion while making a regular monthly trip in my electric vehicle from my home in Sussex to visit my aging folks in Kent.  A bird, flying low and suddenly into the path of my vehicle; no time to avoid the collision – just an awful moment of realisation, a glimpse of feathers, and a subsequent frantic craning into the rear view mirror to see if the bird had escaped.  No bump, no body, but no reassuring retreating flying feathered thing either.

I pined for that bird all the way home and well into the following days; even now, I can feel that dreadful weight of killing a living creature simply by my act of driving through its habitat.  The bird had no option other than to fly across the country lane, and I had no choice (arguably) to drive down that lane. 

I see the remnants of other drivers’ encounters all too frequently littered along the side of roads – startlingly often big mammals such as badgers and foxes.  I ponder how the impact of those creatures could surely not be missed by drivers.  It’s one thing not to be sure of hitting a tiny, weightless bird, another not to have noticed the force from striking a badger.  They look big – medium dog size – I feel sure big enough to notice and stop.  I have a friend who tells me they drive slowly along country lanes at night just to be sure they can stop in time for any wildlife – badgers in particular.

But it seems we are doomed as humans – at least in the time and place I live - to continue crashing indiscriminately through the habitats and lives of other living beings whether we notice or not.  I look back to early naturalists who collected specimens and pinned them to boards or stuffed and displayed them – or worse – hunters collecting every last individual, bringing extinction to countless species.  And I think – ah! Not me!  I am nature’s friend!  Then I receive another reminder: I relish feeding the birds at Wrens Nest – I’ve put up a feeding station by my bedroom patio doors and spend my morning time watching a small smattering of bird varieties visiting.  Mostly tits, blue and great, occasionally long tailed, also greenfinches, chaffinches and goldfinches, plus the resident robin.  I was feeling so good about providing this facility, until I started to hear the soft, dull thumps as birds flew off the feeder and straight into my patio windows.  Close enough that they aren’t harmed, but sickening, nonetheless.  I swiftly put tape on the windows at the internet’s suggestion to help the birds discern the tricky surface and spare their collisions.  No good deed goes unpunished I thought; here I am imagining I’m being helpful when I’ve created another way to impact nature.  In my spare time I do my best to redress the balance: volunteering to restore orchid habitat here, working with communities to plant orchards there.  But in all of this lies the sneaking suspicion that this too is simply another way of unintentionally impacting nature.  If only there was a way to live – if not at one with nature - more harmoniously and less clumsily…. I’m not giving up.

[omarkeller]

Kent Fountain Ideas for a large, contemporary, open-air patio fountain renovation

[floorinsite]

Beautiful wetrooms give a luxury residential property in Kent a five-star finish

A stunning residential project in Longfield, Kent, saw multiple wetrooms installed and stylishly fitted with Schlüter-Systems products, creating both level entry access and a uniform look.

The development, led by Daniel Berry of ATD Design Solutions, began with a smaller specification of one en-suite bathroom. However, once the work began and the homeowner saw the quality of work and systems involved, they requested further work to be carried out, including additional bathrooms and the uncoupling membrane Schlüter-DITRA-25 in the downstairs living area.

The low height drainage system Schlüter-KERDI-LINE-G3 installed in each of the bathrooms ensured simple level access for an area which would be far trickier to achieve using a standard drain. This was particularly apparent in the forementioned en-suite which was specified with a two-way fall in the shower. The unique feature was stylishly developed with flush transitions, coming together by first screeding the shower floor and then using Schlüter-KERDI-SHOWER-LTS sloped shower board to create the required fall. U-shaped channel profile Schlüter-DECO-SG made the attachment of a glass screen possible without damaging the waterproofing layer beneath the tiles.

Daniel comments, “When a bespoke area is specified within a wetroom, I find that it makes the most sense to use products from the same manufacturer where possible. In the case of the two-way fall within the shower, this meant using Schlüter’s drainage system and shower board, both low in height and ideal for the task at hand.”

Underfloor heating provided a sense of luxury and warmth to the bathroom floors, and the installation of electric heating system Schlüter-DITRA-HEAT-DUO made this easy. Whilst offering low assembly heights, the benefits of a system like this one includes sound reduction and fast warm-up.

Schlüter’s profile trims were used in abundance in the bathrooms due to the variety of textures and finishes within the range. This meant the tiles could match perfectly for a seamless finish. Daniel added, “The use of the various profiles, including JOLLY, QUADEC and FINEC, really enhanced the overall look of each bathroom. This, paired with the reassurance that the tiles will be protected made the choice to use Schlüter’s profile trims a simple one.”

A notable use of the Schlüter-DILEX profile was carried out in the open plan living area where the floor tiles met the patio doors. To allow for perimeter movement, DILEX-BWA was installed in the colour black. Not only did this offer the flexibility required for the tiles to sit against the patio doors, it also perfectly matched the colour of the door to offer a harmonious finish. 

Daniel concludes, “I am always impressed with the quality of Schlüter’s products and services. Whether installed behind the tiles or to help protect them on the surface, I can rest in the knowledge that whatever has been specified will stand the test of time.”

This high-end residential project has showcased some fantastic examples of Schlüter products in situ, demonstrating how they can help construct features such as the two-way fall in the shower and offer reliable protection of tile and stone installations thanks to the range of profiles available.

For further information, call 01530 813396 or visit https://www.schluter.co.uk/

[allisongaige]

Kent Fountain Ideas for a large, contemporary, open-air patio fountain renovation