#just... I really wanna yammer about the series with someone else who's played it

[pink-spaceturtle5]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Love's a Game, Wanna Play?

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 1

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

2.9k words

Warnings: Language, mentions of drinking/partying, Roy being kind of pathetic for Keeley

A/N: Ahh I'm so excited for this series! I was inspired while watching the Eras movie and it just kind of spiraled from there. I am so, so excited to share this with you ❤️

As always, @agentstarkid is an absolute angel for letting me yammer about this thing nonstop!

The tabloid headlines screamed up at me from my publicist’s office coffee table, all about how Everett, my idiot boyfriend- ex-boyfriend now- had punched out some guy in a club. And in every photo, there I was behind Ev, holding two drinks and laughing. Granted, one of those drinks was his. And the laughter was because in my drunken state, I genuinely thought Everett and the other guy were just goofing around. But none of that mattered when people had magazines to sell.

“Babe,” Lanie, my publicist, was saying from her spot next to me on the couch. “We need a serious image makeover.”

“I already broke up with Everett for continuing to be the world’s biggest jackass,” I reminded her as I grabbed some M&M’s from the coffee table. “Not sure what else there is to do.”

April, my personal assistant, picked up one of the magazines and began to flip through it. “It’s not just Everett,” she started slowly, opening up to the article all about mine and Ev’s ‘wild night’ at the club. “It’s you. You party, you go out with guy after guy, this Twitter thing with, well, you know…” She shrugged. “You’re getting something of a reputation, love.”

I sighed and popped another candy into my mouth. “I bet Ev’s people aren’t having this conversation with him right now,” I grumbled childishly.

“Because everyone already knows he’s garbage,” Lanie snorted. “This is exactly the kind of behavior they expect from him. But you-” She grasped my hand, her face full of affection. “-you are amazing. You’re a great writer and performer, and you’re a role model. So what the hell you were doing with that rat, no one could ever understand.”

“Hmmph.” I slouched further onto the couch, pretending that she wasn’t completely correct about Everett being scummy. He was cute, in that skinny, pale, undernourished, unshowered way rock stars tended to be. He was famous and had a commanding stage presence with a swagger he really hadn’t earned. And he was always ready to have a good time. But he wasn’t exactly sweet. Or sensitive, unless someone was criticizing his art. Or really all that intelligent, although he liked to talk like he was.

April cleared her throat. “Lanie and I think we might… need some outside help.”

I narrowed my eyes, always suspicious when these two were in cahoots without me. “What kind of outside help?”

“Keeley Jones,” Lanie said simply, pulling out her phone. “Has her own firm. I’ve worked with her before. The woman’s a bit… quirky. But she’s brilliant, babes.” She showed me a picture of a woman I was sure I’d seen before. “We’ll meet with her the day after tomorrow to talk strategy.”

“She’s a fan,” April added in that helpful voice of hers. “She loves your music.”

I studied the picture carefully. “Keeley Jones,” I murmured. “She’s a model, right? Or was, I assume?” Before either woman could respond, it clicked. “Oh shit,” I hissed. “She’s one of those poor women who got her photos and videos leaked last year, isn’t she?”

“She was,” Lanie confirmed. “So, she completely understands how ruthless and, frankly, unfair the press can be to a woman. It’s one of the reasons I think she’ll be a good fit. She’s pretty passionate about defending women from unfair treatment.”

“Well,” I sighed, leaning back, “guess we can hear her out, see what she has in mind.”

Lanie cleared her throat, glancing at April, who looked just as anxious. “Actually,” my publicist said slowly, “we already know what she has in mind.”

~

Keeley sat in Roy’s chair, feet casually up on his desk, scrolling absently on her phone while she waited for the gaffer to come in from the pitch.

“Oh. Uh, hi Keeley.” Roy Kent stood stiffly in the doorway, the way he often stood when he saw his ex-girlfriend. Fuck, she looked pretty today, in a stupidly fluffy pink sweater and ridiculously high heeled boots. Keeley always looked pretty.

Either Keeley didn’t notice the way his eyes softened at the sight of her, or she chose to ignore it. “Hey there, Roy-o!” she greeted, swinging her feet off his desk and sitting up straight. “D’you have a minute?”

For Keeley? Roy had all the minutes in the fucking world. To an extent, she knew that; he did come stumbling to her house with Jamie Tartt, begging her to choose between them, after all. And she cherished Roy, she really did. He treated her better than anyone else ever had. But she also knew that the way he loved her wasn’t the way she loved him or was even the way she wanted to be loved.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t use his softness for her to her advantage every now and then.

“I’ve got a proposition for you,” she started slowly as Roy leaned on his desk, not growling at her to get out of his chair like he would to anyone else. “See, I’ve got this client, and she needs some help in the PR department.”

Roy smirked. “She wanted the best, so she came to Keeley fucking Jones for help?”

Keeley shrugged off his praise. “Well, kind of. Her people came to me for a consultation. I know her publicist, she’s fabulous, they’re just a bit at a loss right now.”

“Can I ask who it is?” Roy vaguely recognized the name Keeley responded with. “That fucking pop star, right? With all the boyfriends?”

“Pop phenomenon, you mean,” Keeley snorted. “She’s only one of the biggest names in the world.”

Like Roy gave a fuck about some pop princess. “If she’s so big, why does she need PR help?

Keeley sighed. “She’s got some bad press right now. Her gross boyfriend- ex-boyfriend now, thankfully- got into a fight at a club, sent the guy to hospital. And somehow, this is her fault. Not to mention that this actress that she used to hang out with is all over Twitter badmouthing her, saying she’s trying to steal her boyfriend. She’s just… got a lot going on at the moment.”

“Fucking trainwreck,” Roy mumbled, starting to wonder where the fuck he came into play.

“She’s really not,” Keeley insisted. “Her publicist- Lanie- says she’s actually really great. Very kind and intelligent. She just goes out a lot and apparently has shit choice in company.” She lit up. “That’s where I need you, Roy.”

I need you, Roy. Those four words had Roy sitting up taller, smirking a little as he gazed at that pretty face. “And what, exactly, do you need me for?”

Keeley bit her lip. “D’you know what a ‘publicity stunt’ is?”

~

I drained the last of my giant coffee cup as I approached the elevator, sighing when I realized it had not made my tequila-caused headache disappear. While I’d promised Lanie I wouldn’t be going out for a bit, she’d never said anything about me having people over. Just a dozen of my closest friends, laughing in my living room and losing track of shots. Definitely what I needed to take my mind off the headlines, but probably not the best idea before an early-morning breakfast meeting at KBPR.

“You need to press the button.”

“Excuse me?” I turned in the direction of the voice- the growl, really- that pulled me out of my thoughts.

The bearded man let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his brown eyes. “You need to press the fucking button,” he repeated slowly, as if to a toddler, “if you want to call the lift.”

Behind my oversized sunglasses, I narrowed my eyes at him, ignoring my initial observation that he was pretty damn cute. “Are you really implying that I don’t know how to use an elevator?” I scoffed.

He reached around me, completely invading my personal space, and hit the button in question. “Well, you’re standing here just fucking staring,” he grumbled. “So, either you’re a fucking zombie, or you don’t know how to use a lift. Either way, you’re making me fucking late.”

With a scowl, I turned to face the doors, desperate for them to open- although less desperate to get into the enclosed space with this man. As soon as the elevator dinged, I stepped inside the still opening doors, smashing the floor number Lanie had texted me and settling myself into a corner with crossed arms. The man stepped on after me and reached for the buttons, but stopped, thumb hovering over the number I had just hit. With a small hmmph, he slouched in the opposite corner, mirroring my closed-off body language.

It was a silent ride, filled with scowls and impatient huffs from both of us. I tried to remember the last time someone was so snide to me; it definitely didn’t happen often, at least not away from the safe anonymity of the internet.

When the elevator got to our floor, the man glared at me, a grunt urging me to step out first. I gave a hum of acknowledgement, matching his curt tone and refusing to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

What a dick.

Unfortunately, that dick was about two steps behind me as I walked down the hall to the KBPR office. I tried to ignore the heavy sounds of his footsteps and focus on the insane idea this supposedly brilliant PR expert had come up with.

That PR expert smiled at me when I approached, sticking her hand out. “I’m Keeley Jones,” she chirped, her professional tone and handshake contrasting with her bright pink dress and sparkly shoes. “It is so nice to meet you!” Her eyes shifted behind me. “And I assume you already met Roy in the lift!”

Oh no. Oh hell no. There was no way this was the guy, this scowling, rude, son of a-

“Can we start this meeting?” the man- Roy- grumbled as he approached. “I’ve only got like an hour. I left Beard in charge of training, so the team’s probably in the fucking sewer again.”

“Come on in,” Keeley Jones hummed, gesturing for us to follow her. We walked through the bright office, following her into what I assumed was her personal office, one as brightly lit and colorful as her.

Lanie was already on the plush couch, scrolling on her phone. She raised her eyebrows when she saw me. “What’s up with the sunglasses? Not hungover, are we?” Her bored tone was annoyingly familiar.

I rolled my eyes and plopped down on the couch next to her, removing the shades. “Didn’t want to be recognized on my way into a public relations office,” I muttered, tucking them into my purse. “Figured that would defeat the purpose of this whole operation.”

Keeley Jones smiled at me, an admittedly lovely, friendly smile, as she took a seat behind her desk; Roy hovered nearby. “She’s a smart one, Lanie, just like you said.” She looked up at Roy. “You two got acquainted on the lift, then?” When he simply grunted in reply, she turned back to me. “Now, I understand if you think this idea is crazy,” she started slowly. “And it kind of is. But believe me when I say, it’s been done, and I’ve seen it work.” She cleared her throat. “Celebrities fake-date all the time. To promote projects, to deflect bad press, to hide secrets. So you wouldn’t be the first ones to do this, trust me.” She gestured towards Roy. “And I think Roy here is perfect for you. He’s older and more mature than your previous boyfriends, so none of that party-boy stuff. He’s dated plenty of celebrities- including myself- so he knows what comes with the territory. Absolute football legend, so I think you’re suitably matched in terms of fame. And he’s pretty damn private these days.” Her smile softened. “And if I’m being candid, he’s probably the best guy I know. He’s so protective and trustworthy. He’ll have your back.”

“What’s in it for him?” I couldn’t help the way I narrowed my eyes at the brooding man; he returned the glare in kind.

“He could use the press too,” Keeley chuckled, gazing up at him. “I love you, Roy, but you’re not the most poised with the media.” She turned back to me as he rolled his eyes, something close to affection on his face this time. “He could use some of your charm and charisma to bolster his own reputation with the papers.” She nodded firmly. “It’s a match made in heaven. Or KBPR.”

Lanie nudged me. “What d’you think babes?”

I thought it was insane. Fake dating to get the press off my back? There were so many ways this thing could backfire. Not to mention the fact that my potential fake boyfriend was already on my nerves, with his probably permanent scowl and annoyed eyes.

But, as my mind wandered to the headlines I’d passed at the newsstands on my way to this meeting, I knew that I had to at least try.

“Yeah,” I murmured with a shrug. “Let’s do it.”

~

Roy only vaguely heard her agree to the plan. He was too busy trying not to smile at Keeley’s praise; that he was mature, a legend, protective, and trustworthy. As ridiculous as he thought this whole publicity stunt business was, he was willing to give it a shot- for Keeley.

“Well, since we’re all onboard,” Keeley hummed, pulling out her tablet. “All that’s left to do is sign NDAs and plan your little romance.” She glanced at the calendar on her desk. “I’ve got a meet-cute in mind, actually. You’re friends with Dani Rojas, right?”

Roy blinked as the pop princess nodded, showing enthusiasm for the first time since he found her in front of the lift. “Dani? Oh, I love Dani! He’s such a sweetheart.”

“Oi.” Roy frowned at Keeley. “If they already know each other, why didn’t you ask Rojas to do this shit? The press like him a hell of a lot more than they like me.”

A snort came from the couch. “Don’t think his girlfriends would like him adding another woman to their relationship, even if it’s just pretend.”

Keeley nodded. “Exactly. And again, you’ve got this steady older guy thing going on, Roy. You manage a professional football team, you coach your niece, you sit at home and read. You’re very domestic, and I think she needs to be seen that way.” She grinned. “Dani doesn’t exactly have that same reputation. But he does provide you two with a connection.” She turned her attention back to her visitors. “Here’s what I’m thinking: you get Dani to invite you to a Richmond game and go out with the team afterwards. Win or lose, those guys pretty much always do something after a match. And that’s where you two can meet and connect.” She leaned back comfortably, looking every bit like the boss she was. “Then we’ll get you two seen together, get you to a few more matches, get Roy to a show, make some cryptic social media posts. Soft launch. Then we’ll do your debut as a couple, have you attend events on each other’s arms, gush about each other online and in interviews. Maybe you write Roy a song, maybe you go on holiday together, that kind of thing.” She flipped through the planner on her desk. “All in all, I’m thinking four to six months, then you can end things amicably and stay friends.”

“Six months?” Roy carped. “Keeley, you didn’t mention-”

“That’s a respectable period of time,” the ex-model interrupted. “Long enough for you two to get attention, be believable as a serious couple, and to get everyone to forget about these headlines.” She shook her head at Roy. “What, you thought you’d go on one date and that would be it? Come on, Roy. It took at least three weeks for us to start making headlines together. You know this takes time.”

Roy’s voice went low. “Keeley-”

Keeley stood and grabbed Roy’s arm; he wondered if she could feel that same little surge of energy at the contact. “Will you ladies give us one moment?” She dragged Roy out of the office, out of earshot. “Come on, Roy,” she huffed, letting go of him. “You said you could do this.”

“That was before I met her,” Roy grumbled, folding his arms and missing her touch. “This isn’t gonna work. No one’s going to believe us. We’ve barely met, and already she’s a right fucking nightmare-”

“You’re not exactly my daydream either, Kent.”

Roy whipped around. She stood in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed. She walked over and gazed up at him with nothing but determination on her face.

“Listen,” she started. “I get it. This is stupid. The press is stupid. I think Keeley and Lanie are insane for this scheme, and I don’t really believe it’s going to work, if I’m being honest.” She looked at Keeley. “No offense, Miss Jones.” She turned her eyes back to Roy. “But this whole fame thing is an absolute fucking game. And apparently we both need help playing it.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m in if you are.”

A slow sigh escaped Roy’s lips. He really could use the positive exposure. Despite his growing comfort in front of the cameras, he still had years- decades- of shit press to make up for. And the Greyhounds could always use whatever positive publicity they could get. It’d be good for the club, and Roy would do just about anything for the club.

And he’d do absolutely anything for Keeley.

All it took was one glance over at that face, the face he missed waking up to, and he was done for. “Fine,” he huffed, shaking the popstar’s hand. “I’m fucking in.”

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