Chapter Text
The sun is blinding on the day of Jamie and Roy’s wedding. It reflects off the white sands of the beach and the heat is only tempered by the ocean spray in the air.
It’s perfect, this private little nook of paradise. Every single one of their friends and family are in the audience; all of the people who love them are there to witness the best day of Roy and Jamie’s lives. It’s everything Jamie had wanted and everything Roy had been determined to give him.
As he stands at the alter, feet bare in the sand, Roy can’t help but admire his lover. Freckles dot his face and his chemo port scar is displayed proudly on his chest above the half open white linen shirt. Jamie’s tan pants do absolute wonders for his ass and Roy knows, without a doubt, that they’re going to be the first thing he rips off his husband when they get back to their hotel room tonight.
Jamie is an absolute vision, skin tan and golden, hand clasped tightly in Roy’s. Freckles dot Jamie’s face, delicate little constellations from cheekbone to cheekbone, down to the corner of his mouth, where Roy is going to kiss as soon as their vows are done. Roy has a sense of deja vu, looking at Jamie, thinking about how warm and bright and beautiful his lover is. Roy knows that he’s staring at Jamie, not giving a lick of attention to the words Ted is saying in front of them, but Roy doesn’t care. He knows Jamie is going to make fun of him later for being all googly eyed, but Roy doesn’t really care. The only thing Roy cares about is that in about fifteen minutes or so, the man holding his hand is going to be his husband.
“Alright now,” Ted is saying, as Roy checks back in to his own wedding ceremony. “I have it on good authority that these fellas here have written some vows. Jamie?”
They turn to face one another as Jamie pulls a little white card from his back pocket.
“Lover of mine,” Jamie begins and God, Roy can feel his face flushing already. “What words could I even say to convey the depths of my feelings for you? I love you seems like nothing when every day I am made a better man for being in the presence of your love. I wish there was a better word for what we have. I wish that I could call you my soulmate and have the world understand that I mean soulmate as in you are part of my soul. You are the best parts of me, Roy Kent, and I will spend the rest of my life loving you like you deserve.”
Sam hands Jamie a ring and Jamie is quick to slip it onto Roy’s finger, kissing it gently before joining their hands once more. Roy clears his throat, suddenly nervous that maybe his vows aren’t that great. He’s never been good with audiences or words or well, any of the stuff that a wedding ceremony entails. Jamie squeezes his hand, like he can read Roy’s thoughts. He probably can, if Roy is being honest.
“Um, uh, sorry.” Roy stammers, flushing red and fumbling with his own little white card as their family and friends chuckle. “Nervous, which is stupid as fuck but anyways. I uh...I’ve never loved anyone or anything as much as I love you, Jamie. I’ve always been pragmatic, always had difficulty expressing my feelings. I never dreamed of soulmates or falling in love or happily ever afters. Until you.
You’ve given me a hundred thousand opportunities to dream. You’ve given me a infinite number of joyful moments. You’ve gifted me the opportunity to love and be loved in return and I...I am so in awe of you. I was in awe of you when you were my best friend and running me ragged all across Amsterdam just to find a fucking windmill. I was in awe of you when you were dying because I’d never seen someone be so fucking brave. I was in awe of you in your recovery and all the moments of triumph afterwards.
And now, I’m in awe of you as my soon to be husband. Because here I have the best man, the bravest man, the most lovely man standing across from me at this alter, waiting to spent the rest of his life with me. It’s fucking crazy, this dream you dreamed for us. I can’t wait to spend every moment of it with you.”
With that said, Roy takes the ring Keeley offers and slips it onto Jamie’s finger. He doesn’t wait for Ted to announce them as husband and husband, or to say I do, or anything like that. Roy doesn’t need any of it. He just draws Jamie in and kisses him for all he’s worth because they have a happily ever after to get to.
--
“Why the fuck does the color of the countertops matter?”
“Because I don’t want to spend the next three decade washing streaks off of black countertops.”
“Three decades, huh?” Jamie teases, sidling up to Roy’s side. “You wanna spend the next three decades with me in this house?”
“No, I don’t want to spent the next three decades in this house because I fucking hate these countertops!” Roys replies, annoyed and sweaty and hungry. They’ve been house hunting for ages . It wasn’t this hard to find his flat when he was a stupid footballer with a ridiculous amount of money. How is it so hard to find one now that he’s matured and married and the happiest he’s ever been?
Their real estate agent slips back into the kitchen before Roy can start cursing. She takes one look at Roy’s face and recommends they leave it for the day and come back to it tomorrow.
They meet her at a property out in the suburbs at 8am sharp the next morning. The second Roy sees the red door and white picket fence, he’s a goner. It’s like the rest of his fucking life flashes before his eyes as they tour the house. The four bedrooms in addition to the master is perfect for the family they’ve only tentatively started to talk about starting. The backyard has a pool with a fence and gate, enough grass for the stupid dog Jamie has been begging for, and a cluster of lemon trees that waft fragrance through the air. The kitchen has white marble countertops that won’t streak and stainless steal appliances. Upstairs is a playroom and an extra bathroom. There are four separate storage closets and built in shelving in the garage. There’s enough room in the common area for them to host the lads and the entryway has a gorgeous little nook that Roy is itching to read in.
It’s like the house was built for them, so that they could build a life here together.
“It’s perfect.” Jamie says, like he’s in Roy’s head.
“Yeah, it’s fucking perfect.” Roy agrees, drawing Jamie into his side and pressing a kiss to his temple.
--
The hospital calls in the middle of the night.
Jamie damn near falls off the bed trying to reach his screeching phone. God, why does he even have the ringer on in the first place? He’s still half asleep as he answers, smacking at Roy’s lump of a body on the other side of the bed. Jamie is nodding his head at his phone, a series of yeses and we’ll be right there and thank you, thank you, thank you spoken into the receiver. They’re up and dressed and in the car before either of them can even come to terms with the fact that the day they’ve been waiting for has finally come.
When they get to the maternity ward, it’s easy to find what they’re looking for. The little bassinet label is pink and Rosie Tartt-Kent is scribbled in black sharpie across the middle.
There, in the little plastic crib, is their girl.
She’s beautiful.
She’s so fucking beautiful that Jamie doesn’t even try to stop the tears running down his face. Roy draws him in, laughing and kissing all over his husband’s cheeks, his own face just as wet.
“She’s fucking perfect, isn’t she?” Roy sobs, squeezing Jamie tight. He looks like a loon, dark hair all mussed, face split wide with a smile while tears run down his face. Jamie has never been more in love.
Jamie wipes at his own tear streaked face before agreeing. “She’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen. Hairy like you though, huh?” And she is, hairy, that is. She’s got a fine coating of black hair up and down her arms and back, a full head of hair. Ten fingers grasp at the little white and blue blanket she’s swaddled in and when she yawns, little tongue poking the roof of her mouth, Jamie feels like he’s seeing the world for the first time.
He never thought he’d have any of this- a husband, a house, a daughter. Chemo had fried up his chance for biological children and he never really fully thought he’d even live long enough to consider children. After a lot of discussion about their options, they’d gone through the process of Roy donating and finding a surrogate and waiting and preparing and it seemed like forever and no time at all. But now here Jamie is, looking at his daughter who looks exactly like the man he loves, from the hair to the dark eyes to the pale skin. His daughter. His daughter ! Jamie Tartt is a dad, a girl dad, a certified girl dad.
God, fuck, this is the happiest moment of his life.
And every moment with sweet little Rosie is just as amazing as the first one. Jamie loves every minute of being a dad; from the sound of her giggle to the piercing note of her midnight cry, from the puking on his favorite shirt to the throwing the food on the floor from her highchair.
He loves how she is wholly herself as the years go on.
She learns to floor scoot and then army crawl and then crawl for real. She learns to stand and eat mushy food and then to walk, wobbly and determined. She gets her first tooth and then another and then another, until she’s got a mouth full of them that say garbled little words that make no sense. She loves music and her stuffed bunny even though he’s missing an eye and Keeley is her favorite person (which Jamie knows means that his girl has good taste because Keeley should be everyone’s favorite). She hates the sound of the vacuum and laughs when the dog wags its tail in her face and spits peas out just because it makes Roy grunt and grumble.
But one of the things he loves the most is watching Roy become a father. Jamie meant it when he said that he had dreamed Roy as a father, that he’d fall in love with the way Roy loves their children, and Jamie had been right. Because if Jamie had thought that Roy was devoted to him, then it’s nothing in comparison to the way Roy is devoted to his daughter. Roy is the first to answer a cry on the baby monitor. Roy is the first person up in the morning, bottle ready. Rosie wants Roy to hold her 24/7. Rosie wants Roy to feed her, burp her, sing to her, read to her. Rosie takes her first steps in Roy’s direction. Rosie says dada for the first time while nestled in Roy’s arms. Rosie is Roy’s mini me and honestly, Jamie gets it, he really does. He can’t even find it in himself to be jealous that Roy is Rosie’s favorite because Roy is Jamie’s favorite too.
Rosie is the culmination of every dream Jamie had ever dreamed and every day he spends with her is another day he spends grateful that he survived cancer. He’s so grateful that the universe or God or whatever let him live long enough to experience this.
It’s the best.
It’s the best thing ever.
--
Retirement for the Tartt-Kents
Trent Crimm
Early Monday morning, AFC Richmond called a press conference to announce the retirement of both their head manager and franchise player. Though the atmosphere in the audience was tense, Roy Tartt-Kent and Jamie Tartt-Kent could not have been more relaxed as they sat side by side, joined by Rebecca Welton and Assistant Coach Beard, at the conference table. The two did not take any questions and Ms. Welton stated that further details about the upcoming season would become available in due time.
Both Roy Kent and Jamie Tartt have served as the blueprint for teamwork the past decade of play at AFC Richmond. From former nemeses on the field to an extraordinary coach-player relationship, Tartt and Kent have become the guidebook for what it takes to claw your way to the top.
Roy Kent, infamous on the pitch for his speed and brutal shutdowns, transitioned into the head coaching position at the beginning of the 2025 season, filling the role left behind by the departure of what many thought to be irreplaceable Ted Lasso. However, Kent has done a fine job in his decade long run as team manager, solidifying Richmond as a top club. His knack for planning and details has served Richmond well throughout the seasons, especially in terms of strategy and recruitment. Richmond now boasts the highest paid freshman player salaries in the league, thanks to Kent’s overhaul of the junior mentorship program. While he’ll be missed on the pitch, Richmond fans can rest assured that their team is in good hands with Assistant Coach Beard taking up the mantle of Manager for the upcoming season.
As for Jamie Tartt, what can one say? An already gifted player, with what many dubbed a God touched foot, Tartt has always been a star. But perhaps a turning point was his cancer diagnosis early on in his career. Many remember the harrowing year without Tartt on the pitch, the super star fighting for his life outside of the spotlight. The football world celebrated his remission and subsequent return to Nelson Road with all the fanfare it deserved and Jamie Tartt delivered on his fans’ hopes. Tartt would go on to finish his returning season with some of his career’s most impressive stats, cementing him as the player to beat. Tartt has gone on to play for England an incredible five times, gracing both the World Cup and Olympic fields. He leaves Richmond with a legacy both on and off the field, with charity work across the board. When asked for comment, Tartt stated “Richmond is my home, but it’s time to focus on raising my family. I’ve got three kids at home, mate, and they need their dad. I’ve given my all to this club over the years and now, I think I’ve earned a little selfishness.”
It was a shock to many when Roy Kent and Jamie Tartt announced their marital union in September of 2026. TheTartt-Kents have continued to be private about their relationship, even on social media. Tartt announced the birth of their first child, via surrogate, on both his Twitter and Instagram but further details of their life together have been few and far between throughout the years with just two other birth announcements and a few anniversary posts dedicated to his husband.
No one can argue that the Tartt-Kents have left behind big shoes to fill. While we hate to see such a legacy leave, we’re excited to see what those two bring to the world beyond the football pitch.
--
“I’m not getting it done.” Roy states, arms crossed.
“You have to get it done.” Jamie counters.
“Yeah, well fucking funny cause I’m not getting it done!” Roy argues, face scrunched in displeasure. The ice pack on his knee is dripping and cold. Roy is irritated and frustrated and he’s not going to get fucking knee replacement surgery. It’s ridiculous. His knee is fine .
“Hey daddy?” Rosie says, plopping down on the couch, switching out his ice pack as she nestles into his side.
“Yes, lovely?” Roy says, tone immediately soft. Every ounce of irritation at his knee flees his body with one look at his eldest daughter. At eighteen, she’s worlds away from the tiny baby he once rocked to sleep. Now, she’s a first year university student, smart as a whip and equally as beautiful. Her two siblings are equally as beautiful (and loud, so loud all the time, the noise echoing from the game room upstairs no matter how many times Jamie tells them to keep it down). He reaches out to pet Rosie’s head, smoothing her hair back, smiling as she leans into it just like she did as a toddler.
“You’re getting the surgery, okay?” Rosie says, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek, smug little smile on her face. He’s always been weak to her and she knows it, exploits it without shame. She’s her father’s daughter, that’s for sure.
Two weeks later, Roy is waking up in hospital, leg elevated and head woozy from the anesthesia. His vision blurs in and out, nausea climbing up his throat. Something cool touches his lips and when he opens them, an ice chip is slipped in. It’s blessedly cool and melts in Roy’s dry mouth. He swishes it around as his vision solidifies. Next to his bedside is Jamie, beautiful as ever.
“Hey baby,” Jamie whispers, carding his hands through Roy’s hair. “You did good, okay? Everything is okay. The doc said that your new knee looks great. You’re a real bionic man now, hm?”
“Wanna go home.” Roy murmurs, already halfway asleep again.
When he next wakes, Roy is in his own bed, wearing his own pajamas. He’s propped up against the headboard. There’s a homemade banner stretched across the window, covered in glitter and tiny pressed handprints.
“Daddy, you’re awake!” Hannah shouts from the doorway. She runs into the room, pigtails swinging, and stops short of pouncing on the bed like she would usually do. Her brow is furrowed in concern as she glances over at his leg. “You’re okay, right?”
Ah, his Hannah, the most empathetic of the bunch. For a twelve year old, she’s got kindness in spades. They’d waited a good long while before going through the surrogacy process again and it had been worth it. Hannah had come to them as dark haired and as beautiful as their older sister. But as she had grown, she was shy and loving and artistic. She flourished at school and loved her after school art lesson and though she only had three friends, they were good kids, all of them. She went through books like a person possessed. On any given Saturday morning, she could be found in the little entryway reading nook, nose buried deep in the pages. It didn’t matter how many years passed, she’s always left enough space for Roy to join her, would always snuggle into his side without a world. She’s his sweetest girl, his little lovely Hannah Marie.
“I’m fine, baby, just a little sleepy.” Roy answers, beckoning her onto the bed. She leaps up on the other side, carefully scooting forward until her head rest on his chest. He smooths a hand down her back, hugging her close. She smells like the fancy strawberry shampoo Jamie insisted he buy for her birthday.
The bedroom is peaceful and quiet for all of five minutes before there’s a shout of “Da!” at the doorway and in toddles Miss Luna Jean Tartt-Kent, in all her half naked three year old glory. She’s wearing nothing but a nappy and a deeply stained white t-shirt. Her hands look like they’ve gone a round or two with Hannah’s marker box and there’s a smear of something across one cheek. Her curly blonde hair in wild and her crooked little teeth stick out as she smiles up at Roy from the side of the bed. Roy’s heart grow five times its size every time he looks at her.
They’d never meant to have more than two kids, figured they were too old for it. But then, they got a call from a social worker from one of the centers they financially support about a two year old who needed a forever home and could they please just try it out? She’d come to them with the trauma of a recently dead mum and a dad in jail. She’d come to them a little bruised and a lot scared.
It was hard.
It was so, so hard.
Because Luna didn’t understand where her Mama was or how to tell them that her bruises hurt. She was deeply mistrustful of them all, especially Roy and Jamie. She had the wildest tantrums, screaming and crying until she gagged. She refused food but then cried hysterically when she couldn’t see food out in the open. She cried when they came near her but then cried for them when they tried to give her space. She didn’t have the vocabulary to express all that she had been through and yet, there was still a spark of determination in her eyes that reminded Roy of Jamie at his hardest moments. Luna wanted to survive and they were equally determined to make sure she not only survived, but thrived.
It had taken hard work, lots of hard work, to make Luna feel at home. It was all Jamie, with his never ending patience and his innate understanding of what to do with a scared child. Roy watched as every place Jamie’s father once hurt, Jamie used to help Luna. When she flinched from him, Jamie would stay stock still and sing to her until her body uncurled itself. When she screamed at him, Jamie told her that he loved her. When she refused food, Jamie would set out even more options for her to choose from. For every difficult moment stemming from her trauma, Jamie seemed to have an answer.
Slowly, Luna began to trust Jamie. She began to trust that he wouldn’t hit her. She began to trust that he would feed her every day, multiple times a day. She began to trust Jamie to tuck her in and sing her to sleep and make her breakfast and wash her hair. Once she trusted Jamie, she began to trust Roy. Then she began to trust her sisters.
And now, a year and a half later, she was their little trouble maker. She was loud and funny and opinionated. No dada was her favorite phrase. If the house was quiet, that meant Luna was into something she shouldn’t be.She ate like a professional footballer and every single one of the lads was obsessed with her. They spoiled her with their time and gifts and facetime calls if they couldn’t make it out to visit over the weekend. It was honestly pretty funny to watch a gaggle of grown men fall to the whims of a three year old.
She had her older sisters wrapped around her little finger. She had both her dads wrapped her finger even tighter. If Miss Luna Jean said jump, her dads asked how high? It would be embarrassing if they hadn’t had to fight so fucking hard for her to feel safe enough to blossom into her personality.
Roy would never begrudge Miss Luna Jean a second of rebellion because his little girl was a spit fire, a fighter, and she was made to push her way through this world no matter what. And her dads would be there to support her every step of the way.
“Ah, Miss Luna Jean, there you are!” Jamie shouts from the doorway. He scoops Luna up, blowing a raspberry onto her tummy and laughing loud and brash as she giggles. He throws her gently onto the bed just as Rosie enters the room. Rosie settles down next to Hannah, reaching over to tuck Luna into her lap. For all her energy, Luna is mush the second her oldest sister cuddles her close.
“Alright, alright, lets settle down before Dad’s robot leg get too excited.” Jamie teases, stretches out across the end of the bed, head turned to look a their little family. Jamie raises his eyebrows in Roy’s direction and Roy smiles back.
Yeah, it’s a good life. The best life, really.
--
Their happily ever after keep growing and growing and growing.
Rosie graduates top of her class and absolutely aces med school. She takes a year off after her boards to work with Doctors Across Borders and they’ve never been so proud. She brings home a girl with curly hair and a nose piercing, introduces her as Annie, and no one is surprised when they’re married two ears later. They travel and volunteer in clinics and win awards and are fuciing brilliant every step of the way.
Hannah, their shy and quiet Hannah, attends a prestigious art school (and very expensive, Jesus Christ, art school is so expensive Jamie, did you know? Roy had shouted after getting the first tuition bill) and then suddenly is creating and curating shows across London. Her work is centered on perspective and emotion. Jamie doesn’t really understand a lot of the art mambo jumbo, but he does understand the happiness that radiate from his lovely Hannah every time he sees her. When Hannah shows up at Christmas holding Toby McClarrens’ hand, nobody is surprised. Of her three childhood friends, Toby was always the one following Hannah around. They have two kids and Jamie thrives in his new role as Grandad.
Miss Luna Jean, in a move that surprises almost everyone, become a children’s book author. Her debut novel tops the charts and suddenly, she’s got a whole series about a gaggle of foster children with super powers. It’s funny and raw and surprisingly mature from someone Jamie once swore was destined to become a professional boxer. His girl finds her calling, writing and donating proceeds from her novels to underprivileged youth. She gifts them an unreleased copy of her new book, Lovely Miss Luna Jean , for Father’s Day one year and each page is a stunning retelling of how Lovely Miss Luna Jean, found her way in the world through the love of her family.
Their happiness spreads and spreads and spreads until one day, Jamie looks up and suddenly they’re in their sixties, grey and a bit wrinkly and still disgustingly in love. With age, comes an appreciation for the small moments; drinking coffee each morning on the patio, the low thrum of Roy’s voice as he reads to Jamie before bed, Facetiming the girls each week and hearing all about their adventures, Christmas cards from all around the world from the lads and their families, watching Phoebe accomplish goal after goal in the women’s league, watching all of their family and friends find their own happy ever afters and getting to support them along the way.
Jamie appreciates the slow pace of their life now. So much of his youth had been spent hustling, running, playing. He’d been sick and dying, then strong and creating a legacy, then weathering the chaos of fatherhood. Now, his days are easy and filled with his family, with Roy, with the work that he loves.
They keep up their charity work, especially their work with the Jamie Tartt Cancer Foundation. They’ve expanded to research the past few years, partnering with a few renowned universities to help further potential treatment options. This foundation is Jamie’s pride and joy because out of his pain, he’d found a way to help others.
It’s their annual fundraising gala that has Jamie rummaging around the top of their closet for his dress shoes. “Shit!” he yelps, as a shoe box falls on his head and to the floor, top popping off.
And oh , Jamie hasn’t thought of the contents of this box in many, many years.
Sitting on the floor of their closet, he pulls the box into his lap and lays out the contents in front of him one by one. First, an ugly knitted little hat in a putrid shade of beige. There’s one with his kit number on it and one that’s lime green and obnoxious. A lumpy one with uneven stitches that he knows Dani made because it neon yellow. Finally, a little blue cap with Believe stitch across the front.
“Hey baby, what are you- oh, wow, I haven’t seen these in years.” Roy says, dropping down next to Jamie. He picks up the blue hat and gently caresses the gold lettering. “We’ve come a long way from needing these, haven’t we?”
And yeah, yeah, they have. Jamie can remember the day Roy brought the box home. It had been inconspicuous in Roy’s hands, a little brown shoebox all wrapped in gaudy ribbon. When Jamie had opened it, a bundle of hand made hats had tumbled out and Jamie had burst into tears. He had cried for his hair and the pride he would have to swallow to lose it. He had cried for the lads, who were so stupid and thoughtful and ridiculous and who probably tried to shave their heads off in solidarity before someone convinced them otherwise. He cried for Roy, who would have to spent the next few months watching Jamie be sick. But mostly, Jamie had cried for himself, because he had cancer and he was so fucking scared.
When he was done crying, Roy had picked up the little blue hat and plopped it on Jamie’s head. “I believe that you are going to recover.” Roy had said. “Fuck 43%.”
From that day forward, no matter how sick Jamie felt, Roy still found the time to pick out a new hat for Jamie to wear. Every day, Roy had given Jamie that little act of service as a reminder that he wasn’t alone. And now, all these years later, Jamie’s life is filled with so much love and joy, that that difficult time seems a distant memory.
Here and now, Jamie pulls Roy’s hand up to his mouth and kisses it. His wedding ring is cool against Jamies lips.
Later, they’ll find Jamie’s dress shoes and attend the gala and raise millions of dollars for cancer research. They’ll come home and make love and fall asleep pressed against one another. They’ll wake up and continue to watch their children grow and thrive. They’ll fall more in love every single day and life will continue to be blessed.
But best of all, they will get to live happily ever after, for a long, long time.
Fin