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Summary
Roy clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I don’t hate you,” he finally managed, truthfully. “I fucking don’t, Tartt—Jamie. You just fucking—” He reached out and curled his fingers around the back of Jamie’s neck, squeezing.
“I—” Roy’s voice, embarrassingly, gave out, and he growled, taking a deep breath before he continued, “You’ve got the fucking potential to be one of the fucking best players in the League, Tartt, and I know you’ve got the work ethic too.”He shook Jamie once, and added, “Stop making yourself fucking smaller. Be a fucking prick on the pitch. Learn to fucking read the situation. You’re good at this shit—I know you are.”
Jamie managed a tiny, quivering grin. “Careful mate. Someone ‘ears you, they might think you like me.”
Roy scoffed. “No fucking chance of that.”
—Roy doesn't like to think he's taking advantage of Jamie. He's making him better, stronger, faster, a better player, and now that he's got the fucking muppet actually behaving for him, he'll be damned if he lets him go.
For the PepPerverse Bottom!Roy Challenge.