Chapter 1: Try Me, Motherfucker
Chapter Text
Phoebe O’Sullivan has been a force to be reckoned with since she was six.
Her hero—then, now, always—was her uncle Roy Kent, the footballer who taught her not just how to pass and tackle but how to stand up and never back down. From the moment she learned the world wasn’t fair, she made it her personal mission to be.
So when, at the age of fifteen, her step-cousin Henry Lasso called her sobbing—because his mother’s boyfriend, a cop, had laid hands on him and Michelle—Phoebe didn’t hesitate. She bought a one-way ticket to Kansas before she’d even taken off her school uniform.
There are some situations the police won’t touch. And when the abuser is the police? Well, that’s when someone like Phoebe steps in.
She left a note—short and vague. Just said: handling something. Then she crossed three time zones and ignored the nonstop buzzing of her phone from her mum, Uncle Roy, and Uncle Ted.
She didn’t answer until she landed down in Kansas.
“Hey, Uncle Roy.”
“Phoebe O’Sullivan, where the fuck are you?”
“Relax, don’t you have MyLife360?” she asked, like she wasn’t halfway across the world with a duffel bag and a plan.
“Phoebe, that doesn’t explain why the hell you’re in Kansas.”
“Uncle Roy, I’ve got some stuff to take care of.”
“IN KANSAS?”
Phoebe held the phone away from her ear. “Geez, you’re loud.”
“Your mum has been worried sick, I’ve been worried sick-“
“Sorry, Phoebe, you know how Roy gets,” Ted said, calmer, but nonetheless worried. “Why are you in Kansas, though, Honey?”
“It’s something I’ve got to deal with… before you come deal with it,” Phoebe explained.
“It’s to do with Henry, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
Henry was seventeen, two years older than her. But that didn’t matter. He was family. And family didn’t get left behind.
“I’m hopping on a bus now, Ted, tell my mum and Uncle Roy that I’m fine. I’ll be home in a couple days.”
“Phoebe, you’re fifteen ,” Ted said gently. “You’re still a kid, honey. You can’t just vanish like this. Especially not when Roy’s checking flight times like a man possessed.”
“I’m not checking flight times, I’m checking deaths per year in Kansas , and you should all be very fucking afraid!” Roy’s voice exploded in the background.
Phoebe hung up with a calm “Talk to you soon, Ted.”
_____________________
The bus dropped her in town just before sundown.
She bought two things: a thick, heavy rope—which she knotted with purpose—and a can of red paint.
Then she walked to Henry’s house. She could hear the screaming from outside the door.
“Fucking bitch! Can’t even make damn pancakes right!”
“Oh, I fucking know he didn’t just call her a bitch around me,” Phoebe whispered.
“And your bitch of a son won’t even fight back like a man. Come on, step up to me!”
Phoebe didn’t knock. She didn’t pause. The door wasn’t even locked.
She kicked it open and stepped into the chaos.
“I’ll step up to you, arsehole!” Phoebe stood right in front of the fat fuck. “Maybe you should lay off the donuts, fat boy.”
The boyfriend—broad, red-faced, drunk on power—laughed in her face.
“This your hero? A blonde bitch with an accent? Maybe I should give her a black eye too.” He lunged, grabbing her hair.
Big mistake.
She swept his legs out from under him like she was clearing the pitch. He went down hard. She followed up with a heel to the back of the knees.
“I’m a cop ! I’ll have you arrested!”
“Listen here, you fucking wanker,” Phoebe pinned his arms behind him, her knee pressed into his back. “I fucking know I can’t keep you down for long, but I’ve got evidence against you dumb ass. Remember that black eye? Guess who had a damn camera in his room recording you. And guess who has a wire on her recording you.”
“You fucking-“
“No, you listen. I was raised right. I know how to fight, and more importantly, when to fight. You touched Henry. You laid hands on Michelle. You don’t get to walk away from that.”
Phoebe got off and kicked him in the ribs one good time.
“I also play football and my uncle is a footballer. You should know that.”
Michelle screamed for her to stop. Henry watched, silent but wide-eyed, from the corner.
Phoebe took the rope off the counter and started beating Michelle’s boyfriend with it. She didn’t aim to kill—just enough to make a point. She hit him in all the places where it would hurt: the ribs, the back, the solar plexus.
And she didn’t stop until she was good and tired. Well worn, and tired. And covered in red paint, bruises, and blood.
Henry stepped forward, offering a damp towel and his suitcase.
“I’m gonna FaceTime Uncle Roy first,” Phoebe said. “Michelle, you can either stay with that prick and I take Henry with me or you join us. But either way, Henry is coming with me. Now, let’s go, Hen.”
She stepped outside the house into the dark. Henry followed her.
“That,” Henry said softly, “was badass.”
“Thank you. Now hush up. I’ve got to call Roy before he calls Interpol.”_____________
The phone only rang once, showing a very pissed off Roy Kent.
“What the fuck happened to you?” He looked pissed but his voice read concern.
Phoebe smiled sweetly. “Handled some business. Me and Henry are catching the next flight to London.”
“Wait, Henry ?”
Henry waved sheepishly from beside Phoebe. “Hey, Papa Roy.”
“I want a full bloody explanation. Starting with why the hell you're covered in blood !”
“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not mine,” Phoebe shrugged.
“ That’s not better! ” Ted shouted from off-screen. “Your mum’s here too, by the way.”
Phoebe winced. “Oh, it’s fine, Henry and I just need to leave this state before I have a warrant on my head.”
“Phoebe O’Sullivan!” came from the whole group.
“I didn’t fly halfway around the world for fun. Henry was crying. Black eye. Bruises. That bastard laid hands on him and Michelle. So yeah, I flew to Kansas, kicked down a door, got grabbed by the hair, and then I beat the shit out of him.”
Roy looked positively murderous. “He touched you?”
“Yeah, and he regrets it. I promise.”
“Phoebe, violence isn’t always the-“
“Did you use the rope like I told you to?” Roy interrupted.
“ Roy! ” Ted and Phoebe’s mum said in unison.
“Punish me later,” he directed at Ted before redirecting back to Phoebe. “Did you use the rope or not?”
“I did.”
“You dipped it in red paint.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Don’t worry, Uncle Ted. He won’t talk. Can’t exactly brag about getting his arse kicked by a fifteen-year-old girl. His squad would roast him.”
“We’ve got it all,” Henry added. “Photos. Videos. Recordings.”
“Phoebe, we’re eating ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner when you get back,” Ted said.
Her mum stepped in. “Phoebe, you’re grounded. A full month. No phone. No telly. Just school and home. Got it?”
“Yes, Mum.”
“I’m seriously proud of you, though. Get washed up so they don’t stare at you like you’re mental.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter 2: The Falling Action
Summary:
There are consequences to every action.
Chapter Text
He was waiting at Heathrow before their flight even landed.
Roy Kent stood just past security, arms crossed, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and barely-contained rage. The second Phoebe and Henry walked out of Arrivals, dragging their bags and looking like two underage vigilantes who had just survived a war, Roy surged forward.
Phoebe got a full second to smirk before she was scooped into a bear hug that crushed the air out of her lungs.
“You stupid, brilliant, reckless little legend,” Roy growled into her hair. “Fucking warn me before you take on the fucking world by yourself again.”
“Missed you too, Uncle Roy,” Phoebe wheezed out.
When Roy pulled back, it was only to check her face with those hard, dark eyes. A cut on her temple. Faint bruising under her jaw. He looked like he wanted to kill someone.
Then his gaze shifted to Henry, who looked smaller than he had on the screen, even with his tall frame and suitcase. He looked skinny around the edges, not a healthy one. Roy was sure if he looked close enough, he could see Henry’s ribs, and he could certainly see the black eye on his face. He looked less like the boy Roy had seen on calls and more like a ghost wearing Henry’s shape.
Roy stepped in and hugged him, too. Not quick, not awkward—a full, silent embrace. Just everything in his chest wrapped around that boy until Henry sagged into it, arms tight around Roy’s middle.
“You’re safe now, yeah?” he asked roughly.
Henry nodded, eyes watering. “Yeah. Thanks to Phoebe.”
Roy exhaled, shoulders heavy with relief and his throat burning. “Fucking right, thanks to Phoebe.”
______________________
They got home to Roy’s and Ted’s house by sundown.
Phoebe was banned from using her phone (“You can FaceTime me, your Uncle Ted, and your mum, and that’s it”), but Henry got to keep his, and Roy ordered in three pints of ice cream and two pizzas.
Phoebe sat cross-legged on the couch, ice pack on her shoulder, licking caramel swirl from a spoon while Roy reviewed the footage on her phone with the grim determination of someone preparing to present evidence at Congress.
Henry sat beside her, quiet, watching Muppets and not talking much. Roy didn’t push. He just kept a hand on his shoulder the whole time. A quick reminder he was there and he wasn’t alone.
______________________
The next morning, Roy went full Roy Kent. And Ted backed him up because there was no way in hell someone was going to lay a hand on their boy and get away with it.
Roy didn’t call the regular ones. Not after what that cop had done. Instead, he called a few people he’d known back from his Chelsea days—lawyers, Trent Crimm, and a detective from a different precinct with a personal vendetta against dirty cops.
The footage was undeniable. The black eye. The yelling. The assault.
And Phoebe’s voice, cool and clear on the tape: “You’ve messed with the wrong fucking family.”
The detective reviewed it all and promised they'd handle it. Quietly. Strategically.
“Leave it with me, Roy. He won’t wear a badge much longer.”
“Good,” Roy growled. “Because if I go over there and take it from him myself, the only way you’ll be able to identify the body is through dental records.”
______________________
Phoebe didn’t regret what she did.
But at some point, the adrenaline faded, and the bruises ached. Her mum came in that evening, gave her a tight hug and a full week of grounded silence. Phoebe didn’t argue. She was just glad her mum allowed her to stay for a couple more nights. She slept late. She ate everything Roy put in front of her. She made Henry tea the way he liked it, with too much sugar for her liking and ice (Kansas folks and their sweet tea).
Henry didn’t cry anymore. But he flinched at loud noises, didn’t like being alone, and hated the dark.
Phoebe stayed in his room every night. Just curled up in a corner with a book and her headphones, making sure he knew someone was there with him.
___________________
One night, four days later, Roy knocked on the doorframe with Ted trailing slightly behind him.
“You two okay?”
“Yeah,” Henry said. “Phoebe’s been teaching me how to throw a proper punch.”
Phoebe smirked. “Uncle Roy taught me. It’s only fair I pass his strategy on.”
Roy huffed. “You two are bloody terrifying.”
There was a pause. Then Henry asked quietly, “Am I… in trouble?”
Ted went to intervene but Roy put a hand on his chest and nodded at him. He could handle this.
Roy walked in and sat on the edge of the bed.
“No. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I didn’t tell Dad. I let it happen.”
“No, you didn’t,” Phoebe said fiercely. “You survived it.”
Roy nodded, voice rough. “You did everything you could. And when you needed help, you called family. That’s brave as fuck, Henry. And your dad understands.”
Henry’s eyes glistened. “I didn’t think anyone would come.”
“I would’ve torn down the fucking country to come,” Roy said. “But Phoebe got there first.”
“Yeah, you should’ve seen him, Hen,” Ted interjected. “He literally called up seven airports to get the quickest flight to Kansas. He was willing to drop a million dollars to do so.”
“I’m rich, Phoebe was in a different country, and Henry was in danger,” Roy told him. “I would’ve paid more.”
“She beat the hell out of him,” Henry whispered into the room, half in awe, half in disbelief.
“She did,” Roy said, eyes shining. “With a rope dipped in red paint. Like some kind of bloody Batman sidekick.”
“I prefer Red Hood,” Phoebe muttered.
“Whatever. Point is—you’re both safe now. And you’re not alone. Ever again. Unless you want to be but even then, Ted and I aren’t going to leave you alone. You’re stuck with us. You get me?”
They both nodded.
Roy stood up. “Right. Go to sleep. We’re eating cake for breakfast tomorrow.”
“Uncle Roy—” Phoebe’s voice stopped him. “Thank you. For believing me. For not freaking out too much.”
He turned, staring at her with that soft, grumpy affection only Roy Kent could manage.
“You’re my fucking niece,” he said. “There’s not a thing on this planet I wouldn’t do for you.”
Phoebe smiled. “And Henry?”
Roy’s gaze slid to the boy in the bed. He fidgeted with the wedding ring on his ring finger. “He’s mine, too. So anyone who tries to hurt him again—cop or not—I’ll end them.”
Ted looked at him with more love in his heart than he could muster.
Henry grinned faintly. “That’s terrifying.”
“It’s supposed to be.”
______________________
Later that night, as Phoebe finally slept soundly and Henry snored lightly beside her, Roy and Ted sat alone in the kitchen, staring at the files on the table. Police reports. Medical forms. The lawyer’s contact info. The videos backed up on two flash drives.
Ted made them coffee. Roy happily accepted it, leafing through the files again.
Then he whispered, “You did good, Phoebe.”
And for the first time in days, Roy Kent broke. Full on sobbing with shoulders shaking, breath catching, and silent tears he didn’t bother hiding.
Ted came up behind him, arms circling his shoulders, holding him steady.
“I know,” Ted murmured. “I know.”
Roy didn’t fight it. He just let himself cry with the steady weight of Ted keeping him grounded.
Lisezueth on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Sep 2025 02:18AM UTC
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Idontcare552 on Chapter 1 Sun 07 Sep 2025 06:25PM UTC
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