#because keeley wanted to and the guys wanted him to be there
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Always lowkey simmering a Leverage AU in the back of my head hear me out:
Ted is an ex-insurance investigator who was able to get his son life-saving medical treatment because his first, original Crime Pal Beard was like âTed if your company doesnât come through with the coverage, weâre doing things my way.â
The company did not come through. The company did let him go due to suspicion of Tedâs involvement in the incident, but Ted will happily remind folks that no charges were formally pressed. Henry is alive and healthy and living with Michelle, who divorced Ted shortly thereafter (not just because of pre-existing marital problems, but because Ted wouldnât tell her anything about why the doctors âââsuddenly decided to do the procedure for freeâââ). Shortly thereafter, Ted fled the country.
What Ted learned from the whole experience is that thereâs a lot of people out there, good people just trying to live by the rules, but sometimes things happen that are just out of their control. And well- if weâve got the means to help the good people out when no one else will, then shouldnât we try?
âWeâve got means,â Beard agrees. âAnd motives.â
They do things Beardâs way now.
#also Rebecca is a grifter who gave it up when she married into money and her name(s) echo mysteriously through the back alleys of London#âdid you hear about this Secret Princess Lydia who went missing in the 90s?â âyes Ted that was meâ#the woman is constantly dodging every half-told lie she made on a lark twenty years ago but she is amazing at keeping them straight#and Roy- Roy long ago took an injury that ended his career as a footballer before it started#and he fell into a bad spot as a hitter#and then he fell into a worse spot#and then he dug himself out for his neice that no one knows about (see: everyone knows about think mafia kid no one is allowed to touch her)#the problem now is heâs getting old#the hits hit harder and his speed isnât what it used to be#(Roy Kentâs slow is still leagues beyond what these young wannabe punks can do these days)#keeley! she is a sneak thief. very charming. tiny. great with repelling down sides of buildings#loves money and shiny rocks and thinks Rebecca is the beeâs knees#and then thereâs Jamie who is a 24 year old hacker with gaudy taste no knack for accents and a problem with authority#in this au him and ted have basically split Nateâs backstory#Tedâs dad took him to bars and taught him little tricks and mind games- nothing fancy just stuff an HR person might know#meanwhile Jamieâs dad took him to shady deals in bars because his dad was a fixer whoâd put bad guys in touch with each other#jamie keeps a tracker running on his laptop with his dadâs whereabouts at all times#unfortunately he didnât think that anyone else would bother looking for him- heâs not exactly a big time crook#but Ted and his crew have pissed off Rupert Mannion who is big time and who wants to hit back at Rebecca for making a fool of him#and Mannionâs people have identified that the way in to breaking their little crew is through Jamie#whoâs name sounds so ridiculous people have assumed it was fake this whole time#anyways#thanks for reading#I will likely never write this but boy I have ideas đĄ#leverage au#ted lasso#jamie tartt#roy kent#keeley jones#rebecca welton
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#it's sucks so much that like 6 weeks later i still feel meh about tl and it's just made me bitter and fed up with it that im not looking-#-forward much to emmys#im only here for the actors nominated and any non-writer noms...#i will not shut up if the finale wins for best writer let that be known#regression of two male characters for last minute love triangle sh*t... trying to give keeley a girl boss ending when they didn't even show#-her being a boss in her own storyline...#ruining all the r/k scenes for s1 and 2 so what would be the point of a rewatch...#making ted so detached and tbh the ep felt detached too and sending him back to kansas when rebecca had an offer right there and not even-#talking with his family all because of his mother showing up once and doing a tell but not show about henry#yes his son is important but ted is more than existing for his son and the last shot just felt like he was d*ad inside#their lead female character's big plot about finally getting someone to love who will treat her right in her life because she wants it...#only for the said guy to be some guy who showed up half way through the show and had barely 20 mins of screen time with her and most of it-#-was him being creepy pushing her boundaries (like ohhh he made her dinner and washed her clothes and didn't hurt her the bare minimum) and#-giving them t/r 1x02 callbacks which was a kick to the face#never mention him again only once after the ep and no seeing him until the last f*cking second on no seeing them together in the montage#quickly shoved in dude who is dutch!ted#freaking teased t/r throughout s3 knowingly with the matchbook and soldier and hallway moment and having ted pining for her in the ep she-#was with boat guy#they have actual build up and it felt natural to go there but they shoved her in with a random dude#and they made a wedding for a toxic ab*sive couple that one writer thinks isn't abusive and also made t/r fans feel sh*t for seeing the-#-love with scenes and parallels THEY WROTE#THEY ACTED...#so yeah f*ck that they don't deserve that win
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
the more i think about the ted lasso series finale the more upset i get
#ted lasso#i thought iâd be feeling bittersweet about ted leaving and thatâs it#but thereâs so much that i didnât like#so much that didnât feel like an open ended ending#but like a story that hadnât been told properly#idk man why is nate on as a kit man and not a coach#i really liked the dutch guy but i donât like that rebecca ends up with someone we know nothing about at all#itâs lazy is what it is#do not get me started on roy and jamieâs plot#and i have never been a shipper for any ship in this show#but honestly roykeeley fans were done dirty#because they made jamie say that he didnât want to be with keeley last season#and throughout season 3 i always got the impression that the two had developed a sort of platonic love tbfh#specially from keeleyâs pov but also jamieâs#so for the love triangle to come up in the series finale? not a fan at all#not to mention jamie telling roy that keeley sent him the video that got leaked#that was fucking disgusting#and frankly ooc#because the jamie tartt that was so apologetic#and so sure that you definitely should delete and itâs not yours to keep#wouldnât flaunt that? thatâs a really gross thing to do and from what they said about jamieâs character in that episode he wouldnât do it!!!#iâm just getting more and more upset#and that has been a trend for me with this final season#it doesnât feel like the final season of this show#and tedâs entire aura was so sad and depressed throughout the finale which made it worse#because iâd have liked him to be happier with his decision of going home#and i wouldâve liked if theyâd clarified that he didnât actually end up with michelle because i canât tell you how much i hate that#iâm not going to even get started on beardâs story or nateâs story because i think nate specially deserves his own post#ted lasso spoilers#jamie tartt
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
If youâre still taking requests, I have an idea thatâs been PLAGUING me in the best way possible: Jamie meets reader and she doesnât know him at first and then maybe a few dates later sheâs like âomg you were on that shitty reality showâ like she does not pay attention to football at all idk I just thought it would be cute đ©”đ©” I absolutely adore your writing đ
i love it when an idea is plaguing. thank you for being so lovely in your request, i appreciate it and you so very much <3 ALSO i ended up playing dnd unexpectedly yesterday, so another drabble tonight and then a new chapter of be still, my foolish heart tomorrow!! | 1.4k words, tw language
You're sat in the Crown and Anchor for what will now be your sixth date. Jamie swears that it's your seventh, and that your first date was actually when the two of you stood on the doorstep of your house for three hours before you finally realised how long you'd been chatting.
You'd been assembling a swing in the garden out front of your house and Jamie happened to be walking by. He stopped to ask if you needed any help and that was it. It was eleven o'clock when he finally went on his way with your number written on a piece of paper that he clutched in his fist.
But it couldn't be a date, you'd say, because he hadn't kissed you when he left. Realistically, you just enjoyed the scrunched up face he made when you playfully argued with him about it, but he didn't need to know that yet.
You were meeting his friends for the first time. It felt early, but Jamie insisted how fun they were and that after you'd met them, the two of you would be able to hang out way more because you could come and visit him at work. You weren't sure why you'd have to meet them here first, but he said it would all make sense.
Nothing about this made sense, because you were currently the only ones in the pub, stuffed into a corner booth. Jamie's thigh brushed yours as he jiggled it, seemingly as full of nervous energy as you.
"Why is no one else here, Jamie?" you whispered, lest the woman behind the bar who looked not to be messed with heard you, "Is something going on?"
"Oh, I jus' booked it out," he says nonchalantly. You gape at him. It had always been clear he had some money, but never this much. Your first thought was the fact that he'd only ever been to your house, never you to his. Granted, it had only been three times so far anyway, but still.
"Are you like...rich-rich?" you ask tentatively, then carry on talking before he can answer, "That sounds terrible, oh god, you don't have to answer that. I don't care either way, you know, I just like-"
"Y/N, babe," he interrupts you, squeezing you into his side, "I know what y' getting at. I'm pretty loaded, I'm not gonna lie, but I didn't want y' to know until I was sure about ya."
Jamie was sure about you? That was news to you. You were a little nervous about how early it was to be sure, but it wasn't as if you weren't sold on him too. You were practically besotted with the man really, even if you were hesitant to tell him.
As if he could read the surprise on your face, he opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted-
"Hey! We're not late, are we?"
There were a few men congregating at the doorway, and the woman at the bar waved them in, greeting them like they were old friends. There were far more people than you'd expected, around ten men and two women crowding into the pub. There was no way all of you would fit around this corner booth.
You crammed any anxiety to the bottom of your stomach and stood up to greet everyone.
"Hi! I'm Y/N, it's so lovely to meet all of you!"
"What the fuck guys?"
Jamie's interjection cut your introductions short, just as you were about to hug the man closest to you who was beaming until Jamie spoke up and ruined his mood.
"I invited Isaac, Colin and Keeley. What are you all doing here?"
They had the decency to look a little sheepish. So that was why Jamie hadn't warned you that there would be 12 of them.
"We all wanted to come and meet the girl you've been droning on about for weeks, bruv," one man chimed in, "We tried drawing straws but it just turned into a huge fucking argument. So here we are. Trust me, mate, like 30 of us wanted to come, so count yourself lucky."
"I didn't fuckin' invite 30 of ya!" he exclaimed, winding a protective hand around your waist. Rather than being intimidated, you now felt incredibly touched that Jamie had been talking about you enough that his friends wanted to meet you so badly, "Did you lot even think about how overwhelming y' might be? Fuckin' idiots."
"Oi! We're on our best fucking behaviour, Tartt. Stop moping and introduce us, you prick."
Okay, so that was definitely Roy. You'd heard at least a little bit about him, that he was sort of a friend/mentor of Jamie's but quite...harsh. That definitely wasn't the word Jamie had used, but it worked.
"Okay! Fuckin' hell, right then..."
And he went around the group. They all pulled chair up to the few tables surrounding yours but didn't crowd you too much. There was Isaac, the one who'd explained things when they came in, Colin and Keeley, of course, who you fell in love with instantly. One group who sat slightly separately were Rebecca, Roy, Ted and Beard who all seemed significantly older than Jamie to be his mates, but you didn't want to question it when everyone was being so nice.
"So, we haven't seen you, so that must mean you've been watching this one on the telly, right?"
Rebecca gestures to Jamie with a warm smile, but when you turn to him, confused, he looks like a deer in the headlights.
"On the telly? In what?"
Rebecca looks suitably shocked now, staring from Jamie to you and back to Jamie.
"She doesn't...?"
Jamie hangs his head and you're left even more confused. You're left staring at the side of his face until it hits you: you'd never connected the dots before but now Rebecca had mentioned TV and you were looking right at him...
"Oh my god!" you exclaim suddenly, making everyone around the table jump, even though the younger lads weren't paying any attention, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"
He looks thoroughly guilty.
"Look, Y/N, I jus' wanted to get to know y' without-"
You weren't finished though, still babbling away to yourself as you stared at him, imagining him as he was when you'd seen him through the screen.
"I mean, it wouldn't have changed anything! Not once you'd helped me, but I suppose if I'd realised maybe I would have been more wary of you. You were terrible on that show! All my friends hated you, and I guess I did too, although I still had a bit of a crush, I can't lie-"
You trailed off when you saw the expressions on everyone's faces. The silence was only broken when Roy burst into loud laughter, throwing his head back in a way you guessed was rare for him.
"You know me...from reality TV?" Jamie said, enunciating every syllable and looking at you in terror. You smiled at him easily, reaching up to push a stray hair back from his face.
"Can't believe I didn't realise it, but yeah. Changes nothing for me, you know. It was a couple years ago right? No more dating shows on the horizon for you?"
If you'd realised this immediately, yes you would have been more on your guard. But you didn't, he was clearly very ashamed of his time on there and you were already falling for him and how fucking nice he was to you. Like every move he made was deliberate. It actually made a lot of sense now, if he had a past to make up for.
It took him a few moments of processing, but he was able to pull you into a side and plant a long, lingering kiss on your forehead eventually.
"No more dating shows," he said, full of relief, "Also, I'm a Premier League footballer, since you've taken that one so well."
Your eyes nearly bug out of your head.
"You're a what?!"
Roy's laugh echoes long into your night, as do the laughs of the rest of Jamie's friends, or teammates as you quickly come to know them. Jamie's more relaxed than he's ever been with you and yeah, you can get why he was sure about this now.
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt#ted lasso x reader#ted lasso#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt fluff#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt oneshot#busy week drabbles!#like real people queue
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
how about a Jamie x reader fic when they go away to Amsterdam they sit together on bus and they wake up cuddling and then thereâs an issue w hotel booking and thereâs a one bed trope and they end up waking up cuddled together and then they admit feelings and reader goes to game with a tartt jersey on <3
Iâve been thinking about this forever, and Iâm terribly sorry it took so long!! I do enjoy being an adult, but Iâm at a point in life where I donât have much free time and if I do, I use it to sleepđ
I really miss the days when Ted Lasso was still airing and the x reader tags had new content every day. I feel like that one meme of Thanos when heâs like âFine. Iâll do it myself.â Shoutout to all yâall who are still here and reading my stuff! Love you!!
smile at me
Itâs straight-up fucked. It really, really is. But also maybe itâs good, as Keeley pointed out, because not having a boyfriend anymore means you can focus on yourself?
Or something.Â
Of course he had to break up with you right before leaving for Amsterdam. Hell, he broke up with you because you were leaving for Amsterdam.Â
âI donât want you going to another country with a bunch of other guys,â he had said. âItâs them or me.â
âItâs literally my job,â you told him.Â
Apparently, that didnât matter.Â
But what-fucking-ever, youâre at Keeleyâs waiting for a car to take you to the airport, and sheâs promised to make sure you donât think about your stupid ex even once.Â
Itâs times like these you wish Ted were still here with a spot-on pun and some dad-type advice. All you ever get from Beard is a weird anecdote and a vaguely threatening look.Â
Keeley chatters on for the entirety of the ride to the airport, through customs, and all the way to the lounge.Â
âYouâre gonna get loads of great content for the socials, babe. Candids, action shots, behind-the-scenes. Friendlies are fucking amazing!â
Last time Richmond were in Amsterdam, they had lost horribly. Theyâre hoping to make up for it this time around.Â
The plane is full of Greyhounds, both footballers and coaches alike, with Rebecca at the very front. Keeley plops done in the seat next to her as Dani waves at you from the middle.Â
âI saved you a seat!â he calls. You smile as Sam takes your bag to put it in the overhead. âThanks, Dani. You excited?â
Dani grins. âI think this time I am ready to see a whole field of tulips!â
You laugh as the lads roll their eyes. Jamie leans across the aisle toward you and says, âOi, whatâs the twat doing while youâre away?âÂ
You press your lips into a thin line. âNot a clue.â
He raises an eyebrow and says, âYou break up with him?â
âHe broke up with me.â
Jamie twists his face into a scoff. âAnd you wonder why I call him the fucking twat. Prick. Bet it was so he could finally fuck his coworker.â
You shrug. Jamieâs never liked your boyfriend. Itâs not like you were together long, only a few months. And sure, he was a little bit of a twat, but sue you. You had a special place in your heart for pricks with a heart of gold, only he didnât even have a heart at all.Â
âYou should date someone better,â Jamie continues.Â
You glare at him and retort, âOh yeah, because itâs just that easy. You got some one in mind?â
Jamie gives you his most angelic look and says, âWhat about me?â which makes half the plane dissolve into laughter, yourself included.Â
âCheers, Jamie,â you say as you wipe your eyes. âI needed that.â
A strange look crosses his face, but itâs quickly replaced by his usual cocky expression. âAnytime, love,â he replies as you turn to start a conversation with Dani.Â
As much as youâd like that, Jamie would never date you. His joke stings a little but you brush it off. Maybe youâll find another twat in Amsterdam to distract yourself from the fact that youâre half in love with Jamie Tartt.
â
âIâm sorry, we donât have a booking under you name,â the hotel concierge says.
You tap your nails to your wrist. âAre you positive? Iâm with AFC Richmond, they shouldâve had one.â
The concierge taps on his computer for a moment before shaking his head. âNo, Iâm afraid we donât have anything. And all of our rooms are booked this weekend. Might I recommend the hotel down the road?â
Damn it. Thereâs no way this is happening. Everyone else has gotten to their rooms without a hitch and here you are, alone in the lobby as you pull out your phone to call Keeley. Thereâs no way this is fucking happening.Â
âEverything alright?â asks a voice behind you, and you jump.Â
âThey donât have a room for me, and theyâre fully booked,â you explain.Â
Jamie looks at the concierge, who shrugs apologetically, then back to you. He asks, âWhy donât you share with me?â and you frown.Â
âI thought you were rooming with Declan,â you say.Â
Jamie lifts a shoulder. âYeah, but he switched with Richard because OâBrien fucking snores and he donât give a shit.â
You say, âSo youâre with Richard, then,â and he shakes his head.Â
âNah, Richardâs with Jan.â
âI thought Dani was with Jan,â you say. These fucking footballers. Whatâs the point in having set rooms if theyâre just going to switch it all up.
âDani is with Jan,â Jamie says patiently, as if this all the most obvious thing in the world. âBut Daniâs a cuddler, so heâs probably going to fucking end up with, I donât know, Isaac or someone. Which means I get a room all to meself.â
âRight,â you say slowly. âAlright, I can do that. As long as you donât mind.â
Jamie winks. âSharing a room with a pretty girl for four days? Ainât a problem, love.â
You laugh and follow him to the elevator.
â
It feels a bit like playing with fire, agreeing to room with Jamie. Especially since youâre freshly single and definitely open to a rebound. But there will be two beds and a lot of space and anyway, youâll be busy with the match and social media, respectively.Â
Except as soon as you walk through the door, you realize thereâs a tiny little hitch.
âThereâs one bed,â you blurt out, so surprised youâre unable to filter your words. Jamie blushes a little bit as he says, âYeah, um, Cockburn and I hate sleeping alone, so we asked for one. He grew up sharing a bed with his brothers and I just fucking hate being alone. I can sleep on the couch if you want.â
âNo,â you say firmly, âyou need good rest. Itâs not a problem.â
Itâs not a problem.Â
Or at least it wouldnât have been if Isaac had been a shittier captain.Â
But as it is heâs great, so heâs got the whole team going out to dinner at a pre-determined location complete with a dress code of no t-shirts and apparently you count as part of the team, so you have to go too. Youâre in your massive bathroom trying to curl your disgusting travel hair when Jamie walks in wearing one of those white hotel bathrobes.
He asks, âYou mind if Iâm in here?â so you shake your head, struck temporarily mute by his bare clavicle. Fucking hell, you feel like a repressed Victorian woman.Â
Jamie says, âMint,â and goes about his alarmingly detailed skincare routine. Youâre pretty sure youâre done with your hair so you crane your neck in an attempt to check the back.Â
âMissed a spot,â Jamie says. âWant me to get it for you?â
You shoot him a dubious look but hand him the curler. He runs a hand through your hair, picking up the offending strand and itâs all you can do not to shiver.Â
âMum taught me,â he explains and you nod ever so slightly, not wanting him to accidentally burn your neck. Jamie says, âAll good,â and runs his whole hand through your hair this time, making the curls bounce.Â
You choke out, âThanks,â and hurriedly put away your things, desperate to leave before Jamie can pick up on the fact that you can barely handle being in the same room as him, and that you have great concerns about what the night will bring.Â
â
âYou look fucking hot,â is the first thing Rebecca says when you meet her in the lobby. Keeley looks mildly offended that Rebecca took the words out of her mouth, but she just laughs and taps your arm.Â
âGonna break a few hearts tonight, yeah?â she grins.
Youâre not sure about that, especially since dinner turns out to be a very domestic affair. Itâs loud, sure, but itâs definitely toned down since itâs a pre-match celebration instead of a post-match one. Youâre with Sam, Keeley, and Roy with Jamie far, far away. You push all thoughts of him from your brain only for memories of your ex to surface. You frown.Â
âThe fuckâs wrong with you?â Roy says and for a moment, you think heâs talking to you. But heâs actually talking to Jamie who has moved from his place across the restaurant to right behind your chair.Â
âFuck off grandad,â Jamie says good-naturedly. âWanted to tell this one that some of the lads are going out dancing after this. Not too late,â he hastily adds at Royâs burning scowl, âjust for two hours and weâre only allowed one drink.â
Youâre pretty sure thatâs a bit more liberal than Roy likes, but he nods his head slightly so he must be in a good mood.
âSo, you coming?â Jamie asks and before you can reply Sam and Keeley chorus, âYes she is.â
You give Keeley a Look before turning back to Jamie. âGuess I am,â you reply.
The smile Jamie gives you does more to make your head spin than any amount of alcohol youâve had in your lifetime.
â
Jamie has taken it upon himself to wipe that frown off your face. He might have been watching you over dinner and that might have been why he chose that exact moment to invite you out, but heâll never fucking admit it to anyone except Sam. And Keeley. And maybe Cockburn when it was the off-season and they were a little tipsy. (But not drunk, never drunk.)Â
So yeah, sue him if heâs spinning you around on the crowded dance floor just because it makes you laugh. Itâs not his fault that heâs been wildly in love with you since the day Higgins hired you. Itâs not his fault that youâre easy to be around and have the most beautiful smile heâs seen in his life.Â
And fuck, it certainly isnât his fault you canât see in yourself what others do. Why you settled for a piece of shit like your ex, heâll never know. But heâll be damned if he doesnât do his best to show you how special you are. He knows youâll never feel the same about him, but maybe he can help you level up your standards. Maybe if youâre with someone good, itâll hurt less that itâs not him.Â
So he lets you hold his hand for the entirety of the two hours that the team is out and doesnât say a word when you donât let go in the cab back to the hotel.Â
Youâve gotten that closed-off look in your eyes again, the one that means youâre thinking about your ex, so Jamie knocks his shoulder into yours and asks why he canât have the password to the teamâs Instagram account, which is a sure fire way to get you to lecture him on irresponsibility and aesthetics and the best way to get your eyes to come back to life.
â
Honestly, itâs easier to fall asleep than you might have expected. Itâs a big bed and youâre fucking tired.Â
You just didnât expect to wake up in the middle of the night crying, but itâs always fucking like this when you go through a breakup. You go to sleep fine and wake up sad, so you do your best not to wake up Jamie except youâve both ended up entangled in each otherâs arms, so he can feel you shaking.Â
âHey,â Jamie says in a soft voice, âYouâre okay, love.â
You half expect him to push you away once he realizes youâre so close, but he only pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Maybe itâs because youâre both half-asleep, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world.Â
You sigh and settle into him, drifting off in a matter of moments.Â
â
You wake up to a pair of blue eyes watching you.Â
âHow you feeling?â Jamie asks, voice gravelly with sleep.Â
You just blink at him. Itâs hard to form coherent sentences within the first ten seconds of waking up, and even harder with the memory of Jamieâs arms around you last night.Â
Wait. Not just the memory. The present reality because neither of you have moved.Â
Jamie misinterprets your silence and begins to extricate his arms.
âSorry,â he says, âIâm not to trying to like, cross and fucking boundary or something. Shouldâve left you alone.â
Youâre still not awake enough to talk so you grab him to stop him from moving away. He gives you a questioning look so you say, âI wouldnât have agreed to share a bed if I thought you were a creep.â
Jamie grins. âSo like, if Jan had offered to share a room youâdâve said no.â
You wrinkle your nose as you say, âJanâs not a creep.â
âHeâs the fucking worst,â Jamie grumbles, âAnd anyway, can we not talk about Jan fucking Maas this early in the morning?â
âSure,â you say, âletâs talk about something else.â
Despite your comment, you both lapse into silence. Youâre enraptured by Jamieâs blue eyes. Youâve never been able to study them this close before, and you want to take this opportunity to memorize every fleck of green.Â
Jamie seems to have a similar thought, except his gaze flicks to your lips.Â
âI have morning breath,â you tell him and he says, âReal men donât give a shit, babe,â before leaning forward.
Itâs softer than youâd expected, sweeter.Â
Itâs also strange to think that youâre making out with Jamie in bed, and that heâs the one who initiated it.
The thought is so absurd that you giggle, mid-kiss. Jamie breaks away and says, âOi, thereâs no way that was a shit kiss.â
âNo,â you say between giggles, âitâs just weird that weâre doing this. Like, how are we supposed to look each other in the eye after?â
Jamie moves so he can look at you better, and you roll from your side to your back. âWhat do you mean?â he asks.
âOh come on, we share a room and a bed, we kiss because I have all these sad feelings and youâre feeling a lot of emotions about the match, and then we have to work together after. Itâs silly.â
Jamie cocks his head. âThatâs what you think is happening?â
âYes?â you say. None of this is going how itâs supposed to. âWhat do you think is happening?â
âI like you,â he says, and there is absolutely no mistaking his meaning.Â
âOh,â you reply in a small voice. âSince when?â
âSince before you started dating the twat. When Higgins introduced ya to the team.â
âThatâs a fucking long time ago!â you exclaim. âWere you ever going to tell me?â
Jamie rubs his face. âYeah, âcept you showed up to work tellinâ everyone how you started dating the twat. And I ainât a home wrecker.â
You groan. âFuuuck. I literally only dated him to try to get over you.â
Jamie shoots up. âWhat?!â
âYeah,â you say, âIâve been like a little bit in love with you ever since you winked at me during that first promo I did.â
Jamie blows out a breath. âOkay. Think thatâs enough talking. Câmere. Weâre making out proper, like, then weâre going to breakfast.â
You grin as you climb onto his lap.Â
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt x y/n#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt#ted lasso
504 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cruel Summer
no rules in breakable heaven
Pairing: Jaime Tartt x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+ - smut(f receiving oral, other implied nonsense, cursing
Word Count: 5.5k
Authorâs Note: clearly Iâve gotten caught up in the babygirl wave, my lovely wife @andr0medafallen helped me immensely and I love her. Also Iâm just a slutty little virgin so I canât be held accountable for any inaccuracies
Conversations are swirling around you, music is blasting from a building down the street, youâre keenly aware of the blood pumping in your veins, and you need a goddamn break.
You loved spending time with Keeley, you really did, but itâs hot and muggy outside, and this is the fifth party youâd been to in the past week. Tonight, at least, is with the Richmond boys, and not some friend of a friend of Keeleyâs where all you do is stand in the corner and drink by yourself. Keeley, ever the social butterfly, is off chatting with Rebecca and Leslie, giving you the opportunity to focus on not losing your mind.
Itâs strange, to feel so simultaneously alive and asleep, and you could swear you can feel the air buzzing in your ears. You simultaneously want to go to bed and to stay awake for the rest of the night, itâs like your mind canât figure out what it needs.
And then Jamieâs walking over to you and the world comes back into focus.
The two of you arenât very close, connected mostly through your separate friendships with Keeley, but from what youâve heard from her and from the internet, he seems to be turning over a new leaf. Though, there was a part of you that enjoyed his bad boy attitude, even when he was a bit of a dick.
Maybe you just had a thing for men who were emotionally unavailable.
âWant me to walk you home?â Jamie says after a few seconds of standing next to each other in silence, shocking you out of your silent appraisal of your surroundings.
âHuh?â Clearly, your brain-mouth connection is taking a while to get up to speed.
âYou seem kinda out of it, I know you came with Keeley, figured I should ask if you wanted to leave.â
The kindness of his offer is a little shocking in the way itâs so purely sweet, and again, your brain seems a little slow on the draw.
âIâm alright, I can call a car in a bit,â you tell him, not wanting to drag him away from a fun night just because he saw you acting all mopey and uncomfortable.
âAre you sure? I wouldnât mind getting outta here,â and then itâs clear to you that his offer is simply an excuse for him to leave the party, and while your heart drops a little you canât say you blame him.
âWhat the hell,â you respond anyway, finishing your drink before you turn to follow Jamie out of the party, stopping by Keeley to let her know youâre headed home.
The walk back to your place is mostly silent, the air hanging heavy and thick as you try to figure Jamie out. Itâs clear that heâs changed from the first time youâd met him, back when he was only Keeleyâs douchebag of a boyfriend, shortly before his stint on reality TV. Now, though, he seems different in some way that you canât quite puzzle out.
âWanna come up?â You offer, your heart and your brain in a heated argument over how awful and irresponsible of a decision that is.
âNah, Iâm alright,â he sticks his hands in his pockets and you try not to let your heart sink onto the ground with this cool-guy routine of his.
Still, you thank him for taking you home and head up to your apartment, flicking off your shoes and berating yourself for acting the way you did. Even though youâre an adult, and wanting to sleep with someone doesnât make you a bad person, thereâs a layer of guilt that hangs over your simple question, over your desires.
Maybe itâs because heâs Keeleyâs ex, and even though sheâs moved on and found her perfect match, girl code says you shouldnât even look at him. Maybe itâs because as far as you know, heâs an awful person who would treat you like nothing. Or maybe itâs because heâs actually worked on himself and youâre going to self-sabotage anything good that could even possibly happen.
The guilt you taste at the back of your mouth doesnât change the fact that you want him, though, so you throw a longing glance out your window and are surprised to see Jamie still standing on the street below. As quick as you can in your old building, you unlatch the window and push it open, sticking your head out.
âChange your mind?â You ask, a grin spreading on your face when Jamie jumps at the sound of your voice.
âThat ok?â He throws back, looking a little bashful and so unfairly adorable that he makes you a little dizzy. You just nod in response, and he seems to get the message because he disappears from view and a few seconds later, thereâs a knock at your door.
Briefly, you wonder if he ran up the stairs.
Thereâs a part of your brain that keeps screaming about how this is a bad idea, that come morning youâre going to regret this, but you do your best to ignore it as you close the door behind Jamie and press your lips to his. His hands find your waist, settling there with a firm grasp, and you hope you never need oxygen again.
Itâs addicting, the way he touches you, the way he kisses you, and you do your best to ignore the alarm bells ringing in your mind that youâre never going to be able to move on from this and instead just enjoy yourself. Moving on autopilot, you find yourself at your bedroom door, and feeling lightheaded you pull away from Jamie and rest your forehead on his.
âCan I?â He breathes against your mouth, fingers grasping the bottom hem of your shirt. You nod enthusiastically, your nose brushing against his. Once your shirt is flung somewhere into the depths of your room, Jamieâs hands settle on your bare ribs.
Pushing every worry you have to the back of your brain, you follow Jamieâs lead and, with his help, pull his shirt over his head as he walks you back towards your bed. Obviously, youâd known he was fit, but seeing him so close, so open to your touch is a whole other feeling. You want to trace his entire body, his scars and bruises and tattoos, first with your hands and then with your mouth.
âThis is just a one time thing, yeah?â Jamie asks as your hands settle onto his jaw, trying to bring him in for another kiss.
âYeah, of course,â you respond, being the cool girl you know youâre meant to be even as you fantasize about hearing the stories behind his tattoos and spending mornings together.
Itâs practically impossible for you to keep your hands off of him, every layer removed giving you more of his skin to explore. Jamie, though, seems just as greedy as you are, kissing and touching his way across your body. You feel alive, electric in ways youâve never felt before. Itâs as if every moment you spend with Jamie, he takes up more and more space in your brain, until heâs all you can think about.
Jamie, as he bites that sensitive spot underneath your jaw bone with a grin.
Jamie, as he trails kisses down the center of your body, from your sternum to your belly button.
Jamie, as he moves lower and lower, his hands resting on your inner thighs.
Jamie, heâs all you think about until you canât think of anything, your mind shut off and your body rewired as you feel like youâre exploding from the inside out.
And then everything comes rushing back in, all the sounds and scents and feelings of your apartment, all the thoughts youâd tried to keep away. You still havenât said anything, focusing on breathing and not floating away.
âYou need water or something?â Jamie asks from his spot on the pillow next to you, watching as your breath continues to heave in and out of your chest.
âThis is my place, shouldnât I be asking you that?â You retort once it feels as if your heart wonât escape your chest.
âThere arenât any rules about who gets water.â You watch as a smirk grows across his face, âBesides, you look like you need it more than me.â
Trying not to give in to his teasing, you hide your face in your hands and groan, âMaybe that means you should have been trying harder.â He shrugs, conceding before he slips off your bed and begins the hunt around for his clothes. You wish you could ask him to stay, even just for a few minutes longer, but instead you shrug on a large t-shirt and walk him to the door.
âSee you around,â you offer as you lean in the doorway, Jamie making his way to the stairs.
âYeah, sure, see ya.â And then you're left all alone again, your brain running wild within your skull, so you make your way back to your bed in the hopes that you can fall asleep and pretend you arenât regretting all of your life decisions.
The next few times you see Jamie, the two of you talk sparingly, sticking mainly to waves across the room or slightly uncomfortable smiles. And itâs a shame, because youâve found that you actually enjoy talking to Jamie, but now youâre not so certain you can handle yourself around him.
Even though you know Jamieâs not looking for a relationship, itâs hard not to think about what youâd be like together, if youâd even work out, because in your mind, whatâs the point of trying if you know youâre going to fail? Why would you enter into a relationship with someone if you know it couldnât possibly last?
âHey,â a voice says from behind, shocking you out of your introspection. You jump, ready to scold whoever snuck up on you when you hear Jamieâs laughter, happy and loose.
âJesus, Jamie, you scared me to death,â you tell him as his laughter dies down, eyes scanning for anyone watching your interactions. You know that no one cares, that people have casual relationships all the time, but you canât help but feel like youâd be judged for doing the same.
âYou wanna get out of here?â He asks, and you can tell from his voice, from his eyes, from the way heâs holding himself, what heâs really asking you.
âI thought that was a one time thing?â You hide your smile by taking a sip of your drink and delighting in the way Jamieâs cheeks redden.
âWhat I meant was, itâs just a no-strings-attached thing.â
âIâm flattered,â you tell him, already turning to leave and planning your text to Keeley that you hadnât felt well and called an Uber to leave early.
Instead of an Uber, though, you find yourself pressed up against Jamieâs car, his hands holding your waist and his tongue down your throat. As much as you loved the attention, you pulled away, placing a gentle hand on his cheek when he tried to follow.
âSomeone could see,â you whisper against him, trying to keep an ear out for anyone else leaving the small party at Colinâs house. This seems to bring Jamie back to his senses, though, because he unlocks his car and slips inside, but only after he kisses you one last time.
The drive to his place is short, leaving the two of you sitting in his driveway, no sounds but the noises filtering in through the cracked windows. Thereâs something about this, about him, that just feels like summer, like late sleepless nights and days spent in bed.
Even though neither of you have spoken about it, you can tell that whatever relationship you have with Jamie ends with the summer. You know this is for the best, knowing that once training and games pick up again heâll barely have time for friends, let alone any other kind of relationship, but you hate the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. It feels like thereâs an expiration date, some dark cloud looming over your sunny day, and itâs making it hard to enjoy the time you do have with Jamie.
Youâd never say any of this to him, though, because youâre not even sure if youâre really friends, if this relationship you have is anything beyond physical. Itâs not as though you sit around pining after Jamie Tartt all day, but you canât help but feel left out whenever you see him with his actual friends, as if youâre missing something important about him. The two of you have a surface level connection, and youâre fine with that, you really are, itâs just hard not to get caught up in your own head.
Jamie, though, is doing his best to get rid of seemingly every thought you have, leaning over the center console to kiss you again. Itâs cramped and a little awkward and you donât have any room to move around, but you canât stop. Eventually, the two of you break apart for long enough to stumble into Jamieâs house and then youâre being pushed backwards to his bedroom.
The realization hits you that this is the first time youâve ever been to Jamieâs house, and you canât help but look around his bedroom, taking in all of his choices in decorations and knick-knacks.
âThatâs a pretty color,â you say absentmindedly, starting off into his room.
âIâm sorry, am I boring you?â Jamie asks, pulling back from where heâd been sucking a mark onto your chest.
You canât help but laugh, loud and unrestrained, as you run your fingers through the strands of hair hanging in Jamieâs eyes, giving them a gentle tug. Looking down after you catch your breath, you notice Jamie smiling at you and suddenly you feel too exposed, too open and you want to turn and run and never see him again but instead you use your light grip on his hair to pull him up for a kiss.
Thereâs a strange feeling deep in your stomach, one that you plan to ignore for as long as you can because itâs distracting you from Jamie. At first, youâd just thought it was the want filling your body, the urge to pull him impossibly close and feel him impossibly deep, but the feelingâs still there hours later as you lie boneless and sleepy.
Jamieâs off getting you some water, even though you never asked for any, and when he returns youâre dozing on his pillow, resisting the urge to snuggle under his sheets.
âYou can just stay here tonight, if you want,â Jamie offers, sitting on the other side of the bed and staring off into space before quietly adding, âI wouldnât mind.â
âYour bed is pretty comfortable,â you reply, thankful that you donât have to get up and go searching for your clothes.
Instead, Jamie hands you the glass of water and a t-shirt, one that you gratefully slip on before getting under the covers. You fall asleep almost immediately, exhaustion spread throughout your entire body and mind, so you never know that Jamie lies awake almost the whole night, staring at the ceiling and trying not to wake you up or think about how perfect you look while asleep next to him.
When you do wake up, itâs with the sun streaming through the windows and Jamieâs arm slung over your waist. The two of you are impossibly close, both sharing the same pillow despite the size of his bed. It pains you to notice that heâs incredibly adorable when heâs sleeping. Part of you wants to kiss him all over and wake him, but the other just wants to let him sleep forever, watching as he breathes.
Luckily, you donât need to make that choice, as Jamieâs eyes flutter open and you can see when he realizes just how close the two of you are and he tries to play it smooth but he scoots back to the side he fell asleep on.
âDid you sleep alright?â He asks, and youâre more focused on the scratchy way his voice sounds than the actual question. You just nod, hoping that was the right answer and delighting when he smiles, all soft and sweet and just for you.
You need to leave, get out while you still can before you end up spending the whole day with Jamie, because you know if you stay for a second longer youâre never going to want to leave him. Most of your time together was spent sleeping, but it's already almost impossibly hard to leave him. While you still have your resolve, you slip out of his insanely comfortable bed and go hunting for your clothes. It kills you a little inside when Jamie doesnât stop you.
âWant me to drive you?â He asks, sitting up and moving to get out of bed and you need to stop yourself from staring at his toned chest, at the shorts low on his hips.
âNo, I can just walk, itâs a nice day,â you lie, having no idea what the weather was like but hoping that summer wouldnât let you down. Jamie nods, settles back into bed, and you could swear your heart physically aches because none of this should be happening.
You shouldnât even be here in the first place, but here you are not wanting to leave. You shouldnât be staring at him, with his mussed hair and his tattoos on full display. You shouldnât have any feelings for him besides physical attraction and the basic feelings of friendship, but youâre starting to worry about that feeling in your belly that just grows and grows every second you spend with Jamie.
âSee you around,â you tell him, leaving as quickly as you can before you convince yourself to stay any longer. You wander around London, all turned around and trying to find your flat without thinking of Jamie, while Jamie sits at home and tries not to think of you.
The rest of your day is spent doing meaningless activities, chores and work youâd been putting off for weeks. You wash your sheets and clean your fridge and respond to emails, trying your hardest to keep your mind off Jamie. Itâs impossible, and the second you find yourself distracted, your mind wanders right back to him. What you really need is to leave your house, find someplace with blasting music and bodies pressed impossibly close, somewhere that youâll have no space to think of anything, let alone Jamie.
Lucky for you, Keeley stays busy, always having one event or another she needs to go to and she always lets you tag along. Tonight your mission is to stop thinking of Jamie, even if that doesnât mean going home with someone else. Just for a few hours, you donât need him consuming your every thought.
Unfortunately for you, Jamie is always welcome with Keeley and has the same exact plan as you.
The air inside the bar is stifling, as if thereâs no air conditioning and no windows, just the thick summer heat. You notice Jamie almost immediately, though it would be impossible not to with his highlights and his beaming smile, like your own personal sun. As much as you try to fight it, you canât help but wonder if he noticed you at all, if he thinks of you at all when youâre not together.
Youâre two drinks deep and you canât help but think about Jamie, about what he thinks of you. Are you really just someone to fuck, someone whoâs attractive enough for him to sleep with you whenever he feels the urge?
Youâre three drinks deep and you canât help but wonder if you could ever be anything more to him, if heâd ever want that. Itâs common knowledge that Jamieâs still a little hooked on Keeley, and who could blame him, but are you really just a distraction?
Youâre four drinks deep and you canât stop crying, the tears flowing like rivers as Keeley and Rebecca try their best to comfort you, to calm you down. Eventually, Rebecca calls you a car and Keeley waits with you, ready to leave and make sure you get home safely.
âIâm fine, Iâm fine, I promise,â you say through your sobs as you sit in the backseat on your way to your apartment, Keeley rubbing up and down your arms in a soothing manner.
âThis isnât about Jamie, is it?â She asks in that kind, understanding voice of hers and it only makes you cry harder.
âI think I love him and it fucking sucks.â Keeleyâs hand moves to smooth over your hair as you lean against her, all the fight draining out of your body.
âBabe, just tell him.â You canât help but shoot her a glare, one that she brushes off with a laugh, âWhatâs the worst that could happen? He wonât sleep with you anymore?â
Your mouth drops open, shocked to your core that Keeley knew about what the two of you had been doing and your heart breaks a little more because you feel like youâve just betrayed one of your best friends. Keeley, though, gives you a supportive little squeeze, one that tells you that she isnât mad at all.
That was one of your favorite things about Keeley, how supportive she is of all of the people she loves, no matter the situation. Sheâs wise beyond her years and is the kind of person who will go out and get whatever she wants through her own hard work and determination. Keeley is absolutely someone you need on your side, and it hits you just how thankful you are for her and all she does for you.
Here you are, sobbing over a boy, and Keeley does nothing but support you and try to help you calm down. She doesnât look at you like youâre over-dramatic or crazy and instead is doing her best to fix whatever was making you feel this way.
âClearly, this whole situation-ship is hurting you, and if he doesnât want the same things as you, maybe itâs time to let it end,â she finishes with another loving squeeze, just as the car pulls up outside of your building.
The two of you slide out of the car, Keeley offering you her hand as she helps you up to your apartment and youâre left reeling by what sheâs said. You didnât even know you wanted something more until it hit you like a ton of bricks tonight, Jamie consuming your thoughts in all the wrong ways. You know Keeleyâs right, that whatever you have going on is only going to hurt you in the long run, so you resolve to tell him everything the next time you see him.
Keeleyâs wise words from the car and the glass of water she gave you before she left after confirming no less than ten times that you were okay have you sobering up rather quickly. Youâre left feeling embarrassed and exhausted to the bone, wanting nothing more than to lay down in your bed and stay there for the next hundred years, but suddenly thereâs a knock at your door and Jamieâs standing outside.
âKeeley let me in, hope thatâs ok,â he tells you, seeming slightly uncomfortable and you briefly wonder if itâs because of your puffy eyes and slightly disheveled appearance, embarrassment coursing hot through your blood. âJust wanted to make sure you were alright.â
Jamie always keeps you on your toes, and though you know this isnât a big deal, it warms your heart all the same. Jamie Tartt, drama queen footballer and prick reality star, is at your front door to see if youâre ok because you left a bar crying. Youâd promised yourself that the next time you saw Jamie, youâd sit him down and talk about your feelings, vowing that you wouldnât hide them anymore.
But here Jamie is, being all sweet and concerned, and that plan goes out the window. Thereâs just something about him that makes all the sense leave your body, so instead of having a conversation about your feelings you pull him down by his shoulders and kiss him.
Itâs messy and desperate, and even though youâve sobered up since leaving the bar, your head is spinning and your thoughts are starting to become consumed with Jamie. Thereâs a weight behind it this time, one that youâre sure the both of you are aware of, because Jamieâs hands are gripping your waist with a bruising force and you barely even pull away from him to breathe.
Both of you know something is going to change.
As you make your way to your bedroom, clothing is thrown down the hallway, a sock here and a shoe there, until you almost trip trying to remove your pants. Luckily for you, though, after what seemed like a miles long walk, you finally reached your bedroom door.
Jamie pushes you gently inside, breaking the kiss but staying close enough to breathe the same air, and he keeps pushing you back until the back of your knees hit the bed and you fall onto it with a sound of surprise. Jamie just smiles, but itâs soft in a way that makes your insides melt and not the cocky smile he has whenever he scores a goal.
You scramble to sit up, to take your shirt off, but your brain shuts off when you see Jamie get on his knees in front of you. More gently than you ever could have imagined, he tugs on the hem of your pants, bringing them down your hips until you need to push off of the bed to get them down the rest of the way. He continues to pull until they slip free of your feet, and by the time heâs standing again youâre throwing yourself upward to kiss him.
Thereâs just something about him that makes you want to be near him all the time, like a moth to the flame. It doesnât feel self destructive though, and thatâs what scares you. It scares you that you might be hurting yourself without knowing but it scares you more that this might not hurt you at all.
Itâs always a little shocking to you just how gentle Jamie is, the soft way he cradles your jaw when he kisses you and the way he runs his hands up and down your back when he can tell everything is starting to get overwhelming. Of course, he can be plenty rough and you have the bite marks on your thighs and the hickeys on your chest to prove it, but it seems like itâs in his nature to be soft with you.
âYou sure you wanna do this?â He asks, fingers playing gentling with the hem of your shirt.
â100%,â you reply, and give him a quick kiss to reaffirm your statement. Now, he wastes no time in pulling off your shirt and starting to remove his own clothes. It makes you pause, standing there by the foot of your bed in the process of removing your bra, because suddenly heâs shirtless and it never gets any less surprising despite the many times youâve been in this situation.
Itâs not like your being subtle in your ogling, and Jamie just smirks when he sees you staring. He pushes you back onto the bed, softer this time, and you scoot yourself backwards until your head is resting on the pillows. Jamie joins you, pushing your legs open wider so there's room for him to lay in between them.
Then, youâre almost certain youâve died and gone to heaven because heâs slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them over your hips and down your thighs. Youâre absolutely no help, lying there pliant for him to maneuver however he sees fit because youâre fully convinced your brain has stopped working.
Itâs a little startling, how well Jamie knows your body. He always knows the right pressure and movement and location to make you see stars, make your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drop open. Youâd think that heâd be all bark and no bite, but itâs so clear to you now that he has the skills to back up his attitude.
You have the bite marks to prove it.
Your fingers are itching for something to grab onto, something more substantial than grasping at your bedsheets, so you gently twist Jamieâs hair around your fingers, just enough to ground you, to keep you anchored to your body when you feel like youâre seconds from floating away.
It feels too good, too overwhelming, youâre unable to control any of the sounds that come out of your mouth. Jamieâs hands are gripping, digging into the flesh of your thighs and it stings where his fingernails dig in but itâs so perfect you canât help the way you whine.
The connection between your brain and your mouth must be severed because you keep babbling away about how good, how perfect everything feels. Youâre not thinking at all, only able to focus on the feelings building deep in your belly until Jamie licks at your clit with the perfect amount of pressure and you just fucking lose it. Your mouth drops open and youâre completely unaware of the sounds that come pouring out of your mouth until, âI fucking love you.â
Itâs like youâve been doused in a bucket of ice water and Jamieâs pulling away and youâre fucking terrified and the pleasure thatâs been building inside your body is completely replaced with dread. After you feel Jamie pulling back, you turn your gaze from the ceiling down to between your legs where Jamie still lies.
He just grins, looking like sin himself with your slick making his mouth all shiny and glossy. And then he gets right back to work, nipping at your inner thigh before doubling down his attention, working twice as hard and you donât even remember what youâve said because youâre thrown headfirst back into the intensity of Jamieâs full skill and attention.
Itâs only seconds later when youâre almost certain that youâve died, feeling like an exploding star as your back arches off the bed and you dig your fingers harder into Jamieâs hair and your mouth falls open again. When you regain your sense of existence, your body feels tingly all over as if the remnants of your orgasm are still coursing through your veins.
Breathing hard, you look down to see Jamie resting his head on one of your thighs, just waiting for you to come down from your high. He places a kiss over one of the marks he made on your inner thigh before he crawls up the bed to plant a soft kiss on your lips.
He disappears after that, and youâre a little worried that heâs left you like this before he comes back a few minutes later, with a glass of water and a plate of snacks. The thought of him trifling through your cupboard makes your heart stutter a little and youâre so overwhelmed with feelings that you can only manage to give him a small smile in thanks.
The two of you sit quietly side by side on your bed, eating the snacks Jamie had brought. He checks in on you again and again, making sure youâre totally comfortable. And then, he clears his throat and shifts around, looking uncomfortable and you can feel your heart rising into your throat, dread gripping at your stomach.
âAre we gonna talk about what you said?â He asks, tracing shapes on the bare skin of your knee as he talks and looks anywhere but your face.
âI think I meant it,â you tell him, feeling as if your whole world is crashing down around you. There are other important things in your life, work and friends and family, but thereâs something about Jamie that even after the limited time youâve had together, the thought of losing him makes you sick to your stomach.
âGood, thatâs good to know.â He goes quiet for a moment but his fingers never still in their drawing, âI think so too.â
âGood,â you tell him with a smile, one that he returns and it makes you want to cry because heâs so gorgeous and wonderful and you wonât be losing him after all, thereâs a hope for you, a future, and thatâs all you need.
You know nothing is certain and there are plenty of things that could go wrong, but you try to bask in the afterglow of whatâs been confessed the same way youâd lay in the sunshine. You feel warm and happy and youâre determined to hang onto those feelings, to enjoy the time you spend with Jamie instead of worrying that everything will come crashing down.
Thereâs just something about him, something that makes your worrying come to a pause whenever youâre with him. He brings you an unexpected sort of peace, one that you vow to enjoy now that youâre not worrying when it will disappear, when heâll disappear. For once, that feeling in your chest isnât one of anxiety but one that youâre convinced is love.
You love Jamie Tartt, and that thought isnât as scary as it once was.
Tags: @andr0medafallen @pazvizslasprincess @scaramou @parcelofbread @lightninginab0ttle @curlypeter @maggiecc @percysaidnever
#jamie tartt#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt fluff#jamie tartt smut#ted lasso#ted lasso fanfiction
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Tight Leash w/ Roy Kent
Imagine: Roy has managed to keep his feelings for you to himselfâŠ.until one night heâs unable to hold onto them any longer.
Contains: fem/reader, cursing, Roy losing his absolute shit in the best way, sexual innuendos
Warnings: none
âI canât believe I ever let you convince me to wear this.â
âBabes you look phenomenal,â Keeley preened.
You might not have had the option to skip the fundraiser event you were about to enter, but you did have the option to wear something moreâŠ.lowkey. You did tend to keep it lowkey, as one of the clubs media specialists. Keeley handed all of the flashy bits, the paparazzi and signings and public appearances. You tended to a lot of the background stuff; the sports articles and communications within the league, and the clubs various websites and platforms. Ever since you joined the team nearly a year go now you liked to work in the background, liked being unnoticeable.
Unfortunately youâd become best friends with Keeley Jones-the most noticeable person on the planet. And when you learned you had to attend some annual fundraising gala Rebecca was putting on, Keeley made it her life mission to convince you to wear something daring. And in a moment of weakness youâd agreed.
But now that you were present at the gala and it was almost your turn to walk to press carpet, you were having some serious regrets.
âSeriously Keeley, I feel ridiculous. One of the guys is going to see me and bust out laughing. This is something Rebecca would wear and pull off, not me.â Not to mention the carpet ahead was daunting. Cameras flashing constantly, held by shouting, viperous paparazzi.
âHey,â Keeley pulled you to the side, forcing you to look at her instead of ahead at the walk into the hall. âNo matter what mean things your brain are telling you right now, you look phenomenal. And when the guys see you, when Kent sees you-theyâre gonna be lost for words.â
You flushed, because of course your best friend couldnât resist mentioning the man you had a huge thing for. She never let it go after you let it slip one night. The two of you were just friends, no matter how much Keeley insisted that Roy was in love with you. You two had hit it off shortly after you started, appreciating each otherâs dry sense of humor and love of cursing. Besides Keeley he was your best friend. But that was it-no matter how much you daydreamed of more.
"You've got this babe, i promise. Donât forget-you are a badass bitch." Keeley gave you a final smile and quick kiss on the cheek before she was being called up. She left your side and stepped out onto the carpet. The photographers went wide, bursts of light exploding. You were officially next.
You took a deep breath, in and out. You just wanted to be inside the gala with your people, having fun with the club and Rebecca and Keeley. Unfortunately, this carpet stood in between you and them.
Just when you thought you had taken enough deep breaths and were finally ready, you heard a sharp inhale behind you. You risked a glance over your shoulder, finding Roy standing a few feet behind you. And you had to admit, he looked good. The all black attire did not surprise you but it did suit him. He was taking you in, slowly, from head to toe. Your outfit was all white, comprised of crisp high waisted pants and a corseted long sleeve top. (see visual below, I love a good visual, tho feel free to alter it in your brain to best suit you)
When his eyes finally rose to your chest he swore.
"Fucking hell."
"What was that, Roy?"
His eyes rose again, this time to meet yours.
Maybe it was Keely's words ringing around your head, or the way Roy couldn't keep his eyes off you, or the shot of whiskey you'd taken on the drive in. But regardless, you suddenly felt a smudge more confident. So with a final mental fuck it, you decided to embrace it. You relaxed your shoulders, straightened your spine, and as they called your name you smiled at Roy and gave a quick wink before you spun on your heel and took your first step out onto the carpet.
The cameras lit up, photographers crying for a spin, a turn, an angle, any bit of attention. You stopped a few times, allowing them pictures of you in different poses. The lights and the noises soon became too much however, so you kept it short before you strutted down the rest of the carpet and made it inside the gala building where Keely was stood waiting.
"Oh my god, you looked like a right model walking into a show," she gushed. "Those pictures of you are going to be jaw-dropping babe. And poor Roy's dragging his jaw against the floor."
You flushed as you let the excitable girl link arms with you and drag you towards the teams designated table. "I don't know what came over me, Ke. I just decided to go with it and channel my inner Rebecca. And I fucking winked at Roy. Who am I?â
"If he doesn't pull you away to ravish you by the end of the night I will."
You giggled with your friend, happily accepting the drink she got you.
"Ladies."
To your delight Coach Lasso approached, eyes crinkled as he smiled. "You both look down-right beautiful."
"Oh thank you Ted, you're looking quite handsome this evening."
"Well that's mighty kind of you. Now between the three of us, I was really just coming to let you know that Roy just stormed into the building like a starved man on a mission, demanding to know if I'd seen which way you went. The poor man looked so red in the face I was worried he was going to keel over."
You flushed, eyes suddenly finding the floor quite interesting.
"Now you two wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"
"He's realizing that he's in love with her," Keely couldn't help but gush.
Eyes widening, you smacked her arm.
"Ow!"
"Keely! He is not!"
"Ah," Lasso hummed, chuckling a bit. "It's about damn time. The boys and I are getting tired of the silent pining."
"We are not- there is no silent pining." You argued, looking between your two friends.
âYou two have been inseparable since you met. You spend more time with him then anyone else in the club, babes.â
âKee, weâre just friends.â
"I donât think he thinks that," Lasso gestured with his head and you followed his gaze, finding Roy stood across the room, staring straight at you.
Your heart skipped a beat as his intense eyes met yours.
"I need some water," you stated, the air suddenly too heavy to breath.
"I can-"
"It's ok, Kee," you interrupted, kissing her cheek. "I'll be back."
She nor Lasso argued, watching as you hurried away from the table and towards the bar. Roy was after you the next minute, speeding across the floor and past the table towards you.
"Those two...." Lasso trailed off as he shook his head.
"Idiots."
"Lovesick idiots."
-
You weren't really thinking straight when you rushed away from your friends. All you could think was that the weight of Roy's gaze was heavy, stifling, and you felt your chest constrict.
You stepped up to the bar and asked for an ice water, receiving it moments later. You thanked the bartender and glided over to a neglected corner of the room, where only a few stragglers buzzed around. It was quieter over here, and you could feel the ache in your chest ease slightly.
"Hey," a soft voice invaded your space.
You froze, turning.
Roy was stood there, looking down at you again with that intense dark gaze.
"Hi," you said softly, unable to stop your eyes from flickering down to his lips before quickly back up.
"You look....fucking beautiful."
A heat began in your cheeks, reaching down your neck and no doubt flushing your collar and chest as well.
"That word doesn't seem quite enough. Fucking....breathtaking." And the way he said it sounded like he was, in fact, breathless. His chest heaved, as he stood perfectly still in front of you.
The heat was beginning to prick at your stomach, and if Roy wasn't very careful it was going to continue to travel downward.
"Thank you. Everyone here looks pretty amazing."
"Sweetheart, I haven't so much as glanced at anyone else in here. How can I, when you look so...." he trailed off, lips parting silently.
"What?"
âIâve been doing my best to keep what I was feeling on a tight leash. I never wanted to ruinâŠthis. Our friendship. I donât know what Iâd do with it, butâŠâ
You furrowed your eyebrows. He wasnât making any sense. âWhat are you saying Roy?â
"Can I kiss you?"
Ok, the heat had officially traveled to your entire body. You felt like you were on fire, and all Roy was doing was looking at you. Never had you considered how much a simple question like that could affect you, but as you watched him wait in heavy anticipation, wanting to touch you but unwilling until you gave him permission, you became weak in the knees.
"Yes-" the word was barely out of your mouth before he was kissing you, trapping the word in between you. His hands cradled your face so delicately, like you were made of glass. You rested your hands on his chest, appreciating the muscle you felt under the suit.
His lips were so soft, and tasted faintly of the cherry chapstick you'd given him just the other day. He smelled of spicy cologne and his scruff tickled your face.
He pulled away, just enough to meet your eyes.
"I may be the most stubborn, selfish, miserable prick on this planet, but you make me feel like I'm so much more. And this may be the most selfish thing I ever do, but I don't fucking care anymore. I'm in love with you."
Your lips parted, eye searching his for any signs of deception. You couldn't find any.
"Im in love with you too, my miserable prick."
He choked on a laugh, his eyes glassy as he rested his forehead against yours. "God, I love you so fucking much."
"I love you even fucking more."
#fanfic#imagine#drabble#fanfiction#x reader#writing#ted lasso#ted lasso imagine#roy kent#roy kent x reader#Roy Kent imagine
107 notes
·
View notes
Text
re: those fic ideas always going around about roy bidding on jamie at the next for the children gala
i like imagining sheryl is out for fucking blood this time. she lost jamie that year, then he wasn't there the next (two?) year(s), so now she's fucking determined. she's going to get him god damn it.
so sheryl bids like ÂŁ6k or whatever, and then keeley as a sort of nostalgic thing bids ÂŁ8k, and then sheryl bids ÂŁ10k and there's no bex this year so it seems like maybe that's going to be that, but then roy bids. (he would have stayed out of it if keeley kept bidding, she is an acceptable winner.)
and roy. he's not lazy, obviously, but he hates tedium, he hates repeating himself, he hates attention except for what he wants attention for specifically lmao, and he's got plenty of money to burn. he has something to get done and he wants it done quickly and decisively. so instead of doing normal bids like a normal person, whatever sheryl bids he fucking doubles it.
so he bids ÂŁ20k. she bids ÂŁ25k. he bids ÂŁ50k. she's getting frustrated, she's not into paying this much, but she's fucking determined!! she wants him!!! so she bids ÂŁ51k. roy bids ÂŁ102k. everyone's like.... bro omg.
jamie up on stage is like that's so much fucking money. hey, rebecca? hey? that's so much fucking money, actually. that's enough. call it. he gets it, he won. that's so much fucking money. (and like it's part genuine, that really is SO much fucking money, and jamie may be rich now but he grew up poor and that is a lot of fucking money!! but also it's a great excuse to wrap this up, to say okay roy won it's over! and get down.)
and rebecca - slightly shell shocked tbh, but also kind of reading how eager jamie is to get down - is like okay yeah he won that's it. a date with jamie tartt sold to roy kent for 102,000 fucking pounds. and she sends jamie on his way, and there's a lull between him and the next person because everyone is sort of stuck here.
because obviously, no one in this room knows why roy bid, nevermind why he would bid so fucking much. they don't know he didn't necessarily want to win so much as he wanted to make sure no one else did. they don't know he's been haunted by the joke he and keeley made back then ever since he figured out why it was so upsetting to jamie - even though, to be perfectly frank, jamie hasn't figured that out himself, and anyway it didn't make a lasting impression on him, like, it honestly was not that big of a deal in reality, but you know roy kent, any chance he gets to feel like a bad guy he's taking it. so to the outside point of view, roy wanted jamie so bad he was willing to spend ÂŁ102k to get him. which is honestly a wild bid from anyone, nevermind a) a man and b) a man who could just ask jamie to hang out whenever he wants.
jamie goes right over to him as soon as he gets down from the stage, and he thanks him, and roy tells him he's just making up for last time, and jamie hardly even remembers what he's talking about but it's really fucking nice of him to even care, so he gives him a hug and he says thanks again, not just for this, and roy says he's been fucking honored, and jamie tears up and calls him a prick because they both know he knew that would happen if he said that, and roy does his sinister little laugh because he meant it but he did also do that on purpose, yeah.
and then jamie's like move i'm gay to whoever is sitting next to roy so he can take that seat, because roy just paid ÂŁ102k (and made quite the grand gesture) so his date with jamie starts right now and goes for as long as roy fucking wants it to thank you very much.
707 notes
·
View notes
Text
NYE (J.T.)
Sooooooo...
@powderblueblood and her 200 Cigarettes prompts.......yes.
Pairing: Jamie Tartt x reader
WARNINGS: fluff, emotions
PROMPTS:
"You need to find someone that likes you the way you are."
"And who would possibly like me the way I am?"
"Those clothes and my clothes would look good on my floor."
"He said what?"
Jamie followed you to the bar at Ola's. The restaurant closed early and is now hosting the Richmond New Year's Eve party. You poured yourself a shot of whiskey and downed it without flinching as you told Jamie about your date.
"He said, and I quote, "You're nice and all, but I could do better," and then I left the party."
"What a complete fucking prick!" Jamie said; you simply shrugged your shoulders as you grabbed a flute of champagne from a server.
"At least he was upfront. Saved us both the trouble." Jamie can see the mask you're putting up; it's not the first time he's seen you do it. Never let them see you hurt your own personal motto. He wants to kill this guy.
"C'mon, forget that dumbass. Come join us at the table; the boys will be happy to see you." You glance over at the tables and see the boys with their respective dates. The passing of intimate kisses and touches makes your heart yearn for something that, at this point, you're not sure you'll ever have. It's too much.
"I'm just gonna be a wet blanket," you say with a shrug, and Jamie can see your eyes become glossy. "I'll text you when I'm home. Happy New Year, Jamie." You give his hand a quick squeeze, and then, before he can say anything, you're gone.
"Where's she going?" Keeley asks, and Jamie turns, his mind still trying to process what happened. The fact that one moment you were standing in front of him looking so fucking pretty, and then you were gone.
"She just left; her date at that party went really bad."
"Shame," Keeley hums as she sips her champagne. "I have a question, though."
"What?"
"Why the fuck are you still here instead of chasing after her?"
"Why would I do that?" Jamie straightens up, putting up his own mask as he tries to pretend that he hasn't been pining for you since returning to Richmond.
"Because even a blind man can see you're desperately in love with her, the poor girl," Roy interjects as he stands beside Keeley. "Question is, when the fuck are you gonna grow a pair and fucking do something about it?"
Jamie stares at them both for a second before he turns and runs full speed out of the restaurant.
You have yet to get far. Your flat is pretty close to the restaurant, so instead of trying to flag down a cab, you opted to enjoy the brisk winter air. The streets were pretty busy, and you tried to keep the tears at bay as you passed happy couples and groups of friends on their way to ring in the new year.
The sound of shoes running on the pavement sent your heart racing, and you reached for your keys as they got closer. You hear someone call your name and turn around, shocked to see Jamie running to catch up with you.
"Jamie, why are you following me?"
"I had to tell you something, and it couldn't wait." His gray eyes look into yours, but he remains silent. You sigh before gently interrupting him.
"Look, I just wanna go home. I'll see you on Tuesday." You turn around, and Jamie is again watching you walk away from him. He can hear Keeley and Roy yelling at him in his head, and he takes a deep breath. He's not going to let this moment pass him by. He can't stomach starting a new year without telling you how he feels.
You hear the footsteps again, and you say a "hey" when you feel Jamie pull you by the arm to look at him.
"You're not the problem."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Not just tonight, but every bloke who's made you feel like you aren't the most amazing person on the planet, they're the problem. Not you." Your jaw has dropped, and you know you're looking at him like a deer in the headlights.
You can't help but scoff. "If I'm not the problem, pray tell me, how do I fix it? Tell me the solution, Jamie."
"You need to find someone that likes you the way you are." You scoff again. You hold Jamie's gaze as you step closer to him. You hope he can't see how ready you are to crying.
"And who would possibly like me the way I am?" Your voice wavers, and Jamie feels his heartbreak at your admission. Your gaze drops to your shoes, and Jamie takes a tentative step forward.
His hand gently lifts your chin, and you wait for him to speak. It isn't until he raises his eyebrows, your mouth drawing into an O, that what he's saying dawns on you.
"You?"
"Yeah, silly girl." He says with a light chuckle. His thumb wipes away an errant tear before he cups your face with his large, warm hands. You reach out for the lapels on his jacket, holding tight as
"But, you're Jamie Tartt. I'm just..."
"Fantastic and kind. You were nice to me even when I was being the worst asshole on the planet. Not to mention that you're absolutely stunning. Pretttiest girl I've ever seen."
"Jamie,"
"I'll be good to you. And even though I'm probably gonna fuck up now and again, I promise it won't ever be intentional. There's more, but I just really wanna fucking kiss you right now."
You blush at Jamieâs words and when you see his gaze dip to your lips. You had wondered many times what kissing Jamie would feel like. You had thought about it at work while chatting with Keeley and Rebecca and kissing unremarkable men. Nothing you had conjured in your head could hold a candle to the real thing.
His full lips are pillowy and soft, and he holds you firm and secure. He moans when your tongue traces the seam of his lips, your hands pulling him in closer to you as onlookers pass by with knowing giggles.
When Jamie finally pulls back for air, his breath catches at the sight of you. Swollen lips and the far-off dreamy look of someone who's been snogged properly, he doesn't know who to thank for the vision in front of him.
"Back to Ola's?"
"My place?"
You both stop after interrupting each other. You both chuckle, but it takes Jamie a second before he realizes what you asked him.
"Your place, you sure?" You give him a cat-like grin, your hands still on his lapels.
"I don't really wanna go back with the boys, do you?" Jamie shakes his head, to hell with the boys. Fuck em. His mouth makes an O shape when you pull him closer by the lapels and lean to whisper in his ear.
"Good, because those clothes and my clothes would look good on my floor." You kiss his nose softly, and Jamie rewards you with a beaming smile. "Then tomorrow, you can buy us breakfast."
Jamie could cry when he hears you say tomorrow. "I'll buy you breakfast every day for the rest of our lives if you'll let me. Now," He takes your hands in his. "I'm gonna do something that I've been wanting to do for too damn long."
"And what's that?" The look Jamie gives you is nothing less than sin incarnate. A hungry predator eyeing up its prey. There's no hiding your gasp when he leans in to whisper in your ear.
"I really hope you don't have plans tomorrow, love, because I plan on making sure your neighbors know exactly who I am. Now, why don't you lead the way?"
275 notes
·
View notes
Text
sometimes i think about young roy kent and get so sad. this is a guy who got sent away at nine years old. whoâs presumably never been able to get close to anyone other than his grandfather (whom he didnât get to say goodbye to before he passed) and his niece and sister. a guy who, after his very first game, had an article written about how he wasnât actually that good at the one solid constantâand honestly comfortâin his life and kept that article in his wallet. let it resonate with him. defined himself on it. it fucking wrecked him. a guy who doesnât feel like heâs worthy of anything. refusing to get close to others or let his guard down or show emotion. a guy who literally didnât have a close romantic relationship until keeley. a guy who doesnât want to be seen as soft at all so he doesnât smile. throughout his whole career. a guy who takes all his emotions and channels them into anger. a guy who has such an incessant need to prove himself to anyone and everyone. a guy whose self worth is intrinsically tied to playing football. a guy who doesnât know who he is without football. a guy who thinks the only reason he matters is because he can kick a ball around. a guy who thinks heâs nothing without this game. a guy who maybe doesnât even really know himself. a guy who (in my opinion) is so conflicted with his sexuality bc of these expectations for him and what he should be like. bc he doesnât want to lose the one thing that means everything to him. a guy who is so so scared. who thinks that everyone is out to get him. a guy who needs a kiss and to be held and to be told everything is going to be okay. heâs going to be okay
#roy kent#i started talking about him and now i canât stop#someone pls talk to me about roy kent#i literally love this guy
346 notes
·
View notes
Note
A most Happy Pride onto you maâam! Have you seen Ted Lasso? If so can I please get some roy/keeley/jamie<3 If not then dealers choice, fly free!
The first time itâs not gay, because Keeley is there.
The second time itâs not gay, because theyâre both drunk.
The third time itâs not gay, because Keeley is there again.
The fourth time itâs not gay, because itâs not like Roy meant it, itâs just Jamie had been so flushed with the high of a good practice and everyone had been gone and heâd thought if he didnât kiss him then heâd go mad and then stumbling into the showers had just seemed like good sense.
The fifth time itâs not gay, because of Keeley, again, except somehow Jamie ends up in the middle and Roy decides a mouth is a mouth, no matter who it belongs to.
The sixth time itâs not gay because Jamie and Keeley are having sex alone first, and he doesnât mean to interrupt, since theyâre each supposed to have time with her, but then Jamie sees him and licks his lips and jerks his head in an invitation and saying no would be more gay than saying yes, obviously.
None of itâs gay because itâs just sex. He loves Keeley and Jamie loves Keeley and he maybe he loves Jamie in a best friend, brotherly sort of way but not in any sort of way that would put him in the position to get his heart broken by Jamie Fucking Tartt.
He breaks up Keeley and that should be the end of that but somehow he keeps having sex with Jamie. He does his best not to think about it.
It gets out that one of the players the team is gay. Roy feels sweat on the back of his neck.
âUh, Iâm pretty sure itâs more than one,â Jamie scoffs as he leans back before his eyebrows dip together. âOr does bi not count? Proper proper gay, then? Who has the patience for that, honestly.â
âUh.â He can at least enjoy seeing Ted be speechless for once. âAre you â of course, we love and support you no matter what, right guys-â
âIâm dating Roy and Keeley!â he says, offended. âWhat, did you think I was just doing that because I was bored?â
âAnd Keeley?â Coach repeats faintly.
âYeah, itâs fine, Royâs the one whoâs causing his problems with his mid life crisis or whatever. I thought he was panicking more over dating a guy, but Keeley said whichever one of us he tried to break up with would tell us which crisis was the prevalent.â
Roy wants to die, and kill Jaime, and kiss him.
If heâd known they were dating maybe he would have been a little bit less â him, about it, is the thing.
Keeley is going to be so annoyingly smug about the whole thing.
#i have only seen the recent season through gifs#prompt answers#prompts are closed#asks#anon#ted lasso
365 notes
·
View notes
Text
Little Mic Interviews
Fandom: Ted Lasso
Pairing: Roy Kent x GN!Reader
Summary: You bring Roy's niece on for a social media campaign that you're sure everyone will love. Based off my imagine here.
You meet Roy in his office for lunch and you're practically bouncing off the walls.
He raises a brow at you in confusion, "What's got you all giddy?"
You giggle and move to sit on Roy's lap, "I proposed a social media campaign to Keeley and Rebecca and they loved it!"
"That's...good?"
You nod, "Yes, very good! The next thing I need to do is talk to your sister."
Roy looks at you even more confused, "My sister? Why?"
You're grinning, "I want Phoebe to work with me on this so, obviously, I need your sister's permission."
Your boyfriend's eyes squint at you in suspicion, "Should I be concerned?"
"Nope! It'll be fine. Fun even! I think the guys will enjoy it. So I'll chat with Phoebs and your sister later tonight. Hopefully, they'll both say yes."
____________________
The next weekend, Roy brings Phoebe to work. When they enter your office, you and Phoebe squeal, running into each other's arms.
"Fuckin' weirdos," Roy grumbles, but with a smile on his face.
You snicker, "Hi, lovey," you peck Roy's lips, and then proceed to push him towards the door, "And out you go because us girls need to get ready!"
Once Roy is out the door, he turns back around, "I'll see you at lunch though, yeah?"
"Of course," you peck his lips again, "Love you. See you in bit."
"Love you," he murmurs and looks over your shoulder, "You behave, got it?"
Phoebe smiles up at her uncle, "I will, Uncle Roy!"
"Good," he says with a nod and leaves you two be.
You clap your hands together and bring Phoebe to the other side of your desk, "Alright, Phoebs, let's brainstorm on the types of questions you'll ask the boys!"
_____________________
You and Phoebe walk out to the pitch an hour later with your work phone, a clipboard, a tripod, and a few bluetooth mini mics for Phoebe and the lads to use.
You nod to Beard and Nate, "Afternoon!"
Beard tips his hat, "Y/N."
Nate waves, "Hi, Y/N. Hi, Phoebe. Whatcha got there?"
"We're going to interview the guys!" Phoebe replies excitingly.
"Yup. Phoebs, came up with all sorts of questions for them so this is going to be veeeeery interesting." You look at your clipboard, "Alright, so we'll have the team captain up first." You look at Phoebe, "Mind grabbing Isaac for us, love?"
"Okay!" the young girl immediately rushes to the pitch towards her Uncle Roy. You watch as Roy looks down at her and they have a short conversation until Roy yells out, "ISAAC! YOU'RE UP FIRST!"
Isaac's head shoots up and starts lightly jogging to Phoebe. He's escorted by the young girl to where you've set up your phone and tripod.
"Hi, Isaac," you smile at the team captain."
"'Sup. Roy said you're interviewin' us for the socials, yeah?"
"Yup! And Phoebe will be conducting the interview. I'm just behind the camera and will butt in if needed," you go over to hand him and Phoebe a tiny mic that's already connected to your phone.
"Okay, Phoebs, whenever you're ready!" you give her a thumbs up and press record.
Phoebe immediately looks up to the team captain, "Isaac, why do you look grumpy all the time?" You over your mouth to keep you from laughing.
Isaac looks confused, "I don't look grumpy. I thought that was Roy's thing."
"You and my Uncle Roy both look grumpy a lot. Are you a grumpy person?"
"...no, this is just my face?"
Phoebe shrugs, "Okay! What do you prefer: unicorns or faeries?"
"Hm..." Isaac pauses to really think about it, "Unicorns are cool. I could probably ride one, yeah?"
"Good answer," Phoebe nods in approval. She then looks to you and gives a thumbs up, "I think we're good, Y/N!"
You chuckle, "Alright, Phoebs." You stop the recording and nod at Isaac, "Thanks, Isaac!"
"Sick," he says and jogs back to wear the rest of the guys are practicing.
"Alright, love, can you grab Dani for me?"
"Okay!" Phoebe runs off to grab the footballer and it continues to go that way as each interview comes and goes. Her questions were always very random:
"What do you use for your hair?"
"What are your thoughts on the new Disney movie?"
"How important do you think math is in football?"
The second to last interview: Jamie.
"How's it, Phoebs?" Jamie gives her a fist bump and she's beaming.
"Great! Okay, my question for you is: can you come to my birthday party? My friends don't believe that you and Uncle Roy are best friends. Also because my classmate Joanna doesn't believe that I know you and I want to wave it in her face that I do!"
Jamie chuckles, "'Course I'll come to your birthday party. Your my best friend's niece after all," he gives her a wink and they high five.
You snort as Jamie walks off and Roy comes forward, "Alright, you finished?"
"Actually, you're the last one we need to interview," you say with a smile.
"Me? Why the fuck would you want to interview me?"
You playfully roll your eyes at your boyfriend, "Phoebe wants to interview you. So go on, be a good uncle."
He frowns and walks over to Phoebe in front of your phone. He grimaces at the tiny mic she hands to him, "Why the fuck is this so small?"
You chuckle and shake your head, "Just get on with it!"
Phoebe smiles up at her uncle, "Hi Uncle Roy!"
"Hi."
"So my question for you is: when are you and Y/N getting married?"
Roy whips his head to you and you're laughing, "I swear I didn't tell her to ask that! Phoebe, ask him a different question!"
He shakes his head, "No, no. I'll answer it, but you can't hear."
Roy bends down and whispers his answer in Phoebe's ear. You and Roy have been together for quite some time and you love each other very much. You've talked about marriage in the past a few times, but you still weren't sure that's what Roy wanted, at least with you. But fuck did you want to marry him.
Phoebe is giggling and Roy is smirking as he straightens, "Alright, anymore questions?"
"Yes, can we get ice cream after this?"
You snort, "Of course, Phoebs, since you did an amazing job."
"Yes!"
You quickly clean up and the three of you head to your office to drop of your things and then you head to the ice cream shop.
________________
The following weeks, you start to post the interviews on the AFC Richmond socials. They're a hit, earning thousands of views and likes. But the one that really got people going was Roy's interview.
"Why'd you post that? Didn't seem very entertaining or anythin'." Roy says as you show him the post.
"I beg to differ, babe. Look at the comments! Everyone loves how you are with Phoebe."
"Now people won't take me all seriously."
"Highly doubt that. Those brows of fury will set them straight," you run your finger along one of his brows.
He snorts and pulls you closer, "You wanna know my answer to Phoebe's question though?"
You shake your head, "Nah."
He cocks a brow, "You sure?"
"I'm sure," you cuddle closer to him, resting your head against his chest.
The weight in Roy's pocket feels heavy now, but it will definitely lighten up soon.
354 notes
·
View notes
Text
WHISKEY, TANGO, FOXTROT - ROY KENT.
PART FOUR OF ACES AT THE WATER'S EDGE.
(series masterlist!) (AO3!) (series playlist!)
pairing: roy kent x fem!reader (no use of y/n!) summary: it's your first game of the season at chelsea and rebeccaâs got some press for you to do. however, thanks to rupert, the reporters will have some questions youâre not exactly ready for. the same could be said for 2012 roy kent, whoâs abusing his new avoidance power to the fullest extent. but, as the two of you continue to work and get closer, you realize that there might just be something else there.
word count & rating: 15.4k (holy fuck this is why it took 6 months), R (language per usual) chapter warnings: swearing, references to sex, minor allusions to sexual harassment, mentions of alcohol, the beginnings of sexual tension (slow and steady wins the race), rupert is a dick, roy kent has got around and everyone knows it, keeley and rebecca are wine drinking pr besties, men are trash (but we know this) author's note: long time no see and happy olympics season! it felt fitting to post this now, so I got motivated to get my ass into gear and write. there's A LOT to this one, so buckle up. and make sure you stay until the end bc baby we're cooking with gas now. this took a lot out of me, so i hope you enjoy! love u tons! -mags
LONDON OLYMPICS, LATE JULY, 2012.
Youâre up 1-0 when you retreat into the locker room at halftime during your third game of the Olympic Tournament against North Korea.
Despite the fact that youâre winning, it was a terrible showing from each of you, except for Mel, whoâd been your lone scorer of the night. Sheâd had a breakaway and had managed to single-handedly beat three defenders for a pretty impressive goal. Youâd practically jumped into her arms during the celebration, glad that someone was able to break the sleepy curse that had seemed to be placed on your team.
Your captain Katie OâConnor stands tall at the front of the room, ready to rip you guys a new one. She was the more⊠passionate of your three captains, potentially coming off as abrasive when things werenât going your way or if she felt that things could be better. It was only because she cared so much. You all did.
âWe should be beating them by four at this point,â she says, pointing out the door. A mumbling of agreements goes through your team, knowing that itâs the truth. âWeâre playing like itâs fucking high school out there. Itâs the fucking Olympics, act like we belong here, for fuckâs sake.â
The amount of âfucksâ that Katie drops instantly has you thinking of someone else. God damn it, he was probably watching, wasnât he? You could only imagine the things he was thinking, or saying, for that matter.Â
You know you shouldnât care as much as you do, but⊠as much as you hate to admit it, you want to impress him. Or at least make it look like these training sessions have been worth it. There was something about him that made you want to prove yourself. It wasnât that he demanded you to do so or that heâd value you less if you didnât, but you wanted to. Unfortunately, you cared about his opinion. How tragic was that?
Curiosity gets the best of you. Before your coach can come into the locker room, you fish through your bag and take a peek at your phone, just to see if he, or anyone else, has said anything.
Sure enough, you see that youâve got two texts from Roy Kent that were sent five minutes ago, right when you finished the half.
What a fucking atrocious half. I fucking dare you to hit the post one more time.
A scowl pulls at your lips, but you know itâs true. It wasnât anything you hadnât already thought yourself. He had an extraordinary talent for knowing how to be exactly the brand of jackass that pissed you off, though. It only became more apparent as you read the next message.
You could learn a thing or two about footwork from Rivera.
You scoff, glancing over at Mel, who, while she sat next to you, was staring blankly at the wall, undoubtedly in her own little world. Before she notices you looking, youâve turned back to your phone and to his messages. âAsshole,â you mutter, but type out your response.
maybe iâll get her to coach me then. she isnât as much of a dick to me.
The response comes before you can put away your phone. Not your coach, he says, then sends another message. Relax out there. Youâre somehow playing nervous and stiff at the same time. Youâre a fucking anomaly. But before you can frown too hard at that, he says, You know how to see the field. So take a breath and fucking see it.
You throw your phone back in your bag with a huff, mind reeling as you attempt to think back to what the field looked like before the half. The last three possessions had you following Mel as she took the ball up the field. The defense had started favoring her side due to her dominance throughout the game, leavingâŠÂ
âŠKatie on the left side. And while they hadnât left her openâ
âDid you call me an asshole a second ago?â Mel asks from beside you, having broken out of her own trance. You flinch at the sound of her voice, instinctively flipping your phone over and against the bench youâre sitting on.Â
She courteously spares you the weird look you know sheâs holding back. âNo,â you reply. You motion to your phone. âRoyâs texting me.â
Mel nods in understanding. âGotcha. Whatâs Coach Kent have to say?â
âHeâs being an asshole,â you repeat. âHe says weâre âatrocious.â Making fun of how much Iâm hitting the post.â You turn to her. âHeâs got good things to say about your footwork, though.â
Mel grins. âI knew I liked him.â
You scowl again at that. âHeâs also telling me I need to see the field better.â Mel raises her brows at the look on your face, cueing you to go on. âI think Katieâs been open-ish for the last three possessions. Theyâre favoring your side.â
The two of you look back to your teammate once more as you consider this. âWe could keep trying to draw the defense out,â Mel offers. âWe scare them a little bit, hit her when sheâs coming up.â
âShe can beat that fullback in a heartbeat,â you agree.
âItâs worth a shot,â she says. âWe canât play any shittier than we already are.â
You nod at Mel with faux enthusiasm. âThatâs the spirit.â
And thatâs exactly what you decide. Mel jumps to her feet and explains your plan to Katie and the team, drawing up the Xâs and Oâs on the locker room whiteboard. You glance around the room cautiously, forcing yourself not to read into your teammates' expressions too deeply.Â
But itâs hard. Especially when youâre an overthinker.
Itâs a title youâve resigned yourself to, much to Royâs pleasure. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, it was the truth. And while you were still working to get out of that lifelong mindset, it didn't seem to be getting any easier.Â
But your over-analyzing leads you to a result you like: all of your teammates seem to be on board with your ideas. You canât deny that that feels good.
You especially canât deny it when your coach walks into the locker room to see Melâs play on the baker and says, âWell, you ladies are way ahead of me.â Because thatâs exactly what she was going to draw up.
That feeling has you giddily awaiting the moment you can grab your phone before you head back out to the field to send a text to your newfound trainer.Â
iâll have a shot on net in the first ten minutes, you type to him, confidence radiating through the text. and itâs not gonna hit the post this time.
Your message reaches Roy when he returns to his phone at the beginning of the second half. He canât help the chuckle that escapes him as he settles back into his couch, shaking his head when he glances up at the massive TV in his sitting room, the broadcast showing a close-up of you with a new sort of fire in your eyes. Itâs a look that illuminates his dim and quiet flat, one that he canât seem to part with until they cut away from you.
Within four minutes and fifty-five seconds, you draw the defense over to you and Mel, who wails the ball over to Katieâs side of the field. Katie has possession of it for five seconds before she catches her defender off-guard and sends it in between her legs to you.Â
Five minutes in, you live up to your promise and send the ball into the corner of the net, the crowd roaring as Katie shakes you back and forth in excitement and Mel jumps on your back. One of the cameramen runs up to you to catch your celebration, and you stare down the lens with a satisfied smile and point in a way that tells Roy that youâre looking directly at him.Â
He couldnât stop himself from grinning even if he wanted to. With yet another shake of his head, Roy reaches out for the phone heâd thrown onto the couch cushion next to him.
I told you. Fucking anomaly you are, you stupid fucking Yank, he writes. Stay pissed off. Itâs a good look on you, Fourteen.
When Roy sends that text, he keeps his phone closer to him this time, and somehow, his dim and quiet flat feels just a bit lighter, even if for a brief moment.
PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.
Before you can leave the Richmond facilities post-Saturday afternoon practice, youâre suddenly called into Rebecca Waltonâs office.
Itâs a day before your first game of the season and after your rather animated talk with Roy in the Boot Room yesterday, youâre feeling a bit lighter. You slept better last night (though you donât see yourself hitting REM any time soon) and donât feel like youâre being dragged down by the massive weight of⊠well, everything. Itâs a feeling youâre taking in stride and one youâre welcoming with open arms.Â
Practices before game days were typically a bit easier-going, and you and your fellow coaches had decided to make sure the team was up to date and understood the best plays to run against Chelsea tomorrow. They knew who to stop, what defenses to watch out for, and what trick plays to expect. While you hadnât lent your voice to the conversation as much as you probably should have, especially after being yelled at for it yesterday, you spoke more than usual. While that still wasnât a lot, it was enough. And that made you feel good, above all else.
That feeling goes away the second you walk into your bossâs office to see her and an incredibly familiar face staring at you from the couch area. Your lips part the second you see her, hand unsubtly slamming against the doorframe, not just to stabilize yourself, but to keep you from dramatically heel-turning out of the room, to never return.
By the way that Keeley Jones is looking at you, you can tell sheâs just about on the same page. You suppose sheâs got the better end of this deal, simply because your arrival doesnât seem to be a surprise for her. At least she had a warning about the foreboding awkwardness of this situation. Your boss didnât exactly grant you that luxury.
Then again, you figure Rebecca had no real way of knowing just how strange this might be for you. She didnât know the extent of your history with Roy, and the only person who may was sitting right next to her, probably having shared more of that history than either of you cared to admit.
However, what youâre not expecting from Keeley, is the way she gapes at you, then turns to Rebecca to whisper, âFucking hell, you didnât say she was hotter in person.â
The shock and confusion flowing through your body makes you blink slowly at them to readjust, and you lean back on your back foot. You manage to stammer out, âI-Iâm sorry to interrupt, I can come back--â
âNo, no,â Rebecca says, beckoning you in after she finishes rolling her eyes at Keeley, âcome on in and join us! We just opened a bottle.â
Join them? You glance at the open bottle of wine on the coffee table, then back to them. Is this why you were called here? To indulge in some post-work girl talk with your boss and Royâs first real, and only public girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend, you remembered, but still.
Youâre sure the discomfort you feel is broadcasted on your face, and that becomes especially apparent when Keeley offers you a small, kind smile. However, the action is sweet and it makes your over-anxious mind ease slightly. If sheâs not going to be weird about it, you certainly arenât either.
Besides, you have no idea what she actually knows about you and Roy. He would be the type to tell her nothing. He was the type to tell her nothing.
However, something about Keeleyâs demeanor tells you thatâs probably not the case.
When you realize that youâve been standing like a freak in the doorway for just a moment too long, you snap out of your haze and return the smile, nodding gratefully as you enter Rebeccaâs office.
âWe were just discussing the game tomorrow,â Rebecca tells you as she reaches for the spare wine glass on the table. She eyes you with a wry grin. âIâd ask if you drank, but that bar cart I saw in your apartment gave you away.â
A surprised laugh escapes you at the rather forward comment, but it helps you relax slightly as you make your way to them. âYeah, well. It was probably looking pretty sparse when you saw it.â You reach your hand out to Keeley, continuing to smile softly as you introduce yourself.
âKeeley Jones,â she says to you, though thereâs a mutual understanding that this is just a formality. You both know who the other is. âBad week, yeah?â she asks.
You reach for the wine glass Rebecca offers you and send a look of confirmation to Keeley. âYou have no idea.â Your smile stretches as you look over at Rebecca and sit down. âThese last couple of days have made up for it, though.â
Rebecca returns it. âThatâs wonderful to hear.â
âI can imagine itâs been a little different than West Ham,â Keeley says. âWe know what Rupert likes to pull. All that shit heâs been saying about you leaving?â She shakes her head. âI donât know how people arenât seeing through him.â
The smile you wear falters slightly. âI, uh⊠havenât really been keeping up with any of that,â you tell her. âFigured it wouldnât be great to hear anything that anybodyâs saying about me, yâknow?â
âTotally get that,â she replies kindly. However, she hesitates. â...But you⊠havenât seen anything thatâs been going around?â
âUmâŠâ you trail off, shifting in your chair. âNo? Why? Is it really that bad?â
Rebecca and Keeley exchange a look. âItâs justââ Rebecca cuts herself off, looking back at you. âRemember how I said you wouldnât have to do any press if you didnât want to?â
Any remnants of the demeanor you had when you sat down completely drain from your expression. âOh, my God. It is that bad, isnât it?â
Keeley shakes her head, holding out her hands. âNo, no, itâs really not. It could be so much worse,â she assures. âI mean, it is that bad with those weird little shits online who always have a problem with successful women in sports, but what else is newââ
âThis is the worst of it,â Rebecca interjects, putting a hand on her friend's arm. She passes you a tablet as Keeley goes quiet and you take it cautiously.Â
Itâs a video of Rupert at a press conference, one you presume was taken this morning. The season kicked off tomorrow and Ted, Rebecca, and the rest of the team had been stuck doing interviews all day, something of which you werenât sad to have missed out on.
You press the play button in the center of the screen to watch Rupert point at someone off-camera. âYes,â he says. âDaniel, what have you got?â
Daniel, presumably, asks, âI was just curious how the teamâs feeling with that coaching shake-up so close to Opening Day?â You hear a murmur go through the audience of reporters. âLosing someone like that and then watching her get picked up by Richmond must be tough on you guys, no?â
Rupert seems to take this in and sit with it, nodding slowly. âI wonât lie to you, Daniel,â he says after a moment. âI wasnât happy with the note that we ended on. She had concerns toward the end of her tenure about her role on the team and with certain aspects of AFC culture. She knows just how talented I think she is, and how excited we were to have her working with us. And we had a wonderful couple of months working with her. But, unfortunatelyâŠâ He shakes his head scornfully, like all of this was genuinely upsetting him. â...there were just some differences we couldnât get past. The team was remarkably sad to see her go, but I donât believe itâll affect our performance this season.âÂ
He lets his answer hang there for a moment, but tragically, heâs not done. âPerhaps Richmond was willing to offer her some things that we werenât able to. Perhaps their values align more with what she wanted out of her AFC career.â And then, with a nonchalant shrug, he adds, âPerhaps she just wanted to coach with her old friend Roy Kent.â Your lips part at that, brow furrowing in disbelief as the reporters chuckle. âWho knows? I wish her the best and I wish Richmond good luck. I hope theyâre a better fit for her.â
The clip cuts off there and you glance up at Rebecca and Keeley who are both bracing for impact. âWhat the fuck?âÂ
If either of them find your words unprofessional, they do nothing to indicate it. However, thereâs something about them that tells you theyâre more than comfortable with that kind of language in the workplace. âYeah,â Keeley says. âSo, like I said. It could be so much worse.â
âHe was the one who was unhappy with how it ended?â you quote. âHeâs upset about the differences we couldnât work past? How about you address my concerns with AFC culture and get upset with yourââ
You cut yourself off before you can say too much, focusing your attention on the plant in the corner of Rebeccaâs office to stabilize yourself. What a fucking asshole. What a self-serving, lying, fucking asshole. Heâs not worth the tears. Donât give him that satisfaction.
You understand why you were called in now, why Rebecca prefaced the video with that question. Youâd neglected to personally get ahead of Rupert and make a real statement on your choice to part with West Ham and sign with Richmond. Now you were paying that priceâ the price of being afraid.
âWhatââ Your voice cracks as you attempt to speak, and you clear your throat. âWhat type of press do I have to do?â
Rebeccaâs sigh is empathetic. âWe think itâd be smart to send you out with Ted tomorrow after the game. Make a statement, answer a few questions,â she says. âThat is, if youâre open to it.â
Your brow raises skeptically. âI can say no to that?â
Rebecca chuckles. âYou can say no to anything,â she tells you. âRoy refuses to do any sort of press and heâs managed to be completely fine. Labeled as a bitter, old recluse, but he doesnât seem to care.â Typical. But then, she adds, âWe do think itâs your best move, though.â
You know itâs your best move. You know itâs what you should have done at the beginning of all of this. You know that thereâs nothing that you want to do less. But somehow, having that small, offhanded-out Rebecca offered makes it all sit a bit easier with you.
âI think so too,â you finally agree, sighing shakily. Rebecca and Keeley grin at you encouragingly, watching as you reach out to take a hearty sip of your wine. âSo, whatâs the plan?â You look over at Keeley. âI assume thatâs why youâre here.â
Keeleyâs face lights up. âExactly why Iâm here,â she replies. âWeâre gonna PR this shit so fucking hard nobody is going to know what hit them.â
Her enthusiasm makes the corners of your mouth rise despite everything else. âCanât say Iâm great in front of a crowd,â you warn.
âItâs rare to find people who are,â Keeley responds easily, flicking her hand like sheâs brushing off your comment. âThatâs why weâre going to make this as simple as possible.â
You nod. âOkay. Hit me.â
âOkay, three things youâre going to want to address,â she begins, tapping on her fingers. âThe first is clarifying the ânote that you ended onâ and those differences with the team. You donât need to get into specifics if you donât want toââ
âI really do not,â you tell her.
âGot it,â she says, and the look on her face tells you she really does get it. âDonât get into specifics. Just say that youâre also upset things didnât work out, but that it was nothing personal. Truly just leadership differences, like was first said. Even if it wasnât.â
Your eyes narrow in question. âSo, just lie?â
âWelcome to PR, babe,â she replies, and her grin gets more genuine when she sees you chuckle. âAlright, second; weâve gotta say something about why you chose Richmond. Something that goes beyond our stale press release statement.â
âI didnât think it was stale,â you offer.
âAw, thank you!â The smile drops from her face. âBut it was. All press releases are. Theyâre just words on a page, which is so fucking boring. And they get no feeling across. Which is what we need from you,â she says with a point. âYou just need to actually say what weâve already said.â
Once again, you nod. âSo, you need it once more, with feeling?â
Keeley blinks back at you, then glances at Rebecca. âMy god, I fucking love her.â
The smile that pulls at your lips is involuntary and smaller than the encouraging one that appears on Rebeccaâs. âI told you that you would,â she says softly to her, but itâs just loud enough for you to hear. She then turns to you once more. âHe brought up AFC culture and our values, but donât even touch that.â
â'Values' is a loaded word,â Keeley says. âHe used it for a reason, but if weâre looking to ignore all this, we shouldnât be using those types of words.â
âRight,â continues Rebecca. âWeâre not looking for a fight here. You donât want to engage, we donât want to engage. I think we can all agree weâre looking for this to be over and done with and forgotten about, yes?â
âYes,â you confirm.
âSo, just agree with his comments. Leave it neutral. Non-confrontational,â Rebecca says. âMake it easy. Even if youâre not disappointed to have left the club, say that you are. If you want to touch on âcultureâ reference AFC culture as a whole. The culture shock of transitioning from womens to mens sports.â
Neutral, you think. Non-confrontational. Easy. You can do that.
After a moment, you nod in confirmation at Rebecca. Then, you refocus on Keeley. âWhatâs the third thing we need to address?â
Keeley folds her hands awkwardly. âThat would be⊠uh, your friendship with Roy.â
Your face goes hot almost instantaneously. âOh,â you say softly. You scratch the inside of your wrist, finding it increasingly hard to keep Keeleyâs gaze, especially as she continues to sit in that tension with you. âDo I have to? Address that, I mean? We were just friends. A ton of people in the football world are friends with each other. I donâtâŠâ The lie sours your tongue and you glance over at Rebecca, hoping for her to throw some kind of life preserver to you over here. âI didnât think anyone knew about that. It wasnât like we were Matt Damon and Ben Affleck or whatever. Our friendship wasnât mainstream news.â
âSome intern at The Sun found some photos of you two after the 2012 Olympics at a club,â Rebecca explains. Your entire body flushes as you remember that night. âThey resurfaced and became relevant after your move to Richmond.â
âOkay, but, if itâs the night I think theyâre referring to, we were out with our teams,â you attempt to reason. âThereâs no reason other than media speculation that people would think we were⊠what was implied.â
Keeley points at you. âAnd thatâs exactly what youâre going to say if youâre asked about it.â Then, with a good-humored shrug, she says, âIf you want to be petty, you can talk about how this speculation wouldnât be happening if you were a man.â
Rebecca looks at her friend. âThatâs actually not bad. Because it wouldnât be.â
âNone of this would be,â you say to the two women in front of you. The tone youâve taken is scornful, and while they may not know all the reasons why⊠they get it.
Keeley reaches forward to grab the bottle of wine at in the center of the coffee table and tilts it to offer it to you. You nod almost immediately, mustering up a small smile as she pours. âSo, our plan is to send you in with Ted after tomorrowâs game. Theyâll probably, mainly, have questions for you because thatâs the drama right now, so Iâve written up something that we can practice and workshop.â
âTedâs won the press over and is practically on a first-name basis with all of them,â Rebecca continues. âSo, heâll be a lifeline if you need him at any time.â
Keeley nods at the glass she just poured for you. âSo, drink up. Because weâre going to run through this shit and roleplay.â She pauses for a moment, catching herself. âThe press conference, I mean. Not the sexy kind.â
âProbably better for HR reasons,â you reply.
As that joke slips out of your mouth, you can feel your comfort level with them rising. Something about them is just so⊠welcoming. Youâre in a room with your boss and Royâs ex-girlfriend. You should be guarded. You should be censoring yourself. But as you continue to sit here, you canât see yourself doing so.
Perhaps Richmond was willing to offer her some things that we werenât able to. Perhaps you were right, you fucking prick.
Keeley snorts softly and nods in agreement and you notice the smile that grows on Rebeccaâs face. âIâve heard the HR is rather easily swayed, so we might be able to get away with it,â Keeley responds, grinning as she sees you laugh.
Rebecca claps her hands together. âSo. Non-sexy press conference roleplay?â
They both turn to you, and after a hearty gulp of your wine, you sigh. âLetâs get to it.â
LONDON OLYMPICS, LATE JULY, 2012.
You finish the game against North Korea with another win under your belt and return to utter chaos when you get back to the dorms.
While you were the only scorer of the last half, everyone stepped up their game in the ways that they had to. Things still werenât perfect and there was plenty for all of you to work on going forward, but you were proud of the way your team had turned things around.Â
When you return, itâs just past midnight, and all you want to do is go to bed. The game had drained you completely dry, and there was nothing more appealing than the idea of tucking into your horrendously uncomfortable dorm bed. Luckily, unlike last time, Melâs on the same page as you.
Sheâd fallen asleep on your shoulder on the bus ride back for about an hour and spent the other three complaining that you werenât paying attention to her. And why werenât you paying attention?
Because Roy fucking Kent wouldnât stop texting you. After youâd read over the text heâd sent to you during the second half (and ignored the weird feeling in your stomach and heat on your cheeks at him calling you an anomaly, God, why did that word land with you so well?), youâd returned to gloat. Hit the post again, heâd said. You hadnât.
Things had gotten carried away from there. What had started as a slightly antagonistic and taunting back and forth had devolved into a conversation about the sleeping accommodations in the dorms (big-time footballer in his posh london flat doesnât even have the decency to drop off a mattress topper and some extra pillows? youâd complained to him), then to about which countries you wanted to visit (Australia. For no other reason than to meet a quokka, heâd told you), then to what the fuck a quokka is and why he knew about them (thatâs the stupidest looking animal iâve seen in my life. i want 10 of them, youâd said), to whatever youâd landed on next.
Youâd put your phone in your pocket the second youâd pulled back into the Village, helping the team unload everyoneâs stuff. Everyone seemed completely dead, something of which you celebrated, simply because it meant there was no team bonding preventing you from going to sleep as soon as possible. The only thing that was doing that for you was Melâs incessant questions about Roy.
âI really think youâre lying to me about this being a weird sex thing,â she says, readjusting her grip on the bag slung over her shoulder. âBecause thereâs no other reason that you two should be talking as much as you are.â
You make a face at her. âItâs not a weird sex thing,â you say for what feels like the seventeenth time that night. âWeâre just friends. Or, you know, whatever the closest thing to a friend Roy has is.â
âThatâs exactly my point,â Mel replies. Her voice echoes through the quiet night air surrounding the dormâs courtyard. âRoy doesnât do friends. He hasnât for as long as Iâve known him.â
âI thought you said you didnât know him.â
âI donât. And I say thatâs because he wonât let me get to know him. Because he doesnât do friends.â She shrugs. âI mean, ask Jack or anyone whoâs played with him. Theyâll say the same.â
When you approach the doors of your dorm building, you make a teasingly innocent face at Mel. âMaybe Iâm just different.â
âRight,â she says dryly. âOr he wants to fuck you.â
âWhy are you trying to ruin this for me?â you whine as you open the door. âIâm actually, like, kind of having fun with him and this training thing weâre doing. Heâs a good guy.âÂ
Mel shoots you a blank-faced stare. âYou were calling him an asshole less than six hours ago.â
âBecause he is. But heâs a good guy too,â you respond. âHeâs like⊠I donât know. Like Ron Swanson or Harrison Ford. Total curmudgeon but in a fun way.â
Melâs lips purse. âWell, now I canât stop picturing him with the Ron Swanson mustache.â
You grin, sidestepping fellow Olympians who hang around in the lobby of the dorm. âHave fun sleeping tonight.â
A heavy, exaggerated, long sigh leaves her as you approach the elevator. âJust be careful,â she says, putting her hands up in surrender as you look at her incredulously. âEven if you are just friends. And even if youâre not. As your actual friend, I have to tell you to be careful. All men suck, but athletes tend to suck ten times more.â
âIâll be fine,â you reply in a sing-song fashion. The elevator doors open and you and Mel step in. âI appreciate you, though.â
âYou better,â Mel scoffs. âIâm getting gray hairs thinking youâre doing weird sex shit with Chelseaâs Finest on a random pitch in the middle of London.â
You roll your eyes. âOh, my God, can these things close any slow--â
âHold the door!â shouts a voice from the lobby. On instinct, you reach out to stop the doors that were finally closing, feeling Melâs elbow in your side. The voice gets louder as it gets closer. âThank you. Did not feel like waiting for this thing again.â
Into the elevator walks (quite possibly) the hottest man youâve ever seen in your life. Heâs got the quintessential surfer look to him, but in a way that works. Heâs blonde (while youâre definitely more into dark hair, you canât deny just how good he looks), at least six-three, and is built like a lean brick house. His curls fall into his eyes that squint into a smile as he looks at you and Mel.
âOh,â he says as he walks in. âCongratulations on the win today.â
You and Mel stare at him in awe, snapping out of it as you realize that youâre gawking. âThank you,â you manage to get out. You try to place his accent and what sport he could possibly specialize in, but your brain malfunctions. âI would say the same to you but Iâm⊠uh--â
Luckily, he seems to catch on and saves you from your misery. âIâm Luca,â he says, holding out his hand for you and Mel to shake. âFrance. Swim team.â
âNice to meet you, Luke,â Mel says, finally recovering from her trance. âYou have any events today?â
âWe did,â he says, though he seems to be talking more to you than to Mel. âPlaced silver, so we canât complain.â When you two congratulate him, he nearly brushes you off. âI have heard your team is looking like youâre going to go all the way this year. It is fun to watch.â
âWeâre having a good run,â you respond, and he nods at you with that same breathtaking smile. âWeâll see what happens though.â
âYeah, you are good.â Luca pauses for a moment, then shrugs coyly. âYouâre American, so you are not as good as France, but you are up there.â
You see Melâs head tilt out of the corner of your eye. âEasy now,â she warns with a light-hearted smile. âWe beat them by two in our first match.â
Luca throws his hands up, grin turning teasing. âJust telling the truth. I must support my own.â
âWell,â you say, brow furrowed. âWeâll see when we get to the finals.â
âOui. I believe that we will,â he responds. You notice that heâs leaned in closer than you had previously anticipated and the realization makes your face heat. âWe should put a wager on it.â
âYou want me to bet on my own team?â you ask rather bluntly, hearing Mel cough to cover a laugh.
âI suppose, yes,â Luca answers. The elevator stops at his floor and his eyes flick to the number on the small screen. âIf France wins in your little tournament, you must purchase me a drink when these games are over. But if you winâŠâ He trails off with a shrug as the doors open. âIâll buy you one. It is only fair, no?â
You blink at him, trying to make sense of this entire situation. Is he flirting with you? Setting a friendly bet to get a drink? Just trying to be a jerk by referring to your Olympic Games as a âlittle tournamentâ? Then again, he was French, so many thatâs just the way he spoke.
Yet another nudge from Mel finally has you answering. âIâm the one playing,â you say slowly, cautiously trying to read him. âI feel like I should have a better prize for winning.â
Luca seems to consider this but shrugs once more. âThose are my terms. Even I cannot make exceptions for beautiful women. Do you accept?â
Okay, so maybe he is flirting with you. This beautiful, French, god of a man is potentially flirting with you. You wish heâd upped the stakes by asking you to dinner or something to offer something more direct, but this is what youâre getting. As he exits the elevator, he puts a hand on the door while he awaits your answer.Â
But, you donât know him. You donât know what heâs like, you donât know if youâll want him as a prize if you win, or as a consolation if you lose. But, you figure, itâs just fun. And heâs hot. So why not.
âIâll consider it,â you decide, mirroring that grin of his.
Luca nods at you, motioning to the hallway behind him. âThe deal expires soon. And now you know where to find me.â The smile returns. âSo find me if youâre interested.â
And with that, your movie-star-looking, strange Frenchman saunters off down the hall, leaving you with a million questions and an American soccer player whoâs gaping at you.
âThat was the hottest man Iâve ever seen in my life,â Mel says, staring at the now-closed doors. âIâm not even into that and⊠And he⊠And you said youâd consider getting a drink with him?â
âHe made a bet with me,â you argue. âHe didnât ask me out. And even if he did, I didnât say no.â
Mel looks at you like youâre both insane and the dumbest person alive. âI think we need to get you checked for a fucking concussion, because⊠what?â
âHe didnât!â you insist, suddenly doubting your own instincts. âDid he?â
The elevator stops and Mel makes a break for the doors. âI canât even look at you right now.â
You watch helplessly as Mel walks toward your dorm, muttering things about you under her breath that you can barely hear. The second you step off the elevator to follow, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.Â
Get some sleep, Fourteen. Youâve earned it. Iâll see you on Wednesday.
You find yourself smiling down at your phone, and for a moment, all thoughts of missed signs and Melâs words go quiet. you too, you reply. big game tomorrow. and you know iâll be harassing you like you did to me, so you better bring your a-game.
Before you can open your door to tuck in for the night, you get a response. Iâm counting on it.
PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.
Returning to Chelsea is like having one foot stuck in a dream and the other in a nightmare.
On one hand, itâs nostalgic. Itâs loud and boisterous and you canât escape the blue even if you tried. The fieldâs in the same pristine condition as you remember and the liveliness of it all engulfs you completely. It makes you think about everything that happened here and how easy it used to be.
But, on the other hand⊠it makes you think about everything. Those aforementioned easier times were a precursor to your downfall, and it all started here. It was the catalyst. Somehow, this place that had been in your life for an inordinately short period of time still had the same effect on you as it did eight years ago. And when you stare out at the field, you can't help but wonder what if.
As those memories start to creep into your head, you suddenly begin to feel very hot and incredibly overwhelmed. The tunnel youâre standing in is quickly going from something familiar to something more liminal. You swear itâs getting smaller too.
But on a day like today, you know you really canât be panicking about the past. Your teamâs on the field and your coaches are waiting for you to join them. There were more pressing things that were worthy of a panic attack.
You force yourself to take a deep breath and turn to the light emanating from the field at the end of the tunnel. Youâd never talked yourself out of a panic attack at the prospect of more important panic, but at this point, youâd take what you could get. Focus on the clamminess of your hands. Focus on how bright the field is and how much itâs hurting your eyes. Focus on running through the new plays you now know like the back of your hand.Â
As you walk down the tunnel and go through your maniacal little sense check, you decide to focus on something that you hear. And what you hear snaps you out of whatever state youâre in and makes it all quiet down a little bit. Because as you realize what it is youâre hearing, a very different feeling of⊠something takes over.Â
ââHERE! HEâS THERE! HEâS EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE, ROY KENT! ROY KENT! HEâSââ
Itâs nostalgia. Itâs dread. Itâs pride. Itâs irritation. Itâs⊠so many fucking things all at once and you canât possibly stop yourself from smiling at it. The twinge you feel pulling in your stomach stays with you as you suppress that urge. Damn it.
Despite his final years being spent at Richmond and despite his new coaching status, they still adore him. Youâd jokingly called him a âChelsea Legendâ more times than you could count, but it was true. Itâs what he was. Not that youâd ever say that out loud.
By the time you make it to the field, Royâs standing up from the coachesâ bench to show his thanks to the stadium. The cheer is resounding, the song continuing amongst it and you swear under your breath as that feeling lingers.Â
It doesnât go away as he turns to sit back down and meets your gaze instead. And, in typical Roy fashion, while he refused to show any emotion when thanking the city that supported him for years, a fraction of a smile makes its way onto his face when he sees you.Â
(God, you hate yourself for noticing.)Â
Looking away, you take another steadying breath and make your way to him and the rest of your team. The Richmond pullover youâre sporting rubs against your neck uncomfortably, but before you can fix it, you realize something: the cheers are getting louder. Confused, you look up at the jumbotron, knowing that that type of volume couldnât possibly be for you.Â
Lo and behold, itâs so not for you. Itâs for Zava in the ownerâs box, whoâs staring at the camera like a professional wrestler, egging the crowd on. Right. Of course. Fucking Zava. You take a seat next to Roy as you stare up at the screen.Â
âYou think we have a chance?â you ask him, and you see him turn to you from the corner of your eye. âIâve heard Rupertâs been putting in work there.â
Roy huffs. âFucking twat puts in work everywhere but the things that matter,â he mutters, looking back to Zava. Your brows shoot up in agreement. âLetâs hope Zavaâs not stupid enough to fucking fall for it.â
âRupert knows how to stroke an ego,â you reply, glancing over to Jamie, who was warming up on the field, unsubtly making a very conscious effort to not look up at the screen. âHe knows how to get what he wants. Speaking from experience.â
Roy scowls, and itâs a bit deeper than you were expecting. But, before you can dwell on that, heâs moving on. âYou alright?â he asks.Â
You know itâs meant to be casual on his part, but thereâs an undertone of concern that you try to ignore. âYeah,â you say through a sigh, hesitantly meeting his stare as you feel it boring into your cheek. You sigh again. âIâm good.â Thereâs a bit more conviction behind your voice this time, and it seems to satisfy him enough. âIâm nervous, but yâknow. Itâs a game. Iâm always nervous before games.â
âI know,â he replies. âIâve been waiting for you to throw up.â
Itâs your turn to scowl now. âI only do that for big games. This is basically summer league.â
(While your sarcasm was flat, it didnât go unnoticed. This was, in fact, a big game. Perhaps one of the biggest of your life. Youâd thrown up twice today. But he didnât need to know that.)
Roy looks unconvinced, but youâre thankful when he doesnât press you further. âYou know what to do today,â he tells you, and the assurance in his voice is palpable.Â
You do know what to do today. Youâve got to prove why you were hired. Be the coach you know you can be. Get over that crippling anxiety thatâs eating you alive. But instead of getting back into that, you say, âI know.â
âFucking shook on it, too. Means you have to do it.â
You refrain from rolling your eyes and slump back into your chair. âYeah, Roy, I know. I made that rule up. I got it.â With another sigh, you say quietly, âJust let me get there.â
His eyes remain on you. You think heâs going to say something else, but before he can, Ted whistles, calling everyone to attention. As the team rounds up, you and Roy stand.
Instead of saying whatever he was about to, he offers you a nod.Â
You got this, he tells you silently.Â
And despite the weird, horrendous, painful nether space your relationship currently exists in, the action does make you breathe a little easier.Â
You send him one back in thanks.
What doesnât make you breathe easier, however, is the score at the end of the half. What makes it even worse, is the unprofessional, pedantic Kent Rule that Roy has placed on the team that doesnât allow anyone to speak in front of Trent Crimm.
Royâs arms cross over his chest as soon as the writer enters the room, your players quieting down in suit. Your head tips back in annoyance, bracing for whateverâs about to come.
But nothing happens. The team remains quiet and wildly awkward and Trent aptly reads the room. Before he can leave, however, Tedâs calling for him to stay and is asking for Roy to chat.
Roy sends you a glance, then follows his head coach to the back of the room. While the players continue their talks in hushed tones, Beard inches over to where you stand.Â
âDid I see a playbook in your bag earlier?â he asks quietly, making you flinch in surprise. âSorry. I didnât realize you were listening in to their conversation.â
You shoot Beard a look. âI was not,â you say, even though you so totally were. âAnd yeah? I, uh, take that with me everywhere.â
Beard nods. âAre they your plays?â
âMost of them,â you reply, shifting uncomfortably. You hadnât talked about that book with anyone since you coached your college girls, and anyone you had shown it to over at West Ham hadnât given it the time of day. âWhy?â
âI want to see them,â he says, shrugging at your surprised expression. âIf you want to show them to someone, that is.â
A small smile pulls at your parted lips, and you nod back at him. âThatâd beââ
âCRIMM!â
Royâs voice startles you again, and this time, it gets Beard too. You both turn to see Roy walking back toward the showers, Trent hesitantly following in tow. Ted offers a small smile to both you and Beard as he returns.
âThatâd be great,â you whisper to Beard, finishing your sentence. âThank you.â
The next few minutes are just as awkward as the previous ones. No one knows exactly what to do, or how the conversation behind you is going to play out. You know how hard it is for Roy to let go of things. Forgiveness was never something he excelled at, especially when it came to more personal topics. Not that you were any better at it.
You look around the locker room, watching each of your players whisper animatedly amongst each other. You were down by one and there were no signs of giving up. Each of them knew they were still in this. Even more so, you hadnât heard any unkind or unsupportive words spoken since you got into the room.Â
Your mind takes you back to the second summer scrimmage you coached at West Ham. You were also down by one at the half, and the atmosphere couldn't have been more different. Blame was being shoved down everyoneâs throat, clinging wherever it would stick. Nathan Shelley had reprimanded three players within a minute and all of this was for a scrimmage. Nothing about that game mattered or counted. This, of course, was remedied the second you started winning, and the locker room was a wildly different place when you ended up winning by three.
While West Ham seemed to like each other, there was no sense of camaraderie there. It was nice, but nothing was kind. Richmond seemed like a family. You were starting to see that now.Â
It wasnât something you were able to embrace right now, but there was a growing piece of you that was⊠hopeful that youâd be able to at some point.
At that realization, you feel your body relax for a moment. Only for it to tense back up again as youâre scared for a third time, by Roy and Trent coming back to the group. As soon as he gives the green light to the team that Trentâs safe, the locker room erupts into relieved chaos.
Jamie starts shouting about the passing lanes. Sam yells out something about Chelseaâs lack of defense. More and more voices begin to speak up to offer their insight, and while theyâre all on the right path, nobodyâs said the right thing yet.
You can feel the words rising in your throat. Your mind continues to spin. Every thought youâd held on to, every tip you wanted to say, every nerve you had about saying the wrong thing was bubbling within you and you could feel yourself about to burst.Â
No more being quiet. No more being afraid. No more being passive.
I know that you know them on the field. But they fucking donât. And they wonât know it until you fucking show them.
You can feel your hands begin to shake back and forth in anticipation of whatever it is youâre about to say. However, you donât realize that someoneâs been watching you until they step beside you.
âCâmon,â they chide, making you jump, âFucking say it.â
You donât have to look to know that itâs Roy, but you still turn your head. His eyes fall from yours, to your hands, then back to your face. Heâs familiar enough with your tells to know whatâs going on. One part of you is grateful to have that. The other part wants to kill him.
The expression you wear reads hesitance, and youâve only got about three minutes before the team needs to head back out.
As he continues to stare at you, you can hear his voice in your head. This is your job. You signed up for this. Youâre a coach. So fucking coach.Â
You take a deep, shuddering breath and ball up your fists to stop the shaking. Fucking say it.
So, amidst the noise and the yelling and the bickering, you do.
âEVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!â
The silence that takes over the locker room is immediate and deafening. Every single person stares at you in shock, jaws agape and eyes wide as if they couldnât imagine looking anywhere else.Â
Every person but one. And if you were to turn and shake the sudden anxiety of having all attention on you, youâd see him smiling softly to himself, something like pride gracing his typically stoic expression.
It takes a moment before you realize theyâre all waiting for you to say something. You glance over at Ted, who, while still a bit taken aback, nods at you encouragingly.Â
Youâve got the floor, Coach. Letâs do it.
âYouâre all right,â you begin, motioning to each of them as you speak. âYes, Jamie, theyâre blocking the passing lanes. Itâs a straight-up wall once you get into the midfield. And yeah, Sam theyâre not marking you guys. Because they donât have to. Youâre all justâŠâ You search for the word, throwing a hand up when you land on, â...running around aimlessly out there because youâre trying to see whatâs going to work. But you know what will?âÂ
They all just continue to stare at you. Whether or not itâs because nobody has an answer or because they canât believe youâre actually talking like this, you donât care. Because you answer for them. âYou make them mark you. Force them to break down that wall. Draw them out, and then pass through the cracks,â you tell them, offering a small grin as you continue. âI know you guys. And I know it hasnât seemed like it because Iâve been⊠quieter. But I know the type of team you are, and each of you are so, incredibly good at what you do. Youâre way better than what youâre doing out there. Like, way better.â
Your team remains quiet, but you know theyâve snapped out of their surprised trance because theyâre smiling at you. And they look on board. Your grin grows as you notice. âSo, letâs go out there and start this season off right, huh?â
That gets them up and out of their seats. The boys erupt in a cheer, clapping as they gather around in a circle, each of them putting their hands in the middle. Daniâs voice echoes through the locker room as he yells, âFor Coachâs first game!â
Another round of cheers follows before Ted looks over at you. âCouldnât have said it better myself,â he tells you, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you. âAlright. I second everything she said. Now get out there and show them what youâre made of. Okay, four on three!â
Hands go up after their chant, and the team runs out of the room with a type of energy that youâre not sure youâve seen before. You hang back for a moment to take a breath.
A hand clamps down on your shoulder, and you turn to see Ted smiling at you. âNice to hear your voice, Ace,â he says, squeezing it softly. âI hope weâll hear it some more.â
You send him a thankful smile, nodding in affirmation. âYou will.â
Ted squeezes your shoulder once more, heading out behind the team. Beard nods in your direction, looking vaguely impressed in the way that only he can, before following suit.Â
That leaves you and Roy in the locker room, and somehow, for the first time, you feel like you can completely relax. A shuddering breath leaves your lips, chest heaving down as you do so. You hear Roy huff when he moves to stand next to you.Â
âWell,â he says. âThat was one fucking way to do it.â
âI have no idea what I said,â you tell him. âI blacked out after I yelled at everyone to shut up.â
You get a huff of a laugh out of Roy for that one. âYou did fine.â He doesnât miss your dubious look. âIâm serious. You did well.â
âYeah?â you ask.
Roy nods, expression turning a bit more earnest. âYeah, Fourteen. You did well.â
The nickname makes a lump form in your throat, and it takes everything in you to ignore it. Itâd been a while since youâd heard that one like this. It settles like cement in your stomach and you wish you could shake the feeling. He keeps his gaze on yours until you blink away, focusing on anything but him.
âThanks,â you manage. Again, because heâs being nice, you suppose you can be too. âAnd, uh⊠thanks for pushing me. To do that, I mean.â
Roy nods, albeit a bit uncomfortably. âYou needed it.â
âYeah,â you say again. You hold his stare for one more second before returning his nod, the tension in the air easing within the moment. âLetâs go win a game, Coach.â
You donât see the way Roy hides a smile as you turn to exit, the reflexive words of ânot your coachâ on his tongue. But, he bites them back because, well⊠he is a coach. And so are you.
And as strange as all of this has been for the last week, it hasn't actually felt real to him until now. Youâre here. Youâre here and working with him and youâre not going anywhere.
The idea of it doesnât make Roy panic as much as he thought it would.
(Though, unfortunately, that idea is what gets Roy to freak out. But he figures heâs got a bit of time to work that one out.)
LONDON OLYMPICS, EARLY AUGUST, 2012.
âYou ever date a swimmer?â
Itâs a question you pose to Roy seemingly out of the blue in the middle of one of your many footwork drills of the night. It was all heâd wanted to focus on for tonightâs training session, especially with your quarter-final game against New Zealand on Friday. While the idea of practicing again tomorrow was still up in the air, Roy had insisted on this practice being solely about fixing up what he viewed as your one weakness.
Roy looks up from your feet in confusion. âWhat?â
âHave you ever dated a swimmer?â you repeat, enunciating your words in a mildly obnoxious manner. âPerhaps a French person? But any swimmer will do.â
Heâs still staring at you like you have three heads. âThe fuck are you on about?â
You throw your hands up in a shrug. âIâm just asking. I find it hard to believe that amongst the slew of hook-ups Iâve read about, you havenât slept with a swimmer.â
Those furrowed brows raise in interest at your statement. âOh, youâve read about those?â
Your eyes roll. âSo not the point of what I was saying. Answer my question.â
âFoxtrot,â he says, watching you look at him in surprise. âNow shut the fuck up and finish your drills.â
âYou really want to use our newly-established one Foxtrot of the hour on a simple topic like this?â you question.
Apparently, he doesnât. âNo, I havenât dated a swimmer,â he finally tells you, exasperated. He glances down at your feet. âStay on your toes. That fucking left foot of yours is always fucking flat.â Still staring at your feet and ignoring the way you roll your eyes, he inquires, âWhy the fuck are you asking? And why do they have to be French?â
âI think I got asked out by one yesterday,â you say. Royâs gaze meets yours with a speed that nearly makes you stumble in the middle of your drill. âBut I canât tell if he was being a weird little jerk or if heâs just French.â
While his lips twitch up at the last part of your statement, he seems more stuck on the first. âYou think you were asked out?â
âOkay, it was strange,â you reply, sounding a tad defensive and slightly breathless. âHe was kind of like, negging me? Which, you know, Iâm now used to because I started hanging out with you.â Roy shoots you a look, but you carry on anyway. âBut he was all, âoh yeah, youâre good. But not as good as the French team.â And then he was like, âhow about this, if France beats you guys, you have to buy me a drink. But if you win, Iâll buy you one.â So, Iâm kind of confused.â You stop your footwork as Royâs stopwatch goes off and you take a moment to catch your breath. âAnd Iâm honest enough to admit that I was only entertaining it because he was hot, but I truly canât tell if heâs flirting with me and asking me out because he thinks weâll win, or if heâs trying to get free drinks out of me because he thinks weâll lose.â
âHe was asking you out,â Roy says bluntly, continuing to look unimpressed. âHe did a fucking horrendous job of it, but yeah. Heâs interested.â
You nod, absorbing this for a second before throwing your hands up. âWhy do guys do that?âÂ
âDo what?â he asks. âAsk girls out?â
Your expression quickly matches his. âYes, exactly. Iâd love for you to explain what happens when a man loves a woman, Roy,â you deadpan, biting back a smile as you see one grow on his lips. âNo, dickhead. Why do guys think that⊠thatâs the way to ask someone out? Like, I love a little banter as much as the next girl, but you gotta be good at it. And if youâre not good at itâŠâ You shrug. âI donât know. If youâre bad at flirting, youâre bad at flirting. Thatâs okay. That just means youâve just gotta be direct with how youâre feeling.â
Thereâs a brief moment where Roy seems to consider this, but shakes his head soon after. âSome donât know how.â
âWell, they should take classes from you or something,â you reply. âBecause youâre the most direct guy I know.â
Royâs scowl deepens. âThanks.â
âThatâs a compliment,â you say, pointing at him. His expression doesnât change. âIâm serious. I appreciate it. Youâre never afraid to tell me shit. Itâs admirable.â A wry grin spreads across your face. âFlirting with you must be a three-sentence interaction.â
He casts his eyes up to the night sky. âFuckâs sake, youâre on one tonight.â
âNo, Iâm curious. How do you do it?â you press with raised brows. âYou told me when we met that if you were trying to âchat me up,â Iâd know it. So, câmon. How does the magic happen?â
Though you were sure that it was impossible, Roy somehow looks even less impressed. âFoxtrot,â he all but snaps at you, making a low noise at the way you crush your lips together to hold back a laugh. âAnd Iâm fucking serious about it this time. Using my one for the hour, or whatever the fuck.â
âFine, fine,â you say, honoring your established rule with a surrender. âYou donât want to waste your succinct flirting charms on me, I get it. I wonât push you.â
Roy scoffs under his breath, fidgeting with his stopwatch. âThey wouldnât be.â
The words make you pause. âWhat?â
The stopwatch in his hand beeps as he finishes fiddling with the buttons. âYou said theyâd be wasted on you.â His eyes flick up to catch yours. âI can guarantee it wouldnât be a waste.â
He speaks so casually that you almost donât know what to do. You canât tell what he means. Would his efforts not be a waste because he⊠likes you? That he wouldnât even try if he wasnât interested? Or is he just so confident in his abilities that he thinks he could get you that easily? That he could turn it on within minutes and make you rethink your entire, weird little friendship that youâve started over this week? Because, to your knowledge, Roy hasnât shown any sort of sign that heâs interested in you.
Or has he? Was Mel right again? Have you been reading this situation wrong? Was his bickering and negging his strange way of trying to flirt with you? Getting in your ear during drills? Texting you during games? Calling you an anomaly?
You nearly shake the thought out of your head. Heâs Roy Kent. Heâs quite literally known for being stoic, for his confrontational personality, and for his hotheaded tendencies. Youâve seen all of those traits since you started training together and nothingâs tipped you off that it could be anything more than friendly. Or whatever his version of friendly is.
Youâve also seen the kinds of women he dates. Theyâre actresses, singers, models, heiresses-- rich London elite. The shitty little one-bedroom youâve got back home cries out in shame in the back of your mind. The Team USA Nike campaign that you were barely a part of for the World Cup taunts you. Actress, singer, model, and heiress you were not.
Youâre not sure if he sees the look of confusion on your face, but you turn away before you can confirm anything. âRight,â you say, drawing the word out slightly. You kick the ball youâd almost forgotten about toward him. âAnyway. Iâm bored of these drills. I need to do something else or Iâll go insane.â
Roy receives your pass, placing his foot on top of the ball with a quirked brow. Thereâs a hint of a smirk on his face as he attempts to gauge your reaction, momentarily throwing you off. âWhen have you ever had a say about what goes on in these sessions?â
âWell, never. But I think that says more about your coaching style than it does about anything else, despot.â
Roy rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time that night. Heâs found that itâs something he tends to do frequently when youâre around. âI told you that footworkâs the only thing weâre working on tonight.â
âYeah, but Iâm bored,â you repeat. âDonât you have like⊠I donât know. Games we can play?â
âGames?â he parrots. He almost sounds offended. âWhat, are you five years old?â
You completely ignore his comment and gasp, pointing at him. âLetâs play knockout.â
âAgain, I ask, are you fucking five years old?â
You look at him, pouting as you slouch over. âCâmon,â you practically whine. âItâs totally a footwork drill. But itâs fun. And itâs better than you just standing there menacingly with a stopwatch like youâre Frankie Dunn.â
Roy looks at you, then hesitates. âYouâre a terrible fucking negotiator.â
That moment of hesitation lets you know that youâve almost got him. While you may be a terrible negotiator, youâre something else: observant. The thing youâve learned about Roy is that he physically canât back down from a challenge. You know that thereâs something ironic in that, but you figure thatâs why you two have worked together so well so far.
So, your eyes narrow and you allow yourself to step forward to do just that; challenge him. âAnd youâve got South Korea in a couple days. From what I saw last night, you need the practice.â
Royâs head tilts, the beginnings of a dangerous smile twisting the corners of his lips. âIs that right?â
âI recall a lost possession toward the end of the first half that easily could have been avoided,â you say, sticking your leg out to kick the ball out from beneath his foot. The faux passive tone youâve taken on nearly dissolves at the way his eyes darken. âFor the amount that Chelsea's Finest goes on and on about footwork, youâd think heâd be better at it.â
Something between you two shifts the second those words leave your mouth. Youâre not sure if itâs the way heâs looking at you (or continues to look at you, God, you donât think heâs blinked yet) or if itâs your new proximity, but things feel completely different from when you started. The stare youâre holding is charged. Itâs not just a challenge anymoreâ thereâs something else there. It makes your mind whirl.
Royâs voice is low when he asks, âWhat would you have done differently?â
Itâs not what you were expecting, but it offers you a reason to look away from his piercing gaze, take a breath, and shrug. âI donât know,â you say. âCrossed my mark up a little. Probably would have sent it up the field. Your striker was practically begging to be passed to.â You glance back up at him, with a smile that borders on teasing. âDefinitely wouldnât have hit my mark as hard as you did when you lost the ball.â
âHe fucking dove,â is his response, sounding only slightly annoyed. But, when he sees you chuckle, he comes back to, âWho was open upfield?â
His question is genuine, like heâs actually interested in hearing your answer. âI donât know. Didnât recognize him. I think heâs a rookie,â you reply with yet another shrug. âBut if you led him a little bit, he would have been open.â Royâs brow draws as he hums something affirmative. When you realize heâs actually thinking about the play, considering what youâre saying, you canât help but throw in, âPlays like that happen when youâre thinking ahead, Coach.â
Your tone has Roy glaring down at you, and you can feel the look sear through you. âAnd the goal that happened immediately after that was all instinct.â
âMaybe,â you say noncomittally. "But it could have been better if you all had thought ahead."
That tension between you shifts again, but this time, itâs in a way youâre really not expecting. When Roy looks back at you, thereâs something disbelieving in his eyes. As if he canât figure you out. But itâs also something almost⊠fond. âYou really watched the game last night.â
Itâs a question that comes out sounding like a statement. Youâre not sure why he looks so surprised or why the emotional state of this conversation keeps going back and forth, but you say the only thing you can think to: the truth.
âYou watch mine,â you reply as if the answer was obvious. âAnd believe it or not, I like watching you play.â Roy blinks at you, obviously not expecting that. For good measure, you add, âBeing on the field actually gives you a reason to be a dick, so.â
That same searing stare returns, and it fixates on you long enough to make you itch. You donât break it, but you rock back and forth on your heels, thinking for a second, maybe you said the wrong thing. Maybe it was a little too real, or a little too friendly.
But before you can sweat it too much, Roy dips his head. âFuck,â he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. âFucking hell, fine. One round of knockout, you fucking child.â
âSeriously?â you ask, not even trying to hide the excitement in your voice.
âYeah. Get the ball. Letâs go.â
You beam at him, running to go grab the ball youâd kicked away from him previously. When you turn back, you find heâs moving to get his own. âIf Iâd known youâre this easily swayed by flattery, I would have started being way nicer to you earlier.â
âDonât push it,â he calls out. Despite the fact heâs not facing you, you can picture the look on his face. âAnd donât be fucking nice to me. I want to see you pissed.â
âBut weâre playing knockout,â you say, as he turns and kicks his football in your direction. âHow can I be pissed?â
Roy smirks. âIâm sure I can find a way.â
âOh, Iâm sure you can too. But why do you want me pissed?â
âBecause you play better when youâve got something to prove,â he tells you. Then, he shrugs. âThat, and⊠well, I wasnât lying.âÂ
You scrunch your brow. âAbout what?â
âItâs a good fucking look on you,â he says, meeting your gaze once more. âI might have to piss you off more often.â
Oh. Right, right, right. Totally. Ignoring the way that that makes your cheeks go warm, you reply, âWell, like you said. Iâm sure youâll find a way.â
Thatâs when Roy smiles at you. Itâs accompanied by a chuckle and while itâs not a full grin, itâs something warm and mildly sweet. However, for the first time, youâre stuck by how good he looks. Youâd always thought he was good-looking, but youâd never been attracted to him. But for some reason, right here, right now, some switch has flipped.Â
The realization churns your stomach and makes you physically look away from him. âCâmon, letâs play,â you say, hoping your forced nonchalance hides anything youâre currently feeling. âI like watching you lose.â
Roy huffs, sounding just a bit incredulous. âWhatever you say.â
PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.
You walk away from the Chelsea pitch with a tie. And frankly, youâll take it.
Youâve never seen a team more excited about a draw. Theyâre rowdy as they gather back into the locker room, and you feel a hint of a grin rising as you watch them from the hall. The petty part of your brain again has you comparing what this would have been like if you still worked at West Ham. Shelley would have berated your players (and likely his coaching staff) about how pathetic a draw was. West Ham was the superior team of the league, after all. Their record had to show for it.
Itâs then that a sudden realization comes crashing down on you. Fuck. West Ham. PR. You have to do press with Ted.
As if he could hear his name rattling around in your mind, your head coach steps in beside you. He nudges your elbow with his. âYou alright there, Ace?â
You nod quickly, like thatâll hide the panic you know is written across your face. âYeah, Coach. Iâm alright.â
When he folds his hands behind his back, you know he isnât buying what youâre selling. âYou still okay to do this with me?â he asks, motioning to the press room down the hall.
âIâve done press before,â you reply, though your mildly defensive tone tells him that youâre not certain if youâre assuring him or yourself. At the way he dips his head, you sigh in defeat. âIâve done this before. Just⊠never at this level. Or for these reasons.â
Ted nods in understanding. âYou know you donât have to do anything youâre uncomfortable with.â
âI know,â you say, because you do.
âAnd Iâll be there beside you the whole time. I can take over whenever you need me to.â He nudges you again. âI ainât too bad with all this press stuff. And Iâm more than happy to make a fool of myself if it gets too tough. Really give âem something to talk about.â
That gets you to look up at him wearily. âIâm scared to know what that means.â
âWell, itâs a good thing I donât think weâll get there,â he says, earning a chuckle from you in response. A beat passes before he looks at you again. âYou ready?â
A long, sharp sigh exits your body. When you inhale, you turn back to him. âYeah.â
âGood,â he says, nodding toward the room. âLetâs go quiet âem all down.â
You surprise yourself with an involuntary smile, but it gives you the confidence to follow him.
The press room is abuzz as you approach it and they get even more lively when you enter. You can hear your name being said from every direction and the chaos makes your hands shake. Youâve done this before, you tell yourself. You used to be good at these. Itâs part of being a coach. You wanted this. You know how to do this.
Ted, whoâs been leading the way, steps out to allow you to go up the stairs first. You clasp your hands together as you walk up, praying that this isnât the moment your feet choose to fail you and make you trip. Luckily, you avoid disaster and make your way to the further of the two chairs on stage.
You look out into the sea of reporters, eye each of the cameras, and continue to play with your fingers as if itâs the answer to calming your nerves. You donât realize things have gotten started until you hear Tedâs voice.
âAlright, alright, alright,â he greets the room, and you canât help but envy how easily the words come out. âAfternoon everyone. What have you got for us today?â All hands in the room immediately go up, each reporterâs eyes shifting from you, to Ted, then back to you. Everyoneâs got the same question on their minds. Everyone, except the guy that Ted picks, apparently. âYeah, Alec. What do you got for us?â
Alec The Reporter stands. âHow are we feeling about starting the season with a draw, Coach?â
Thank you, Alec, for starting with the easy question. âWell, I mean, I think we both would have liked a win,â Ted replies, looking over at you. You try your best at a smile and nod along. âBut weâre proud of our boys. They turned it around after that first half, due mostly to the insight of our new coach over here. So, I think weâre feeling good about this start.âÂ
Alec sits down, satisfied with the answer. Before Ted calls on the next reporter, he glances at you. You nod once. Youâre ready.
Ted points at a blonde woman toward the back of the room. âSarah, how are we doing?â
Sarah The Reporter stands now. âVery well, thank you.â Her attention is immediately on you. âCoach,â she says, addressing you. âHow was your first game with Richmond?â
Easing it into it, are we? You clear your throat and keep that smile plastered on your face. You can practically hear Roy yelling from the locker room for you to loosen up. âNot echo Coach Lasso, but Iâm feeling good. Definitely would have liked a win, but itâs not a loss.â
You donât think you could have given a more generic, neutral answer if you had tried. Maybe simply answering with âgoodâ would have been worse, but you doubt it. Sarahâs not done with you. âI was more referencing the dynamics of the team in your first game. The culture, if you will.â
Then come right out and say that then, donât be weird and coy. You fight back a scowl and in doing so, your grin cracks slightly. The phrasing isnât lost on you. Dynamics. Culture. Theyâre all words Rupert used just days ago. Stick to the script. Talking points. Donât let them bait you.
âThe Richmond cultureâs definitely different,â you reply, perhaps putting too much emphasis on the word. To save yourself, you add, âBut I think thatâs to be expected when coaching Men's sports. Bit of a different world over here.â You offer a shrug, hoping your smile returns to what it was. âIâm very grateful to the Richmond team and staff for welcoming me with open arms into the warm environment theyâve created.â
You hope Rebecca and Keeley are somewhere cheering you on. That was sweet, neutral, and non-confrontational. Everything you wanted to be. Everything you should be in this line of questioning.
Ted nods at Sarah, cueing her to sit down. He points to a reporter in the front. âMarcus, yeah.â
Itâs Marcus The Reporterâs turn to stand. And he comes out swinging. âNo use in beating around the bush,â he says, eyes on you. âDo you have any response to Rupert Mannionâs comments about you and your tenure at West Ham?â
This is it. You feel Tedâs foot nudge yours encouragingly as you nod at Marcus and take a breath. Just as rehearsed. You got this.
âThereâs not much to say that Mr. Mannion hasnât already,â you answer slowly. âUnfortunately, some things like that just donât work out. I too was not happy with the note that we ended on and wish it could have worked out our differences. But thatâs all it was. Differences. There arenât any hard feelings or any sort of bad blood between us. West Ham is a great team that I was honored to be a part of for the time that I was allowed. Iâm sure theyâll have a fantastic season and canât wait to meet them in a couple of weeks.â
You nearly let out a sigh of relief when you finish, thankful that thatâs fucking done. The lies donât sit right on your tongue and feel as though theyâre rotting your teeth, but you donât care. You got it all out, didnât slip up or trip up, and can hopefully put this to bed.
However, unfortunately for you, Marcus doesnât seem to be satisfied. Because heâs got a follow-up question youâre not at all prepared for. âAnd what of Tom MacDonaldâs recent comments?â
The world stops. It comes to a complete, emergency-braked fucking halt and you feel as though someoneâs punched you in the stomach. You feel like youâve been ambushed, but you know that if you could have been prepared for this, you would have been. This must have happened today. Perhaps, even moments before this. You can feel Tedâs eyes on the side of your face almost immediately.
He⊠made comments? He spoke about you?
You can feel your throat constricting, but manage to get a couple words out in a relatively neutral-sounding tone. âIâm not sure what comments youâre referring to.â
âIn his post-game interview about a half-hour ago,â Marcus says, glancing down at his notes to read. âHe said, quote, âMy best wishes are to Miss USA and her new Richmond team. I hope she finds her place with them, as I donât think she ever really found hers here. But, you know, I guess you canât really know until you really try to get to know the lads in the locker room and in the Coaches' Offices, huh?ââ
Your breathâs been stolen from you. You can feel your nose and eyes start to burn as you stare Marcus down, steeling the look on your face. Refusing to show any type of emotion or reaction to that, you gather yourself.
What a fucking prick. What an absolute, horrendously evil, fucking asshole he is. You can imagine the look on his face when he said that. The smarmy fucking smile that accompanied it, the casual nonchalance of which he spewed that last part out with. You want to burn him. You want to destroy his life, his career, everything. The audacity he was to even bring up the locker room and theâŠÂ
You feel physically ill. You could throw up on the spot, but thereâs something in you thatâs keeping you from doing so. As the silence in the room festers, you feel Tedâs foot tap against yours again.
Do you need me to make a fool of myself? His eyes ask as you meet them.Â
Quickly, you shake your head. You can do this. Youâve done this before. You used to be good at these. Donât let him get to you like this. Donât let either of them win.
You know you wonât come forward with what happened. You canât. But you werenât going to sit on your hands anymore. You wouldnât be neutral anymore. Neutral. That was the word of the day.Â
Fuck the word.
You allow another moment of silence to pass before you blink and refocus on Marcus. âIâŠâ you begin, collecting yourself. You can feel the anger rise within you and you know it shows in your eyes. Youâve never been able to hide that. âI do, actually.â
(Somewhere in the Chelsea facilities, Rebecca Walton and Roy Kent are glued to different TVs broadcasting your conference. Rebeccaâs unsure if she should be praying that youâll tear West Ham apart or writhing in fear at the idea of whatâs about to come out of your mouth. Roy, however, clocked the look in your eye immediately and canât remember the last time heâs smiled this big.)
âAs I said previously,â you start, straightening your back with a new, harder, more confident tone, âIâm also disappointed with the way that things ended between me and my former team. I also wish things could have been different and that I could have found my place. However, Mr. Mannion was correct when he assumed that I experienced a bit of a culture shock when I joined the club. However, I canât blame anyone or anything for that but my own expectations for what I assumed AFC Football was going to be.â You offer a smaller, slightly more pleasant grin to the reporters and cameras. âBut I can confirm that Richmond has met all of those aforementioned expectations within my first week. Iâm excited to continue my journey with them and canât wait to see where we go this season.â
Hands immediately fly up in response to your answer, follow-up questions galore. You glance over at Ted for a moment (who looks like heâs unsure whether he should be proud of you or sweating this), then suddenly find that a group of people are being ushered into the press room. You eyes lock with the man in the center, and he stares right back at you with an intensity youâre not sure youâve seen before. Zava.
âAnd on that note,â you say, quieting everyone down. Relief washes over you now that you have an excuse to leave the room, âI think weâve run out of time for questions concerning me. Weâve got something much more important to cover.â
When they all see that youâre referring to Zava, the room erupts into even more chaos. You couldnât possibly be out of your chair faster, ready to make a break for it, and run to the bathroom. Tedâs on your heels as you exit, running in front of you to stop you as you make it to the hall.
âWoah, woah, slow down there,â he says with a soft laugh. âRunninâ out of there faster than Tom Cruise inâ well, any of the Mission Impossible movies, I guess.â You donât meet his eye, or offer him any sort of pity laugh, something he catches immediately. âYou alright, Ace?â
âYeah,â you say shortly. God, you donât want to cry in front of your head coach. âIâm good.â
He sees right through you. God, why is everyone at Richmond so fucking in touch with other peopleâs emotions? âIs there something you want to talk about? Maybe something I should know aboutââ
âNo.â Itâs a conversation ender and Ted steps back from you. You squeeze your eyes shut, wanting nothing less than to deal with this right now. âIâm sorry, I shouldnât haveââ With a deep breath, you move away from him. âIâm fine. Really. Thank you for your help in there, Coach. And thank you for a wonderful first week.â
You even donât hear what Ted has to say in response to that before youâre beelining for the bathroom and locking yourself in a stall, finally allowing the tears that had been welling in your eyes to fall.
Zava announces that he'll be joining Richmond and thirty minutes, later you find yourself in a 'Coaches Group Chat' reading a message from Ted.
After you'd collected yourself, you had the full intention of pretending like everything was normal. You refused to let him win or get the better of your emotions, or fucking... whatever. So, the second you received that text, you immediately signed yourself up for whatever Ted wanted you to do.Â
Coachesâ Celebration at Crown and Anchor, the text from him reads. Be there or be square.
However, apparently, youâre the only one whoâs concerned with being square, because none of your fellow coaches have shown up yet. Thereâs a group of three guys sitting at a table in the corner, yelling things at the screen every few minutes. You see a couple who are throwing darts at the end of the bar. Thereâs a lone man with a pint at the hightop by the door, texting away on his phone. But Ted, Beard, and Roy were nowhere to be found.
The bartopâs nearly abandoned, so you choose a seat in the middle, making sure to reserve three extras. When the woman behind the bar turns to serve you, you can tell she immediately recognizes you, and the smile she offers is warm.
âGood showing today,â she tells you. Then, she shrugs. âWould have liked a win.â
A surprised laugh escapes you. âYou and me both.â
âWhatâll it be?â she asks.
You hesitate for a moment, glancing at the door. âUm, Iâm meeting people here. Iââ
âOh. Right. Thatâs tonight,â she says, with a knowing look in her eye. Your brow scrunches. âWhen he gets here, call me over. My nameâs Mae.â
Before you can question that cryptic fucking sentence or correct her and let her know that youâre meeting people (plural) here, the pub door opens. Roy walks through, nodding once he sees you.
He grabs the stool to your left. âNice press conference today,â he says in greeting, taking a seat.Â
The teasing note in his voice makes you scowl. âShut up. I was nervous.â
âI liked the part where you called Rupert a lying prick who needs to keep his mouth shut.â
âThatâs not even close to what I said.â
Roy chuckles. âYou might as well have. That was a media-trained âfuck youâ if Iâve ever seen one.â
God, you could really use that drink now. âI wasnât even trained for that one,â you admit sheepishly. âI literally donât know where that came from. I was like, possessed by some bitchy politician or something.â
âSheâd have my vote.â
âShe shouldnât. Sheâd start a global thermonuclear war because someone implied that she was difficult to work with.â You make a face at Roy as he chuckles. âBesides, I donât think a Roy Kent endorsement would do her any favors.â
âProbably not,â Roy agrees. âOnly person Iâve ever endorsed was you, and look where we are.â
You roll your eyes, casting them to the door. âOh, my God. Okay, where are Ted and Beard?â
âTheyâre not coming,â a voice says as they round the bar. Mae stands before you once more, wiping her hands on a rag.Â
You and Roy stare at her. âWhat do you mean theyâre not coming?â you ask.
âI mean, theyâre not coming,â Mae repeats matter-of-factly. Confusion takes over your expression. âThey lured you two here and Iâve been given a ridiculous amount of money to keep you here until the two of youâŠâ She glances down at her phone. âFix your issues andâŠâ Mae squints at the text sheâs reading from. â...âHave whatever conversation youâve been tiptoeing around.ââ
By the time Mae looks up, youâre gaping at her and Royâs already out of his seat.Â
âYouâre kidding,â you say faintly, praying that sheâll answer yes.
You have no such luck. âIâm not.â
âFuck this,â Roy mutters. âIâm not getting fucking trapped at a fucking pub with you on a Sunday night because our stupid fucking team doesnât understand fucking boundaries.â
You throw a thumb over your shoulder in the direction heâs looking to leave. âI second that. No offense, you seem lovely,â you tell Mae, âbut Iâm not staying here.â
âUnfortunately, you are,â Mae responds, nodding to the man who was sitting alone at the hightop, who stands up to block the door. Heâs got to be the tallest man youâve ever seen, and heâs built. You have no idea where he came from, but the sight of him alone gives you pause.
Royâs on that same wavelength because he stops in his tracks, glaring at him. âThis is fucking insane,â he says, looking back over to Mae.
âI agree,â she says, then nods to the window. âTake it up with them.â
You follow Maeâs line of sight to see Ted and Beard, sharing a pair of binoculars to stare at the two of you When they realize theyâve been spotted, Beard slowly removes the binoculars from his eyes and glares at Roy. Ted at least offers the dignity of a pity wave.
âWhatever theyâre paying you,â you begin. âRoy will double it.â
Roy narrows his eyes. âI will?â
âYes. You will.â
âWhy the fuck am I the one paying? Weâve got the same fucking salary now.â
You whip around in your seat to glare at him, exasperation in your voice as you say, âOh, my God, you played in the AFC for twenty years. I was in womenâs sports for thirteen. Weâre not even close to the same tax bracket.â
Roy considers this for approximately two seconds, then turns back to Mae. âWhatever theyâre paying you, Iâll fucking double it.â
Mae shrugs, clearly not budging. âIâm a woman of my word, Mr. Kent,â she replies. Then, she motions to the clock on the wall. âIâve promised to keep you here for at least an hour. What you do after that is none of my business.â
As Mae walks away, you stare at the bartop, truly unable to accept that this is happening in your present reality. Thereâs no way youâre doing thisâ no way that Royâs doing this. This is fucking ridiculous, itâs wildly unprofessional, andâ
âAnd Royâs sitting down. You slowly raise your head to watch him pull out the barstool, slump into the chair, and put his face in his hands as if he canât believe heâs actually going through with this.Â
Heâs giving in. Heâs not putting up a fight. Heâs obeying the wishes of his friends, heâs resigned to the cause, heâs⊠heâs putting himself in a position to have the conversation you two have been dreading since you began at Richmond.
Oh, fuck. Fuck. This is really happening.
You glance back over to the window where Beard stands, and he lowers his binoculars when he sees you looking. He sends you a simple, affirmative nod, raising the device to his eyes once more.Â
âI assume youâll be needing those drinks now,â Mae says from the end of the bar, two pint glasses in her hands.
You donât think you or Roy have ever said âyesâ faster.
TAGLIST: @dark-academia-slut @tegan8314, @csigeoblue, @confessionsofatotaldramaslut, @thatonedogwithablog, @hawkeyeharrington, @jamieolivia27, @seatbacksandtraytables, @luvr-bunnyy
#roy kent#roy kent x reader#roy kent fanfiction#roy kent x you#roy kent fic#ted lasso#ted lasso fanfic#ted lasso fanfiction#aces at the water's edge#aatwe#the one who can't walk up stairs
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
i feel like some people donât understand the bar scene at all because theyâre likeâ this ruined royjamie and messed everything up, why did they make it about keeley!!
but that conversation was never about keeley guys!! yeah, roy and jamie might have been talking about her and they might have been pretending that, thatâs what they cared about, but it was never about that actually.
roy asked jamie to go to that bar because he genuinely wanted to hang out with him, but once he started opening himself up to jamie (telling him he was proud of him and shit) things started to feel too real so his defenses go up immediately and thatâs why he brings up keeley. not to make her seem unavailable but to make himself seem unavailable. roy kentâs emotional constipation(tm).
jamie only gets competitive because heâs hurt and thatâs just in his nature. he had gone out with roy thinking that roy just wanted to hang out with him (and maybe something more??) but roy actually telling him it was never about that but to just rub keeley in his face makes him really upset, realizing he got the wrong idea. he thought maybe roy was reciprocating his feelings :(
like look how hurt he looks here!! that is not because he canât get the girl, itâs because he thinks the guy doesnât want him!!
#leave keeley out of this itâs about our boys being gay#i donât even know what this is#a head cannon maybe#or me just speaking the truth#could also be a fic idea?#idk i want to make more posts like this#jamie tartt#roy kent#royjamie#roy x jamie#royjamie head cannon#ted lasso#keeley jones#itâs really not about them but#royjamiekeeley#oc
142 notes
·
View notes
Text
DISTRACTIONS X | LET ME BACK IN
pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)
rating: T
word count: 8,787
summary: jamieâs upset that youâre keeping secrets from him and keeping him a secret. you need to find a way to fix everything.
A/N: Thank you all for your reactions on the last chapter. Even if youâre mad at the reader, I love that you guys care so much about her and Jamie. I hope despite the angst this chapter makes it a bit better...here we goooooo! xo
distractions masterlist | previous chapter Â
Something was wrong with Jamie. And you had a feeling it was your fault.Â
After you returned from your interview with the publishing house in New York, Jamie started acting differently. He was quiet and distant. When you tried to ask him about it, he brushed you off. At first you thought something had happened, and that heâd eventually tell you what was wrong in his own time. But that was a week ago and he still hadnât given you any explanation as to what was making him act like this.
You think maybe heâs caught on to your own secrets, such as the job opportunity you still werenât telling him about. The interview had gone well, so much so, that you were about to have your second. You had talked yourself up to telling him about it before then, but since he was already not talking to you, you didnât want to make matters worse. Or you were using Jamieâs feelings as a perfect excuse to delay the inevitable. Either way, you werenât any closer to explaining your behavior than he was explaining his.Â
It was eating you up inside. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but you couldnât bear the answer. You figured he was mad at you for all the secrets surrounding your relationship, and in a perfect world youâd give in and tell him everything. But you seized up every time you thought about doing so. It only made you feel even worse that he was pushing you away, and you were helpless to do anything about it. His behavior hurt you, but you couldnât help but feel like you deserved it, so you took it.Â
It was clear communication was something you both needed to work on.
You also didnât want to pry too much because you figured AFC Richmondâs upcoming match against Man City was also getting to him.Â
In the bits and pieces heâs told you about his dad, you knew he hadnât seen him since they had it out when they played at Wembley. They were also going to Jamieâs hometown, and the die-hard Man City fans werenât particularly thrilled when Jamie left the team for his brief reality tv stint. You canât imagine how all of this is weighing on his chest. You imagine it's pretty hard, and again you just wish heâd come talk to you about it.
Today you decided to try giving Jamie complete space by not reaching out, with the hopes that maybe he would do so himself. In an effort to not sit around and wait by your phone, you go out to lunch with Keeley and Rebecca to enjoy your day off.Â
Turns out it's exactly what you needed. Not only were you dying for a good meal - that Rebecca was paying for - you were in desperate need of girl talk. You were thrilled to catch up with both of them, and were even more excited to hear that Rebecca was investing in Keeleyâs PR company so it didnât have to completely shut down. You were also very intrigued when Rebecca made reference to Roy spending the night with Keeley a few nights ago, and upon questioning from both of you, Keeley played coy as to whether that meant her and the brooding football coach were getting back together.Â
Unfortunately, thatâs when the topic changed to your own romantic endeavors. Both of your friends inquired about how you and Jamie were doing. At first, you plastered on a polite smile, but you knew you wouldnât be able to convince them everything was okay if you couldnât even convince yourself. As soon as your faux-smile flips into a wobbling frown, both women sit up and are at the ready to comfort you.Â
âWeâre actually not great right now,â you choke out, feeling yourself becoming emotional about everything for the first time. Determined not to cry, you bite your tongue, âJamieâs been distant lately and Iâm pretty sure it's my fault.â
âOh, babe,â Keeley sighs, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, âWhat makes you say that?â
You take a deep breath, âFirst, that Iâve still been hesitant to tell everyone about us.â
Rebecca frowns from her seat on the other side of you, grasping your hand, âIâm sure he understands why you want to wait.â
âBut I donât even fully understand why,â you sigh, squeezing her hand, âAnd it's not just that. Iâve been lying to him about something else, too.â
Rebecca and Keeley remain quiet, giving you the space to admit it yourself. After collecting yourself, you begin to explain how you were interviewing for a literary job in New York, thanks to a friend back home. You told them it was going well, and that you had another interview set up in a couple days, and while you were excited to have a job in your dream career field, there was also something holding you back. And you didnât want Jamie to worry about you moving away, especially if you didnât know whether or not that was going to happen yet. But you fear heâs caught on to the sneaking around and is upset with you.Â
You take a deep breath, after you word vomit every worry you were feeling. You were staring at the table throughout your whole explanation, and when you finally look up at them, theyâre exchanging looks with each other.
âWhat?â you whisper, âDo you think Iâm a horrible person?â
They rush to assure you they do not in fact think youâre horrible at all. They completely understand why youâve been keeping this to yourself, but admit that it probably isnât making Jamie feel good that youâre keeping something from him, even though he doesnât know what it is.Â
âI know its scary,â Keeley says softly, now holding on to your other hand, âBut I donât think Jamie will react as badly as you think. Yeah, heâd probably hate the idea of you leaving, but heâs also so supportive of you. You know that.â
You nod, âI do know that. I think it's just the last time I told someone I was with that I wanted to go after a new job, he made me feel like shit.â
Keeley scoffs, âWell that guy was an asshole and heâs not Jamie.â
âI know.â You repeat, firmly this time. Hesitantly, you turn your focus to Rebecca, âWhat about you? Are you upset that I've been considering another job?â
âPlease, Iâve been waiting for this day to come since you started,â Rebecca chuckles, âYou and I both knew this was just temporary, until you were in a better place to go after what you really wanted. Iâm proud that youâre making those steps now.â
You close your eyes, absorbing her kind words. While it was reassuring to hear, it didnât make any of this easier.Â
âEven if it was supposed to be temporary, that didnât stop me from finding the best people Iâve ever met,â you squeeze both of their hands, âI donât want to leave any of you just as much as I donât want to leave Jamie, even if it's what Iâve always wanted.â
Rebecca and Keeley exchange another look, this time with small smiles forming on their faces.
âWhat if we told you, you could do both?â Keeley asks mysteriously.
You narrow your eyes, âWhat? Did you suddenly invent teleportation or something?â
âNo, better,â she smiles proudly, âI recently took on a new client whoâs an up-and-coming author from Wales, who is signed under this major agency here is London. So, because Iâm the best person ever, I reached out to his agent and told her all about you and the book youâre working on, and sheâs interested in meeting with you.â
âA literary agent, in the U.K., is interested in meeting with me?â you ask, dumbfounded.
Keeley nods aggressively and Rebecca gives you a huge grin.
âSo, if they like my work, they could potentially sign me, and I could stay in Richmond?â
âYup,â Keeley confirms, âAnd then when you eventually finish your incredible book, I can be your publicist!â
You laugh in disbelief, âI donât know what to say.â
âSay youâll think about it,â Rebecca says, âWe know New York was where you wanted to be and maybe thatâs still your dream, and weâd 100% support you. But if staying in Richmond is where you want to be now, you can do that too and still pursue writing.â
âYeah, we love you, and we just want you to be happy,â Keeley assures, âAlthough, selfishly, Iâd want you to stay here but that's just me.â
âNo, I second that.â Rebecca quips.
âBut totally no pressure,â Keeley tacks on, and after a beat, the three of you burst into a fit of giggles.Â
âThank you, both,â you smile genuinely, âFor everything but mostly being so supportive. I appreciate you looking out for me, and I will definitely consider meeting with that agent.â
âGood,â Rebecca cheers, pulling her hand from yours to clap hers together, âEverything will work out, career wise and with Jamie, too. I know it.â
Keeley squeezes your hand again, before returning to finishing her brunch, and your conversation swings back to what Rebecca has had going on. While you still needed to fix things with Jamie, as well as figure out what the hell you wanted to do with your writing, you had a feeling no matter what happened, everything would be okay.Â
Contrary to feeling more confident in your situation, it had only gotten worse. Over the last few days, Jamie had gone from distancing himself from you to completely ghosting you. Your attempts at reaching out werenât completely ignored, but his responses were minimal and you could tell were excuses. At work heâd avoid you, and when you invited him over, heâd say he was either tired from training or doing extra training. Again, you couldnât pretend it didnât sting, but you tried to push it all away, hoping after the Manchester game, heâd start feeling differently.Â
Meanwhile, you were also grappling with not one, but two job opportunities. The one Kara presented was in your dream city, but the one Keeley offered would keep you here with your new found-family. Both were appealing, but both scared the shit of you. Moving to yet another city was a big deal, but staying in one just for someone else was a mistake youâve made before. Not that Jamie was at all like Mason. You knew that above all else. But it was still something to consider. Plus, it was anxiety inducing having two of your friends get you these chances that felt a little unearned, especially with how youâve been handling everything. It was a lot to process, and the one person who usually helps you relax was avoiding you. By no fault but your own.Â
Jesus, you were getting no work done today, with all of these other problems taking up space in your brain. Plus you were hiding from Tedâs mom in an effort to keep your secret, because she in fact did not know about everything.Â
âOi!â you jump at the sound of your office door being busted open, a booming voice accompanying it, âYou need to fix your boyfriend.â
With your hand over your chest, trying to settle your racing heart, you give Roy Kent an apprehensive look, your eyes flitting to the hallway behind him.
Roy rolls his eyes, âMost of the team has cleared out for the night. No oneâs going to hear us.â
Still, he invites himself into the room and pushes the door shut rather aggressively, before plopping himself down in the seat across from yours with his arms crossed.
You calm down a bit, but you still feel nervous with the glare he was giving you. Did his eyebrows get thicker?
âWhat do you mean?â you ask eventually, wondering if you come off like you donât know exactly what heâs talking about.
âTartt,â Roy spits out, âHe just spent the last fifteen minutes crying into my arms.â
Your face falls, âHe did?â
âYeah. Said heâs lost his wings.â
âJesus,â you mutter with a frown. âDid he tell you why he feels like that?â
Roy shakes his head, âHe says he doesnât even know.â You bite your lip, breaking eye contact with him. He tilts his head, âSomething tells me you might have an idea.â
You sigh, crossing your own arms before looking at him again, âHeâs been acting off the last week or so.â Roy nods. âI think it has something to do with the Man City match coming up.â
Roy grunts, âThat doesnât surprise me.â
You hesitate before adding on, âAnd I probably have something to do with it, too.â
Roy furrows his brows again, âWhat did you do?â
You grit your teeth, âI think it's more about what Iâm not doing. Iâve had some personal stuff Iâve been sorting through recently that Iâve been keeping to myself. And I can tell heâs been wanting to tell everyone about us even though he says it's fine that weâre not.â
âSo?â Roy shrugs, âJust fucking tell everyone.â
âIt's not that simple.â
âWhy not?â he questions, âAre you embarrassed of him or something?â
âNo! Of course not. I do want people to know.â
âThen why not tell people?â
âBecause every time I think about telling anyone - the team, my family - I get this horrible feeling in my chest and I feel like I canât breathe. I donât know why, but it freaks me out.â
Royâs silent for a second before letting out a âHuh.â Another moment goes by, âYou should talk to Ted about that.â
Inwardly you laugh. Oh, how that was only another part of the problem. A problem you still didnât understand the root of.
âEither way,â Roy continues, âI think you should at least tell Jamie this. He needs you.â
âDonât you think Iâve tried?â you say, âHeâs barely talked to me the last few days, and when he does it's nothing of substance. I want to help him but I donât know how to get him to let me.â
Once again Roy doesnât say anything right away. You instead decide to break the silence this time.
âMaybe Keeley would be able to get through to him,â you suggest softly, âShe already kind of knows somethingâs up and sheâs known him longer. Maybe heâll listen to her.â
Roy looks as apprehensive about the idea as you sound, but you both know it's not a bad one. Eventually he nods and stands up.
âIâll ask her,â he states. You take that as the end of your conversation before Roy turns back in your direction in the doorway, âYouâre going to have to talk to him eventually. Jamie may be stubborn and weird and a fucking idiot sometimes, but youâre important to him. Heâll come around.â
You give him a slight smile, though it's a bit forced, and thank him. He nods once, his lip quirking up a bit in what must be his version of a smile, before he disappears down the hall.Â
Maybe if you couldnât fix Jamie someone else could.
Apparently no one knew how to fix Jamie.Â
While you hadnât heard from him into the next day, Roy and Keeley had informed you sheâd try to talk to him when everyone arrived in Man City. You waited in the suite you were sharing with her and Rebecca, anxiously hoping sheâd come back and announce he was magically doing better. But, when she quietly entered the hotel room, the look on her face told you everything.
âHeâs still upset?â You question already knowing the answer.
Keeley regretfully nods, âAnd I think I made it worse.â
âHow could you have possibly made it worse?â you exclaim.Â
âI didnât mean to!â Keeley cries, her hands shaking, âBut thereâs team movie night, tonight, right? Maybe some time with the team and a good, old-fashioned rom-com will cheer him up.â
âI donât know, Keeley,â you sigh. You hesitate for a few seconds, before asking, âDid he say anything about me?â
Keeley looks at the carpeted floor, âNot really. I brought you up - said you were worried about him - and he just looked sad and didnât say anything.â
âFuck,â you breath out, collapsing backwards on your bed, âDid I break him?â
âNo,â Keeley urges, jumping on to the bed beside you, âTrust me it canât be just your shit. The boy is unhinged right now.â
You snort despite the situation.Â
âCome on,â Keeley nudges you, âLet's get a drink, relax a little, go to the movie night and see if we canât talk to him after, yeah?â
You sigh again, before reluctantly nodding and letting her pull you up and out of the room.Â
Jamie needed to clear his head. Contrary to what he had hoped, a team viewing of Youâve Got Mail was not enough to lift his spirits. In fact, he could hardly get through five minutes of the movie without thinking of you. And thinking of you came with a reminder of how youâd been hiding things from him, and then how heâd cowardly been avoiding you instead of facing the problem head on. Of course those anxieties also doubled when he remembered the game he was playing this weekend.Â
He felt guilty for shutting you out. Of course he did. He honestly hadnât meant for it to get this far, he was just trying to figure out how to bring it all up. But then he started spiraling about returning to his home town and seeing his dad that it all became too much. He wanted nothing more than to talk to you about his worries, but you were apart of the reason he was so anxious. He could sense your own guilt - especially during the movie when he could feel your eyes staring at the back of his head. But he was still afraid of where the conversation would lead, so he once again pushed those feelings away.Â
Jamie knew there was one place he could go that would instantly make him feel better. And that was his motherâs house.
As soon as the credits rolled, Ted was calling for a 10PM curfew, but Jamie was on his way out. He expertly navigated the streets of Manchester, hoodie pulled over his head to avoid unwanted attention. About halfway through his commute, he caught onto the fact that you, Roy, and Keeley were trailing him. Despite his avoidance of all three of them, he couldnât help but feel amused that they were trying to sneakily follow him.Â
After leading them through a tunnel, in which the trio lost track of him, he doubled back and snuck up on them. Once again, he was satisfied that heâd managed to startle the three, but then he noticed the worry on your face, and he was reminded of the situation you were all in. He briefly considered ordering them away, until Keeley asked if he was buying drugs, so he figured ridding them of any weird suspicions they may have about him would get them off of his back.Â
As he led them unknowingly to his mumâs house, he felt a pain in his stomach knowing you were purposely leaving space between the two of you as you followed behind. He wanted nothing more than to take your hand, but just because you felt bad about hiding things from him, didnât absolve you of everything.Â
When they arrived on his street, a few of the neighborhood kids started yelling obscenities at him. Jamie just shook his head, knowing as well that Roy was definitely amused, before walking them over to his house.Â
Simon, his step-dad, greets them warmly and Jamie introduces them to his three confused companions. Then before he knows it, his mum is bounding down the stairs and all of his anxiety begins to melt away as she engulfs him into her arms.Â
Pulling away briefly, he turns back to see the curious looks on your faces, âMummy, Iâd like to introduce you to my friends, Y/N, Keeley and this hairy prickâs Roy.â
You smile sweetly in recognition as you all greet Jamieâs mom, but Jamie can tell youâre still caught off guard.Â
âItâs lovely to meet you all. Iâd give you a hug but Iâm not letting go of this one,â Jamieâs mom, Georgie, says cheerfully before Jamie picks her up and spins her around.
The lot of you end up in the living room after that, Jamie collapsing in his motherâs arms on the couch as Simon serves the rest of you with some of his homemade sweet treats. After Jamie tells her about the jerks online making fun of his hair, Georgie suggests that Simon give the rest of you a tour of the house. As they all file out, Jamie looks up at you. You give him a tiny smile; one that somehow conveyed guilt, sorrow, and support. Jamie was both happy you were here and scared as hell about where this night was going to go.
Now left alone with his mum, she finally presses Jamie to confess to what has been bothering him. He begins to explain how ever since he stopped playing football to spite his dad, heâs begun to feel like heâs lost his passion; that his heart wasnât in it.Â
Georgie frowns and holds her son closer. She lets him know that whether or not Jamie was the way he was in spite of his father, he was an amazing human. She also admits to how emotional she was when she saw him play for England. She assured him that even if his dad was in the stands tomorrow, drunk and screaming at him, it didnât matter. He had nothing to prove to him. Even if he was feeling lost, she was positive heâd find his way eventually.Â
Jamie instantly felt comforted by his mumâs words, hugging her tighter. He knew that no matter what happened with his dad, heâd always have her and sheâd always be his biggest fan.Â
After her speech, they sit in silence for a few moments, with his mum brushing her fingers through his hair.
âJamie, is something else bothering you other than your dad?â she asks softly.Â
Jamie plays with the strings of his sweatshirt, not even sure where to begin when it comes to you. He hadnât told his mum about you officially, but he certainly hadnât shied away from mentioning you over phone calls the duration that youâd been here.Â
âThereâs also a girl,â he says slowly, âThat Iâve been seeing the last couple months.â
He can feel his mum smirk into his hairline, âOne of the girls that came here with you tonight?â Jamie already knows his mum knows about Keeley, but he still clarifies that it's you. âAnd you like her?â
Jamie sighs. Like doesnât even begin to cover it. âIâm mad for her.â
âSo whatâs the problem?â
âI think sheâs hiding some things from me,â he admits quietly, âAnd sheâs also been keen on keeping our relationship a secret from most of our friends and I dunno why. Iâm afraid sheâs ashamed of me.â
âBut she treats you well? Makes you happy?â
âYeah.â
âThen sheâs probably just scared, babe,â she tries to soothe his worries, âI doubt sheâs keeping things a secret for any reason to hurt you.â
âBut why would she be scared?â he questions, âIâm not going anywhere. Iâm not going to hurt her. Iâve done and said everything to make sure she knows that. Well, up until I started avoiding her the last few days.â
Georgie shakes her head at that last bit, but ignores it, âIt doesnât matter what you say. If voices in her head are telling her otherwise, theyâre still going to be louder than any other voice even if it's unreasonable. This is the girl you told me about right? The one with the asshole boyfriend from America?â
âEx-boyfriend,â Jamie mutters making his mother chuckle.
âSheâs probably still reeling from the way he treated her. Even if you prove that youâre not anything like him, it's still gonna take some time for her to fully trust you. Or anyone. You need to be patient with her, love.â
Jamie sighs. He knows sheâs right. He has his own voices in his head working against him half the time, he should be more understanding of whatever is going on in your own head. He gets that youâve been fucked over before, and youâre definitely putting up walls because of it. He just wishes there was something he could do or say that would erase all of the emotional scars you had. But again, maybe that was something you could work on together. He just needed to actually step up and talk to you.Â
Even though you and Jamie have been in a rocky place, you are enjoying the tour of his childhood home. There are so many little things throughout the house that give you a glimpse into Jamieâs life, you try to memorize it all. Youâre loving everything you learn, that is, until you make it to Jamieâs room and see the poster of Keeley with two footballs covering her breasts. You feel a little weird seeing a picture of your friend and boyfriend's ex in his childhood bedroom, but part of you is equally amused, especially with Keeleyâs reaction. And then thereâs an old photo of Roy pinned right beside it that completes it all.Â
Simon leaves the three of you alone to check on his baked goods in the oven. You eventually excuse yourself to the bathroom in order to gather your thoughts, but also to give Roy and Keeley the chance to talk. Youâve been sensing the tension between them all night, despite their insistence on just being friends.
As soon as you shut yourself in the hall bathroom, you stare at your face in the mirror. You look downright exhausted. And you were. All of the worrying you were doing about Jamie, on top of the shit you were keeping from him, was weighing heavily on you. Seeing him turn into a little kid in the presence of his mom both melted and broke your heart. He was clearly hurting for a million reasons, and it killed you to even be one. It also hurt you when he introduced you to his mom as a friend, but it was your own doing.Â
Splashing water on your face, you begin to question everything. Why did you really want to keep your relationship with Jamie a secret? You have half a mind to send an email blast to the entire club right now saying youâre together, but even the half-baked idea makes your stomach hurt. But why? Why couldnât you just be a normal person and tell the world you had a boyfriend. It wasnât a big deal.
Except it was. Because it was Jamie. And with all his quirks and occasionally prick-like qualities, you adored him. More than youâve ever adored anyone. It was the biggest deal in the world and you didnât want to risk messing it up.Â
But you already have.Â
Thatâs it, you decide, staring your reflection down as you dry your face with a hand towel. You were going to tell Jamie everything. About Ted. About your job conundrum. And then once the air was cleared and Jamie - hopefully - still wanted to be with you, youâd hopefully feel better and be able to tell the world. You don't give yourself the chance to change your mind. As soon as you were back in Richmond you would talk. But hopefully you get the chance to at least apologize to him tonight. If he lets you.Â
You donât have to wonder about that long. As you exit the bathroom, you nearly run full force into Jamie, but he gently grabs your arms to steady you.
Your heart doesnât settle though, as you find yourself alone with Jamie for the first time in what feels like ages.Â
âHi,â you breathe out shakily, studying his eyes for any sign of what he might say to you.
âHi,â he repeats just as quietly, slowly and reluctantly, removing his arms from around you.
After a few seconds of silence, both of you open your mouths to apologize, but as soon as the words âiâm sorryâ leave his lips, youâre frowning.
âJamie, you have nothing to be sorry for,â you insist, âYouâre the one whoâs been hurting these last couple weeks, and I have been the one to make it worse.â
Jamie shakes his head, âBut I do have a reason. I fucked up. I should have just told you what was bothering me instead of pushing you away. You donât deserve that.â
âI-â
âYou donât.â he states, leaving no room for argument.
You swallow thickly, âWhy did you? Push me away, I mean?â
Jamie shrugs his shoulders, âI think I was afraid if I confronted the issue, thatâd you tell me you didnât want to be with me or something. So I just shoved it all down. But that clearly didnât help.â
You sigh, âI get that. I still want to be with you, though, just so you know.â
The corner of Jamieâs lips lift, but it's still wobbly, âWhat has been going on with you then? I know youâre keeping something from me, and I know it has something to do with why you donât want to tell anyone about us. I want to respect your decision, but it honestly has been killing me not telling anyone.â Jamieâs voice gets small, âIs it me? Are you embarrassed of me? Am I not good enough?â
âNo, Jamie,â you step forward and gently place your hands on his face, relieved he doesnât push you away, âYou know thatâs not it. I like you so much and Iâm proud to be with you.â
âThen why donât you want anyone to know?â
âYou want the honest answer?â He nods. âI donât know,â you whisper, âIt scares me, Jamie. I donât know why, but the idea of more people knowing makes me even more afraid of losing you somehow. I know that doesnât make sense, but for whatever reason, keeping to our bubble makes me feel like I can protect us from anything bad happening.â
âBabe?â he quips quietly, âSomething did happen. Thatâs why weâre having this conversation.â
You sigh, defeated, âI know. I told you Iâm bad at this.âÂ
Jamie frowns and wraps you in his arms, âYouâre not any worse than me. We just need to talk to each other.â
âYeah,â you nod into his shoulder, âI promise I have more I want to tell you - and I will actually tell you - but itâd probably be better to do once weâre back home.â
Jamieâs heart swells. He knows you donât mean anything by the word home, but he canât help but feel comforted by the phrasing. âThat sounds good,â he says softly, pulling back slightly so he can see your face, âPromise me, it's nothing bad. Like, youâre not seeing someone else, and youâre not wanted for murder, right?â
You laugh, despite the weight of the situation, âNo, it's none of those things.âÂ
âGood,â Jamie smiles softly, âAnd I promise not to ignore you the next time Iâm upset.â
âThank you,â you give him your own watery smile, âAre you going to be okay, tomorrow? At the game, potentially seeing your dad?â
âI donât know. I hope so,â he answers honestly, âSeeing mum always helps.â
Your smile widens, âYeah. Your mom is wonderful. Iâm really glad you have her.â You brush a few strands of hair out of his face, âI also promise next time we visit it will be under better circumstances, and you wonât have to introduce me as your friend.â
Jamie grins, âYeah?â
âYeah.âÂ
âIâm still okay with waiting as long as you need,â Jamie adds, âIâm scared, too. Also eager to brag about my insanely hot girlfriend everywhere I go. But I can wait. As long as you need.â
You giggle, âThank you.â
âAlright, letâs get Keeley and Roy, and get out of here.â Jamie states, making a move in the direction of his bedroom. However, you tug him back.
âOne more thing,â you whisper, before planting your lips on his for a long awaited kiss. When you eventually part, you both smile, âI missed that.â
âMe too,â Jamie nods before pressing his forehead against yours, âNever going that long without doing that ever again.â
You chuckle and agree, before you both part to collect Roy and Keeley. When you reenter Jamieâs room, you find the pair with their hands interlocked. They react as if they were in the middle of something - which they clearly were - but Keeley stands up and drags you out of the room, leaving the boys behind. You make a mental note to ask her about that later.Â
Outside o the house, the four of you say goodbye to Jamieâs mom and step-dad. His mom surprises you and gives you an extra tight hug. You have a feeling she probably already knows a thing or two about your relationship with Jamie. You find yourself unbothered by this though, and hope you find yourself feeling this way about telling your own family soon.Â
You watch on and admire Jamie and his mother as they say goodbye. Youâre once again so thankful he has a parent like her in his life, and that heâs clearly gotten the best parts of himself from her. He also definitely gained much of his confident arrogance from the way she talks about him, but he wouldnât be Jamie without it so you canât complain.Â
After one last wave, and a promise to return, the four of you head down the road, making plans to get a drink upon arrival back to the hotel.Â
The rest of the night you feel a sense of relief flood you. You and Jamie were okay. More than okay, in fact, you come to realize, when heâs propositioning you to come back to his room with him. A room he wasnât sharing with a teammate, heâs sure to emphasize. You of course eagerly accept, and spend the night wrapped in Jamieâs arms before falling into a blissful sleep.Â
You find yourself thinking about your late night hook-up when you lie awake early the next morning. Things were different between you. They were more intimate, even by your standards. It was like you used your bodies to convey every ounce of how sorry you were, and how much you cared about one another. It was slow. Tender. Loving.Â
Before you can linger too much on that thought, Jamieâs eyes are fluttering open as he lays on the pillow next to you. As soon as he blinks the sleepiness out of his eyes, he gives you a warm smile, which you return.
âGood morning,â he whispers, running his fingers through your messy hair.
âGood morning to you, too.â
âI wish I could stay here with you all day, butâŠâ
âYouâve got to get ready for the game.â you finish for him.
He nods regretfully before pushing himself out of bed. Before he can get too far, you reach for his arm.
âWill you be okay out there today?â you ask, once again.
And again, Jamie seems unsure, but he plasters another small smile on his face before leaning down to give you a kiss, âAs long as youâre there watching, Iâll be fine.â
You canât help but smile back, pecking him one last time before shooing him off to get ready.
With another moment alone, you once again feel relieved that you and Jamie are back in a better place. However, you feel that familiar ache in your chest that something is missing; that you still have things to make up for. You know you still have a lot to explain to him, but that could wait until tomorrow. You needed to see Jamie win this game first.Â
Richmondâs match against Man City on this day will go down as one of the most stressful football games youâve ever witnessed.Â
Everything started out smoothly. You watched enthusiastically from a box, seated in between Keeley and Rebecca, with Higgins on her other side. Van Damme was blocking every attempt made by the opposing team, and Jamie assisted Colin in making the first goal of the match. As you and your friends cheered, Leslie was hesitant to celebrate in fear of jinxing the team, so he stayed frozen in place.
Unfortunately, things took a turn after that. It was like the whole stadium was against Jamie. From the moment he walked onto the pitch, angry Man City fans were booing and cursing his name. Not only that, it seemed like every player on Manchesterâs side was out to get the footballer, knocking him down or stealing the ball every chance they got.Â
You watched on nervously, trying not to let it get to you. It was the name of the game. But it didnât mean you had to like it.Â
Half way through the game, the worst of your fears happened. In an effort to prevent Man City from scoring, Jamie leapt to block the ball and hurt his ankle in the process. You watched with bated breath when he wouldnât get up from his spot hunched behind the goal line. He brushed off Isaacâs attempts to help him, and eventually got up himself. You let out a sigh of relief, until after walking a few feet, Jamie is falling back onto the pitch and the medical team is rushing onto the field.
âHoly shit,â you mutter under your breath.
Keeley takes your hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. âHey, it's okay. Jamieâs going to be okay.â But you can tell she sounds just as nervous as you feel.Â
You donât know how long youâre waiting to see if Jamie will make it back up, but its torture. Ted is clearly banking on Jamie being able to play again, refusing to substitute anyone for him and having the team play with ten players instead of eleven. For their part, theyâre holding down the fort, and Van Damme continues to block every shot. But you donât care about the game, you just care about Jamie.Â
At this point, both Rebecca and Keeley have a hold on each of your hands as you watch the medics look after Jamie. You know the coaches must be getting restless, because Ted goes to talk to Jamie again. You wish nothing more than to be able to rush down onto the pitch and comfort him yourself, but you trust that Ted is giving him the pep talk he needs to hear.Â
And it seems as though you were right, because minutes after talking to Ted, Jamie is up and walking back onto the field, to the excitement of the crowd and his teammates.Â
You feel a weight lifted off of your shoulders, letting go of your friendsâ hands to clap for him yourself.Â
âYeah, let's go Jamie!âÂ
It was as if the next few moments happen in slow motion. After defending another goal against Man City, Van Damme is sending the ball down the field to an open Jamie, who expertly navigates around several opponents to get towards Richmondâs goal. You watch in awe as Jamie scores the teamâs second point, bad ankle and all, all on his own.Â
You practically fly out of your seat to cheer for him, screaming and jumping around with Keeley and Rebecca. In the midst of the stadiumâs celebration, a whistle blows to finally send in Jamieâs substitution. Looking a bit shell-shocked and relieved, Jamie slowly makes his way off the field, but it's not without a proud send off from the entire crowd - including the Man City fans who were previously cheering against him.
Jamieâs touched face fills the jumbo-screen, and your heart swells with adoration. You know how much this has to mean to him. You also feel overcome with love for your uncle, who let Jamie have his moment before taking him out of the game.Â
You had never felt more proud of Jamie, and you were once again overcome with the urge to run to him.Â
You sit anxiously through the final moments of the game and rejoice in yet another celebration when the clock finally runs down and Richmond is declared the winner. Even as you embrace both of your friends in all the excitement, your thoughts are still consumed by Jamie.
You needed to see him.Â
You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, as you walk with Keeley, Rebecca, and Higgins down to the guest locker room. You try not to appear over-eager, wanting to remain in step with your friends, but you find it hard to resist the temptation to run ahead of them. After what feels like a trillion years, you make it to the locker room, finding the teamâs celebration in full force. You break away from your group, as they go to congratulate the coaches. Part of you also desperately wants to talk to Ted, about a lot of things, but particularly how much you appreciate him for being there for Jamie tonight, but you had to see Jamie first. Your eyes scan the room as you walk through, congratulating Colin and Dani as you pass each of them, before you finally notice Jamie, towards the middle of the room. Sam had his arm around him, most likely supporting his teammate with his injury and all.Â
Not even really processing that your feet take you there, you find yourself in front of the footballers. Sam sees you first, giving you a blinding smile. You donât hesitate to return it, but your attention is hard pressed on Jamie, and Sam seems to get the memo.Â
âYouâre here!â Jamie exclaims, breathless from the excitement, and a bit confused about what youâre doing.
You nod, âYeah,â you shout over the noise, a bit breathless yourself. âYou wereâŠincredible out there.â
Jamie squints at you, though heâs thankful for the compliment, âYeah?â
âYeah,â you bob your head up and down, still running on adrenaline.Â
Jamieâs confusion is palpable, but when he goes to say something else, you donât give him the fucking chance.Â
Like a force, you wrap your arms around Jamieâs neck and pull him in for an earth-shattering kiss. You feel Jamieâs surprise, but it's short-lived as he wraps his own arms around your waist. You balance Jamieâs weight as Sam lets him go, only to start cheering for the two of you. This, of course, grabs the attention of the rest of the team, who immediately join in when they see what the two of you are doing.Â
You hear shouts of surprise and excitement, and a few people shaking your shoulders, but you couldnât care less. Your focus was entirely on Jamie, who was giving you the best kiss of your life right now. Unfortunately, breathing was still a thing so you had to pull away. When you do, you canât look away from Jamieâs eyes, that are once again overcome with emotion. You imagine you look the same.
âIs this really happening?â Jamie eventually gets out, shakily.
All you can do is nod again, with a breathless laugh, âI think so.â
Jamie eagerly kisses you again before engulfing you in the tightest hug. Into his shoulder, you whisper how proud you are of him, and he only squeezes you closer to him, if at all possible.
Over his shoulder, you notice the rest of the club. Roy and Keeley look on at you two happily - or as happy as Roy Kent can look. Higgins for his part looks delighted as well, and Rebecca looks proud as hell. Beard looks like heâs frozen in place from the shock. And TedâŠ
You hadnât really thought about how you were doing this in front of Ted.
When you study him, he is exchanging a look with Rebecca, who shrugs her shoulders innocently. Ted looks back at you, a little bit stunned, and a little bit amused. When he makes eye contact, you find yourself opening your mouth as if you could explain from where you were through all the commotion. He just raises his hand, signaling there was no need to say or do anything, and then he gives you a supportive smile.
You are once again flooded with relief. You knew you would eventually have to talk to him about everything, and explain more to Jamie as well. But at this moment, everything felt right in the world for the first time in a long time.Â
The teamâs victory celebration carries on throughout their bus trip back to Nelson Road and into the locker room as most of them get changed for a night out. Jamie elects to stay behind, wanting to rest his ankle, and also get a bit of alone time with you.Â
You help Jamie walk to the treatment room, before telling him you were going to grab something from your car. He, of course, doesnât let you leave without pulling you in for another kiss. Heâd been kissing you any chance he got all night, basking in the freedom he now had to do so as he pleased. You had to admit, you could definitely get used to all the affection.
For your part, though, you didnât need anything in your car. You just wanted the chance to task Roy and Keeley to find some champagne, so Jamie could still have his own little celebration. But you also wanted to talk to Ted.Â
On your way to the coaches office, you pass Beard who is headed to the after party. When he clocks you, he gives you a wide eyed look.Â
âYou, missy, are my shit list,â he states, crossing his arms.
âWhat for?â you cross your own arms, âYou want Jamie all to yourself or something?â
âNo, Jamieâs not my type,â he teases, âIâm hurt that you didnât tell me.â
You chuckle, âTo be fair, I didnât tell a lot of people.â
âStill, I thought we were closer than that.â
You give him a smile, uncrossing your arms to touch his shoulder. âI promise the next time I secretly date a footballer on the team you coach, youâll be the first to know.â
âThank you,â he places his own hand over yours, before pointing a finger at you, âBut this better be the first and only time that happens.â
You giggle again. He kisses your head, letting you know that he is very happy for you, before disappearing into the night, as Beard does.Â
That leaves you to find Ted alone in his office, packing up his bag. You knock on the doorframe, getting his attention, and immediately receiving a playful grin from him.Â
âThere she is,â he sing-songs, âMrs. Jamie Tartt.â
You scoff, âWoah. Woah. Woah. We arenât betrothed.â
Ted snorts, âI know. I just like teasing you, Kiddo.â
You laugh lightly, before you decide that it's now or never to address the elephant in the room.Â
âIâm sorry for not telling you,â you say softly.Â
Ted shakes his head, âThereâs nothing to apologize for.â
You nod, but you donât feel any less sorry.Â
âDoes Jamie know about our little family-affair?â Ted eventually asks.
You shake your head, âNo. Was thinking Iâd wait to tell him tomorrow, butâŠâ
Ted nods, seemingly knowing exactly what youâre thinking, âYouâre scared?â
âYes,â you breathe out deeply, âBut I donât get it. I canât tell him about you. I havenât been able to tell you or Michelle or Dad and Pop about him. I really, really like him and I should be able to tell everyone that. But it terrifies me and I donât understand why.
âI do,â Ted sticks his hands in his pockets and raises his shoulders, âBecause as soon as you say something like that out loud, especially to the people who know and love you most, it makes it real. And thatâs what's scary.â
You suck in a huge gulp of air, âYes. Thatâs exactly how Iâve been feeling. I just didnât know how to put it into words.â
Ted nods, continuing, âAnd telling family is twice as hard, because theyâre the people who know you better than anyone else. They can call you on your bullshit, but they also know when something is the real deal. Which is probably why you never told us about what was really going on with Mason.â
You narrow your eyes at him, âHow do youâŠâ
âRebecca may have mentioned a couple things in passing,â he admits, âShe is not a fan of him to say the least. Rightfully so, it seems.â
âYeah,â you agree shakily, âEven though Jamie is a lot different than Mason, I think I didnât want to hear truths I wasnât ready to accept yet.â
You did everything you could to keep your family and Mason out of the same room - and Mason made it easy - because you werenât ready to have them all tell you how bad he was for you, even though you knew it deep down. But with Jamie, you just weren't ready to accept how important he was to you.
âItâs all understandable, Kiddo,â Ted states, âAnd Iâm sorry that you went through that alone for a bit.â
You shrug it off, âI was okay. I wasnât completely alone.â
Tedâs eyebrows raise, âApparently so.âÂ
You feel your cheeks get hot, âThatâs not exactly what I mean, but yeah, Jamie was certainly nice to have around the last few months.â
Your uncle chuckles, âWell, Iâm happy that you found each other. I know you donât need my approval or anyone else's, but I think you two are really great for each other.âÂ
Your stomach swirls, comforted by this notion. âThank you. I think Jamie would be happy to hear that, too.â
âWell, Iâll be sure to let him know once you finally get your act together and introduce him to the family,â you roll your eyes, âNow, get outta here, Kiddo, and give that boy some company.â
You nod, taking a half step out the door before immediately spinning around to capture him in a big hug, âLove you, Uncle Ted.â
Ted sighs quietly, âLove you, too, Kiddo.â
Ted once again shoos you out of his office, and you bid him a goodnight, telling him to give Dottie a hug for you.Â
When you rejoin Jamie in the treatment room, you find him typing away on his phone. He pockets it when he notices you come in, and gives you a sweet smile.Â
As you join him on the infirmary bed heâs perched on, you press another chaste kiss to his lips. Jamie struggles to think of a time whereâs been happier. He had you, and the rest of his people knew. He couldnât ask for anything else. As you lean against his shoulder, and once again recount how proud you are of the game he played today, he canât help but stare at you and take in just how special you are to him. He wants to find the words to express this to you, and a certain L word nearly leaves his lips, when he hears the door open to reveal Roy and Keeley.Â
Jamie looks up at them curiously, brushing off how flustered he is from his previous thoughts, âWhat are you two doing here?â
âI invited them,â you speak up, drawing his attention back to you as you give him a smile.
âYeah, wanted to keep you company,â Keeley adds with a bright smile of her own.
Roy reveals a bottle of champagne from behind his back, âAnd fucking celebrate.â
Keeley squeals and claps as you squeeze him into a hug. While Jamie would have loved a night just the two of you, he canât complain when heâs surrounded by a group of people who care about him. He never thought heâd be so lucky.Â
As Roy pops open the bottle and starts passing it around, you also canât help but feel warmed by this moment. As the four of you share the champagne and joke around, youâre in disbelief that youâve made it here; to be surrounded by genuine friends and a boy who was crazy about you. Not to mention becoming closer to your family again with Beard and Ted around. You still had a lot to sort out regarding your career, but one thought echoed through your brain the rest of that night:
Why would you ever want to leave this place?
A/N: THERE IT IS!! oof i poured my heart into this one and canât wait to hear what you all think! the secret is out!!! mostly. ted has something to say next as well all know. anyway. TWO CHAPTERS LEFT!đ
Taglist: @atabigail @escapismqueen @boundtomyfate @sammysgirl1997 @lil-tracys @shephard17895 @alaspice @itsbarbraann @redpool @drmeghanjones @straightforwardly @alex-sulli @aiyaiy @artemismaximoff @roadtoself-love @theloud-yet-quietone @forcesofgrief @kirisimpster @geek-and-proud @grippleback-galaxy @lalla-04p @gabbycoady13 @royalestrellas @qardasngan @creationcitystreet-em @percysaidnever @emily-b @mrfitzsimmons @k-n-e @agentstarkid @legobatmans9thab @mrsprongs25 @sokkigarden @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @dollfaceyourfear @dicgohargreeves @heyitz-julia @vampirodelascajas @grxcesmind @lizziel1410 @a-sweet-little-fangirl @bcon24 @looooooooomis @queen-of-dumbasses @moseyluvs @alipap3 @amachira @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @daphneblakeswife @chelseamount @k0z3me @lickitandsendit3 @miakat9 @shimmeringfrenchie @meg-ro @selmasemlan @hellfire-babez @rockchickrebelâ @katdahlaliâ @taytaylala12â @lemonpiegurllâ @pri00râ @brianandthemaysâ @afraidofshrimpâ @curlypeterâ @sonyumeâ @rexorangecounyâ @thewildestwonderlandâ @cyphah @buckybarnex @eviemae263782 @piper570 @ibong-adarnaaa @spookysins @optimisticsandwichgladiator @marveltg365 @ringpopdust @gcidrvsh @beardsplitter @scaramou it wouldnât let me tag the last few of you, let me know if its something with your settings, otherwise i can keep trying in future updates! <3 Â Â Â
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt x f!reader#jamie tartt x female reader#ted lasso fanfiction#ted lasso fanfic#mine#distractions series
656 notes
·
View notes
Note
Thank you so much for the response to my request <3. the fic was better then I could have hoped!!!!
I have a new request (but feel free to focus on the story themes you were wanting to do!), I have been really wanting to see a Jamie fic where he takes care of sick reader. Could be period or illness (no preference) and Jamie has no idea how to help but tries his best. I think its a cute idea
Can't wait to read more of your fics!
Thank you so much for requesting!! Literally love when people ask me to write things. Also, apparently everyone loves a sickfic because my other one has the most notes of everything Iâve written. Anyway, hereâs your fic!
thereâs orange juice in the kitchen
You are not sure of much, but you know one thing: youâre in pain. Itâs 2am, and youâve gotten a grand total of two hours of sleep. Youâve given up on laying in your bed and have filled up your bath with hot water, bubbles, and bath salts. Lots of bath salts. Your abdomen feels like itâs shredding itself and you suppose, technically speaking, it is. Youâre just relieved that tomorrow is the weekend and you donât have to slog through a work day, white-knuckling these absolutely ripping period cramps.Â
You donât have regular periods like, ever, and your doctorâs concerned about your fertility. You remember waving it off with the statement, âThatâs a problem for another day.â Thing is, that was just a cop-out. You didnât want to think about it for a single second because then it would become real, and you make it a personal point never to complain about a period no matter how brutal it is because at least itâs something and never mind that your last one was four months ago, youâre ok. You have a good life and good people and youâre fine.Â
Itâs just the principle, you know? The desire of choice.Â
The hormones donât help either.Â
But anyway, youâre in your tiny bath trying to soothe the pain youâre in, trying to make yourself tired enough to fall asleep once you get out. You breathe, in, out. In, out.Â
Youâre up till 6am when you finally doze off.Â
â
You wake up in a sweaty haze. Youâre in soft pants and a large t-shirt, on top of your sheets rather than in them. You reach for your phone then pull your legs in with a sharp gasp. Youâre still in pain.Â
It subsides so you reach again and check the time. 9:01. You groan. Three hours of dubious sleep is not enough. You have a missed text from Sam (remind me which brand of kitchenware you use?) two missed texts from Keeley (look at this absolutely adorable puppy! Attached: 1 Image), and a missed call from Jamie.Â
Ah, right. Jamie.Â
Your boyfriend.Â
Who you were supposed to meet for breakfast exactly sixteen minutes ago.Â
Shit.Â
You call him back and he answers on the first ring.Â
âHey love!â he says. âYou alright? Not like you to miss breakfast.â
You grimace. âI uh, I wasnât feeling well last night and I havenât slept very good. I forgot to text you. Didnât fall asleep until 6.â
âA.M.?â Jamie asks and you reply to the affirmative. He lets out a long âshiiit,â followed by a, âhow contagious are you?â
âFor you? Not very,â you say. âFor another girl, incredibly contagious, although some say thatâs an old wiveâs tale.â
Jamie is silent in confusion, then- âOhh, I get it! Youâre not sick-sick, youâre on your fucking period.â
You chuckle, despite remaining curled up on your side.Â
âYes,â you reply, âMy fucking period. I feel nauseous and tired and I am bleeding so. Much. Itâs like my bodyâs making up for the last four months of nothing.â
Jamieâs silent for a moment and you internally cringe, kicking yourself for over sharing. You havenât been together that long, about a month and a half, and he doesnât need to know that about you. Heâs a famous footballer, after all, and a guyâs guy. Probably gets grossed out about periods and stuff.Â
Then he says, âCan I come over? Iâll bring food,â and your worries almost completely evaporate.Â
âAs long as you donât care about how disgusting I am or the fact that I hurt a lot, sure,â you say. âIâll leave the door unlocked.â
â
Jamieâs at your flat in 40 minutes, which is fast considering how much food he walks in with. Heâs brought a bag of Chinese takeout, plus two overflowing grocery bags.Â
âThis is for now, these are for later,â he explains. Heâs in a pink sweatshirt with matching shorts and socks, and maybe itâs the damned hormones again but he looks hot. His hair is pushed back with a headband and you want him to fuck you. You donât think you can convince him, though, what with the blood. And the fact that heâs Jamie fucking Tartt. And that he probably doesnât do shit like that because itâs gross.Â
Your brain whispers, but heâs here, isnât he? so you just push that thought down to live with other scary ones like, I will never have kids, or Iâm going to live with this pain for the rest of my life.
Jamie is oblivious to this, just pulling everything out of the bags and chattering on. Heâs kicked off his trainers near the door, and he hasnât made any comments about the fact that youâve wrapped a blanket around your shoulders like a shroud, or that your hair is in the messiest bun in the history of the world. Not the sexy, reader-insert fan fiction type of messy bun, either. Just an I-did-not-get-anywhere-NEAR-enough-sleep-last-night messy bun.Â
â-and me mum always drank orange juice, swore it helped with bloating or hydration or somethinâ, I donât really know, but I got some of that too and this tea thatâs supposed to help with cramps, and also a shit-ton of chocolate because I didnât know which kind was your favorite. I was thinking we can sit on the couch and watch a movie or play Animal Crossing or some shit while eating the takeout, then I can cook you a proper fucking meal later. Coach always says itâs important to have a balanced meal when youâre under the weather, and I think it applies to this too.â He stops when he notices you just looking at him. âYou alright, babe?â
âYeah, I just- why did you get all this?â you blurt out.Â
For the first time since youâve known him, Jamie looks unsure of himself. âI dunno. I mean, I do know. You didnât sound great over the phone, and Keeleyâs always telling me to fucking listen to other people, and me mum was always the same on her period so I used to get her the things she wanted all the time. And-â he takes a breath, âand I picked up on what you said. The fuckinâ four-months shit. That ainât good babe. Even I know that. And, we havenât been together that long, but Iâm pretty fucking sure you know that too, and I wanted to let you know Iâm sorry.â
Youâre momentarily fixed on the way he says certain words. Keeleh. Sorreh. Itâs sweet, for some reason, and it causes a dull ache in your chest. You realize what heâs actually said to you and that ache deepens. Youâd kiss him if you werenât sure your breath was gross.Â
So instead, you settle for nodding and staring at your kitchen wall. Thatâs because option one is kissing and option two is crying. You canât do either right now.
A traitor tear slips out your eye anyway, and you hope Jamie wonât see it. He does.Â
âHey, hey.â He comes around the counter and pulls you into a hug, blanket shroud, messy bun, and all. âLove. Itâs alright. Itâs alright. Youâre not alone, and weâre going to go sit on the couch and eat as much food as we can and then pass out, alright? Weâre not going to think about anything else except whatâs right in fuckinâ front of us.â
âThat was,â you sniff, âweirdly philosophical. And very sweet. And Iâm sorry for being disgusting.â
Jamie pulls away from you, and you think this is the first time heâs realized how gross you are.Â
âDonât say that shit, babe,â he says, and you laugh before you realize he isnât joking.Â
âIâm serious,â he continues. âYou might feel disgusting, but you arenât. You smell like fucking lavender, for Christâs sake. Your pajamas are clean, and soâs your hair. Might be fuckinâ messy right now, but me mum also taught me to braid, so itâs nothing that canât be fixed.â
You pull him back against you and let some more tears come out.Â
âWhy are you being so nice,â you ask, voice muffled through his sweatshirt.Â
âOh, dunno,â he replies, hint of a smile in his voice, âThink youâre fit. I like shower sex. You pick.â He pauses. âMaybe both. Heard that it can help with cramps.â
You laugh wetly into his chest. Heâs warm and comforting, and so completely not what you expected him to be. You both stand in the kitchen for another minute, his cheek resting on your head before he says, âOi, you hungry?â
âGod, yes,â you say, âI could eat a fucking horse.â
âGood.â Jamie picks up the bulging bag of takeout and a roll of paper towels. âLead the way, babe.â
â
Itâs not until much later, after youâve eaten, watched a movie, and showered (and all that implies) that you realize youâre finally tired. Finally calm. You let yourself relax on your bed in Jamieâs arms, breathing in his clean smell. In, out. In, out. By the third breath, youâre asleep.Â
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt x y/n#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt#ted lasso
508 notes
·
View notes