#but i DO think it’s bad that Ted told Jamie it was on Jamie

[lunar-years]

whenever I think about how Jamie (nor really anyone) knows about Rebecca's actions I get even more and more annoyed with the writers. Jamie deserved to be hurt, he was literally a pawn in other people's games without his knowledge.

yeah, I get this. I do think it is really beautiful of Ted to not get angry with her and to also not go around exposing Rebecca's actions to everyone else on the team, rather offering her wholehearted, blanket forgiveness. That is such a wonderful and meaningful standout moment in the show. That said, of course Rebecca's actions weren't only Ted's to forgive. They affected the entire team. All the player's careers (Jamie's especially because of her sending him back, yes, but literally all of them), Beard, Higgins, Keeley. That said, from the perspective of the show, this is actually an instance where I understand why the writers let the matter lie instead of sending Rebecca on an apology tour, because I think it would have been really hard to write that organically. Like, Keeley knows and doesn't tell Roy. Ted knows and doesn't tell Beard. I think those they choose to keep it quiet not *just* to protect Rebecca but because they know it would do much more harm than good to tell other people. Beard and Roy I think in particular would have had a really really difficult time forgiving Rebecca after that, and the show wanted to move the story forward.

Similarly, Rebecca and Jamie don't talk to one another on the show, lol. Rebecca has no idea she sent Jamie back to a situation of abuse, from her pov she probably convinced herself she was actually helping Jamie by returning him to a better team. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that from the writers standpoint, I get that it would be really hard to write a scene where Rebecca calls Jamie into her office to be like "hey, by the way....you don't know me well or know that i did this to you, but i'm sorry for it!" in a way that doesn't read as super weird and forced. Ultimately, who would that have even served? Because I don't think it actually would have helped Jamie to know that.

Personally, I was most let down by how quickly Keeley forgave her. I think it would have been more impactful to let Keeley really be angry at her for her betrayal for longer. they tend to forgive extremely quickly on this show, don't they? lol. And I think Rebecca's s2 arc should have been more focused on taking active involvement with the team and their success as opposed to romance, to better demonstrate the weight of her change.

[rebeccasbiscuits]

I’m thinking so many thoughts after that episode, which was wonderful and hilarious, but something I’m very much thinking about is where someone on twitter pointed out the contrast between Rupert going to the club every single day for six weeks to wear Rebecca down vs Ted coming to her office every day for biscuits and genuinely wanting to get to know her. I’m especially thinking about how this adds some more context to Rebecca’s point of view on that as well. We see her disparagingly calling him ‘relentless, and nice’, and her desire for her love of the biscuits to not make her dependent on him providing her with something.

The moment I’m thinking about most is the one at the end of episode 5, where Ted storms in after finding out she sent Jamie away. The biscuit reveal at the end has always felt crucial in this way, but even more so in this context. Her experience has been with the relentless interest and charm until the other person pulled back the layer of charm and showed that this charming nature wasn’t genuine, and in a way I think here, as Ted yells at her, it lets her feel a bit vindicated, or at least secure, in her belief, or lack of belief, in the nature of other people. But then Ted continues the biscuits, and the extension of kindness they represent, no matter how angry he is, and not only that but reveals he has been (without having told her) baking the biscuits himself. His only deceit was hiding an extra kindness he didn't even seek self serving credit for, despite knowing how much she liked the biscuits. Obviously this works so interestingly as another anti-Rupert parallel in a Ted/Rebecca sense, but I love it even just generally in the context of how it’s visible that this is what shakes Rebecca in that scene, because it shakes the view she has of how people treat people after her abusive marriage and isolation, which is allowing her to go on with the plan that will hurt so many of them. It disarms her because even when she has done something bad, and Ted is expressing legitimate annoyance about it, he will not stop extending this relentless kindness and generosity to her, even when he has not got what he wanted, the way she experienced Rupert doing once he had got what he wanted. Ted’s not only relentless, not only nice, he’s also sincere.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Roy had, he realizes, half-expected this to happen. He must have suspected on some level that their trip up to Manchester to face off against City would see a repeat of last season’s illicit night-time outing, because when he catches sight of Jamie surreptitiously slinking away from the team movie night just as the film ends, he isn’t surprised.

Just rolls his eyes and huffs a fucking prick, before telling Nate that he’s going out and not to let any of those idiots cause any trouble.

He can feel Beard’s eyes following him as he follows Jamie, out of the impromptu movie hall and the hotel, and into the chilly evening.  

Roy lets Jamie amble on for a couple of streets. Let the little muppet think he got away with it; it’ll make his realisation to the contrary all the more satisfying. Then, as Jamie idles on the pavement while waiting for a lull in traffic, Roy sneaks up to him and grabs his shoulder.

”Oi! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Jamie startles, which is pleasing. He doesn’t look particularly concerned at catching sight of his fearsomely scowling coach, however, which is less pleasing.

“Fucking hell, Roy,” he says, having the gall to sound mildly reproachful. “How’s giving your best player a heart attack the night before you take on the champions a good idea, eh?���

“Oh, I don’t know,” Roy drawls. “Is it a worse idea than letting one of my players sneak off and break curfew the night before we take on the champions?”

Jamie snorts, unimpressed at his coach’s careful omission of the best. Shrugging out of Roy’s grip, he starts walking again. “Weren’t going to get into any trouble or nothing,” he says airily. “Just wanted to see me mum.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Not exactly a leap. (And if there’s a part of Roy that had been concerned that Jamie might slink away to see someone else, well… No need to bring that up. There’s been enough heated discussions on that topic between them ever since Roy learned of Jamie actually going up to see his fucking piece of shit father in rehab.)

For a few moments, they walk in silence, through the chill October air and the increasingly distant rush of Manchester traffic.

“Are you… okay?” Roy asks eventually. It comes out hesitant and it takes all of his willpower not to smash his own stupid face in for how silly he sounds. He’s getting better at this, he thinks – the emotional shit – but he’s still not good at it.

Jamie cuts him a surprised look. “Uh, yeah? Awesome. Why?” Then his face softens into understanding, his soft lips curling into a silent oh. “I’m good, Coach,” he says earnestly, pushing a strand of his carefully styled hair out of his eyes. “Swear down. Just wanted to say hi to mummy, yeah?”

Roy nods. He’d thought as much, but… he’d needed to make sure. “You could have just asked.”

Jamie gives him a sidelong glance. “Yeah, well, but. You’re not Ted. Might have said no.”

Roy’s eyes snap to Jamie’s face, narrowing in incredulity. “And if I had I told you, specifically, that no, Jamie, you may not fucking run off to see your mum the night before a game, then you wouldn’t have tried to slip away?”

“Yeah, man, ‘course.” Off Roy’s sceptical look, Jamie makes a face. “Come on, Coach. I do everything you tell me to, don’t I? Even when it’s stupid,” he adds, not quite under his breath.

And Roy doesn’t know what to say to that because… Jamie is right, isn’t he. He does everything Roy tells him to, and while that’s… good, obviously, hearing it stated so baldly leaves Roy feeling. Well. Something. Not bad, exactly, but slightly like he’s on a roller-coaster and suddenly he’s weightless and breathless and with that sucking sensation in his gut. Or like when he held Phoebe for the first time, awed and terrified of all that frail softness in his rough hands.

He clears his throat, pushing that weird feeling right back down into the dark recesses of his mind where it belongs. “Sneaking out of the fucking hotel when I told everyone to stay in and hit bed before eleven is a weird fucking way of doing what I tell you.”

“Yeah, but that was like, general,” Jamie says, waving away Roy’s fully legitimate argument like an errant fly. “It’s different, yeah?”

“It really fucking isn’t,” Roy snaps, even as there’s small, strange part of him that feels that Jamie – inexplicably – has a point.

Jamie grins at him, then, “And yet you haven’t hauled me back yet,” he notes, exaggeratedly looking around them to indicated the more and more run-down surroundings, and sure enough, if memory serves Roy right they’re already halfway back to the council estate where Jamie grew up.

Fucking hell.

But he’d suspected this, too, hadn’t he. Known that he wasn’t really going after Jamie just to read him the riot act and bring him back in.

“Half an hour,” Roy growls. “Then I am hauling you back to the hotel, and if I hear one complaint about it, I’m making you run the whole fucking way and then we’re doing burpees until you drop and I don’t care if you’re too stiff to play tomorrow.”

Like hell you don’t, Jamie’s laughing eyes tell him, but all he says is, “Yes, Coach. Mint.”

Roy gives a curt nod. Mint. Yeah. Maybe that’s what this is.

At least it could be hell of a lot worse.

At least until Jamie asks, much, much too innocently, “So, Coach, are you coming with me ‘cause you wanna keep an eye on me or because you wanna see me mum too?”

Roy is grateful that there’s no telling if his cheeks redden in the autumn dark, and that his voice is as gruff as ever when he growls, “All right, you are definitively running back to the hotel, Tartt.”

Jamie sighs. It’s a happy sound. “Yes, Coach.”

[crazyk-imagine]

Mended Relationships and the Future

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Fem!reader Characters: Fem!reader, Ted Lasso, Coach Beard, Keeley Jones, Jamie Tartt, Rebecca Welton, Isaac Mcadoo, Colin Hughs, Sam Obisanya, Dani Rojas, Jan Maas, Roy Kent, literally all of the players (I just can’t think of their names) Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, cursing, mentions of pregnancies, mentions of reader not taking care of themselves (don’t do this), Jamie being sweet, reader and Jamie being dummies for a second, the team being so goddamn adorable, the team gives such family vibes, Jamie pretending the reader and he are engaged so he can stay with her, Ted and Beard are a powerful duo, this is my favorite TL fic that I’ve written Word Count: 3,783

A/N: Bits and pieces are based on this post

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walk into the coach’s office with your hands in your hoodie pocket, clutching onto your phone to keep your hands busy. "Why did you wake me up and force me here, Ted?" 

"That's not a can-do attitude." 

Your expression doesn't change, if anything, you look more tired and drained. Another reason why the mustached man got you out of your home. "Ted." 

He sighs. "I wanted to check in on you, haven't seen you in a minute." 

You sigh. "I would prefer it if I were in my bed right now to be honest with you." 

"After we go out to lunch." 

"I want to be out of here before I run into..." You pause when you almost say his name. "You know what- I'm just- I’m gonna go." You barely turn around and hear the door open. 

It takes you less than a second to duck, which makes Ted feel a little bad but doesn't change his mind. 

He knows you two need to talk, especially when neither of you want to admit who broke up with who... or why it happened. 

Your emotions take a toll on your body again and you crawl towards the trash can, dry heaving until you feel it coming up (again). 

Beard kindly closes the door before anyone could walk in or hear you as Ted rubs the space between your shoulders. 

"How long have you been feeling like this?" 

You shrug. 

"How long?" He asks again. 

"A few weeks." 

Ted glances over at his long-time buddy with wide eyes. "Please don't get upset or take offense when I ask this but have you-" 

'Play dumb. Play dumb.' "Have I what? Use words, my brain isn't functioning off your noises." 

"Is there a possibility that you could be, you know, with child?" 

Your head snaps up. 'He knows.' "Why would you ask that?" 

"You have a few of the signs." 

"When was the last time you went to a doctor?" Beard chimes in. 

"A while ago." 

"So, you know?" 

"Whether or not I'm pregnant with my ex-boyfriend’s baby, who coincidentally told me he doesn't want kids just as I wanted to tell him I do. Yeah, it was right as I was about to tell him I am with child, which is why I've been dodging all of you but you and Beard here," you point to Ted's sidekick, who waves. "Dragged me out of my house." 

"Oh, honey." 

"Does he know?" Coach beard intervenes (again). 

"What do you mean?" 

"You said, you wanted to tell him... did you?" Ted politely asks. 

"He broke up with me, so I didn't give him my surprise, but I tell people it was mutual because he asked me if," the tears roll down your cheeks. "If it was okay. The fucking ex-cockiest player of all, asked me if I was going to be okay, so of course I said yes and then he left. We haven't spoken since." 

"He should know." 

"I know but he is scared to death to have his own kids. Why would I-" You scoot back and rest your head against the wall. "I want to go home. I have a few things coming later today and I need to be there for them. It’s time I start," you take a deep breath. “Getting things ready.” 

"We can get those later, I've gotta make sure you're okay right now." 

"I'd be better if this nausea, vomiting combo would go away." 

"Do you want me to have Keeley get you a ginger ale or something?" 

"Yeah." 

The door opens and there she is. She stares at you with the same look she gives you every time you throw up. "I had a feeling you were going to need this." 

-

Jamie sees what he imagines is a glimpse of you sitting in his coach’s office. He furrows his brows, wondering if it was really, you or if it's a figment of his imagination... again. 

It wouldn’t be the first time this week. 

-

"What?" She practically screams when Ted tells her on behalf of you, the Jamie not knowing part; she already knew you were pregnant, but she thought he knew and decided not to be in either of your lives. Now she feels a little bad about not being nice to him. 

You bury your head in your hands. "Shut up. Don't shout anymore, please." 

"Can you blame me? That's big fucking news babes. I thought he already knew." 

"Yeah, I know. Just, shut the door please." 

She doesn't, so you push yourself up and close the door. 

You sway as you take a step back, “oh, boy.” You can hear their voices but not hear their words. You feel yourself falling backwards before it fades to darkness. 

Ted and Beard catch you, carefully laying you down so the latter can call for an ambulance. 

Jamie steps closer to the office, sensing something’s happened. He opens the door and his jaw dropped as he’s about to ask what's going on until his eyes land on you. 

He immediately falls to his knees beside you, holding your face in his hands, not caring about the rug burn that’s going to ache later. "What happened?" 

No one responds. 

"What fucking happened?" 

Ted doesn't feel he should be the one to tell him and does all that he can to try and calm down his player. "She's fine, she probably didn't have enough to eat for breakfast, is all." 

"Bullshit. She's done that before and never fainted before." He stares down, studying your face. "So, why is she fucking unconscious?" 

-

You don't know anything that happened within the last few hours. 

All you know is that there is an annoying beeping sound coming from the side of you and your one hand is warmer than it normally is. 

You slowly open your eyes, blinking multiple times as you try to adjust to the lighting. You look for the source of the warmth and find Jamie, holding your hand with his head rested on his arm with his head facing you. 

The door opens and you find Ted peaking in. 

The way his shoulder sags in relief makes you feel bad. 

He tiptoes closer and lets you know what happened. 

"Why is he here?" 

He smiles as he peaks over at the sleepy man. "He didn't leave your side." 

"How did he know?" 

"He came in as we were calling for an ambulance. You scared him, he would barely let the paramedics help." 

"Isn't family only allowed in here?" 

"Apparently you two are engaged." 

You owlishly blink. "What?" 

"He said you two were engaged and he needed, no, no. That's not right, he demanded, there it is. He demanded to be in the room with you. I wasn't here for most of it. In the room I mean but I think he knows because he looked very shocked and then came in here when they told him he could and hasn’t left since." 

The coach ignores the fact that your heart monitor spikes as you ask, "he knows?" 

"I think so." 

Jamie moves a little in his sleep. 

"That's my cue to leave." 

"Wait- no. Ted. Come back." You glance between him and Jamie. "Ted," you hiss. "Come back here." 

Jamie squeezes your hand as he slowly begins to wake up. 

You look back at him just in time to hear the door close. You throw your head back and sigh. 

"Sweetheart?" 

You slowly turn your head to stare at him, your eyes becoming sad. 

His shoulders sag in relief as a slow sigh escapes his parted lips. "How are you feeling? I should- I should go get the doctor, shouldn't I?" 

You reach for him, grabbing onto him before he could leave. "Jaim. Jaim?" 

He doesn't turn around but settles back into his seat. 

"Jam-Jam?" 

A sniffle fills the room. 

"Jamie, look at me." 

He shakes his head. You tighten your grip on his arm, ignoring the familiar burning sensation in your nose. "Jamie, I need you to look at me." 

"Why?" He sniffles, staring at you with his now, bloodshot eyes. "Were you ever going to tell me?" 

"Don't throw that question my way, Tartt." 

"No more, Jam-Jam?" 

"I was going to tell you." 

"What? After the birth?" 

"I'm more tempted to now." You wipe the stray tear that tipped past your eye lid before he could see. "I initially planned on telling you right when you broke up with me but, we see how well that turned out." 

“Wh- is that what you had been trying to do the whole time?” 

You nod and lean forward, drawing him into you; needing to comfort him and be comforted all at once. 

He moves closer to you, closing his eyes at the feeling of your hand against his face; something he hasn’t felt in what feels like, forever. He hadn’t realized you were wiping away his tears. 

“I wanted to figure out the best way to tell you because, I mean we hadn’t exactly talked about us having kids before and I kind of figured that with everything that went on with your dad. I thought it was going to make it hard for you to think that you could be a good dad. Which, I think is stupid.” 

He opens his mouth to ask what you mean until you continue. 

“I mean, how could you not be a good dad because personally I think you’d be absolutely fucking phenomenal.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod, “big time. You’re already doing better than your dad.” 

“What do you mean?” 

You smile and sniff. “You’re not making any of the stupid decisions he has.” 

“I made one.” 

You tilt your head. “What was that?” 

“I broke up with you. I just-” He pulls back from you (something he does when he feels like he’s undeserving of something). “I thought- I thought you were pulling away to break up with me and you couldn’t figure out how to do it, so I-” 

“So, you thought breaking up with me first, was a better option?” 

He nods, scratching his head. 

“Come closer.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he weakly argues. 

“Come here.” 

He scoots the chair closer. 

“I need you to be honest with me when I ask these questions, okay?” 

He nods. 

You sigh through your nose and reach for his hand. “Is there any part of you that does not want to be a part of either of our lives?” 

“No.” 

“Do you want to be with me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you going to leave any time soon?” 

“The fuck do you take me for? I’m not going to leave you ever,” he stands up and bends down, staring into your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. “Okay? I love you too fucking much to let you go again. I hated being away from you.” 

“Same here but, I’m really happy you’re here… even if it was because I fainted.” 

“Speaking of, why did that happen exactly?” 

“I- well- I hadn’t had anything-” 

“Let’s just cut the bullshit, have you been taking proper care of yourself since we were separated?” 

You shamefully shake your head. 

He doesn’t show his disappointment, but you know it’s there. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry. Isn’t that- crying is stressful on the baby, ain’t it?” 

“Not so much- I mean, maybe?” 

“Okay, well.” He grabs your hands, bringing your attention to him. “Let’s take a few deep breathes so we can calm down for Baby Tartt.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Do do do doo.” 

“Listen to you. Guess I rubbed off on you, eh?” You roll your eyes, not believing that for a second. “Does any of what you’ve said within the last two minutes sound anything like what your dad could say?” 

“Not in the least bit.” 

“See, exactly. It further proves you’re different and how much you’ve grown from the cocky man who couldn’t care less about anyone else.” 

“Hey. That’s someone we don’t speak of.” 

“Of course,” you salute him. You two can barely keep your amusement to yourselves and break into a fit of smiles and giggles. 

He stares at you, watching as you wipe your cheeks and leans up, kissing your forehead before placing his on top of your head. “I was,” he hesitates to finish his sentence. 

You nod and cup his cheek, letting him know you’re there, a simple gesture to let him know you want to hear what he has to say. 

“-so scared when I saw you lying there unconscious.” 

Your heart drops at the way his voice cracks. “Jaim. Jaim. Look at me.” 

He shakes his head. 

You don’t push any further and instead opt for bringing him closer, letting him rest against your chest, squeezing you in a hug. 

It takes a few minutes before Jamie manages to calm himself down enough to revert back to your adorable boyfriend. “Oh, shit. I didn’t hurt the baby, did I?” He asks, now scared to touch you. 

“No. You didn’t.” 

You hold out your hand for him, “do you trust me?” 

He nods, “’course I do.” 

“Give me your hand.” 

He slowly inches his hand closer and closer to you. 

You huff and reach for him. “Are you ready?” 

He doesn’t move or make a noise as you place his hand over your belly. “Am I supposed to be feeling anything?” 

“Other than knowing the fact you are going to be a father soon enough, no. I’m not that far along for us to feel any kicking.” 

He bends down as a breath of relief escapes him. “Thank god, I thought I was supposed to feel kicking or something and I didn’t, which scared me the hell out of me because I thought he already hated me.” 

“He?” 

“I mean, hello,” he gestures to himself. You roll your eyes and take your hand back from him. “You’re so going to be cursed with girls.” “How can you say that?” 

“Have you met yourself?” 

“I have and we’re actually quite happy together, sorry for the late notice, sweetheart.” 

You close your eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. 

Ted peaks his head in through the door. “I see you two have talked things out? Hopefully, if not. No pressure. Well, maybe a little seeing as I have everyone waiting in the hall.” 

“Everyone?” You repeat. 

The coach nods. “Give me second.” He looks back over his shoulder, pretending to count, “one, two, four. Yep, everyone.” 

You place your hand on your forehead. “Suddenly the thought of everyone knowing makes me nauseous.” 

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” 

You turn your head and look at your favorite person ever… for now. 

“If we can get through the team being little shits and the press making unnecessary comments about our relationship, we can get through the team knowing.” 

“We can?” He gives you an affirmative nod, “we can.” 

“We can.” 

“Atta girl.” 

“Alright, guys. They said okay,” Ted waves everyone in. 

“I suddenly realize how many of you there actually are,” you comment. 

Sam, Dani, and Colin chuckled. 

“As captain, I feel like it’s my duty to ask,” Isaac leans closer to you, talking to you in a softer tone than his normal one. “How are you?” 

You smile, “I’m better now.” 

“Good, that’s what we like to hear. Ain’t that right, team?” 

“Yes, coach!” 

“And now I’m scared.” 

“Oh, don’t be scared especially when you’re carrying a special bundle of joy,” the mustached man points out. 

“Oh fuck.” 

“Something the matter, Roy?” Ted asks. 

“Yeah. She’s carrying Tartt’s baby.” 

“I’m pretty sure they covered that topic back in school but continue.” 

“There’s going to be a baby brought into the world soon.” 

“Yeah?” Ted glances over at Beard, who shrugs. 

“With his blood coursing through its veins,” he points to your ex-not-ex-boyfriend. 

It’s quiet for three seconds before everyone groans and rolls their eyes, they think about what it could be like with a baby Jamie. 

“Hey, hey now. Let’s not think about something as crazy as that because this baby is a good thing.” 

“Yeah?” Jamie whispers, glancing back at Ted, not letting go of your hand. 

“Yes, it is,” the coach nods. “You’re going to go through one of the many joys life brings you.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Fatherhood… that, may or may not mix with a lot of uncles and two aunts who decide they want to spend time with the little booger.” 

“Would one of those many figures happen to include you, coach?” 

“No,” Ted shakes his head. 

“Not at all, Beard.” 

The door opens and heads turn. 

“Hi, I’m just here to-” The nurse takes note of the number of people in the room. “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask anyone but the father and mother of the child to leave.” 

“Is it not believable that a woman could have this many boyfriends?” Jan asks. 

“Shut up.” A shoe aimed at his head, hits the wall and lands on the floor with a thud. 

The guys decide it’s time for them to leave, which lets you two see the few things the team has gotten, and it makes you tear up, freaking Jamie out. 

And he doesn’t want to admit it out loud, but it was really nice of them team to do. 

“Should we open some presents?” Ted softly asks, placing one in your lap. 

“Didn’t the nurse just kick you out.” 

“I’m your dad.”

 “We’re your dads,” Beard adds. 

You glance over at Jamie. 

He shrugs, not completely hating the idea of having these two around. “I would’ve liked to know about my new parents beforehand. What’s next? Roy’s my uncle.” 

“No, he’s a granddad more than anything,” Jamie chimes in. 

You wipe your cheeks and smile at him before gently pulling the tissue paper out of your way. You pull out a onesie that looks normal, until you unfold it and inspect it. You sniffle as you hold it up for Jamie to see. 

He doesn’t realize why you’re crying until he reads what the back of it, “Tartt 9”. He doesn’t feel the tears trickling down his cheeks until you wipe his cheeks. 

“Jaim?” 

He shakes his head and pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head, over and over again. 

Ted smiles behind his phone. 

“We should probably give them some time alone.” 

“You think?” He asks. 

Beard nods. 

Ted sighs, “okie dokie.” 

They hold their hands up to wave, only to find your face squished against Jamie’s chest, barely able to wave them off. 

You and Jamie wind up opening every one of the other gifts, enjoying each other’s company after being apart for so long. 

“I think we should name it Jamie.” 

“Baby Tartt is not an it, it’s a baby,” you argue. 

“And we’re not naming them Jamie.” 

“Why not? It’s a good name.” 

“I’m not saying it’s a bad name but, we want our little pumpkin to be able to grow into their own, right?” 

“We-” He sighs, thinking about it, already knowing you were right. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” 

“Was that everything?” 

“I don’t know.” He glances over, finding a bag left on the floor, partially hidden so you couldn’t find it unless you were really looking. He grabs it and sets it in your lap. “What do you think it is?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug and move it closer for him to open (feeling you’ve done enough of the unveiling with presents). 

He pulls a figure out of the bag. “A bike?” Jamie brows furrows together in confusion until he thinks about it. The light bulb goes off in his head, everything clicking together, and he smiles. 

“Is there a card?” 

“I hope so.” 

Now you’re confused. 

He pulls out what looks like a plain index card. “Free one learn how to ride a bike pass.” He chuckles. 

“I’m lost.” 

“Remember how I told you I had something funny I wanted to tell you a couple months ago, but I couldn’t because the shithead was making me train, even though Ted gave us the night off.” He huffs and sits back in the chair. 

“Okay, I don’t need the background information, just give me the synopsis.” 

“Right,” he straightens his back. “I taught Roy how to ride a bike in memory of his granddad.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah,” he nods with a smile. 

“And he let you?” 

“Not without trying to hurt me but I did it.” 

“I’m so proud of you.” 

“Yea- really?” 

“Of course, I’m proud of you. You taught the world’s grumpiest man how to ride a bike and lived to tell the tale.” 

“I guess you’re right.” 

“Of course, I’m right.” 

“I hope the baby doesn’t get your cockiness.”

“My cockiness? What about yours?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” 

“You lie.” 

He fake gasps and slaps his hand on his chest. “I take offense to that.” 

“I’m not sorry.” 

“You should be. We don’t want this one’s first word to be a lie.”

“It wouldn’t, don’t be mean,” you whine. 

“I’m not. I’m just being me.” 

“Yeah, and that’s mean.” 

He smiles and shakes his head. 

You start folding a few of the blankets the guys got, feeling the need to do something. “Hey, look. They got one with sharks.” 

“We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.” 

“Girls can like boy things too.” 

“Do you really want to be asked if we have a boy or a girl every day.” 

“Don’t be mean.” You smile, holding it close to your chest. “I like it. Baby Tartt, do do doo doo. Baby Tart, do do doo doo.” 

He groans, “please stop.” 

“Never.” 

You stiffle a yawn. 

“Come on,” he takes away the few things on your lap and blanket from your hands. “You need to rest.” 

“But I don’t want to.” 

He smiles at the whining tone in your voice. “I know but it’ll do the two of you well.” 

“Fine,” you tell him with a pout. “But sit by me. I… I’ve missed you.” 

“How can I say no to my girlfriend?” Jamie settles beside you and lets you lay against his chest. 

As you sleep and he’s bored, searching through the hospital’s shitty channels, he stumbles upon something interesting, an old childhood show he used to watch. 

You open your eyes to hear the song you briefly sang earlier. 

“Doo doo. Baby Tartt, do do doo doo.” 

“Jam-Jam?” 

“Hey,” he clears his throat. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better. What were you doing?” 

He shrugs. 

You smile and snuggle back into him. “I won’t tell anyone.”

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

For the send a title thing-

Stand where the light hits hard

When the charity gala rolls around in season 1, Ted decides to turn it into a educational experience and has a rep from the charity come in to talk to the team. The rep comes in the day before and tells them they're going to be talking about the prevention and detection of domestic violence and especially child abuse, so Jamie's sitting there at the back bracing himself to hear something awful, but it's just like. normal shit. things that have happened to him and his mum more times than he can count. And he starts arguing, because why are they wasting time on this when there's actually really bad things happening to kids, and shouldn't they be focused on that instead? Which is not a great look. Especially for Ted, who doesn't think that well of him at the time, and especially especially for Roy, whose sister also survived a terrible relationship that sounds a whole lot like what the presenter is describing.

So Roy's like "I'm actually going to fucking kill you if I find out you've been treating anyone like that" and then goes to check on Keeley, while Ted pulls him aside for a stern lecture. By this point Jamie's panicking a bit and also convinced that he's actually a terrible, dangerous person, so he goes home to Keeley — who knows he isn't like that in a relationship but has friends who have had bad relationships with footballers and would very much like an explanation of what the fuck has been going on — and it spirals into a fight where they end up broken up technically by mutual agreement but very acrimoniously, and with all that going on, Jamie never ends up asking Bex to bid on him.

So he goes to the gala the next day already fighting off a panic attack with a baseball bat to find that the whole team thinks the breakup happened because Keeley learned about what happened yesterday, and Roy, who still thinks Jamie's a danger to society, corners him to be like "it was too late to remove you from the bidding lineup but you have to do exactly what your date tells you and if you hurt them even a bit they will sue you into oblivion and also I will personally murder you." So now he's fighting off the panic attack with a toothpick instead of a baseball bat. But he goes up on stage and because Bex isn't there and he's broken up with Keeley, Cheryl, the ice cube comment lady, wins the bid.

He drags himself home to have his meltdown, and the day after that, they go out on their date. And it's fine. She's a little flirty and he feels like his skin is going to crawl off his body, but it's fine, right up until she puts her hand on his arm and it is very much not fine, and in the panic of trying to get away, he shoves her, and she falls. Which means he's no better than everyone says he is. That he's no better than his dad. That Roy's going to kill him, for real this time, and he'll deserve it. So he shows up to Roy's house to just get it over with, and when Roy opens the door he's standing there inconsolably upset, crying, telling him to just do it. And Roy's like. okay it is possible that I have misjudged this situation, and brings him in to talk. There's tea, there's cuddles, there's Jamie getting told he's not an irredeemably bad person and that the way his dad treated him was bad, actually.

[wlntrsldler]

hi!! i hope you’re doing well :). can i please request either “and you're telling me you wanna kiss me but we shouldn't cause we're just friends." or “when you found me i was a train wreck” with sam obisanya? i’m not picky either way i just thought they’d both be good and couldn’t decide hehe. thanks!!

kissing in swimming pools | sam obisanya

based on the song kissing in swimming pools by holly humberstone: "when you found me i was a train wreck."

description: the first "i love you" f!reader (she/her)

warnings: language-- it's ted lasso, what did ya expect? fluff! sam in loveeee.

word count: 1356 words

ted lasso requests are open | main masterlist

There were only three things that Sam Obisanya was sure of. 

The first is that his father will be proud of him no matter what he ends up accomplishing in his life. He was sure that if life didn’t pan out the way that it did and he wasn’t a famous footballer, his father would still be as proud as he is of him. He was lucky in that sense– that he had a father who never once made him doubt whether he loved his son or not. Sam knew that he wouldn’t be half the man that he is if his father wasn’t his father. And in his opinion, he thinks he ended up pretty decent. 

The second thing he is sure of is that Ted Lasso was put on this earth to be AFC Richmond’s coach, even if it was just for the short time that he did. Some pretty spectacular people had coached Sam, Roy Kent being one of them, but Ted was something special. Not only did he make Sam a better player on the pitch, he also made him a better man. Whenever he does something wrong, he always repeats the words, “Be a goldfish,” in his head, over and over again. When he’s having a bad day, where everything seems to be going wrong, he closes his eyes and the word “Believe,” on that bright yellow paper is the image in his head. 

The third and final thing Sam Obisanya is sure of is that if he was asked who was the love of his life, he would say you with no hesitation. 

He watched you dance with Keeley to some random 2000s pop song on the dance floor. Beard and Jane were engaged in some weird dance routine that had people raising their eyebrows, but Sam figured they were able to act however they wanted since it was their wedding night. He couldn’t help but smile as you threw your head back in laughter as Keeley tried to do the shuffle in her heels. 

“Oi,” Jamie nudged his arm, “You reckon Y/N will still be your date at Jane and Beard’s 25th wedding anniversary?” 

“Absolutely,” Sam replied before Jamie even finished his question, “I love her. There’s no one else for me, Jamie. I don’t think anyone can ever compare.” 

Jamie let out a breath, eyes widening as he took a sip from his bottle, “Sheesh, bold claim, man.”

“Honestly, I know she’s the love of my life.” 

“This is cute and all,” Colin interrupted, leaning across the table to meddle in Sam and Jamie’s conversation, “But have you told her that?” 

Sam shook his head, a goofy smile on his face, “No, not yet. I don’t know how I should tell her or what she’d say. I don’t even know if she feels the same way about me.” 

“You won’t know ‘til you tell her,” Jamie said, “And for what it’s worth, I think it’ll be a good response.” 

Sam took a sip of his own beer and then placed the bottle on the table. He cleared his throat, dusting off his dress pants. As the song transitioned to a slow song, he walked over to where you stood with Keeley on the dance floor. He tried to ignore the sounds of cheering from the table of footballers he just left, but he couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip to control his smile. 

Keeley was facing Sam so she noticed him before you did. She shot him a wink and bid you goodbye by squeezing your arm. As Keeley walked away, you turned around to find Sam with an outstretched hand. 

“May I have this dance?” He asked though he was already pulling you into him. 

“Always,” you responded, draping your arms around his neck while his hands found their way to your hips. You swayed slowly to the sound of the music, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. You knew that there were others on the dance floor, hell, you knew that the newlyweds were right beside you, but somehow at that moment, you felt like it was just you and Sam. “Y’know, before I met you, I always thought that people were lying when they said that when they’re with their partner the whole world disappears.” 

“What do you think now?” he asked, spinning you around elegantly, “Do you feel that way with me?” 

“Mhm,” you answered. You let your right-hand cup his face. He nuzzled his cheek against your palm, a sigh of contentment leaving his lips. You rubbed his skin with the pad of your thumb, cherishing the way he melted under your touch. “When I met you, I was a train wreck. I was always working. I never took time to take care of myself and for a while, I really did forget how to take care of myself. Then you came along…” 

His smile turned shy as if he couldn’t believe that you were giving him the credit he deserved, “Then I came along…”

“Then you came along and reminded me how beautiful life could be if I just slowed down and took some time to breathe, to experience life, to smile,” you trailed off, not sure how you were going to word the next part. You took a deep breath, halting your movements before saying, “Sam, I lov-”

“No!” He exclaimed, a bit too loudly. He made a face of embarrassment, looking around the dancefloor to see couples staring at him oddly. Keeley, who was dancing with Roy, gave him a questioning look, “Apologies, everyone.” 

You chuckled quietly, moving his face to look at you again, “No?” 

“No- I mean- yes!” He babbled, “I mean, I don’t want you to say it first. I need to say it first. But I do, too. I do. I do love you.” 

You placed a soft kiss on his lips, giggling as you pulled away, “I love you, Sam Obisanya.” 

Sam chased your lips, unable to contain the smile on his face, “I like how that sounds.” 

“What?” you teased, “You like it when I say I love you?” 

“Can’t get enough of it,” he mumbled against your lips, “You’re gonna have to say it at least fifty times a day. Texts don’t count because I don’t get to hear your pretty voice say it. Phone calls are okay and voice memos are the last resort. I would prefer it if you were in front of me when you said it, though. ‘Cause then I will get to kiss you.” 

“You don’t ever need an excuse to kiss me, Sam.” 

“Thank God for that,” Sam said, spinning you one last time as the music came to a stop. 

As you fell back into his arms, he couldn’t help but imagine you at your wedding; how beautiful of a bride you’d be, how the lads would be cheering for Mr. and Mrs. Obisanya when the two of you walk into the reception, how in his vows, he’ll recount the moment he realized that he was going to marry you. 

You walked back to the table with Sam, hand in hand, with a glow that all of the boys noticed. Dani and Richard were fawning over something on Isaac’s phone, calling you and Sam over to take a look at it. When you saw the picture, tears pooled in your eyes. In the photo, you were staring up at Sam, laughing a bit as he stumbled over his words. Isaac managed to capture the exact moment Sam told you he loved you for the first time. Sam draped an arm over you, kissing the crown of your head, as he chuckled at how stupid he looked in the picture. 

Throughout your relationship, there were many “I love you’s” that followed, many photos that were taken and shared, and many other weddings you attended. But that photo, imperfect, silly, and a bit grainy, was your favorite moment– your favorite “I love you,” your favorite photo of the both of you, but it was taken at your second favorite wedding. Your favorite wedding was your own.

[babytarttdoodoo]

Jamie’s afraid of making a big deal out of being hurt after everything that happened in season 1 - he doesn’t want everyone to think he’s being a prick again. But then one day either in season 2 or 3 he actually is genuinely hurt badly (the reason is up to you) but doesn’t tell anyone and shows up to practice anyway. It’s bad enough that he collapses on the field and that’s when everyone finds out.

I could have made this so much easier on myself and literally just written the conversation at the end. As it is, I started hating this about a third of the way through.

I hope that's just hyper-criticism of my own work and that this is still an enjoyable request fill.

---

It wasn’t like he’d done it on purpose.

A lack of sleep, a dark hallway, and a half-forgotten set of steps had all converged into a little tumble in the middle of the night. That was all.

A bruised side. A knock on the head. No big deal.

That’s what Jamie had told himself as he’d inspected the damage in the mirror. He would be fine. He could put his kit on at home and wear a beanie to cover up the dark smudge of skin at his temple.

No one would notice. No one needed to know. It would be fine. Hardly the first time he’d pushed through an injury to stay in the game, was it?

He didn’t need to miss training. He didn’t need to turn up at Nelson Road and tell Ted he couldn’t play. Just the thought of trying to do so sent a thrill of unease through Jamie that he wasn’t keen to examine too closely.

So he took some ibuprofen, slowly and stiffly got changed into his Richmond gear, and called a taxi to get himself to the training ground late enough that no one had time to question his appearance.

(Driving was out of the question. He could admit that.)

Roy all but sneered at him when he stumbled in - that wasn’t anything to write home about, though. He caught a few looks from the others and had to wave Dani off on their way out to the pitch but, otherwise, Jamie was able to keep his head down and not draw attention to himself.

Drills were awful. Just stretching out his legs had him biting his tongue against making any pained sounds. When they started lunging, the hot-sick pain in his side necessitated swallowing down bile.

Sprints weren’t the worst, though Isaac definitely noticed he wasn’t starting from a crouch as he normally would. Then Nate had them doing a coordination exercise, hopping sideways and throwing balls between each other.

Lifting his arms was bad enough. Then each hop jolted Jamie’s whole body and made his head throb.

He managed, somehow, but Jamie wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He was being slow and clumsy. He was being useless. Fuck.

Panting, sweating, and trying not to throw up, he hovered at the back of the group and prayed no one called him out. No such luck. 

“You alright, mate?” Colin had sidled over while Ted called out their scrimmage teams. He was speaking quietly, which Jamie appreciated, but frowned at him with an unusual level of seriousness. Shit.

“Course I am.” Jamie forced himself to straighten up and smile. It felt wrong on his face. Too many teeth. “Just got a stitch. Didn’t drink enough.”

Colin looked doubtful, like he was about to question him further, but Jamie pushed forward to accept his yellow vest from Beard and positioned himself as far away from the Welshman as he could.

He was careful to stay in the formation they were practising, though. No sense in fucking up training for everyone more than he already had.

Roy hollered “WHISTLE!” from the side of the pitch and everyone lurched into action. Running around wasn’t so bad and Jamie soon lost himself in the game, following the movement of the ball and players with a preternatural instinct, ignoring any pain as the inconvenient distraction it was.

The few times the ball came his way, he took control of it as if by second nature, barely having to tell his feet what to do as he passed to Dani, then to Sam ten minutes later.

He was being a good teammate. He was playing like he was supposed to. And then he heard someone shout his name.

Jamie didn't need to look around to know that the ball would be sailing through the air towards him. He didn't need to deliberate about what to do. He would catch the ball on his chest and send it to Sam again before Richard could make it close enough to tackle. It was the only option to get it in the net.

He didn't need to think about it. He just did it.

And his sore, battered ribs only crossed his mind when he jumped up and twisted mid-air.

The yelp of pain was completely involuntary and Jamie would have been horrendously embarrassed by it if he hadn’t immediately crumpled into a heap on the pitch.

Something had grinded in his torso. It fucking hurt. It felt wrong.

He distantly registered the sound of an actual whistle over the rushing white noise in his ears as he lay gasping on the damp grass. A hand grasped his arm and Jamie realised Richard had skidded to his knees beside him, ball forgotten.

“Jamie? What’s wrong?” More hands were on him, trying to turn him over, but the slight pull sent another wave of sick pain through his side and he keened, curling up further to stave off the harm. “Merde, get the medics.”

“Colin’s already gone.” That was Isaac, a lot closer than he’d been less than five minutes ago, defending the box on the other end of the pitch. “He’ll need a stretcher if we can’t move him ourselves.”

“Fuck.” The notion of needing to be carried out of training brought Jamie back to himself. “I don’t need… Fuck it. I’m fine.”

“No, you are not.” Sam was standing over him as well, Jamie realised as he tried to force himself up to his knees at least. Most of the team were looming around, actually, and Ted broke through their little huddle right as a spike in pain brought up the vomit Jamie had been desperately holding back all morning.

“Hoo boy.” An American accent could really cut through the crowd, apparently, since Jamie had no problem hearing that low exclamation over twenty or so sounds of disgust.

Someone stopped him from pitching forward into his own sick and Jamie finally, limply, accepted help back upright onto his own shaky legs. Ted’s hands were one of the several pairs supporting him and Jamie could feel the humiliation and shame rising up in his gut like another bout of nausea.

“Sorry, coach,” he mumbled, even as he let Isaac put a secure arm around his waist. Sam tried to prop up his other side but Jamie shied away with an apologetic shake of the head. “Ribs. Don’t- Can’t lift me arm right now.”

He silently begged the younger player to understand, to not take it as yet another personal slight. Because Sam Obisanya was a much better person than Jamie would ever be, he only took a firm hold of Jamie’s elbow instead, face belying nothing but concern.

“Okay, folks, let’s give him some room.” Ted shooed gently at everyone not currently vital to keeping Jamie vertical. “You fellas got a good hold of him? We can get a stretcher out here, tout sweet.”

“Don’t want a fucking stretcher. I can walk.” Jamie bit out, choosing not to acknowledge how heavily he was still leaning on Isaac and Sam.

“Well, son, I’m not all too keen on taking your word for that right now.”

Ted’s tone didn’t change at all from the pleasant, practical way he’d just addressed the others. He didn’t raise his voice even a little. Jamie still felt the admonishment like a physical blow and hung his head with a wince.

“We’ve got him,” Sam spoke up. “Treatment room, right?”

They made an awkward threesome, hobbling off the pitch behind Ted and down the tunnel. Colin jogged out to meet them with a medic in tow and (surprise, surprise) Roy peeled off from the other coaches to join the entourage hustling Jamie towards the now-not-haunted medical suite.

Settled uncomfortably on the edge of the reclining bed, with a hovering audience whose eyes he couldn’t meet if he tried, Jamie numbly answered the medic’s questions about his pain level and location. He allowed her to gently remove his hat and examine the bruise underneath, went through the concussion tests without complaint, and was even honest about when he’d last eaten or drank anything.

When she pulled up his shirt, there was more than one sympathetic wince around the room. A quick look down confirmed that the bruise, though still quite small, had deepened in colour since he’d last poked at it and his skin looked oddly swollen around the area.

Even the barest methodical prodding with careful fingers made Jamie flinch and hiss through his teeth. The medic (Jennifer, Jamie vaguely recalled) hummed thoughtfully.

“Two are definitely broken. You’ll need to stay off the pitch for a few weeks, at least.”

The prognosis tightened Jamie’s throat like a hand was clamped around his neck. 

“Weeks? Nah, fuck that,” he choked out. “I were playing fine until I took the chest ball. I can still score.”

“Are you actually thick?” Roy demanded, loud and angry as per usual. There was something wild in his expression as he stepped closer to the bed. “How fucking stupid do you have to be to try and play with broken fucking ribs.”

“Fuck off, you won’t even coach me,” Jamie snarled at him, all attempts at mending bridges forgotten in the wake of pain and frustration. “Don’t act like it matters if I play hurt or not. I’ve done it plenty times before.”

“Alright, alright!” Ted cut in between them before Roy could retort with whatever words had conjured up that twisted, outraged look on his face. Nothing good, Jamie was sure.

“Roy, why don’t you take five, okay? In fact, let’s clear the room. Y’all got things to do, I’ll stick with Jamie while the good doc here gets him set up with what he needs.”

Even with Ted partially blocking his view, Jamie could see Roy was about to argue. Surprisingly, it was Isaac’s hand on his shoulder that seemed to take the wind out of his sails.

“Fuck! Fine!” He shrugged the hand off and pointed damningly at Jamie’s face. “But you’re not putting a toe out on the grass until I say so, you bloody fuckwit.”

With that, Roy stormed out of the room, sending the door bouncing off the wall with the force of his exit. Jamie’s teammates followed much more sedately, all with looks back over their shoulders and quiet murmurs Jamie couldn’t discern.

“Here.” He jumped slightly when maybe-Jennifer reappeared at his side with a bundle of items. “Drink this and take two paracetamol. Hold the ice pack to your side for twenty minutes. If the swelling hasn’t gone down, I’ll send you home with a few extras, okay?”

“Thank you kindly, doc,” Ted answered for him. “I’ll make sure he stays put for a bit.”

“Not a doctor,” she corrected mildly but gave Ted a smile and nod. “I’ll need you to sign an incident report and there’s some insurance paperwork to go through. I’ll go get the ball rolling on that and check in later.”

Jamie didn’t really like the way they were talking around him, rather than to him. He liked the idea of being alone with Ted after having caused a scene and an extra load of work for him even less. Still, he couldn’t think of any reason for the medic to stay and just watched her walk away, gently closing the door in her wake.

“You should probably do as she says,” Ted said softly after a moment of quiet, indicating the bottle of water and packet of tablets. “Doesn’t strike me as the ‘take it or leave it’ kind of advice. Rarely is, from those of the medical persuasion, even if they don’t have a fancy title.”

Moving like he was underwater, braced for the other shoe to drop, Jamie silently went through the motions of taking the painkillers. He tried not to move in any way that would agitate his injury but his hands were still shaking by the time he reached for the ice pack.

“Oh, here, let me…” Ted stepped in closer, his own hands outstretched, and Jamie flinched violently. The sudden jolt caused his abused ribs to make themselves known all over again and a small shout fell from his mouth unbidden.

“Alright, okay, no touching, got that memo, loud and clear,” Ted rambled on while Jamie waited for his vision to clear from the haze of pain. When it did, he noticed his coach frozen in place, hands still hovering in midair and significantly less threatening than moments before.

“Sorry,” he croaked, embarrassment and discomfort robbing his voice. “Didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

“Now, hey, no. That one’s on me.” Ted glanced around and pulled up a chair to sit near Jamie’s knees. “How’s about you get that ice where it needs to be and you and I have a little heart-to-heart, that sound okay?”

Jamie nodded and gingerly wrapped the frozen pouch in the towel provided before applying it to his side. The relief was almost immediate and he felt his shoulders relax from the tense position he hadn’t even registered amongst everything else.

Ted clearly noticed too, since he smiled up at Jamie. There was still a furrow between his eyebrows, though.

“Ain’t it great when stuff helps the way it’s supposed to?” he started and Jamie tried not to let the dread of what was coming show on his face. “You know, when you’re sure that, in theory, something should do you good but you’re not quite bought into the reality yet? It’s a damn good feeling when the bet pays off.

“Course, sometimes it goes the other way. The thing that’s supposed to help you doesn’t do anything at all. Or, hell, it just makes everything worse…”

“I’m sorry,” Jamie blurted out again in a panic. “I weren’t trying to do that. I swear, I know I’m not supposed to mess up training or nothing. I… I…”

“Whoa, whoa, Jamie!” Ted’s smile had dropped clean off his face. “I think we’ve got some wires all muddled up here, somewhere. I’m not fishing for an apology. Matter of fact, I’m kind of wriggling on the end of the hook, myself.”

Jamie really, honestly tried to wrap his head around that one. He failed. “What?”

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” Ted told him firmly. “We all knew something wasn’t right with you out there today and let you play on through anyway. That’s no bueno. If you can’t rely on your coach to help you out when you need it, well, then, that’s not a sign of a very good coach, is it?”

Jamie stared at him, dumbfounded. “But… I didn’t tell you I were hurt.”

“There is that,” Ted agreed easily, nodding and settling back in his chair. “And I’d sure like to hear how you got knocked around so good in the whole twelve hours you were out of our sight. Any particular reason you didn’t share that with the class this morning?”

“I…” The hand that wasn’t holding the ice pack to Jamie’s ribs started picking at the disposable paper sheet on the bed. “I fell. Down the stairs at me house. Last night. I. It didn’t hurt too bad, I thought.”

Ted hummed. “Well, you see? Accident like that, it ain’t anybody’s fault. And you felt okay after?”

The excuse hung there so temptingly that Jamie was almost inclined to think they were back to mind games. He could tell Ted that he’d been sore, but fine, up until he got out on the pitch. But that would be just another lie, wouldn’t it? And all lying had done for him today was drag more and more people into his shit.

So, instead of agreeing like he so desperately wanted to do, he shook his head slowly.

“No, no I weren’t okay.” He swallowed and looked down at his shoes, dangling just shy of the floor. “Couldn’t even drive myself in, could I? But I thought being here and acting normal was better than… better than saying I couldn’t train today. More important.”

“Oh. Now, that’s another thing to chalk up in the ‘no bueno’ category, I’m sorry to say.” Ted’s voice had softened again but Jamie couldn’t bring himself to look up. “Jamie, if you’re hurting, ever, practice or no, I’d really rather you say so. Nothing’s more important than that.”

“Team is,” Jamie objected quietly. “Being here is. I don’t got anywhere to get sent back to now, do I?”

That sullen admission hung in the air. Jamie heard Ted suck in a breath.

“Okay. Alright. Could you do me a favour and try to lift that handsome as all heck face of yours up, just a smidge? I’m getting the feeling eye contact is going to be real important here.”

With very few options of avoidance available to him, Jamie forced himself to meet Ted’s gaze. His expression bore a startling resemblance to Roy’s wild-eyed reaction before, which did nothing to set Jamie’s mind at ease.

“Jamie, when you turned up to practice last season and said you weren’t going to train, I assumed you were mad because I benched you. That sound about right?”

The player nodded, ready for the familiar prickle of shame that clawed through his chest at the memory.

“So you weren’t actually hurt? Or did I get that wrong?”

Jamie shook his head this time, then clarified: “Were being a prick.”

“Alright, that’s fine. Water under the bridge.” Ted scrubbed a hand over his face, looking relieved for some bizarre reason. “Can we agree, though, that there’s a difference between someone pretending to be hurt, for whatever reason, and someone actually being badly injured? That a middle ground we can settle on?”

“Yeah…” Jamie agreed cautiously.

“Outstanding.” Ted took a deep breath. “So, let’s just take a little hop, skip and jump from there to how things might’ve played out a little differently today than they did last year?”

“Oh.” Jamie blinked a few times, processing. Slotting that bit of logic into the missing gaps of the day. “You’re not angry at me for missing training?”

Ted’s face broke back into a genuine, if tired, smile. “No, sir, I am not angry at you for that. Or for any other reason, while we’re on the subject. I am… mighty disappointed that you didn’t feel like you could come to me, or even call when you took your little tumble. But I think maybe we can both agree to do a little better next time, how about that?”

He held out his hand for a shake - his left, in deference to Jamie’s occupied right. That small concession alone was enough for Jamie to wordlessly grasp Ted’s palm with his own in a firm hold.

“Alright. I’ll try.”

“I know, Jamie,” Ted assured him. “That’s all any of us can do.”

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Two

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes. 

A/N: I couldn’t wait. I wanted to get the ball rolling more before I slowed down, so here’s the second chapter for you all! Mwah

Word count: 7k+

Chapter Two

Well, Chris. That was certainly a disappointing start to the season for Richmond.

Indeed, Arlo. Arsenal were all over them. It seems that new coach Ted Lasso’s tactics aren’t cutting it just yet.

I think that’s probably unsurprising, especially from him being a NFL coach in the States before this. Have Richmond bitten off more than they can chew, do you think, Chris?

I don’t know, Arlo. But without Jamie Tartt the team wouldn’t have clinched even one goal, so I hope Lasso knows to utilise the young striker a lot more.

Very right, Chris.

I’m always right, Arlo.

That’s debatable, Chris. Remember the prediction of 2004?

We don’t talk about the prediction of 2004, Arlo. I told you that in confidence.

Defeat settled around the stadium. As far as first ever football games went, yours had gone to shit. The guys had played to oblivion, but Arsenal had been better. You sat in the box next to Keeley, feeling the commiserations from the home crowd. They would go home in a sulk, for sure, and you didn’t blame them. You were feeling it yourself, even, despite all that you didn’t know about the sport.

You and Keeley left the owner’s box together, heading down the stairs. You went to take a left, heading for the car park, when Keeley stopped you gently. “What, going home already?”

“Is that not a normal thing to do after a game is over?” you asked.

Keeley snorted. “Not today. It’s Sam’s birthday, you wally. I’m driving Jamie home, too. So come on! Don’t be another debbie-downer from the crowd.”

You followed her down another set of stairs, headed for the locker room. As you approached, you could hear Coach Lasso. He blasted an optimistic pep talk to his guys, but if you’d been sitting in that room after a 3-1 loss, you wouldn’t want to hear it personally.

Keeley turned the corner first, as you whispered behind her not to interrupt. She rolled her eyes at you, entering the locker room and leaving you outside. You let out an annoyed sigh, bobbing on the spot with anxiety, before you finally plucked up the courage to show yourself.

“Hard luck, boys,” Keeley said first, going to sit upon Jamie’s lap.

You emerged in the doorway, arms crossed. To your surprise, the sunken faces of a few players perked up at your arrival. Isaac sat up straighter when he saw you, as did Sam. They both sent you small smiles through their frowns of defeat.

“Well, hey!” Ted said. “Good of you to join us.” He gently squeezed your shoulder, showing you it was okay to come in.

You sent a look of sympathy around the room as you entered, before your gaze fell upon that of a dishevelled Roy Kent. “Sorry about the loss, guys,” you said, not knowing what else to add.

“It’s a shame,” Sam began. “This was your first football match, was it not?”

A collective groan went around the room, only making you feel worse. You raised your hands defensively, widening your eyes. “No, no, don’t feel bad!” you let out, panicking. “Listen, it’s taken me my whole life to watch a football game, alright? And despite the outcome of this one, I wouldn’t change it for the world.” Your gaze skimmed Roy’s again, and you pooled all your genuine feelings within that one look. He sighed heavily, but some tension was relieved from his shoulders.

“Well said,” Ted spoke up. “I know this isn’t the outcome we all wanted, but we take it in our stride, and we move on. Besides, we have a cake to eat for Sam’s birthday here!” he exclaimed. Isaac clapped Sam on the back, and a few smiles trickled around the locker room. “So, grab a slice, get some sugar back in your systems, and let’s do better next time.”

You stayed with the guys in celebration, as Coach Beard pumped some tunes into the locker room. Jamie was the only one who stayed visibly pissed off. Keeley jumped off his lap as he grabbed his bag, leaving the room with her on his tail closely.

You watched them leave, but couldn’t stay on them for long. Ted shoved a plate of cake into your hands, taking you by surprise. The guys milled around too, coming up to ask about the match and what you made of it. You hated to admit it, but this was nice. This was the first time you felt properly involved with the team, despite Isaac’s birthday the week before. That hadn’t felt as familiar, but this did. These were people you knew now, in all their boyish glory.

You sat down in the middle of the room, on the central island. You listened to Colin’s jokes, and Richard’s stories from back home in France. Sam opened a few stray presents that had appeared in his cubby over the course of the day. What had you constantly turning your head, however, was Roy Kent.

He sat by his cubby, sorting through his things silently, a plate of cake untouched by his side. You had the urge to go and sit next to him, but you didn’t know the reason for it. There was a huge sense of respect for Roy within the walls of this stadium, but when it came to socialising, Roy usually sat out. You set down your own slice of cake, standing up abruptly in the middle of a story by Bumbercatch. You headed for Roy, and sat down next to him before he could protest. You crossed your legs and leaned back into the cubby next to him, crossing your arms comfortably. Roy stopped sorting his things, just to look at you for a moment, before he continued.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“No,” you said, leaving it vague. “Was just wondering why you had an aversion to your teammates being social, is all.”

Roy rolled his eyes and let out a sound between a groan and a growl. It was like a mid-ground. “I don’t have a fucking– aversion– to social events with the team.”

You shrugged. “Okay.”

Roy froze. “I don’t.”

You shrugged again, more aggressively. “I agreed with you.”

“Yeah, but you’re fucking lying. You think I avoid them.”

“I don’t think you do. You do avoid them.”

“Oh,” he looked at you like he’d just stood in dogshit. “Just– fuck off– with your assumptions, and your–” he waved his hand in front of his face, then in front of yours. “Your fucking face.”

You scoffed. “My face?”

“You always look like you know something about me,” he said. “It creeps me the fuck out.”

You raised your hands defensively. “Sorry,” you said. “I can’t help the way my face looks, unfortunately.”

Roy dropped his gaze to the floor. “You know that’s also not what I fucking meant.”

“Was it?” you said, but by this point you were fully fucking with him. You found it enjoyable, especially since you’d squashed your beef, to play with him more. He nibbled on every joke, every dig, that it was impossible to stop making them.

“I– fucking hell–” Roy looked back at you, and you let out a proper laugh.

“I’m fucking with you, Roy. Jesus, don’t worry,” you said, gently resting your hand upon his thigh without thinking. You only noticed when he stopped to look down at your knuckles; that’s when you realised his bare skin was practically burning a hole through your palm.

You took your hand off him, placing it in your lap quickly. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll leave you be,” you said, genuinely, before you stood. “I know it’s shit, by the way. Losing,” you said, with your back turned to him, before you twisted yourself to peer down at him. “But I meant it. I wouldn’t change this being my first football match for the world.”

Roy took in your words, letting out a soft sigh through his nose. He nodded. “Thank you,” he let out softly. You smiled at him, before you finally left him alone.

Days became more routine. You’d walk to work, grab a coffee on the way, say hello to the boys upon your arrival, before settling into your office. When you weren’t working on articles or website updates, you were looking up football facts, or writing your own novel. Your days at the Dogtrack had become something you were fond of, especially now that you weren’t strangers with anyone there anymore.

Sometimes, Sam would pop his head around the door of your office, and you’d have a catch up about books. You’d been recommending reads to one another for a few weeks now, each of you bringing in books from your own personal libraries for the other to read. It was like a mini book-club of sorts. That, and you just enjoyed the company of Sam Obisanya. He was younger than you, but felt wise beyond his years. You think you latched onto one another from how foreign everything felt– he was in a completely new country, while you were in an utterly new industry. Both of you felt like fishes out of water, sometimes.

You’d become closer with Ted, too, for that very same reason. Between you, your combined knowledge of football was practically comical. God forbid anyone asked either of you to explain the off-side rule, or a handball violation. Beard was an enigma of a man, and someone you didn’t mean to avoid, but just ended up doing. But, with more matches being played and lost, team morale was at an all time fucking low. You could sense it every time you entered the locker room after a long day of training, or decided to join the guys after their Saturday match days. You could never do what they did– all that losing would kill you off before you’d even make it to a win. That was why you took it upon yourself to try and cheer them up in the ways that you could.

You didn’t pity them or stroke their egos. You sat with them, and you listened. Sure, you had no fucking clue what they were saying when they mentioned 4-4-2 layouts, or a football kicking manoeuvre, but still you listened. Sometimes, that was all they needed. It seemed to be helping, and you didn’t mind spending more time with the guys when they simply needed it.

That’s what led you to join them after training one Tuesday, but morale was certainly higher than you’d been expecting. You entered the locker room with a smile, giving Colin a high five upon your arrival. Sam and four others were talking enthusiastically in the corner, and you perked your brow.

“What are they talking about, Colin?” you asked, as Colin pulled on one of his trainers.

“The charity ball. They’re talking about their plus ones, I think.”

“A charity ball?” you asked, peering down at him.

“You don’t know about the ball?” Colin asked back, and you shook your head. He stood abruptly then, clapping the boys to attention. “Guys! This one doesn’t know about the charity ball!”

His alert led the guys to erupt in several different conversations. It was far too much for you to take in, so you raised your hands and let out a chuckle. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, one at a fucking time.”

The room dulled to a stable level. Sam took the lead. “The charity ball is Richmond’s event of the season. Celebrities, cameras, lights, a special performance from a musical artist, all for charity.”

“Musical artist?” you said.

“This year it’s Robbie Williams!” Colin exclaimed, prompting the room to go back to roaring.

You looked to your right and hit Roy’s wandering gaze. He winced at the volume in the room, before he inhaled deeply. “Hey!” he yelled suddenly, shutting the guys down. “I can’t hear myself not think. Also, I fucking hate Robbie Williams.”

“Are you going this year, Roy?” Colin asked.

“‘Course, I’m going. There’s booze, isn’t there?” he said, and all of the guys nodded in agreement.

“We’re just talking about our plus ones,” Sam spoke to you again. “Richard just landed himself a Victoria Secret model.”

“Fucking hell,” you let out, suddenly feeling the smallest bit insecure. It was like you forgot the guys were big name footballers, and when you were reminded of that fact it hit you like a suckerpunch, sometimes. “Good on you, Richard.”

Richard nodded, sat on the bench by his cubby. “She has a kind heart. And, she is smoking hot.”

You smiled awkwardly. “Brilliant,” you muttered.

“Are you not coming?” Sam asked, strolling towards you. “You are part of Richmond now, are you not?”

“Well, considering I didn’t know about it until now, I guess Rebecca hasn’t factored me in. When is it?”

“On Friday,” Colin said.

You winced. “Yeah. I’ve definitely been left off this guestlist.”

Almost immediately, the boys started groaning. They slapped their hands on their thighs and stood up with annoyance. They wanted you to come, and it made your heart warm, definitely, but there was probably nothing you could do.

“I think we all have plus ones now, sadly,” Sam said. He placed his hand over his heart. “Otherwise, I would have taken you as my date in a heartbeat.”

“No, no, I would’ve, bruv.” Isaac chimed in. As if on cue, all of the boys went around the room and reassured you that they would have taken you.

You inhaled deeply and smiled so genuinely that you had to tell yourself to stop. They did this to you often, made you feel special, and welcome, and all of the things that you thought you wouldn’t feel on your placement here. They were kind.

You raised your hands again, trying to calm them down. “Guys, guys! Thank you, all of you. I appreciate you all saying you’d bring me, but it’s fine. I’m grateful for the gesture, anyway.” They nodded at you, all smiling their winning grins, before they went back to packing their bags. “Well, I’ll be off then. See you all tomorrow!” you announced.

“Wait a fucking minute,” Roy said, and the room dropped to silence once more. You halted immediately, turning back to meet his eye. “I don’t have a plus one.”

In the corner of your eye, Sam’s eyes widened. Isaac’s jaw dropped open. Colin’s eyes darted between you and Roy like a tennis match.

You held onto the strap of your tote bag tightly, until your knuckles turned white. “Oh.” You tried to say it nonchalantly, but it came out statically, timidly. You hated the sound you just made so bad that it was a miracle you didn’t melt from your own embarrassment.

“So?” Roy asked.

“So…?” you repeated awkwardly.

“Do you want to be my fucking date or what?” he let out. “They’re right. You’re part of this club. You should get to join us.”

You looked around the room for approval, but it was then that you realised, if he’d only asked you in a different setting, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. It was the pressure of all the guys around you that made it all the more worse. You knew Roy meant it as a kind gesture, not as anything more, but it was still easy for your heart to start pulsing harder beneath your ribcage.

You smiled bashfully, trying to play it off as nothing more. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great,” Roy boomed, picking up his gym bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll pick you up.” He stepped towards you, headed for the door.

You scoffed. “You don’t have to do that. I can meet you there, or something.”

Roy peered down at you sternly. “I’ll pick you up,” he repeated.

“Okay,” you said timidly, giving in fast.

Roy left without another word, leaving you in the locker room. The guys stood around you with gobsmacked expressions, but one glance at them unlocked them from being statues. They went back to their prior conversations, with an underlying hubbub of gossip about what they’d just witnessed.

You left the stadium with two thoughts littering your mind. One, you had no idea what to fucking wear, and two– Roy fucking Kent had just asked you to be his date to the Richmond charity ball.

On the walk home, you called Keeley.

She picked up fast. “Hey babes, you okay?”

“Hey. Yeah, I’m okay. I do have a favour to ask of you, though,” you said.

“Okay, fire away!”

“I need an outfit for the Richmond charity ball,” you announced.

“I was wondering if you were coming! Leaving it pretty close, though, babe.”

“Yeah, well.” You sighed, knowing that Keeley would take the news the wrong way, but still you persisted. “I wasn’t invited explicitly, but Roy just asked me to come as his plus one.”

Keeley squealed like a crying baby. You held your phone away from your face, wincing in pain, until her shrill screams stopped. “Are you finished?” you asked.

“What the actual fuck!” she exclaimed. “This is just like that trope that everyone loves on Twitter.” She clicked her fingers impatiently, trying to remember. “Enemies to lovers!”

You scoffed immediately. “Please, Keeley, you’re making me feel a bit ill. It’s nothing like that. And besides…” You fiddled with your fingernails. “Roy and I would definitely be enemies to friends to lovers, first,” you added quickly. Keeley squealed again, and you winced once more. “Okay, okay!” you yelled. “Back on track. I need an outfit, and I desperately need your help.”

“Lunch break, tomorrow. I’ll pick you up,” she said, and you couldn’t help but smile. “This one’s on me, too, babes. I know MA students aren’t exactly dripping in gold.”

You sighed, but you couldn’t help the warm pang that raced through your chest. You really had some great people around you. A month into this placement and it had already exceeded your expectations. Even Rebecca had started warming to you, of all people.

“Thanks, Keeley,” you said genuinely. You could practically feel her golden smile radiating through the phone.

You worked non-stop the next morning, too anxious to stop for even a second. Right before lunch, Rebecca made an unexpected visit to your office. You were mid sip of a cup of tea, and almost choked on it when she knocked on your door and popped her head around the frame.

“Oh, sorry, have I caught you at a bad time?” she said, and you forced yourself to swallow.

You shook your head quickly, panicking. “No,” you croaked, then cleared your throat. “No,” you said, normally. “What can I do for you, Rebecca?”

“Well, I assume you read Trent Crimm’s article about Ted in the Independent,” she said, stepping inside and sitting opposite you. She crossed her legs, and for a moment you were mesmerised at how long her legs actually were.

“Yes, yes I did,” you said, looking at her face, finally. “It was a great article, one that showed off Ted’s true colours, I felt.”

Rebecca’s face flattened slightly. “Yes. Brilliant, wasn’t it. Anyway– I was wondering if you could write something about me.”

You froze, overcome by the overexcited beat of your heart. “Oh?” you managed to get out.

“Nothing major,” Rebecca said, waving at you with reassurance. “Just something for the website, nothing for the tabloids, you know. We all know what they write about me, already.” She fiddled with her perfectly done manicure as she spoke, before she cleared her throat and looked back up at you. “I just thought it might be a nice idea, since my name has been in every paper for months now, having something to do with the club instead of my failed marriage, is all.”

You sighed at her warmly, relaxing finally. “I’d love to write something for you, Rebecca,” you said with a smile. “Though, I’m not really an article writer, just as a warning. More fiction, more novels.”

“I thought your player profiles on the website were incredibly well written,” she said plainly.

Your eyes widened, and she mimicked you, but with a smile on her face all the same. “Oh, thank you,” you let out. “I’ll do it, then!” you agreed.

Rebecca smiled. “Fantastic!” She matched your energy. You shared a few peaceful moments together, which you latched onto after her aversion to you in the very beginning, but you were cut off when you looked at the time.

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered, grabbing your bag quicky. “Sorry, Rebecca. I actually have lunch plans for once.”

Rebecca followed you in standing. “Oh? A date?”

You scoffed. “No, no. Keeley is taking me shopping before the charity ball.”

“Oh, fuck!” Rebecca exclaimed abruptly, making you jump. “I didn’t invite you, did I? Oh, fucking hell, I’m so sorry, darling.”

“It’s okay!” you reassured her, as the two of you left your office. “Roy’s taking me as his plus one, so it’s no trouble anyway.”

Rebecca stopped in the hallway. “Roy’s taking you as his plus one?”

You stared at her bluntly, overly annoyed about the reaction that that simple sentence had garnered over the past few days. You fucking wished Roy had asked you in private, for fucks sake.

“Yes,” you said plainly, annoyed.

Rebecca was taken aback by your bluntness. “Oh. Well, how lovely,” she said.

“I desperately need an outfit, and Keeley is my only hope,” you continued, heading up the stairs to the second floor together.

“Oh, well, now that you’ve said it actually, could I join you?” Rebecca asked. You flicked your gaze onto her, noting the soft way her brows were furrowed in question. You weren’t used to her being so adamant to actually hang out with you, but you weren’t about to exclude her.

“Of course!” you said. “I’m meeting Keeley in the car park, I’ll tell her to wait for you.”

Rebecca nodded in thanks, as the two of you parted ways on the final step. You headed towards the car park to the right, while she sped in her heels to the left, all the way down the corridor and up the stairs, to grab her bag from her office.

Your lunch break turned into a lunch day, but Rebecca didn’t seem to give a shit. The three of you went into several different fashion establishments, none of which you’d fucking heard of. Keeley asked you what you wanted, and what ‘vibe’ fit you, but you had no fucking clue. You’d been in the football world for a month, and you’d already had to branch out and act like someone from a much higher tax bracket. It was exhausting.

As you changed in a dressing room for the thousandth time, Keeley and Rebecca poured all of you a glass of complimentary champagne. You struggled with the straps of this latest number– some sci-fi looking dress where you looked more like a Dalek than a princess.

“How are you getting on in there?” Rebecca yelled from behind the curtain.

“I’m–” You struggled to zip yourself up, feeling like nothing but a sack of tomatoes under some tarp than someone remotely attractive. “I’m… trying. But, this one doesn’t feel like it’s for me!” you yelled back.

“Hmm.” Keeley hummed, standing up and downing her drink. She placed the glass down and headed towards a new rack, full of black jumpsuits. “What’s Roy’s favourite colour?”

“Black!” you and Rebecca yelled simultaneously. “But, we’re not matching or anything,” you added. “He just got me an invite to the ball itself, it’s not a date situation.”

“Isn’t he picking you up?” Rebecca asked.

You shoved your head out of the dressing room, flustered. “That was his idea. It wasn’t up to me.”

“So, maybe he thinks it’s a date, but you don’t,” Rebecca suggested.

You let out a frustrated huff. “God, can we just– not– talk about Roy for once? It’s been constant today, ever since he announced it in the locker room. It’s deeply annoying.”

Keeley grabbed a jumpsuit off the rack, bringing it over to the dressing room. “I don’t know, babe. Seems to me like you’re the one who’s pissed about it all. It’s just a bit fun, ain’t it?”

“Exactly!” you yelled, sticking your hand out to grab the garment from her. “Which is why I hate how much everyone is overreacting about it.”

“Who’s overreacting about it?” Keeley asked.

You stuck your head out of the curtain again, red in the face. “You squealed at me down the phone, Keeley! And Rebecca, you yelled in the hallway! I called my mother last night and she started crying when I told her.”

Rebecca and Keeley winced at you. “Sorry,” Keeley said.

“Apologies,” Rebecca added. “It’s just that, well, I don’t think anyone ever expects Roy to actually be a gentleman.”

You slipped on the jumpsuit that Keeley handed you, and looked at yourself in the mirror afterwards. To your surprise, it was good. It reminded you of the jumpsuit from Fleabag, a bit of cleavage shown off, just to make it sweet.

“I don’t get that,” you started, ruffling up your hair into something semi-presentable. “Roy is a bit of a gentleman. He went to my lecturer and explained that he’d been an arsehole, and ultimately got me the grade I deserved. He drove me home a few weeks ago, too. And, yeah, he gave up his plus one spot for me which was… sort of sweet, I suppose” You twisted yourself in the mirror, happy with the reflection you saw.

You pulled open the curtain and stepped out of the dressing room. “So, yeah, I’d say he is a gentleman.” You turned to Keeley and Rebecca, and both of them were frozen to their spots. You were taken aback by their wide-eyed and open mouthed expressions. “What… is it too much?” you asked, peering down at your body.

“It’s perfect,” Rebecca said, in awe of you.

“I think Roy fancies you,” Keeley said, biting at her fake nails.

You let out a colossal sigh, turning around to look at yourself in the mirror again. You couldn’t be bothered to keep looking, not when you felt great in something you’d tried on, finally. You had Rebecca’s seal of approval, too, which was absolutely good enough for you.

“This is the one,” you said, turning to the retail worker. “I’ll take it.”

By Friday, things had settled down. If it weren’t for your stern glares at the guys when they teased you, then they would have only continued, but you made yourself clear. You didn’t want to be hassled about this, and you definitely knew that Roy wouldn’t want it, either. You suspected he was already regretting his choice to bring you along with him.

Despite your clear annoyance over the past few days, the atmosphere at the Dogtrack was nothing but great. Training had gone well, with Ted and Beard finally making progress with the team. Rebecca had eased up even more, actually inviting you to join her for lunch the day after she helped you pick your ball attire. On Thursday, you played Cluedo with Higgins, and on Friday, you walked in on the coaches during one of their… special meetings.

You were alerted to them from the abrupt barking, but the noises were unmistakably coming from humans instead of dogs. Hearing the noise all the way from your office, you made your way down the corridor to the locker room. You kept close to the wall as you entered, knowing that Ted and Beard were in the manager’s office, but they weren’t alone. Higgins and Nate were with them, too, and it seemed that all of them had contributed towards the various barks.

“Well, gentlemen, it seems all of us have our wits about us this time around,” Ted announced, in his classic southern drawl.

“Ah, ah, ah, wait,” Higgins added. “I know we formed this group for the balance of men having each other’s backs emotionally, but does that stop us from expanding?”

“Expanding?” Nate asked.

“Further afield,” Higgins said. “You know, like gossiping.”

Ted and Beard gasped. “Well, Higgins, that might just stir a pot that doesn’t need stirring. The kind that your mom stands over the stove with for hours, you know? And as soon as she takes a break, and tells you not to touch it, what do you do? You touch it. And whatever custard or queso or sauce she’s making curdles.”

Higgins deflated a little. “I guess you’re right.”

There was a moment of silence, before Ted perked up again. “But, just because of the unhelped curiosity of man, what was it that you wanted to expand upon?”

You leaned against the wall outside, right next to the manager’s door. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t stop listening. It was infectious and impossible not to want more. Slowly, you leaned even closer.

Higgins cleared his throat. “There is a rumour circulating these halls…” You held your breath, wondering what tea was about to be spilled. “Roy Kent’s plus one for the charity ball has been filled.”

Ted, Beard and Nate all gasped. All semblance of cool that you had turned red immediately.

Without hesitation, you stomped your boots upon the ground like a spoiled child. “Fucks sake!” you yelled suddenly, before you quickly revealed yourself in the manager’s office doorway. The men inside looked immediately shaken, clutching onto their hearts like they were scared they’d jump out of their chests. You huffed from frustration. “It’s not a big deal!”

“Oh, hey!” Ted exclaimed, taking his hand away from his heart. “God, you gave us one heck of a fright.”

“Are you Roy’s plus one?” Higgins returned to the conversation at hand.

You leaned against the doorway, defeated. “Yes. And at this point, I wish I fucking wasn’t.”

“Hey now,” Ted said gently. “Is this what this rumour is, huh? That you’re Roy’s date to the charity ball?”

You shrugged. “It’s been constant this week. I’m surprised you all didn’t hear about it sooner, to be honest.”

“I did,” Beard chimed in. All eyes in the room fell on him, but he didn’t elaborate.

“Great,” you said plainly, before you turned back to the others. “It’s not like it’s a huge thing, or something so out there that it should be discussed. I feel like everyone’s been, I don’t know, whispering about it over the past few days. Keeley squealed at me. Rebecca yelled in my face. My own mother cried.”

All the men in the room winced in unison.

“Can I be completely honest with you all?” you asked suddenly, and as if on cue all the guys stood up straight. Immediately, they started making barking noises and whimpering like dogs, as if they were a gaggle of drama students. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you muttered in response.

“This is a safe space. Speak your mind as much as you wish,” Ted explained.

“Well,” you started, letting out a stress filled sigh. “First of all, he asked me in front of the entire locker room. From the get-go it’s been made out to be a bigger thing than it needed to be, you know? And after that, everyone started acting like it was huge! Like it was so out there that Roy fucking Kent asked the bloody social placement, of all people, to go with him to the charity ball. Rebecca said that it’s because no one expects Roy to be a gentleman, but I know he is one, so that doesn’t exactly make sense to me.”

“So, what you’re saying is, it makes it seem like it’s a huge deal because it’s you and him, instead of just him?” Nate offered.

You widened your eyes at him, nodding in agreement. “Exactly that. It just… makes me feel a bit shit. Like I wasn’t an option that anyone would expect him to pick. Which is fucking stupid because, God, it’s really not a big deal.”

“It’s been blown out of proportion, you mean?” Higgins asked.

You nodded again. “Massively.”

“And that’s frustrating you because it makes you feel judged?” Ted joined in.

You nodded again. “Yep.”

The room fell silent for a moment. It was almost suffocating, alongside the stares of four pairs of eyes landing on you all at once. You felt like a child, it was true, but you couldn’t deny how much this entire ordeal had got to you. You wished people would leave it, wished they’d stop fucking talking about it like it was some huge revelation.

Beard cleared his throat. “You need to fucking own it.”

You snapped your stare onto him instantly. “Excuse me?”

“Own it!” he exclaimed again. “If this is really bothering you, don’t let people know that you care. Stomping your feet about it and getting flustered will only perpetuate their reactions.”

“Are you really saying that my mother crying to me is my fault?”

Ted took the reins. “Not that.” He shook his head. “That’s all on her.”

“When you show up tonight next to Roy, act like you belong there,” Beard continued, leaning forward in his chair to look at you fully. “Because you do belong. You’re part of this club, and the guys all wanted you at the ball in the first place. Don’t let them rattle you.”

You furrowed your brows at him. “How do you know all this?”

Beard leaned back, propping his legs up on the desk casually. “I was in here when Roy asked you to be his date.”

“Ahaaa, so it is a date,” Higgins said, but was promptly shut down by all sets of eyes glaring at him to oblivion. “Sorry. Gossiping is an addiction that I cannot seem to shake, no matter how hard I try.”

“So, I should own it?” You kept the conversation on track. Beard, Ted and Nate all nodded in agreement. “Okay, yeah. You’re right. Fuck it all, right? I’m part of this team, and I deserve Roy Kent’s plus one the same as anyone else.”

“That’s it!” Ted exclaimed, before turning to the rest of the guys. “Well, that was another successful visitor pass discussion. Diamond Dogs, out!” The four of them all went back to barking like dogs, only made worse by Ted and Nate sticking out their tongues, as if they were lapping up water.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” you said quickly, immediately turning on your heels to get the fuck out of there.

As you walked back to your office, you took their advice on board. Was it really that simple, just to own it? Act like you belonged, act like it was just another normal fucking day at AFC Richmond? You sighed when you reached your door, knocking your knuckles against the wood of the door frame. It was sturdy, same as the rest of the stadium walls and floors, and you would be, too.

You wouldn’t let this ball phase you, wouldn’t freak out about the guys’ reactions, about Keeley and Rebecca’s, and certainly not your fucking mother’s. You’d be hard as nails when you got into Roy Kent’s Jeep, as the two of you pulled up to the venue. You’d smile for the cameras, be comfortable on Roy’s arm as you walked in, and have a brilliant fucking night.

Nothing would go wrong. Nothing.

Roy pulled up outside your door and honked his horn once, twice, three times. He figured that would be enough to get your attention. He fiddled with his tie as he sat behind the wheel, tapping his car's leather interior as he waited for you to open your front door and jump into the passenger seat next to him.

Little did he know, but you’d made the unwise decision to Google the Richmond charity ball while you were getting ready, only to see the prestigious guestlist. It was celebrities galore, millionaires, billionaires, but no MA students who’d been shoved into the club as a last resort. You took back everything you’d said about feeling bad about being Roy’s plus one– you weren’t one of these people, and that was fucking adament by the hoards of paparazzi, and thousands of pounds donated.

Roy honked his horn again, and you flinched on the floor of your bathroom. You leaned against the door, trying and failing to calm down the anxiety that raced within your bones. Roy honked again, and you found yourself groaning. “I can hear you, Roy!” you yelled, knowing that he couldn’t hear you back. “Fucks sake.” You fumbled as you grabbed your phone from beside the sink.

You unlocked it and went to texts, putting in Roy’s name at the top. Your eyes skimmed the last message you sent– the one about your assignment. You still had no idea if he had you blocked, or if other circumstances had kept him away from his phone at that time, but that didn’t stop you from texting him now.

Having a fucking nervy-b. Two minutes.

Roy’s phone pinged suddenly, and he shuffled it out of his inside jacket pocket. It was an unsaved number, but he knew it was you as soon as he opened the message up. Not just from the timings, but from the previous message that he didn’t recall getting at all.

This was for my degree, my first assignment is due on Sunday. It’ll be incomplete without you.

Roy’s eyes widened. “Fuuuuuuck,” he let out coarsely. He reread both messages, over and over again, before he made the decision to kill his engine.

He jumped out of his Jeep, slamming the driver’s side door shut behind him. He hopped onto the pavement and climbed the steps to your front door. He didn’t hesitate knocking with his knuckles, loudly. The banging reverberated throughout your ground floor flat, startling you as you sat in the bathroom. When the banging didn’t stop, you let out another frustrated groan. You had no choice but to let him in, and get over this small mishap that had got you so inside your own head.

You shuffled your way to your front door and clicked the intercom that came with it. “Can I help you?”

“What the fuck is a nervy-b?” Roy replied through the static.

You bonked your head down against your front door, hating yourself for ever writing a message without thinking. “I’m– it’s–” you stuttered, but there was no good way to say it. “Just come in. I’ll be ready soon.” You buzzed him in, and Roy entered through the main door into your building. From there, you unlatched the lock on your front door and kicked it open for him, before retreating to the comfort of your kitchen.

Roy closed the door behind him, breathing in deeply as he took in his surroundings. Your flat was dainty, but oddly comforting. It reminded him of the flat he had when he first joined Chelsea, all those years before. Albeit, yours was certainly cleaner and tidier, but it still left him with a fond feeling. He stepped further inside, catching a glimpse of you in the kitchen to the right.

“Hey,” he let out, crossing the threshold to approach you. “You alright?” he asked.

You leaned against the counter top, shoulders high and tense, with your back turned to him. “I’m good.” You lied.

Roy arched his brow at you. “I’m not quite sure I believe you.”

“It’s fine!” you exclaimed, before you finally turned to him. “Beard said to own it, so that’s exactly what I’m going to fucking do. None of it fucking matters anyway!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Roy took a step closer.

“This! I mean, I’m not a celebrity, I know fuck all about football, and had to get Keeley to help me pick out this fucking outfit, but I’m still going to own it.” You wondered, if you kept lying to yourself, would it finally stick? “Right?” you asked Roy.

He raised his hands slowly, gently. “I finally understand the meaning of nervy-b,” he said lowly.

You furrowed your brows at him in gentle pleading, before you dropped your head into your hands. “I fucking hate Google,” you said, your voice muffled through your fingers.

Roy took a moment to regard you, finally understanding what it was that was getting to you. He could understand why. As a professional footballer himself, a showboater, a performer, he hated being in the public eye when he didn’t have to be. He preferred to be left alone, staying far away from PR deals and interviews. He could relate to what you were feeling, despite all the years he’d had to get used to it.

Slowly, he stepped towards you. He brought his hands forward and grabbed your wrists gently, pulling them away from your face. When you peered up at him, it was like a chunk of his lung fell into the depths of his stomach. You were terrified, and Roy had no fucking clue how to make it better.

“If Beard said to own it, then own it,” Roy said gently. “If it makes you feel any better, I fucking hate events like this.”

You sniffed. “You do?”

Roy nodded. “But, it’s a necessary part of the job. By now, though, paparazzi know that I don’t give a fuck about them. They piss me off, so I know how it feels.” His eyes flicked over your face, trying to seek out the right words to say. “About the celebrities, though. Well, I’m a fucking celebrity, aren’t I?”

You scoffed abruptly, taking yourself and Roy by surprise. “Sorry,” you said quickly.

“See? It’s funny when I say it, right? Because we work together, and you thought I was the fcuking caretaker last month.”

“I’m still sorry about that,” you whispered.

“This is what I mean. The word celebrity makes it all the more scary and shit,” Roy continued. “You know all the guys at the club, and they fucking worship you. It’s a bit fucking weird sometimes.”

You laughed properly then, as Roy’s words started to sink into your skull. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” you said, breathing in deeply, and exhaling slowly.

Roy removed his grasp from you and took a step back. “Fucking own it.” He settled on, giving you a once over with his dark eyes.

You let out a shaky breath, expelling as much of your anxiety from your body as you possibly could. You stood up straight, shaking out your limbs. “Okay,” you muttered to yourself, before you headed off towards the bathroom, again.

You worked fast, calmly, to clean yourself up. Roy let himself out and leaned against the hood of his car, the same way you had in the car park a few weeks prior. When you walked out of your flat, shutting the door behind you, you were like a completely different person. No longer were the nerves and anxiety eating you alive. You’d been replaced by someone that knew her worth, someone who stood up tall and proud in her pair of platforms. Someone who, certainly, was going to get cold by the evening, but didn’t factor in a jacket of any kind when picking out this fucking outfit, so she had nothing.

Roy tugged open the passenger side door for you. You muttered a thank you at him, before you both got comfortable in his Jeep. Roy stuck the keys in the ignition, but turned to you before he switched on the engine.

“Ready?” he asked, just double checking.

You nodded. “Let’s fucking get this over with.”

“That’s the fucking spirit.” Roy started the engine, and you were off.

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes​ @20th-centu-fairy-girl​ @royalestrellas​ @weakmoony-stuff​ @ironmanmagnetfridge​ @lemonpiegurll​ @hellomagicalsouls​ @her-fandom-sanctum

CHAPTER THREE

[faramirsonofgondor]

I hate that Ted is portrayed as a kind, caring, good coach. I’m not saying he hasn’t been kind or caring to the team and others, but I hate a lot of the decisions he makes. He’s such a non-confrontational person, to the point where he never addresses the problems the team has, which is a part of being a coach. He’s supposed to manage the team, which means making sure the team dynamic runs smoothly and the players aren’t having any problems. Yet he tasks Roy, who has shown himself to be an emotionally stunted, angry person, with making sure Colin and Isaac stop bothering Nate and getting Jamie’s attitude in check. And then he repeatedly tries to force Roy and Jamie into bonding with each other, treating Jamie like he’s the antagonist in the situation (which he sometimes is) despite the fact that Roy is in a clear position of power over Jamie and Roy himself doesn’t exactly treat Jamie with respect or kindness.

He lets Jamie’s behavior build up, and tries to get Jamie to like him and sweet talk him into behaving (the whole ‘ur such a good player but ur one of 11’ speech). Then, when Jamie still continues with his bad behavior, he gets into Jamie’s personal space and yells in his face while towering over him in front of the team . Even though Ted didn’t know about Jamie’s father, this was still a completely inappropriate course of behavior. If one of my coworkers was being rude and messing up the workplace dynamic and I saw my boss yell in their face like that, I would be immediately heading to HR. And when Ted benches Jamie after Roy tries to attack him??? Yes what Jamie did was fucked up but Roy was acting like a fucking dickhead too. And it was probably sending mixed messages to Jamie, because there Ted was acting all nice and kind and being placating about Jamie’s attitude, then suddenly Jamie’s being benched and then Ted’s yelling at him with no warning. Like if Ted has just said from the beginning that Jamie’s behavior was unacceptable and if he kept acting like a ball hog and a bad teammate then he would be benched, I think Jamie would’ve probably stopped acting like a fucking prick. But instead of setting clear boundaries, he avoided the issue and then had an outburst when he wasn’t getting the results he wanted.

It doesn’t just happen in season 1 either, there are moments scattered throughout the whole show where Ted ultimately fails to do his job and act like an actual boss to the team. I understand, in part, that some of this is probably caused by toxic masculinity and ‘sports culture’ but it still doesn’t excuse his actions, or inactions. He lies about Jamie coming back (even if it wasn’t technically a lie at the time), then he does nothing to help Jamie adjust to being back on the team while everyone hates him (the ‘Led Tasso’ bit was not an appropriate form of help). He brings Roy back as a coach, then does nothing about Roy’s unprofessionalism and refusal to coach Jamie. He doesn’t even offer any meaningful advice to Jamie about it. It shouldn’t have been a situation that Jamie had fix by himself. Ted, as the one in charge, should’ve pulled Roy aside and talked to him about it (it irks me to this day that pulled Roy aside about Trent but not about Jamie). He doesn’t say anything about Nate, who revealed private information to the press, and allows Nate to keep coaching. Like did he not even think about the fact that Nate could’ve potentially told the press information about other people on the team???

And then in Season 3 he ignores Jamie’s complaints about Zava, and lets the entire coaching staff insult and belittle him for being worried about the team’s dynamic. He ignores the fact that Jamie was right about the dynamic getting messed up. He never apologizes or acknowledges it after Zava leaves either. When Isaac went after that homophobe, he just told Isaac to chill out and not take it seriously when Isaac was legitimately upset, once again ignoring the issue and focusing on the wrong thing. If someone I knew had attacked someone who was shouting slurs at them, telling them they fucked up while they were still clearly upset wouldn’t be my first, nor my second, nor third or fourth or fifth reaction. AND AFTER EVERYTHING TED HAS THE AUDACITY TO TELL JAMIE TO FORGIVE HIS FATHER???? Like I understand it was Jamie’s choice to contact his dad and that Ted never told him too, but did Ted literally just never once consider the fact that the advice he was giving him might put him in danger? Not even just physically, but mentally as well?

I just think Ted is so focused on trying to keep people happy that he misses the fact that sometimes you have to confront and feel your negative emotions in order to get to the core of a problem.

I just hate it when media portrays characters a certain way, to the point where they’re practically shouting ‘look at him, he’s so nice and kind and he’s never done anything wrong’ and then have the character make shitty decisions and never resolve or confront the mistakes they made?? They never get any consequences??

That being said, I don’t view Ted as a completely horrible or evil person either, just someone with a lot of flaws that I wish were more acknowledged. He can be a good person and he has helped some of the people on the team, but he’s also hurt them in some ways and that’s never really addressed.

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter Ten I Here We Go Again

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football protigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning: None?? That I can think of?

A/N: Enjoy

Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Have you ever smelt miles and miles of poop surrounding you? I hadn’t either until Ted’s big plan to get the guys spirits up. But now that smell was stuck in my nose. Even if it was just poopeh.

I stood on the pitch, one foot on the ball. It was the beginning of a new season. A new start. Which I was thankful for. The past few months since the end of the last season, and the excitement of the promotion, had been an emotional whirlwind and I was excited to finally have something to focus on. AFC Richmond had a chip on its shoulder the size of a boulder going into the season and all eyes were on us. Unfortunately, most of the odds were stacked against you even Paddington Bear had the odds against you.

But things were different this time around. Richmond was stronger, more put together than ever. This team was on the brink of being the greatest, all they needed was the right push. What that push was going to be, I couldn’t say.

I took a step back and punted the ball down the field watching it as it fell, down, down before bouncing once then into the goal.

By the time I made it back into the building, the halls were bustling with life. Various greyhounds coming into the locker room, various staff walking in and out of rooms, all the signs of an active football club. I made my way up to Rebecca’s office to meet Keely. Since she was becoming a big CEO and all, she wouldn’t be at the club as much.

She left Rebecca’s office with Ted and Higgins following closely behind.

            “(Y/N) (L/N)!” Ted greeted. “What are you doing here?”

            “She’s here to see me, of course!” Keely told him, coming over to loop her arm with mine.

Ted put his hand over his heart in feigned offense. “And here I was thinking she was here for me.”

            “Sorry, Ted,” I said, leaning against Keely. “I’ll be sure to set up our morning chat later.”

As Keely and I headed down the stairs, we chatted about the off season and Keely’s exciting new job. We reached the bottom of the stairs where we were met by Isaac leaving the locker room. He asked her for a shoe deal. Not a brand deal. Just shoes. I glanced over and saw Jamie walking down the hallway with Bumbercatch and Colin. We made eye contact for a moment before I tore my eyes away from him to look over at Colin.

            “Hey, Colin.” I approached him instead. “How’s it going?”

            “Hey, (Y/N).” He smiled at me. “Bumber and me were just talking about going to see some music this weekend, do you want to come?”

I glanced over at Jamie again who was now talking to Keely. “Oh, I wish. I actually have plans.”

            “Oh, too bad. But next time year?”

            “Definitely!”

Finally, Keely and I were done dealing with the hordes of footballers and we could finally chat. That was until Roy approached us. I knew enough about their situation to back off for a moment, give them a second to chat. I felt Jamie’s eyes burning a hole in the back of my head, but I refused to look. I couldn’t look. I didn’t trust myself to look. So, I just waited, staring at literally nothing.

Finally, Keely was done and walking down the hallway. I rushed after her, not acknowledging the boys behind me.

            “Keely! Wait!” I called rushing after her. “What was that? With Roy?”

            “Oh, that? We… we uh… broke up!” She said it like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t just dropped the biggest bombshell of my life.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her towards me. “What?”

            “We haven’t really told people, but yeah…” She shrugged then looked at her watch. “Look at that! I have to go.”

            “Keely! You can’t just-“

            “Gotta go, Barb’s waiting for me.”

            “Keely we’re gonna talk about this!”

            “Later!”

And she was off, leaving the club. I shook my head in disbelief. I turned around just intime to see Jamie leaving the boot room with Roy. We made eye contact. I started backing away slowly, and Jamie started walking towards me. Step by step I backed up until I hit a wall and Jamie was standing right in front of me.

            “(Y/N).”

            “Jamie.”

Then he was kissing me. I gasped in surprise but kissed him back for a moment before pushing him off of me.

            “Jamie, not here.”

He pouted at me as I pushed past him. “No one’s around, I checked.”

            “You did not check, you said my name then you were kissing me,” I pointed out peaking around the corner before turning back to face him.

            “I know, I know, just…” He leaned against the wall next to me. “How long do we have to keep it a secret?”

Deciding to stay private for a while was my idea. If it were up to him, he’d be on me all hours of the day and while that idea sounded really nice, I needed time to have him to myself. Just us.

            “Just until… the season gets started,” I decided on saying. “People aren’t nice to me in the press and I don’t want to give them another reason to hate me.” Jamie pouted, grumbling something about not caring what people say. I turned to face him, bringing my hands up to rub up over his shoulders. “Look, for now we’re theirs but when we get home, we’re ours. It’s better this way.”

Though I didn’t sound too convinced myself. It broke my heart to keep Jamie a secret, and I know it was hurting him as well. But my worst fear was going public and hearing all the reasons we shouldn’t be together. He deserved better than me, or I was the reasons we weren’t playing well. Whatever they could find to tear us apart.

            “Ours, I like the sound of that, love,” He crooned, smirking at me.

            “Yeah… ours,” I echoed him, matching his smile. I saw him start to lean down to kiss me but panic shot through me so instead, I stepped back and started down the hallway to the locker room. I heard him stumble behind me and let out a curse, but I continued forward.

The locker room was a mess. The boys were up in arms about the Roy and Keely break up, something to do with signing Zava, and Trent Crimm for some reason? Jamie wasn’t far behind me but I tried not to notice him as he came in and stood to the side.

            “Why would Zava write a book about Trent Crimm?” Zoreaux shouted in confusion. I walked into the room looking around at the chaos.

            “Hold on a second!” Ted silenced the room. “If y’all didn’t know about Zava, which may or may not happen…”

            “We’re getting Zava?” I muttered to Beard.

            “Possibly,” He replied.

            “And y’all didn’t know about Trent Crimm, which is happening…” Ted continued.

            “Trent Crimm is writing a book about us?” I asked again.

            “Definitely,” Beard confirmed.

            “Then what were you so worked up about?” Ted finally finished.

The boys looked at each other, none of them wanting to admit what the issue was. Finally, Sam stepped up.

            “Roy and Keely broke up.”

Beard yelped, making me jump. Then Ted fainted.

It seemed the whole league was up in arms trying to get Zava to join them. It was all the boys could talk about as well. Especially Dani. Dani had a weird thing going to be honest. Zava certainly was an amazing player. I’d seen him on the field. He reminded me of Jamie a few years ago. Except he was about 10 years older with a wife and children.

The other weird thing was Roy’s vendetta against Trent Crimm. He’d outright banned all the lads from talking to him about anything. It was weird and personal in a way I’d never seen Roy act before.

            “(Y/N) (L/N), first female coach in the league…” Trent started, coming up to me.

            “Nope.” I shut him down. Even if I wanted to talk to him, starting the conversation about my place as a woman in a male dominated field was not going to be the way to do it. I walked straight past him into the coaches office.

Roy was smiling at me as I did. “Nicely done, (L/N).”

            “I didn’t do it for you, dickhead,” I grumbled, though I was smiling while I said it. I was smiling more than I used to now. Things were going well! The club was promoted, I was with Jamie, and things were finally looking up. So, why on earth did I feel off.

            “Jamie! I’m home!” I called into the house as I walked in, juggling a bag of groceries on my hip.  There was silence in the house, though. Maybe, he wasn’t here. We hadn’t officially moved in yet, so it wasn’t like we were always together. But usually, after a long day of pretending we weren’t together, he liked to be with me. Then I heard the sound of the TV on. “Jamie?”

I walked into the house and placed my bag of groceries down on the counter. From the kitchen I could see into the living room where Jamie was watching a football game. He was leaning forward, completely engrossed in the events of the game. It was cute to watch him to enamored with the game he loved so much. I came around the back of the couch and placed my hands on Jamie’s shoulders, prompting him to lean back.

            “Hey, babe,” I greeted, kissing the top of his head. He hummed in response, his eyes still not leaving the screen.  “What game are you watching?” It took me a second to realize he was watching me. That it was my kit on the screen. An old imperial game where I was commanding the field. I stood back, letting my hands fall to my sides. “Jamie… what is this?’”

            “It’s you, ain’t it?” He pointed at the screen. “I love this part, watch” I watched as I did a backwards kick to a teammate, sending the ball back to the middle of the field before it was sent back to me on the outside. From there I sent the back flying in a beautiful arch into the goal. “Fuckin’ brilliant it is.”

I watched myself celebrate on the screen, my teammates swarming me and cheering my name. It made my smile remembering those times. But I tore myself away from it before I could get too sucked into the nostalgia of actually playing football.

            “I’m gonna make dinner,” I said, turning back into the kitchen.

Jamie hopped up off the couch and followed me. “Why’d you stop?”

            “Hm?”

            “Why’d you stop playing football?”

I started to unpack the groceries I got thinking on the question. Why had I stopped? I stopped because the second I was out of uni, no one cared about me anymore. I stopped because my mum told me that it was time to get serious, that football wasn’t a career for women. I stopped because everything in the world was against me when I graduated.

            “Uh, it just didn’t work out for me, I guess,” I replied, absentmindedly.

            “I find that hard to believe,” Jamie returned, coming over to help me put stuff into the refrigerator. “You were top of the league when you graduated. Surely you had offers.”

            “It just didn’t work out, alright, Jamie?” I said, shortly, ending the conversation. “Now can you grab me the butter out of the fridge.” Jamie pursed his lips at me, clearly knowing there was more to the story than what I was letting on. But he grabbed a stick of butter and tossed it over to me. “Besides, I like coaching now. I’m good at it.”

That made Jamie smile. “Right on that one, babe.”

I sighed, happy that I was able to get Jamie off the subject of my departure from the game. Of course, I wanted to play football when I got out of college. But there were some words that cut too deep to ignore.

Luckily, we had the upcoming Chelsea game to discuss. Richmond was the talk of the town. Well, right next to Zava, we were. Everyone was watching as we either sunk or swam in the Premiere league on our first attempt back.

The stadium was buzzing as Roy, and I entered the field. At first, the buzzing was geared towards Roy. The chant of ‘he’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where, Roy Kent” filled the air. I could tell he was trying not to let it get to him, but he was touched for sure. But that chant was soon overtaken with cants of ‘Zava’! I turned and saw the prick in the stands. It made sense, Zava was all but signed to Chelsea according to Higgins’s various rumors.

But then the game was off. I watched as the boys tried to get something going but after several failed attempts, including one off Dani’s face, we ended the first half 1-nil with Chelsea on the board. Chelsea was playing offensively. Waiting for our guys to pass so they could intercept and take back possession. All they needed to do was hold onto the ball as long as possible.

            “Hey, fellas. Listen up,” Ted began, starting our half time meeting. “We get one goal we’re right back in this thing, yeah? But right now, we are being so unoffensive, we might as well be a Hallmark Christmas movie, you know what I’m saying.”

No, no we did not. But he continued nonetheless.

            “I mean, Coach, how many shots on goal we have that half?”

            “Just one,” I answered.

            “And that one was pretty much a mistake. Am I correct, Dani?”

            “Yes, it bounced off my face. But my face almost scored!” He returned enthusiastically.

The boys chattered amongst themselves, trying to figure out exactly what they were doing wrong. I dared a glance over at Jamie. We’d mastered the art of eye conversations. We usually were able to communicate our thoughts without saying anything. Sneaking around will do that for you. He had a thought, I could tell. If he was on the same page as me, I wanted him to share. He nodded at me.

            “Just an idea,” Jamie offered starting to stand.

            “What you got?” Ted called on him.

            “Right, so every time they’re going past the halfway line, they’re just...”

Then Trent entered the room, and everyone fell silent. I wanted to rip my hair out of my skull. They were giving up valuable strategy time all because of some stupid grudge Roy had on Trent. I looked at Ted, begging him to do something. Luckily, he seemed to understand my plea.

First Ted went with Roy just a few feet away into the showers. Then Ted emerged and Roy barked for Trent. Whatever happened in that room I don’t want to know but when they came out again, Roy allowed us to discuss around Trent. Unfortunately, we didn’t have much time, so I urged Jamie to finish his thought.

            “Listen!” Jamie shouted out over the noise. “What I’m saying is, every time we go past halfway, they’re just blocking up the passing lanes, you get that? So just kept dribbling until they stop you.”

That’s my boy. He saw exactly what I had seen. The boys seemed to have more energy going into the second half and it showed when Sam scored a goal off Dani’s face. And that was it, we finished the game in a tie against Chelsea.

As unorthodox as it was, I was excited. Excited because I could feel the electricity of things working on the field. Of the boys understanding each other and communicating. This was the game I loved. For a moment, just a single moment, I wished it was me on the field.

As we exited the field, I caught Trent standing to the side as we filed into the locker room.

            “Trent,” I called over, to him.

            “Coach (L/N),” He noted, standing up straight as I walked over to him. “To what do I owe the honor.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “Look, if there’s one thing, I want you to understand about me is that I am not some female superstar here to save my gender in the league.” He cocked his head at me, removing his glasses to better look at me. “I’m here because I love football. Just like everyone else on this team.”

He nodded at me, understanding. “I hear you. I understand you were quite the player in university. What made you stop playing.”

Oh, so now everyone was wondering about my past huh. Well, this wasn’t about to become some melodrama about why I didn’t play football anymore. I was here to do one thing and one thing only, coach football.

            “Nope!” I popped the ‘p’ at the end and sent him a wink. And with that I turned around and headed back into the locker room.

            “Goodnight, Coach (L/N)!” I heard Trent countered as I walked away. This season was certainly turning out to be an interesting one. But then again, when wasn’t it always.

I was looking forward to the celebration that was in store in the locker room but what I was met with was the awe shocked group watching a video on their phones. A video of Zava deciding to come to Richmond.

Tag List: @heletsmelovehim @higherthanheroes @ajax-petropolus-wife @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @kno-way-home @sleepy-time @wigglegiggle @skewedcherries @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @snubug @rana030

[altschmerzes]

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

OH GOSH YEAH THERE IS it's called 'without grace, without understanding' (thanks wrinkle in time) and it's a reimagining of the training arc with roy and jamie in season 3

this got a little long so it is..... under a cut lsdfkjs.

update: 'a little long' this is basically a fic in itself lmfao WHOOPSIES. i guess i may as well actually tag it, enjoy... whatever this is.

started off with me thinking about the myriad of ways that could've been a fascinating plot to use to explore those two characters' trajectories and their relationship to themselves and each other and this sport. roy's lack of trust in himself and his conviction that he ruins things.

and it's like... thinking about how roy's approach is uh. a bit much sometimes and jamie particularly doesn't necessarily react super well to that and has a tendency to take things the wrong way even when they are well delivered, and thinking about roy's concerns this season about his coaching skills. that he's REALLY worried about being a good coach. and the stuff in season 2, where he was worried he was Ruining Phoebe somehow, just.

and there's the jamie of it all. him trying to hard to be better, to do better, not sure how to make it work. how to make it happen. how to be as good as zava, be better than zava. still trying to deserve the second chance he's been given. still a brat a lot of the time bc he is who he is but also trying so hard to be good. be cooperative. be a team player. Work Hard Enough.

so you get into the actual training of it, right. they're working together one on one, and roy is pushing him. hard. and i looked at that and went. okay this is supposed to be humorous but also what if we took it seriously. what if roy pushed him TOO hard and jamie just let him because he’d do basically whatever roy told him to and thinks he’s supposed to shut up and not whine and Be Good. and this somehow ends up pushing jamie so hard he’s just completely exhausted or hurt somehow and roy is absolutely horrified by this. and is like NOPE i cant do this i shouldn’t be doing this and doesn’t really communicate to jamie why he’s calling it off. he just does it. so jamie thinks he’s done something wrong and roy thinks he’s protecting jamie by (freaking out and) walking away and it’s a MESS they gotta sort out.

somewhere in there there's a thing with roy and the coaches or the diamond dogs as a whole, right. after he's walked away from training jamie one on one and their relationship is extremely strained bc roy is spiralling beyond proportion like Oh Fuck, Oh Gd, I Was Ruining Him, I Was Hurting Him and jamie is like He's Done With Me He Don't Want Fuck-All To Do With Me. so things are... weird. they're not really talking. they're both upset and hating it. but roy sort of. he doesn't stop coaching jamie again at all, but he does sort of. he pulls back. he goes stiff and distant and doesn't engage. he doesn't ice him out like in s2 but he's not. there. either.

and so they're talking and he's like. (in his mind the training is like. paused. they're Taking A Break.) but he's like. i need to talk to you about jamie. and the others are like... yeah, sure seems like it! and roy just admits. i don’t know how to train him. what i know how to do isn’t working. what worked on me isn’t working (ted/beard/someone voice maybe it perhaps Didn’t Work On You in a good way, but-) so What Do I Do.

which gives ted the opportunity to pay it forward with some advice and just - positive reinforcement. maybe try approaching this differently. he’s destroying himself trying to make you happy, make you proud, do good in your eyes. he idolizes you, not sure how AWARE of that you are, but he does. still. maybe try using that - tell him what he’s doing right.

(and that's the fuck of it all right is like. there's this part of roy that's been wondering if he's a bad coach for the opposite reason, too. he's been wondering if he's been too soft on jamie, and maybe that was the problem. it was something that was gnawing at him, before jamie worked himself sick/hurt and he realized his approach was massively backfiring, that like... maybe he was a bad coach because he couldn't be harsh enough. but he couldn't just. he couldn't stomach being like the coaches he'd had, he just couldn't do it. and then that happened, and obviously that wasn't it, but it was in there somewhere)

but so he talks a bit about that there, like, it comes up somehow - the coaches he had when he was young. when he was a kid and when he was coming up. he talks about how he was trained and they’re like right okay sure and how do you feel about those coaches now? how did they make you feel about yourself? is that how you want jamie to feel about you? is that how you want to know he feels when you talk to him?

he doesn't. he doesn't want jamie to feel like that about him, to feel like that when looking at him. because roy respected those coaches and wanted them to be impressed with him but he was afraid of them too. and he never thought for a minute that he ever lived up to their expectations. and fuck, gd, he never, ever wants that for jamie.

and that's the point ted and beard and company sort of gently make to him too like.

and so it's like. he trusts you. he looks up to you. he'd do anything you asked him to. that's good, that helps, but it means you gotta be careful too, y'know?

so he has to figure out a new approach. and it's like. roy doesn't need a personality transplant, don't get me wrong. he's never gonna be ted and he doesn't need to be. that's not the goal here. it's about figuring out how to be tough without being mean, right? and maybe a little about figuring out how to let himself soften.

(especially since half the time it’s his own younger self he’s hollering at imo. and so treating jamie better sort of asks him to realize he should’ve been treated better too. Be Kinder To Him And In Doing So Give Your Own 24 Year Old Self Some Gentleness And Grace.)

so roy offers to resume training with him after some other stuff happens etc, this is the part i have less thought through lmao.

(there's a subplot also with isaac and captain stuff and figuring out there's something up with jamie and not knowing what and trying to piece it together. love that too.)

and there's a scene in the end, right, where we get this whole... they've sorted things out, they're resuming training again, roy has extracted a promise from jamie to Speak The Fuck Up if things aren't going well, and he's promised to be less of a hardass generally, and then there's a bit where he like. apologizes for ever having been that hard on jamie in the first place and not thinking about whether that was the right approach.

and jamie just... he shrugs. he's not affected by this. "gotta make sure i don’t go soft, yeah?" and roy is like. no. absolutely not. stop right there.

which is when roy then makes the very specific point that like. when they talk about jamie’s performance on the pitch and how he should approach it sometimes he needs to be a prick, and he needs to worry about being permissive or passive or whatever else, but even if they have to bust out a thesaurus they will not be referring to him as soft. we will not be using that language here. do you understand me?

which... jamie. doesn't, really. he's like ??? and tries to brush it off at first like pshh that’s just the same thing “don’t want to be noncommittal or passive on the pitch ain’t that just the same thing as soft just more letters” and roy is like no. no it’s not. there’s implications in- in calling someone soft that there ain’t in there, and even if it is, so what. that’s a word that’s been used to hurt you. right? and jamie’s just kinda sullenly silent and roy goes right. which is why im not fucking using it. that’s the fucking point im trying to make here. if i can help it im not gonna fucking hurt you because i really don’t want to.

which y'know. is a lot. it's a lot for both of them. but they figure it out.

i’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while tbh but keep being like no that’s excessive- that’s dramatic- whatever this arc is gonna turn into it doesn’t NEED to turn into an angsty character/dynamic study- but honestly who cares. why not have fun with it. why not get into some of the vast unexplored potential here. maybe one day i will.

[lunar-years]

There is literally no other way to interpret the side by side posters on Jamie's wall, the boy is bi! Roy and Keeley spend literally the whole episode thinking about Jamie, and then the end when they're all sat together? Oh my heart! Also I would love LOVE to know what Roy whispered to Jamie, but the proud looks from both Keeley and Roy at their boy during the match will sustain me for weeks

Like I'm not even kidding in the slightest when I tell you this episode was ot3 made canon for me. I don't even care what happens with the three of them in the finale, this was it. If the finale is bad for them I'm just going to forget it ever happened and pretend this was the final episode, I don't even care!!!

side-by-side posters?????? of ROY AND KEELEY?????? The reveal was glorious. I can't believe I didn't see it coming but when that door swung back, my jaw DROPPED.

Jamie getting injured on the pitch and then the drama of him getting back up and everyone thinking oh it's all right he's okay only for him to FALL AGAIN. And through all of that we got to watch the face journeys play out on both Keeley and Roy??? that was straight out of a million ot3 angst fanfics i was writhing internally

literally just, Roy and Keeley not actually getting back together (without him)...!!! dropping their hands as soon as he came in. Keeley's expression when Roy told her he didn't want to be friends. If you read my long ramble-y Roy/Keeley meta after last week's episode you'll know I've dreamed of times like these anon

something about Roy going to Keeley to ask her to fix Jamie only for her to be like "welp shit I ended up making him worse" was so glorious and funny and perfect even as it was heart-bending. I know we love to talk about Keeley's emotional intelligence compared to her boys, but at the end of the day they are truly 3 idiots 1 braincell. Keeley just gets to hold on to it the most. I love these dorks.

it was deeply vulnerable of jamie to bring Roy and Keeley with him to his house. like we're not talking about that enough, actually. It was clear he'd never brought Keeley there when they dated. Like, they didn't even know he had a Simon. And this was him completely letting them into his world in one swoop. Letting Simon give them a tour of the Jamie shrine unbothered while he cried to his mum. ???????? JAMIE

the final scene where they bring the champagne into the therapy room is everything to me absolutely everything it is the stuff of dreams and I can't believe we got an ot3 scene like that.

I think it's more fun that we don't know what Roy whispered because in our heads we now get to make it whatever we want. Like, okay, it was obviously, "we're fucking tonight," and WE all know that, but the general audience, who is largely blind, can still go on in their own little delusional bubble like "wow isn't it nice that Roy and Jamie are such good friends ! Surely Roy must've told Jamie good game :D" It was such a completely perfect way of doing it. Ted Lasso writers I never once doubted you (i lie)

there was sooooo much more I loved but yeah these are the talking points my current state of mind is oscillating between lol.

[fanficfanattic]

🌹🌹🌹 for a rainy (or sunny) day

How about for a snowy day!

Any guesses about what makes Ted regret this later?

Later, Ted will think about his reaction. His reaction earlier in the day, yelling at and humiliating Jamie in front of the team, was arguably bad. No matter how he tried to justify it to himself. But the one that haunts him is how he responded to Higgins coming on to the field asking to borrow Jamie for a moment.

Because he told Higgins that actually, he couldn’t, because Jamie was on cone duty, that Jamie was making up his temper tantrum to the team by doing humble service. Jamie had looked at him in shock, because somehow he hadn’t picked up on that. Ted took grim satisfaction in several of the lads quietly laughing, which might of been enough to haunt him later regardless.

Roy wasn’t quiet about it at all. Again, in the nebulous later, he’d think on this. He didn’t hold Roy up to the standard that he was holding Jamie up to and Roy was the captain. He’d never learn that this is what haunted Roy from that day. They’d never directly addressed it.

“I must insist, Coach Lasso,” Higgins responded, face serious and stern. Ted should have realized the official title was Higgins’ way of conveying the severity of the situation.

But Ted was getting divorced. And Jamie had tried to make a fool of him, again, immediately after having been metaphorically spanked at the match against Watford. He was heart-broken and he was sad and he was hurt and he was furious. He was distracted.

“You can insist all you’d like, Mr. Higgins, but Jamie is proving that he deserves to stay on this team right now.” The laughter had died off, not that Ted noticed, focus laser focused on Higgins. He took Higgins’ blanche as evidence that he was finally being taken seriously.

Until Higgins turned away from him, to look at Jamie, and told his player “Come along, Mr. Tartt,” and motioned him over.

Ted would hand it to Jamie, the only muscles he moved were his neck ones, as he looked over to his gaffer in plain confusion. “Coach?” He asked, not as permission to walk away, but just in complete bafflement. And in that state, he’d looked to Ted for guidance. So Ted gave him the slightest glimmer of approval, and saw Jamie see it for what it was. And appear grateful for it.

‘He didn’t want the carrot but he sure as hell wants the stick even less.’ Later, this thought would also haunt him, but that was much, much later.

“Higgins,” he continued out loud, “Jamie needs to show he’s as motivated to get the cones in the exact right place for practice as he has been to score a solo goal during matches.” It wasn’t quite what he meant to say but it was close enough that he left it. It made his point, he was sure.

The team was completely silent now, witnessing this showdown between Ted and someone they all knew he liked. Realizing that this had started off as about Jamie, but was now much more than that, which made them equally as unsafe now.

But Higgins never turned to Ted, just kept his eyes on Jamie, as he explained. “I know that you answer to Coach Lasso, Jamie. But both of you answer to Ms. Welton. And she has called for you. So right this way, if you would be so kind.”

Jamie looked at Ted, again, but this time his feet started moving towards the suited man. Because he was right, they both did answer to her. And while his gaffer was powerful on the pitch and in the dugout; Rebecca Welton was powerful everywhere all the time.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

”I talked to Southgate yesterday.”

The sun is not yet up; Jamie is dutifully stretching his legs in the cold yellow of a streetlight when Roy suddenly speaks. It’s the first thing he’s said all morning, except for gruff commands of run and ten more and fucking higher, Tartt. 

“Yeah?” Switching legs to work on his other calf, Jamie tries for a casual tone, fails, and doesn’t much care. “What about?” 

Roy gives him a look: the fuck do you think? There’s no heat in it, though. Rarely is these days, and that thought is a glowing ember in Jamie’s chest, equal parts joy and amazement.  

For a moment, Roy doesn’t say anything else. Jamie completes his stretches and straightens. Waits, with heart hammering hard, hard beneath his hoodie. 

“He got in touch two years ago,” Roy finally offers, seemingly adressing the streetlight. “Before the Euros. Asked about you, what sort of player you were.” He glances at Jamie then, face carefully blank. “I told him the truth.” 

That… hurts, unexpectedly. Not because Jamie is surprised, really, or because it is unfair, because he isn’t and it’s not, but still. It stings, though not as bad as it had back then, and for different reasons. 

He wants to make a joke, say something glib to chase the taste of resigned dismay and shame away: he opens his mouth; closes it again. Looks away from Roy and is grateful that the other man seems content to leave it at that rather than going into the details of just what he’d told Southgate. Fair or not, Jamie thinks he can do without hearing it. He can imagine it well enough. 

Roy is studying him, like he’s expecting Jamie to protest or complain. It feels a little bit like a test, maybe. Jamie remains quiet. Fiddles with his sleeves for something to do with his hands as the silence grows longer and the morning colder around him.   

And perhaps it is a test after all, because after a moment Roy nods slowly before starting to talk again. “Anyway, yesterday I called him up to let him know that those things I said two years ago weren’t true anymore, and that I didn’t want any of that to be held against you now.” 

Jamie’s eyes snap to Roy’s face and he opens his mouth to speak, but Roy holds his hand up, forestalling him. “Now, I have no idea what’s going to happen so I don’t want you getting your hopes up, but I’m telling you this because if he calls I want you to be prepared, because he’ll be asking about that stupid shit you pulled, what the fuck you thought you were doing, and I need you to be on your best fucking behaviour, okay? Don’t grovel, but none of that fucking cocky bravado or defensive bullshit either. You were a prick, you understand that now, and you’ve worked fucking hard at being better. Got it?” 

Jamie nods, quickly, eagerly, because yeah, yeah, he can do that. Would probably be up for a bit of grovelling too, if it increased his chances of being called up. Fuck, he’ll say whatever he has to say, spill his whole fucking heart if need be to prove that he can be the best fucking— 

Suddenly, he frowns. Roy notices and raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“Should I… “ Jamie pauses, uncertain. “Should I tell him, you know, about me dad? I mean, if he asks why I left City to do a TV show, what do I say?” 

Roy considers that for a bit. It occurs to Jamie that Roy probably doesn’t actually know why Jamie ran out on City the way he did; Jamie certainly never told him, and he doubts Ted did either. But he can probably guess the rough shape of it anyway.

“Gareth’s a good man,” Roy offers at long last. “You want to tell him the truth, you tell him the truth, he won’t say a word. Don’t try to use it as an excuse though.” 

“I won’t,” Jamie says with a small scowl and a flash of annoyance, because when has he ever? 

Maybe Roy realizes as much, because his face softens into something almost apologetic. “I’m just saying, because I don’t want any of that old stuff getting in the way of you being called up now.“ He pauses, like he’s hesitating over whether to keep on talking or not. Settles for keep on talking, apparently, because he adds, without looking at Jamie, “You deserve it.”

Three words, and enough for the ember in his chest to roar into open flame. Jamie can feel the heat of it reach his face; gentle warmth in the February chill. “Thanks, Coach.”

--- 

The call comes two days later. Taking it has Jamie running late for training and when he finally rushes into the dressing room Roy lays into him with enough venom to make the other players carefully back away from them. Still, Jamie can’t do a thing to quell the grin on his face.

“What the fuck are you smiling at?” Roy snaps. 

“Southgate called.” He’s a little surprised to hear how dazed he sounds. Feels like he could fucking fly, but the words come out almost hushed. 

Roy immediately stills. “And?”

He should savour it, perhaps, the triumph of this moment. Take a second to marvel at the sight of Roy – Roy fucking Kent – holding his breath as he waits for an answer, but he can’t, he can’t, it’s too big, to happy, too fucking good, and he can’t hold it in. “He’s calling me up.”

[whimsical-roasting]

“Coach Ted, how do you feel about group cohesion and dance breaks?”

thinking about random moments shared in the jamie tartt x psych major!reader fic i have in my head... just cute shit tbh

okay so the reader has been with the Richmond club for a solid few months, she’s a familiar face and friendly to the team but not super close with everybody, minus Colin and surprisingly,,, Jamie hehe

the team seems to be having a serious tie-streak going on, and they’re all kinda bummed by it

Ted’s obviously still Ted, unwavering winners mindset that basically means ‘do your best, give yourself a pat, shake it off, and repeat’ - with the addition of a smile ofc!

the reader has been doing readings for her org psych class and knows that raising group morale is necessary but also so so hard.

sometimes motivational speeches just don’t cut it yknow?? sometimes you gotta think outside of the box to fix the vibes and spread positivity

so there she is, standing in the coach’s office with a bluetooth speaker in her hand, nervously waiting for it to be her turn to speak

“Coach Ted,” she calls him in a manner that’s playful but still professional - he’s insisted on just Ted in the past and she’s complied but for serious conversations, she enjoys leading with a ‘subtle sense of professionalism’

“Coach Ted, how do you feel about group cohesion and dance breaks?” she asks, fiddling with the speaker in her hand

“Well darlin, I love a good flash mob. Gosh, those folks must keep in touch, right?” He directs his eyes to Beard, who peaks over his book and replies affirmingly, “a bond has been formed,” causing both you and Ted to smile

“Well, less flash mob but more like... a bi-weekly dance break?” she continues as Ted’s eyes land on her again. “I know the boys are bummed with the tie-streak and I was reading in my org psych textbook about the importance of autonomy in decorating our workspaces, and how group morale helps cohesion which’ll lead to better attitudes and hopefully better performance - not that our performance has been poor, it’s been great, I’m proud of the boys really! But, it sucks to see them bummed out...So maybe a twice-a-week-song-dance-break will lift spirits??” 

she’s rambling. she’s nervous!! it’s a good idea tbh but still, sharing means being vulnerable and the potential of getting rejected

Ted politely waits for her to finish, nodding along and then grins, “sounds wonderful darlin! Hey, maybe you can get the boys to give some song suggestions to help with the whole autonomy thing you mentioned.” 

she’s happy !! grinning as she steps out to the locker room, dragging out the whiteboard from the corner and scribbling in a lil corner of it

Jamie’s eyes follow her silently. truth be told, they followed her when she entered and disappeared into the coach’s office. but he smiles a lil seeing her grin at herself

when she’s done with the whiteboard, she calls for attention and lets the boys know to write down their suggestions, and she’ll choose two songs for the week randomly!! she emphasizes nervously that it should help according to her textbooks and Jamie is silently nodding, eyes drifting to her hands as she fiddles with the whiteboard marker

Dani is the first to speak, “pardon me, can it be Spanish songs too?” and she smiles really big, “anything you like!!” 

Isaac adds, “yea bruv, I fuck wit Bad Bunny” and there’s a wave of approving noises from the rest

SO, the plan has been implemented, and it’s frickin working!!! 

the boys always look forward to whose song is chosen - lots of rap, some taylor swift, Work Hard Play Hard makes them go nuts, some musical songs from Colin but it’s okay cause the lads are hyped over Hamilton 

Ted gets into it!! dancing!! Dani and Jan Maas share an imaginary mic!! it’s great, but Jamie’s favourite part is seeing her join them in the locker rooms for every dance break grooving to the music

one day SHE chooses the song... “Keep Your Head Up” by Andy Grammer cause the team seemed extra tired and bummed

everyone’s like ??? who chose this?? she’s like ‘me. I did.’

she’s trying to break the tension, so she takes her imaginary mic and goes to Ted, then Colin, then Sam, and soon everyone’s into it - just happily singing and dancing

she somehow ends up next to Jamie, shoulders bumping. she’s swaying as she faces him, playfully mouthing the lyrics to him as he smiles with a slight blush (not that she notices cause she’s blushing too)

they’re both dancing close to each other, and she lightly pokes his chin when the song goes, “you gotta keep your head up”, reaching up to pull down his headband at, “and you can let your hair down,” grinning at him when he’s like ‘hey!! :o... >:)’

the song ends, and they’re still laughing at each other, holding hands...a bit longer than they should tbh hehehe. Jamie loves her energy and kindness, it matches his goofiness and makes him wanna be a better person

but anyways!!! they pull away, hoping no one notices.. some do but don’t say anything

[richmonds-disaster-bi]

Bringing back omega Roy au because I miss it

"You don't have to be so defensive all the time, Roy"

Ted's words made Roy want to growl as he clenched his hand around his pen. The American beta was watching him as if he was judging him. As if he hadn't just watched a reporter get dragged out of the room by Beard for the way he started questioning Roy's abilities to coach because he was a "washed up, bitter omega".

Roy had managed to get a few colourful words in in response before Beard had dragged the reporter out of the media room. Yes, he had been defensive, and yes he had told the rest of the reporters that that outdated traditionalist thinking was bullshit, but he had done it to protect his players.

Roy had grown up with his status being used against him. He'd been mocked and pushed until he had snapped and knocked a kid out cold for the way they had tried to touch him. He had dealt with years of verbal abuse that was meant to "make him toughen up" but had only made him hate himself and his designation.

So maybe he was defensive, but he knew how badly words like those could teat down his players like Colin, or even Richard despite the French man being one of the most unapologetically omega players Roy had ever met.

"Words have power Ted", Roy replied, a slight growl in his throat and he knew his scent was stinking up the place, "I don't have to sit there and listen to that bullshit"

"Ya don't", Ted agreed, rubbing at his chin, "But that don't mean you gotta jump down their throats like a hidden bone in a fish to choke them"

"Ted", Beard warned, the alpha not looking up from his book in the adjoining office.

"All I'm saying is I don't get it", Ted defended, "Just let it slide off, keep moving like Dory says"

"That's just keep swimmin', Coach", Jamie's accent joined the conversation as he pushed passed Ted, "And I need to talk to grandad 'ere about that last play, so...."

Ted hesitated in the door, clearly not wanting to end the discussion. He glanced at Roy who was staring at the wall, and decided it wasn't worth the fight as he raised his hands and left.

Jamie wasted no time in closing the door behind him and locking it. He pulled the shutters down too, cutting off Ted's view of the office before he moved to kneel beside Roy. His hands gentle on Roy's thighs as he looked up at the other.

"Alright, lad?", Jamie asked softly.

Roy growled weakily before he let Jamie's scent wrap around him and he relaxed slightly. One of his hands went to Jamie's hair, grimacing at the feel of whatever leave in conditioner Jamie had used at the match.

"I don't need protecting", Roy warned because he knew that Jamie had smelled his distress and anger before he'd intervened.

"I know. Roy Kent's a big bad omega army of one", Jamie grinned, and there was nothing but truth in his eyes, "Doesn't mean I can't be his sexeh little alpha watching proudly as he tears apart the world"

Jamie's words got a laugh out of Roy. It was more like an annoyed huff, but Jamie's entire face lit up anyways as if he'd just scored a winning goal.

"Do you wanna talk 'bout it?"

Roy just shook his head. He was tired, too tired to keep fighting this fight that he'd been tackling since he was sixteen and freshly presented after his first mock heat.

"Wanna go 'ome and take a bubble bath and get drunk on wine?", Jamie pressed a kiss against Roy's palm.

"Fuck yeah"