#do not get me started on roy and jamie’s plot

[ivystitches]

the more i think about the ted lasso series finale the more upset i get

[trueloveistreacherous]

Yeah, Ted Lasso is dead to me, I am probably never blogging about it again <3

[discokicks]

BAD IDEAS (ON THE SAME PAGE) — JAMIE TARTT

a fic inspired by bad idea right by olivia rodrigo!

masterlist! song inspo! AO3!

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: football star jamie tartt is an asshole. he’s the one ex of yours that your friends always hated, one that you now all joke about, and one you haven’t spoken to in four years. however, after a chance encounter, the two of you reconnect, and he leaves you with his new number and a hundred questions about his reformed personality. but seeing him tonight would be a bad idea, right?

word count & rating: 11k (wowza), M! (18+! minors get away or i’ll narc on you to your guardians)

warnings: SMUUUUUUT, porn with plot, lots of suggestive language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sprinkling of a handjob, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), angst, mentions of alcohol, probable secondhand embarrassment, exes reuniting (it needs a warning sometimes), jamie tartt was an asshole and is now just a prick (in the best way possible), reader is a physio, major fluff, and swearing. also reader is american (bc the author is too. sorry </3)

authors note: well. i wrote it. olivia wrote this song for teenage girls in their twenties (me) only and i immediately thought of this fic the second i heard it. i'm calling this an exercise in smut writing before i embark on my aces (my roy kent series for my new friends) eventual-smut-adventure, so this evolved into something i wasn’t expecting but i had so much fucking fun writing it. god, i love jamie tartt. also! this is my first smut fic at this type of level, so go easy on me. hope you all enjoy. love you all tons! -mags

There are two universal truths in life. 

The first is that the coffee shop you frequent on your way to work will and will always have the best cold brew you’ve ever tasted. The second is that Jamie Tartt will and will always be a massive fucking prick, and you’ll never see him again for as long as you live.

These are two things you live by, and while they may seem rather mundane or petty in the grand scheme of things, they are the only truths you can count on these days. Especially when everything else is so up in the air.

However, the universe doesn’t seem to believe in these things as blindly as you do, and this becomes evident the moment that you step into the shop on a gloomy Wednesday morning. Because these two truths (well, they’re fucking bald-faced lies now aren’t they, huh?) are broken within approximately two minutes of each other with seven words.

It began when you greeted Natalia, the barista who was here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before your shift at the clinic with a wide smile. As soon as she saw your face, her expression turned apologetic, albeit a bit dazed.

“You’re gonna hate me,” she says, putting her hands on either side of the register. Your brows shot up at her words. “We just ran out of cold brew.”

Your face falls. “You’re kidding.”

“We were low on it this morning,” she starts to explain, “our stupid night-shifters didn’t prep enough last night. And it’s been selling like crazy today.”

“Seriously?” you nearly whine. “I might cry.”

“I’m sorry, Doc,” she apologizes, but she doesn’t sound too apologetic. Natalia’s eyes keep shifting to your left, the dazed look in her eye never faltering. Then, she says the fated seven words. “But he took the last of it.”

You turn your head in the direction she’s been looking, and your blood runs completely cold. You think you could drop dead and go to hell at this very moment, and it’d be a better existence than what awaits you in the next five minutes. And while this all may sound dramatic, you don’t care. 

You don’t care because Jamie fucking Tartt is standing across from you, newly long hair peeking out from beneath his hood. He’s engrossed in whatever’s on his phone, fingers flying back and forth like he’s texting. 

You think you could run. You’re pretty sure you could successfully make a break for it and leave Natalia high and dry without him seeing you. It’d be an easy exit, and you’d never have to see him again.

But then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks up. And the second he meets your gaze, his face falls in what you can imagine was a similar fashion to yours. 

Fuck.

Luckily, Natalia is none the wiser. She barely notices your expression, and with Jamie by the pick-up area, she can’t see the way he’s looking at you. So, instead of questioning you, she straight-up giggles.

“I know,” she practically squeals. “I was totally going to save you the last of it, but he asked for it. And I mean, c’mon. It’s Jamie Tartt. I couldn’t possibly say no to him.”

You tragically know that feeling all too well. Knowing you probably would have had a snappier, more cutting response to that if you weren’t in the most debilitating phase of shock, you settle for a quiet, “It’s okay.” You nod at her, brushing it off in an attempt to be casual. “I can settle for an espresso today.”

Natalia nods, tapping it into her register. “Same size as usual?”

“Yeah,” you say, not completely sure what you’re agreeing to. You glance over again at Jamie and find that he’s still standing there, staring at you, and you immediately blink away. “That’s fine.”

The rest of the transaction feels as though it takes a millennium and three seconds all at once. You’re still caught off guard by the time Natalia gives you your receipt with a dazed look in your eye that now matches hers. 

However, yours isn’t because you just saw your favorite Richmond player or your favorite reality show villain. It’s because you’ve just seen your ex-boyfriend and you’re about to walk over and stand next to him for a prolonged period of time.

Nothing about this scenario feels real. You hadn’t seen him in four years. Not since things ended as ugly as they had, with him leaving you sobbing outside of a club at three in the morning, letting you know that things were over between you two. And he hadn’t even given you a reason. It was just that he wasn’t ‘feeling’ it anymore.

You saw in a tabloid about three months later that he was now seeing Keeley Jones (yeah, having to compete with that did not sit well with you at all) and had drawn your assumptions from there. Whether or not he’d been seeing her behind your back or had broken up with you to be with her, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You were in your anger stage of the break-up and only knew one thing.

Jamie Tartt was a massive fucking prick, and you’d sooner walk on a bed of nails before you saw him again.

But now here he was. And there were no nails to be found.

You avoid eye contact as you pass him to wait for your coffee. There’s a piece of you that wants to say hi and play it cool, just to put on a show for him about how unaffected you were by everything that had happened. The other piece of you hopes that not a word is said for your entire time here.

Unfortunately, neither of those happen.

Jamie slides over to be near you, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands are stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket, and you wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t.

Instead, you can feel the ‘play it cool’ part of you rise up to the surface. You could do this. You could feign indifference. Fuck him, you could be cool.

You glance over at him and see that he’s pressing his lips together, eyes shifting around the coffee shop. It’s crazy how familiar you still are with his tells to know he’s desperately looking for a way to say something. 

You say it for him. “Hi,” you say simply. Cool and unaffected.

It’s as if the one word alone makes him flinch. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Hi—” He clears his throat after his greeting comes out cracked, and he stuffs his hands further in his pockets. “Hey.”

The awkwardness of this moment is killing you, and it’s taking everything in you to pretend like it's not. As you search for something else to say, you land on, “You took my cold brew.”

You can see his brows shoot up out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, fuck, did I?” 

You nod slowly. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I come in here every morning. Friends with the barista. Said she was going to save me the last of it, but…” You trail off and finally look at him. “She couldn’t say no to Jamie Tartt, apparently.”

You want to jump up and down about how well you’re doing right now. Maybe you are over him. Maybe you’ve finally moved past this shit, and seeing him once more is all you needed to solidify that. Maybe—

The second he chuckles softly with an apologetic smile, your confidence in those things shoots down. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Since when do you drink cold brew, anyway?” you ask, frustrated with the fact that he’s fucking laughing in front of you. “You were always a like, caramel macchiato or frappuccino asshole.”

The names make him laugh harder, shaking his head. “Don’t like those anymore,” he responds. “Sugar hurts me teeth. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “My fucking coffee.”

That chuckle continues with a shrug. “I’m sorry.” he says again. Then he pauses. “But it’s not like your name was on it, or anythin’.”

Your face draws blank, and immediately, Jamie can tell he’s made a misstep. And it’s not that you’re angry about the joke, it’s just the… everything. Him. The situation. Everything you can remember that you wonder if he bothers to remember too.

Before you can walk away, you feel his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats for a third time, turning you so that you’ll look at him. Your pissed-off expression meets his easy smile and it only fuels your anger more. “I was jokin’. I’m sorry I took your coffee. We can get ‘em to put your name on it if you want.”

“Whatever,” you mutter. It’s not the most mature thing you could have said, but frankly, you don’t care. You just want to get your consolation espresso and get the hell out of here. “What are you even doing over here anyway?”

You’re not sure why you ask it. You don’t know why you keep the conversation going. Jamie looks just as surprised as you are. “I moved over here a couple weeks ago,” he answers. “Got sick of the old place.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you reply. By the way that Jamie snorts, you know he recalls just how much you hated his apartment when you knew him. It screamed twenty-two-year-old AFC-money shithead and you would tease him about it constantly. “Was the empty beer bottle sculpture finally giving you mold poisoning?”

He chuckles again. “That came down shortly after we stopped talking.”

“Oh, so I was just lucky enough to see it in its final days?”

“Oi,” he says, pointing at you. “That thing was fuckin’ impressive and you know it.”

“Impressive in a dorm,” you shoot back. “Not a seven million pound flat.”

He bows his head in a guilty manner. “You remember that, huh?”

“Hard not to,” you answer. “You never stopped talking about it.”

He at least has the decency to wince at that one. “I know,” he says earnestly. It makes you look at him. He shrugs once more. “I wanted to impress ya.”

He did impress you. But not with things like that. He’d impress you when you watched him play, he’d impress you when he made you laugh, and he’d impress you on the rare occasion that he’d just be himself in front of you. Not some asshole footballer. Just him.

But you don’t say that. You say, “That wasn’t the way.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Got that now.” He rocks back on his heels again, like he’s not sure if he should say whatever he wants to. “I was a proper fucking dick to you, wasn’t I?”

That almost makes you fall over. Did he just say that? Did he actually just admit that? Out loud, here, for everyone to hear? Accountability? Unprompted? From Jamie Tartt? 

You want to glance around to see if Rod Sterling’s going to emerge from the bathroom to narrate the next couple of minutes of your life, but are too shocked to do so. 

Your surprise must show in your eyes, because Jamie laughs to himself. “Yeah. Wild, innit?” He shakes his head. “On a bit of an apology tour this year. Trying to build back some bridges, or whatever.”

The nod you give him is slow, still reeling from all of this. “Right,” you say lamely. “Building bridges.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you and for a brief moment, you think he may just mean it. The sincerity in his eyes is clear. “I was terrible to you. And I’m sorry.”

Whatever you were expecting when you stepped into this coffee shop on this rainy Wednesday, it certainly wasn’t this. And you certainly weren’t expecting your first time reuniting with him to go this way— with him apologizing to you. The actual words ‘I’m sorry’ just left his mouth. 

You genuinely don’t know who this is. Because it’s certainly not the Jamie you knew.

You saw flashes of this guy. Quiet moments during your short-lived relationship, typically when it was just the two of you. It’s the type of guy you always knew he could be if he tried. The type of guy you pushed him to be. 

(Your friends always taunted you about having the ever-horrendous I-can-fix-him gene, and they never quite let go of it. But it’s not like it wasn’t true.)

Those flashes are why you held out for as long as you did. If it were anyone else, any other asshole who treated you the way he did, you would have dropped them in a second. But he wasn’t like that. Not always, at least.

It was terrible to think like that. You’d been in a low spot when you’d met him and had taken even lower when he left you. You’d recovered tenfold from that and now knew your worth. 

But as he stands in front of you, apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and looking at you like that, you start to question it.

No! the logical part of your brain practically screams. Don’t you fucking dare.

You’re keen to listen to that for the time being. It hardens you. And all you can do is nod at him again. “Well, uh—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You cough awkwardly. “Yeah. You were. Terrible to me. And, uh… thank you. For saying that.”

So much for playing it cool. You want to slam your head up against the wall but hold yourself back from doing so.

He nods at you, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by one of the baristas calling your name. His cold brew’s sitting on the counter too, something the two of you clearly missed in the middle of your conversation.

When you reach for your drink, he grabs his too. He’s still staring at you, biting the inside of his cheek like he wants to say something. When you go to move around him, he stops you.

“Look, I just—” You look up at him expectantly, and his shoulders deflate. “I know you probably want nothin' to do with me. But, I just… I want to talk to you.”

Your espresso is hot in your hands. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

That’s when he says your name. Your actual name. Not the nickname that everyone calls you, not a pet name that he used to use, he says your name. And it makes you stop in your tracks.

It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb that your fucking name can send you back to the day you first met him and were completely taken with him. You hate it. And you hate the way it makes your walls come crumbling down.

“Please,” he begs. “Can we… Can I at least give you my number? It’s a new one, but I-I think I’ve still got yours. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But just so you can… I don’t know? Think about it?”

You wouldn’t know if he still had your number. You blocked him ages ago. But you doubt it. 

However, the more you think about it, the more you consider it. It’s the product of your resolve falling and well, everything else about him now. You think about it.

If you allowed him to give you his number, the ball would be in your court. You could do what you wanted with it. You could text him, you could tell him to fuck off, you could ignore him. It was up to you. 

And you don’t know if that’s worse or better.

You decide on better. The second you sigh, Jamie knows he’s got you. A wide grin breaks out on his face as you hand him your phone. “I’ll think about it,” you mutter. 

That’s good enough for him. He gives your phone back to you, new number inserted and new contact created. You’re glad he didn’t search for his old one. That one just says ASSHOLE in big capital letters with about a million gun emojis. 

(That was done by your previous roommates in an effort to get you to move on from him. You thought it was a bit overdramatic. You were never one for emojis.)

He’s smiling when he holds his coffee out for you. You stare at him blankly, thinking he’s attempting to cheers you. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “Take it.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Trade with me,” he clarifies and your expression turns to one of shock. “C’mon. You said it’s yours anyway, right?” When you don’t move he rolls his eyes. “Offer’s only good for another second. Me arm’s getting tired.”

At that, you sigh rather dramatically and grumble to yourself, trying not to act pleased by the gesture. You hand him your coffee and he gives you his. “Thanks,” you say. It was kind of him. 

His grin returns and he nods at you. “Alright,” he says. After a slightly awkward beat, he steps back from you. “It was good to see you, Doc. Really.” You’re taken back by how genuine his voice sounds and say nothing in return. “I’ll talk to you later?”

He says it as a question, hopeful and well-meaning. “Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally. “Maybe.”

That too, is good enough for him. Because he sends you one more smile, then walks out of the coffee shop with your espresso in hand. 

You’re still reeling from the interaction when you glance down at his your cold brew and see Natalia’s handwriting. She’s made it just as you like it, down to the milk and everything.

But below it is a small drawing. It’s a tiny shark fin with a #9 written inside, with little lettering circling around it.

Doo-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo.

You’re fucked.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” is the question that your best friend and former roommate Leah screams at you over drinks at a busy rooftop bar. So busy, in fact, that barely anyone looks over at the two of you.

You’d made the mistake of telling Leah that not only had you run into Jamie on Wednesday, but you’d let him give you his number. 

And you’d texted him after hours of deliberation.

It was something innocent, something you’d thought way too much about, but innocent still. You weren’t sure if you were ready to actually talk to him, but there was something about texting him that wasn’t so scary. Your guard was clearly still up, evident by how dry you were in your messages, and you were keeping your distance. You never texted back too quickly, didn’t ask many questions, and often left him on read. 

(Yeah, you’d turned your read receipts on for him. What about it?)

Your first text was a simple enough question, something that you’d been genuinely wondering about since you saw him. It was open enough for a conversation but not too forward. how’d you know my coffee order?

His response came in minutes later. Is that yours? Good taste. It was shortly followed up with, That espresso you drink was fucking disgusting though.

And that was that. That was how you started texting your ex again. That’s how you reconnected yourself with Jamie Tartt. That’s how you knew it was over for you.

And that’s how you’re pretty sure you’re about to kill your best friend.

Leah’s eyes were wild, somehow angry yet still disbelieving yet intrigued. But the intrigue was very minimal. Very minimal. It was hidden well by how pissed off she was at you.

She had every right to be pissed at you. She was the one who always warned you about him. She’d straight-up nursed you back to health when you broke up. She was the one who had to hear about him 24 hours a day until you were finally over him.

Leah had had a year of peace. And now you were killing her for good.

“You’re kidding, right?” she follows up with. Her grip on your arm is tight. “Please tell me your kidding.”

“Leah…” Your voice is weak.

It tells her everything she needs to know. “Oh, my God! Oh, my. God.” She puts her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’re fucking losing it and we need to have you checked out right now.”

“I’m completely sentient and in control of my own body.”

“Are you sure?”

You sip at your cocktail. “I reset a knee today. I’m pretty sure.”

“I think you might need to reconsider,” she says. “Because you just told me that not only are you talking to Jamie Tartt again, but you were the one who instigated it!”

You deserve this verbal beatdown and you know it. But all you can do is shrug. “Technically, he gave me his number. He’s the one who instigated it.”

“I’m gonna throw my fucking drink in your face,” Leah threatens, gripping her glass in warning. 

You roll your eyes at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” you say, even though you know you’re probably lying. Leah knows this too. “We’ve just been texting a little. It’s nothing serious.”

“Yeah, sure,” she deadpans. “Right. And even if I did believe you, what happens if it does? What happens if you get back in your weird, scary Jamie phase and he kills you again? I can’t deal with that.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you assure her, and this time it’s more confident. Because you know you won’t. Not this time. Not if anything happens.

You’d met Jamie when you were twenty-two. You were in your first year of your Masters program, slightly lost as in your move to London to finish your journey to become a physical therapist. Or a physio, as they called it here. Whatever. You couldn’t keep up with the names. 

You were shadowing a physio at the clinic you now worked at, assisting him as a part of your internship at one of the football tournaments the clinic worked at. It was a ton of big-wig footballers, some names you recognized, others you didn’t. But it didn’t matter. They were precious fucking cargo and you were so paranoid about screwing up that you barely registered who they were when you worked on them.

That was, until a twenty-two-year-old Jamie Tartt sprained his ankle and plopped himself down on your doctor’s bench. He looked at you, you assisted him, and you were wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice he was flirting with you. 

You didn’t realize until he asked you out. And the rest was history, for better or for worse.

You were surprised he went for you. You knew who Jamie was, what type of girls he liked to be seen with. They were singers and models and actresses. They weren’t you. 

(Perhaps that’s one of the reasons you liked him so much. Because he chose you. You didn’t like to think about that phase of your life.) 

But after six months of seeing him, he ended things out of nowhere. Right when you’d settled on the idea that despite it all, you might be in love with him. And that was that.

You hadn’t seen him since. Not until this week.

“Not gonna happen my ass,” Leah scoffs, bringing you back into the conversation at hand.

A sigh of frustration leaves your lips. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea;” you tell her. “I know it is. But, I don’t know. There was something different about him, Leah. He was just… like not someone I recognized.”

“Maybe because his hair is fucking long and stupid now.” She brings her glass to her lips. “His highlights look horrendous.”

“I actually like his hair like this,” you admit, earning yet another eye roll. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s changed. He probably hasn’t. But I…” You trail off with a shrug. “I don’t know. What if he has?”

Leah’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person she’s ever met in her life. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” she asks incredulously. “Babe, he was a prick to you. Like, category-five, prestige-level twat. Like, worst boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“I know,” you repeat. “And I said nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, and it goes south, I give you full permission to say I-told-you-so for the rest of my life, alright?”

Leah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she says. After a moment, she glances over at you. “I’m just looking out for you, y’know. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I definitely don’t want him to be the reason for that hurt again.”

You grab her hand. “I know,” you say once more. “And I love you for it. But if I’m gonna be stupid, I’m fully aware of when I’m gonna do it. And it’s gonna be my own fault.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Leah nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Fine. Your fucking funeral.”

“I’ll let you give the eulogy and allow you to call me a dumb bitch for ten minutes straight.”

“Sold,” Leah says, pointing at you. That slight intrigue you previously saw in her eye returns. “Okay, now that I’ve yelled at you, you need to tell me everything.”

And so you do. You tell her how he took your coffee, how you nearly threw up the second you saw him, how you played it cool until you didn’t. How he apologized to you. Joked around with you. Apologized some more. And then he gave you his coffee. 

You despise how excited you sound about it. Again, you’re trying to play it cool, but the people that know you the best can always see right through you. You’re excited about it. Excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to be excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to look down at your phone after you and Leah order another drink. Your heart stops when you see he’s texted you. 

It’s a bad idea to open the message when Leah excuses herself to go to the bathroom. What are you up to tonight? 

It’s past midnight on a Saturday and he’s texting you. It’s still preseason for him, so he might be drunk, he may not be. You’re three drinks deep and aren’t sure if you are.

It’s a bad idea to respond to him. getting drinks with a friend. You keep it dry.

It’s a bad idea to not look down at your phone until you finish the drinks you ordered. Because now, you’re definitely drunk and looking at it all with new eyes. 

Would you want to hang out tonight? No pressure.

It’s a bad idea to consider it. 

But it’s a worse idea to agree.

text me your new address. i can be there by 1:30.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re knocking on Jamie’s door, intertwining your fingers together when you realize you’re shaking.

The second you do it, you regret it. You’re no longer feeling the effects of your drinks. It wore off on the Uber ride over here. And everything seems like a terrible idea now.

God, what were you doing? He treated you like that and the second you see him again, you go running back? He was an asshole. He’d made you question everything about yourself, he’d made you cry, he’d made you experience every fucking emotion in the book and all it took is one text for you to be back on his doorstep?

Your roommate was right. This was a horrendous idea and you were an idiot.

However, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because Jamie Tartt’s opening his door and he’s got a stupid fucking smile on his face. And the second you see it, you know there’s no turning back.

“Hey,” he says as he opens the door. “You alright, love?”

You clench your jaw at the name, at his smile, about how casual he’s being, about everything. “Hey,” you say, avoiding his eyes to look around his flat. 

It’s a complete 180 from what he had when he first joined Richmond and what he had when you knew him. It’s a bit less mojo-dojo-casa-house-looking and something more mature. While you can still tell that a twenty-something guy definitely lives here, it’s decorated well, it’s put together, and it’s clean. No beer bottle sculptures in sight. He’s even got a fucking candle burning on his counter. Who the fuck is this and what did he do with the guy you knew?

Jamie follows you as you enter, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “You find the place okay?”

His question snaps you out of your flat-induced haze. “Yeah,” you reply. You clear your throat. “This is nice.”

That same, stupid smile returns, but it looks a bit nervous. “Yeah. I told you it was a bit different, huh?” he chuckles. He walks toward his island, rounding it as he speaks. “Needed a fresh start or whatever. The old one was gettin’... old.” He watches you as you nod, continuing to look around. “You still in the same place with the same people?”

“Uh, no. Different place. No people,” you answer. You’ve stayed on your side of the counter, actively keeping your distance. “Willa moved to New York last year and Leah moved with her boyfriend. We live in the same building, though, which is nice.”

The small talk is fucking killing you. You’re not even sure if he cared to remember your previous roommates' names, so this all could be pointless. You can’t believe you’re here. You can’t believe you’re actually standing here, talking to him about the past. 

But as you finish speaking, he nods like he’s listening. Maybe he is listening. Maybe he does remember. 

“I’ll have to see that sometime,” he ends up saying, and the implication of it makes your head spin. He wants to see you again. Or he just learned small talk common courtesy. Whatever it is, it’s driving you insane. You have so many questions for him, so many things to say, and as he wipes his hands on his pants again and nods over to his kitchen, he asks, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got—”

“Why did you invite me here, Jamie?” The question comes spilling out of you, rushed as if it were waiting on the tip of your tongue and simply couldn’t stand to stay in any longer. Jamie stops in his tracks to blink at you. The look on his face encourages you to go on. “I mean, I know I texted you first. But why… why did you text me tonight? Why’d you—” You grimace, trying to find the right words. “Why’d you give me your number?”

He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. But his eyes haven’t left you. “Because I wanted you here,” he finally says. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”

You want to say that you’ve been driven crazy all week because you feel same, but decide against it. Instead, you look away from him and scoff. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you, and your heart stops with every step he takes. “I felt like I was goin’ insane. I didn’t…” For a flash of a second, he looks shy. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. And I didn’t think you’d actually text me. I mean, I hoped you would, but…”

He’s right in front of you, but you still refuse to look at him. Your gaze has shifted to the floor. “I shouldn’t have,” you mutter.

The asshole has the nerve to chuckle, but it’s nervous. Your stomach churns. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him nervous. “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “I don’t deserve it.” He pauses and your throat starts to tighten. “I didn’t deserve you.”

That makes you look at him. Either he’s actually apologetic about everything, or he’s gotten really good at knowing everything you want to hear. “No. You didn’t.”

His fingers tentatively brush your arm and you allow him to take your hand. “I know,” he says. “I was a fucking prick. I get that now. I should never have… done that shit to ya.” You’re close enough to him now that if you moved an inch, his forehead would be up against yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. The action makes your throat tighten. “And I can’t fix it. But I…” He trails off again and looks you dead in the eye once he has the words. “I want to make it up to you.”

Your resolve is getting weaker and you hate yourself for it. You lean back against the counter, like that will put space between you two. “Jamie…”

“Please,” he whispers. His forehead finally meets yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. You don’t pull away. “Let me make it up to you.”

The last front you have standing weakly presents itself. “If you think,” you begin, breath shuddering as his hand meets your neck, “that one 2 AM hookup is going to make up for what you did, I—”

“I know it won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he does know. “But I want it to be a start.” The fingers on your neck are now tracing your jaw. And they tighten when he says, “Let me show you just how sorry I am, yeah? Let me make it fucking good for you.”

Jesus fucking Christ. That last front dissolves the second he says that, and your logic flips on itself. You came over here for a reason. You knew what this was. At least you got an overdue apology. Whether or not he meant it, is still up in the air, but if he’s promising things like that, then you might as well get something out of it.

You struggle to get a word out, so you nod against his hand. “O-Okay,” you finally stammer out. The way he’s looking at you gives you enough confidence to say, “Fine. Make it up to me.”

Jamie’s lips curl into a smirk and say, “As you wish,” before they’re on yours.

He’s softer than you remember. His lips aren’t chapped, he isn’t as aggressive with it, and he isn’t as rushed. Everything about him feels more mature and you struggle to understand how fast he could have changed in four years. But you’re not complaining. Not when he’s kissing you like this, with more practice and passion than you can ever recall.

His hand unlocks from yours to slide it up your sweatshirt, and it’s surprisingly warm against your back. Still, you shiver from the contact and you can feel him smirk once more against your lips. 

The action alone prompts you to fork a hand in his hair and tug at it slightly, reveling in the soft sound that escapes him. Everything about him comes back to you at once, and you’ve never been happier to know that the same things still get him. If he wants to play it like that, you can keep up.

His hands drop to grab your thighs and lift you onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily. Your chest is heaving up and down, lips swollen and wet. Jamie appears to be in the same boat. “Fuck,” he whispers, sounding even more out of breath than you. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, nose rubbing against it as he makes his way down. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Meant to tell you that at the shop.”

You’re too caught up in it all to play it cool, especially as he works at that one spot on your neck. “You look— fuck, you look good too. The long hair suits you.”

You feel him grin against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathily. “Looked like a prick with the old cut.”

You feel his teeth dig into your skin at that one, and you hiss. “You liked that prick,” he reminds you.

You were in love with that prick, but you ignore that thought. “I liked a lot of things about him,” you respond. While it’s honest, the accidental double meaning of it isn’t lost on you.

It’s certainly not lost on Jamie. “Yeah?” he asks again. He lifts his head to look at you, hand creeping up your leg. “What’d you like?” You grip his arm as it rises beneath your sweatshirt once more. “C’mon love. Tell me what you want.”

You hate the way your breath hitches the second his fingers meet your back. You know what you want. You want to see what he’s learned since you last had him. What he’s like four years later. What’s changed, what’s stayed the same. But you’re too embarrassed and much too proud to ask.

Instead, you decide to say, much too shyly for your liking, “You know what I want.”

He hums in agreement, other hand creeping dangerously close to the inside of your thigh. “I do, don’t I?” he murmurs. “Bet I know everything ya want. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Oh my, God,” you say under your breath, frustration creeping into your voice. The asshole fucking laughs at you. “I want you to make good on your promise. This seems far from it.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just making sure we’re still, y’know. On the same page.” He glances at you. “Right?”

You blink at him. You’re not sure you could have been clearer about what page you’re on. But that’s not what surprises you. What surprises you is the seriousness in his eyes. How he’s searching for assurance in yours. And you know that if, for whatever godly reason, you wanted to stop, he’d pull away immediately, despite how worked up he clearly is. 

It's the bare fucking minimum, but it's more than you’re used to getting.

So, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Definitely on the same page.” 

The grin he breaks out to is nothing short of breathtaking. “Good.”

“But—” you suddenly say, stopping him from leaning in once more. He freezes beneath your touch, brows furrowing. “This is… This is a one-time thing. You’re…” You trail off to find the word. “You’re apologizing to me. That’s all this is.”

His smile falters, dropping momentarily before returning with a bit less radiance. It’s his turn to nod. “Okay,” he says, fingers now toying with the edge of your sweatshirt. “Gotta make it count, then.”

And with that, Jamie presses his lips back to yours, grabbing you securely and pulling you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, grabbing the sides of his face, like that’ll stable you against him. 

This time, it’s more desperate. It’s more tongues and teeth, more force and intention behind each movement. He’s setting the pace, but you’re keeping up tenfold. While it’d been four years, you’re not sure if he’d ever kissed you like this. He’s passionate instead of aggressive. While he knows what he wants, he’s definitely not just going to take it. He may be leading but he’s listening to you. And that stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in a long time.

That much is clear, because you unconsciously let out a quiet sound against his lips. You can feel him smiling once more as he walks you slowly to wherever the hell his bedroom is. You’re caught up in him. And by the way he’s gripping you, you can tell he’s just as caught up in you.

So much so, that he completely loses track of where he’s going and accidentally slams you into his doorframe. You yelp, more because of shock than pain, and pull away to glare at him.

Jamie’s already apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Still gettin’ used to this place.”

“Well, figure out how to navigate better,” you respond, verging on a pout as you rub the back of your head.

“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He’s still got you against the doorframe. “It’s hard to see with your big head in me face. And I can’t kiss ya with, like, my eyes open. It’d be freaky.”

“I’ll give you a pass for that one,” you reply dryly. “Be weird instead of giving me a concussion.”

He’s walking you toward the bed when he mutters, “I’ll give you something, alright.”

Your back meets the mattress and you try to ignore the way he held his hand behind your head when he laid you down. You have under a second to adjust before he’s on top of you. The desperation returns and it almost takes your breath away.

He’s essentially straddling you, tugging at the waist of your leggings before he leaves one last kiss on your lips. He finally gets to pull your sweatshirt off, something he’d clearly been dying to rid you of since he first kissed you. You lift your arms up to help him, finding that you quickly start to do the same to him. You hear him chuckle as you attempt to get it up his back.

“I got it, love, hold on,” he says softly, tossing your hoodie to the side to take off his own. Your eyes immediately go to his chest and stomach and you refrain from reaching out to touch him. When you look up at him, you expect him to be smirking. However, he’s doing the exact opposite.

Jamie’s looking down at you like he can’t fucking believe you’re real. It’s jarring, seeing him like this, but you figure he’s in the same headspace as you and is still struggling to process that this is happening. It doesn’t matter, because before you can question it, he’s moving to press a kiss to your collarbone.

Your hand falls into his hair as he works his way down, mouthing the area of your chest. He pauses before he gets to the bra you’re wearing. His eyes flick up to yours. “Can I—”

You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, shifting to make it easier for him. He discards it to the floor with the rest. When he looks back at you, he releases a shaky breath and just stares.

He stares so intently that you begin to get self-conscious. “What?” you ask.

The question takes Jamie out of his trance. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just— I… Fuck. I forgot how beautiful you were.”

That spreads a warmth through you, one that pulls at your core. As you feel your face heat, you realize you have nothing to say to that. Luckily, he’s already moving on.

Jamie’s different. Really different. And you don’t realize how different he is until you start looking at him like you are right now. You were trying to convince yourself when you told Leah that he’d changed, you’ll admit that. But right now, you think you may have been telling the truth.

He grabs the waist of your leggings once more, lifting your legs to pull them off. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips as he struggles to do so. He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Missed that.”

“What?” you ask again.

“Your laugh,” he replies. “Missed that more than you know.”

The sweet words hit you like a bullet. The vulnerability in his voice is what gets you. Goddammit, when did he get so fucking nice? It drives you insane. But it also makes you quietly admit, “I think I’ve got an idea.”

With your leggings now gone, Jamie’s smile turns fonder. Gentler. He presses a kiss to your leg but says nothing in response. He simply places your legs down, eyes flicking down. He lifts his hand to trace down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your panties. The feeling makes you flinch.

He hooks a finger in the band, and your hips buck up to encourage him. His other hand spreads across your hip in a poor effort to keep you still. “Easy,” he murmurs. 

You huff out a breath. “You can—” Your breath hitches as two of his fingers push into your underwear. “Fuck, you can take them off.”

His lips quirk up. “Well, thank you for the permission,” he says. “But not yet. I wanna take it slow with ya.”

Your mouth parts. “Why?”

“Because it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” he answers, moving up to kiss you softly. He speaks against your lips as he says, “And I’ve apparently only got one shot to do this right. So I’m gonna make this last.”

You roll your eyes at his terribly disguised jab. “You’re a dick,” you mutter against him.

“And you’re—” He cuts himself off and a gasp escapes your lips as he cups your core and rubs his palm against it. “Fuck, love. You’re really fucking wet.” He’s positioned on you so that you can feel him getting harder against you thigh. “This all for me, yeah?”

His voice is cocky, while still sounding awestruck. The remaining dignity you have left makes you roll your eyes, albeit a bit embarrassed. “It’s for whoever doesn’t take their fucking time to give me what I want,” you bite.

Jamie draws back from you with a full smirk on his face. “That so?” he asks. The hand against you starts creeping up to the band of your panties. “And what is it that you want? You still haven’t told me.”

You scoff. “I told you.”

He pulls your underwear down your legs and the air around you suddenly makes you realize just how exposed you are. You told yourself you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this again. But here you were.

His fingers brush against the inside of your thigh, and you shiver once more. “No,” he tells you gently. “You didn’t. You just said you wanted me to keep my promise. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”

He’s moving closer and closer to the place you want him and you don’t know if you can take it anymore. You shift uncomfortably, as if that will cease the ache. But you know only one thing will.

So, you give him the answer he’s been waiting for this entire time. “You.” His gaze meets yours. “I want you, Jamie. Please.”

That breathtaking grin returns. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

And then he puts his mouth on you without warning.

You spasm at the contact, crying out as he uses both arms to hold you still. The second you calm down, one hand leaves your thigh and you feel him work two fingers into you. Fuck. He didn’t know that before.

And it’s not like he was ever bad in bed when you two were together. You’re not sure you would have stayed with him if that were the case. It’s just… he’s better now. He’s hitting everything nearly perfectly, not stumbling like he used to. He’s more confident. More assured. He knows what he’s doing.

And it’s fucking hot.

The sounds that fill his room are downright obscene. He’s gripping one side of you to keep you in place, splitting you open on his knuckles with the other. His mouth zeroes in on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a way that honestly has you close already.

“F-fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, Jamie. Don’t st— shit. Don’t stop. Please.”

Of course, the fucking shit he is, stops. He grins up at you, but continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You sound so fucking pretty begging like that,” he tells you. He’s just as out of breath as you are. He feels you clench around his fingers at the praise and it only eggs him on further. “Look so pretty too. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Jamie,” you whine again. He’s going too slow. Teasing. It’s not fucking fair. He’s supposed to be the one apologizing to you. “I need— Ngh. I need—”

“What do you need?” he asks. “Tell me.”

You think you’d kill him if you weren’t completely incapacitated. “More,” you manage to get out, wincing as he continues at his slow pace. You’re close. Embarrassingly close. “Just fucking more. Please. I’m—” You interrupt yourself with a moan as he shoves his fingers deeper into you.

“I know,” he nearly coos. “I’ve got you.”

And got you he does. Because not only does he pick up the pace, he stretches you with a third finger. The sting of it is momentary, and it subsides as soon as he bends down and swipes your clit with his tongue.

Your back arches. “Jesus fucking— Jamie. Oh, my God.”

He’s good. Of course, he’s fucking good. He’s Jamie Tartt. You’re not sure he’s ever been bad at anything physical in his life. Emotionally was another story. But that story didn’t matter right now. Not when he’s got you like this, and you’re teetering over the edge.

He pulls away from you, breath tickling your core as he speaks. “C’mon,” he chides. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you, love?” He takes your breathy silence as confirmation and nods to himself. “Yeah. You just need—”

He removes one finger and crooks the rest a certain way, deeper than before. Your heart may stop beating. He’s done something he did to you time and time again, something that he was actually really fucking good at, something he knew you liked years ago. When he looks up at you, he searches your eyes. And by the way they roll back, he knows he’s struck gold.

The smirk returns and he continues to work his fingers into you, smirk growing each time he hears you say his name. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s it. That’s still it.”

You could finish at any moment. The telltale heat is rising in your stomach, and you’re just waiting for the cord to snap. And then, as if your muscle memory takes over, you reach out for his arm.

But instead of letting you do it like before, he does something completely different. He intertwines his free hand with the back of yours and guides it to your stomach. And then he presses on your hand.

The pressure builds. You’re barely able to make any noise. And then—

“C’mon,” Jamie repeats. “Come for me, angel. I wanna see it.”

The cord snaps, and you do as you’re told. You come. Hard.

Jamie talks you through it, fingers still moving to coax your climax out of you. You’re sure you look pathetic, crying out and thrashing around in his bed, but you don’t care. You can barely fucking see right now.

It’s been a while for you. Or at least been a while since you’ve had anything that good. And it completely strips away any sort of attitude or frustration you had before.

When you finally come back down, you laugh softly, shaking your head and throwing your arm over your face. “Fuck,” you say through a chuckle.

You feel him shift, moving up the bed to hover over you once more. When he removes your arm from your eyes, you see that he’s smiling. “Nobody’s ever laughed after I’ve done that,” he tells you, a faux pout pulling at his lips. He bends down to press them to yours and you can taste yourself. “It better be a good fuckin’ sign.”

You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss. “Very good sign,” you assure him. It’s muffled against him, but you think he gets the point. 

It’s then that you catch him by surprise and flip the two of you over, straddling him in a way that makes him release a breathy sound that you’d missed dearly. But, something feels off.

Your glance down at him, expecting to feel or see fabric once you reach his leg. But there’s not much. Only what feels like boxer shorts. It catches you off guard. When did he take off his—

It doesn’t matter. It’s easier for you now. Especially as your fingers move across his abdomen, biting back a grin at the way he shudders. He looks up at you from his pillow.

“What are you doing?” he asks leadingly.

You shrug innocently, fingers toying with the band hanging low on his hips. “Returning the favor,” you reply. 

Jamie makes a noise of disapproval, placing a hand on your thigh like that’ll stop you. “I’m supposed to be the one making it up to you,” he states, but his voice gets less firm as you cup him through the fabric. “Fuck. Y-You don’t owe me anythin’. No favors.”

You shake your head, pulling at his boxers so that he springs free from inside. Your eyes travel back to his as you reach out and gently grab his cock, staring down at him with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure?”

He looks pained. You don’t know why. You’re offering a way to take him out of his misery. But still, he shakes his head and moves his arm from your leg to your back. 

He takes his turn to flip you over next. He swears under his breath as he does so, shaking his head when you land on your back.

“I told you,” he says, taking his boxers all the way off now. “It’s about you. Not me.” He shakes his head again, but this time it’s a bit more frustrated. When he speaks, it’s mostly to himself. “Can’t believe I just fuckin’ said no to that.”

A snort escapes you. “You’re a changed man, Jamie Tartt,” you joke.

He shrugs before placing his arms on either side of you. His voice teeters on teasing and earnest. “I’ve been trying to tell ya that.”

You’re not sure if it’s him, or the situation, or the sex, but you think you believe him. It makes your chest heavy. But you can’t admit that. You won’t let yourself. So, you keep that feeling tucked away, way in the back of your mind for safekeeping. You know it’s better like that. For your emotional sake, at least.

You allow yourself to prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him instead of responding to that, bringing him in closer. You can feel the length of him press against your stomach, and his groan vibrates against your lips. 

He pulls away, grinding into you. The heat of your body is making him go wild. “Can I—”

You know what he wants. And you want it too. “Please,” you say. 

He nods, moving to angle himself against you. You glance down to watch him, heat flooding your face as he strokes himself before glancing up at you. You nod in return, giving him the confirmation he needs. Jamie grins.

He slides in you slowly. The stretch is mild but grows as he hovers over you once more. It’s easy to adjust, having been warmed up moments before. But for Jamie, it’s not as easy.

He bottoms out almost immediately, tensing over you. His head bows, chin falling to his chest. “Fuck,” he curses. It’s quiet but straight-up sinful. “God, fucking— you’re so—” You grip onto his bicep as he steadies himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just— i-it’s been a minute. And you’re f-fucking tight. Jesus.”

You don’t mind. He feels good like this, despite the fact he’s not moving. Your hand travels from his arm to his hair, tucking a piece of it behind his ear before settling on his jaw. “It’s alright,” you tell him. “We’ve got time.”

Jamie’s eyes snap open at that, but he’s not looking at you like you thought he would. You were expecting a cheeky sort of smile, a smirk, something in that realm. But he’s not. He’s looking at you like…

It’s something you can’t define. Something you’ve never seen before. It churns your stomach yet makes your heart race. Neither of you says a word.

He just dips down to kiss you again and slowly begins to move inside you. Your lips part in a gasp, and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Your back arches into him.

Before you know it, he's breaking from you and is breathing heavy against your neck. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re just— fuck. You…” He trails off, mouth hovering over your collarbone. “You drive me f-fucking mad. God, everything about you. Y-you don’t even know, do you?”

The pace picks up. He’s thrusting into you harder now and your nails dig into his back. You hear him hiss at the contact, but neither of you seem to care. “Fuck.” It’s all you can say. “Fuck, Jamie.”

He’s clearly not done talking. “How’d I-I fuck this up? Huh?” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. His mouth is on your chest now and the feeling runs through you like fire. “Fucking idiot. Didn’t know what I had. Can’t believe I let you go.”

You clench around him and it throws him off kilter. You watch his jaw clench, hand beside you gripping the pillow you’re on. “You w-were an idiot.” Your agreement is much less effective when it’s closed out by a high-pitched moan.

“I know. Fuck, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Deserved better.” He continues to slam into you. “I wanna gi—” A strangled sound erupts from his lips. “Give you better. You’re so—” When he shakes his head, he looks wrecked. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Something about that sends a shock to your system. It makes you cry out and you can feel it. Your legs tremble around him. You’re close again. You’re really fucking close. 

He kisses you once more, deeper than before. It’s more frantic. Everything about him is more erratic. You can tell he’s getting there too. “Couldn’t stop,” he manages to get out, hot against your lips. “Couldn’t s-stop thinking about you. I missed you.” 

You clench around him again, the admission inching you closer. “Shit,” you say. “Fuck, Jamie, keep going.”

And keep going he does. His hand moves down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into it and that sends you into a fucking tailspin. He swallows the sound you make. 

“Missed you,” he says again, but it’s more helpless. Jamie fucking whimpers. “God, I f-fucking missed you, angel. Missed you so fucking much, I—”

You don’t hear the rest of what he says because you come the second he makes that sound. It’s white-hot. Blinding. Your legs twitch around him and you claw at him as he continues to rub your clit. You’re loud, but you don’t give a shit. It seems to spur him on.

He’s not far behind you. He spills into you with a groan, stomach flexing as he heaves over you, twitching inside of you. You’re still recovering from your own high as you open your eyes to watch him. You catch his expression for a moment before he’s collapsing into you.

You release a soft ‘oof’ at the sudden weight of him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and neither do you. You just breathe together. But after a moment you allow yourself to put a hand in his hair.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you tell him, but there’s not much bite in it.

You feel him chuckle. “Give me second,” he says. “Not as fuckin’ agile as I used to be. Took a lot out of me, alright?”

You roll your eyes but continue to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-six and like, the face of the AFC,” you tell him. “Richmond might have to shorten your contract if you’re dying after that.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Take that up with me Chairwoman then.”

You can’t help but laugh as you push him off of you, wincing as you feel him slip out. He lands with the same noise you did. “If she heard you complaining like that, she’d be on my side.”

Jamie grins at you, joining in on your laughter. He shifts toward you, grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. “You’re probably right. Shouldn’t be complainin’,” he says. He lifts your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re here.”

They’re sweet words. The casualty of them makes your heart swell. But that anxiety about him returns. One time thing, you tell yourself. Apology. One time. That’s all.

You pull your hand back softly and he glances over at you. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, like that one movement set off alarm bells in his head. You give him an uneasy smile.

Before you can move to get up or say anything or do something, he’s talking. And you have to refrain from wincing. 

“I know…” He looks away from you. Shy. “I know you said one time,” he says, as if he can read your fucking mind. “And that’s… That’s okay. I get that, yeah? But I—” Jamie wipes a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said. I missed ya. Really.”

You missed him too. But your walls have been rising back up since he started talking again. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” you tell him, only partially lying.

You feel like an asshole when he winces. Maybe you were being an asshole. Maybe it was finally your turn to do so. 

“Just…” He finally looks at you. “If you ever… don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” He waves it off in an attempt to look casual. You know he’s anything but. “You’ve got my number. Or whatever.”

The timidness in his voice makes your resolve soften. Even if you don’t see him again, you suppose you can let him down easy. He’s been kind enough tonight to deserve that. You nod at him as you sit up. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll let you know.”

It’s only slightly awkward as you get out of his bed and search for your clothes. He asks if he can call you an Uber home and you reject it, letting him know that you’ve got one on the way.

You can feel his eyes on you as you dress, ignoring the way they burn into you. You can tell he’s searching for something to say, or something to talk to you about but doesn’t know what.

You’re half-dressed before he can shoot himself in the foot and say something stupid. “Hey,” he finally says. You glance over your shoulder at him after you slip your sweatshirt on. “I’m really glad you texted me.”

The nice streak you’re riding on continues and you offer a small but genuine smile in return. “Me too,” you admit, ignoring the way that his own soft smile pulls at your heartstrings. 

Before you leave his room, you offer one more admission. You stop in the doorframe he hit you against, lips curling further upward. “It was really good to see you, Jamie.”

He props himself up on his elbow, smile growing. “Good,” he says, nodding. Then, like a prick, he winks at you. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You physically cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes and you hear him laugh to himself as you walkdown his hall. “Goodbye, asshole.”

He shouts a tired-sounding ‘bye!’ when you slip your shoes on, shaking your head as you look around his apartment once more. The candle on his counter is still burning, smelling of amber moss and palo santo.

You blow it out before you leave, knowing he’ll forget.

And as you do so, you feel yourself regress. Or grow. You’re not quite sure which one.

But it makes you curse under your breath and leave his flat immediately.

There is one more universal truth you forgot to mention. 

And that’s that the second you think you’re over Jamie Tartt, he comes back into your life and flips everything on its head. And it’s the only truth that’s been confirmed to you all week.

Because the second you arrive home and see that you have a text waiting for you, your heart picks up. You hate the way you get excited to see it.

I had a really good time tonight.

And the second he comes back into your life, you’re reminded that you’re not over him. Not even in the slightest. And it’s fucking debilitating. 

me too. 

And you know your friends are going to kill you the second you follow up with:

i’m free friday if you want to grab a drink.

[its-time-to-write]

Hiiii, I’d love to see Jamie and the reader having to randomly babysit Phoebe - happy for you to decide where the plot goes from there! ❤️

Here it is! A little bit of comedy, a little bit of angst. For reference, Molly is Roy’s sister. I read a fic once that called her that, and it’s been the name that’s stuck. Oh, and this references Phoebe’s dad and he’s a tool, so be aware of that. Thanks for requesting!

stick together like glitter

Jamie doesn’t have training because Roy has to watch Phoebe, and you don’t have work because of some random furlough day. This means it’s your first real break together in a very long time. All his extra training has meant that you two haven’t spent as much time together as either of you would like, but you two have plans today. 

You had spent the night at Jamie’s last night since he didn’t have to be up at 3, and so you could stay up late and sleep in. You’re both passed out, Jamie’s arm thrown around your waist, when there’s a knock at the door.

You and Jamie jolt up and he lets out a raspy, “What the hell?”

He rolls over to go answer the door.

“Pants!” you call before he reaches the top of the stairs. He backtracks and picks his plaid pajama bottoms off a chair. He thumps bleary-eyed down the stairs to see who’s there.

You hear muffled voices for a few minutes, then the door shuts and Jamie calls, “Babe! Can you come here a minute?”

You grab a pair of Jamie’s sweats out of a drawer and pad down the stairs, where you are met by Jamie and Phoebe of all people. 

“Hey Pheebs!” you say, surprise waking you up a little. “What’re you doing here?”

“Mum’s at work and Uncle Roy was supposed to watch me, but something came up so he brought me here. Jamie said it was ok if I spent the day with you.”

You smile at Phoebe and look up at Jamie. He shrugs sheepishly. “Can’t say no, could I? Look at her.”

He and Phoebe grin at you angelically.

You try to sigh, but it comes out sounding like a laugh. “Alright, come on. Have you had breakfast yet?”

Phoebe shakes her head. “Uncle Roy was just starting the toast when he got the phone call. I don’t mind though, because today does not feel like a toast kind of day.”

“I agree,” Jamie says to Phoebe, “today doesn’t feel like a toast kind of day. Lucky for you, I’ve been told my pancake recipe is better than-” he catches himself, “Well, they’re really fucking good. Won’t take long.”

He holds out his hand for Phoebe to take, and he leads her to the kitchen.

—

That’s how you ended up in Jamie’s kitchen, still in your pajamas, while Phoebe chatters on about the book Roy is reading her as Jamie flips pancakes and drops chocolate chips to make smiley faces.

It’s weirdly domestic in a way you two have never been before, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. You certainly don’t have negative feelings, that’s for sure.

“What do you want to do today, Phoebe?” you ask. 

She shrugs. “Uncle Roy was going to take me to the library and then to pick up flowers for Keeley, and then we were going to get ice cream. I wanted to play Princesses and Dragons, because I got new dragon claws. They’re in my backpack, want to see?”

“I do!” Jamie says.

You laugh. “I would love to! I think we can still do a lot of that today, ice cream included. None for Jamie though, he hates ice cream.” Phoebe gasps, and Jamie turns from the stove, offended. 

“Babe,” he says in a scandalized tone, “you’d lie to a child? I fucking love ice cream!”

You raise an eyebrow and deadpan, “You do not, you said you’d rather eat that disgusting pureed spinach.”

“Babe,” he replies, “I literally cannot believe you right now.” He turns to Phoebe. “Pheebs, you believe me, yeah? What kind of monster don’t like ice cream?”

Phoebe looks from you to Jamie. You’re doing your absolute best to maintain a straight face, and Jamie’s comedic beseeching look is not helping.

Phoebe squints at you in such a Roy-like manner that you break, dissolving into giggles. She joins in, and Jamie lets out a faux sigh of relief. Today’s going to be fun.

—

It’s late in the afternoon now, and you, Jamie, and Phoebe have been all over Richmond. Phoebe checked out three large books from the library while Jamie followed you to the murder mystery section. You whispered the plots to him until Phoebe tapped your elbow to let you know she was ready to go. 

You stopped at the flower shop, and Jamie bought one flower for you and one of Phoebe. She loved it, and twirled it as she walked. 

Your last stop was for ice cream, where she explained the pros and cons of each flavor, and why Uncle Roy believes any flavor other than cherry chip should be illegal. 

Now, you’re walking back to Jamie’s house, holding Phoebe’s hands in between you. Her flower is safely poking out of her backpack. 

“Jamie,” she says, “why does Uncle Roy think you’re a prick?”

Jamie chokes on air and you’re doubled over from laughter. That question came out of nowhere

“Well,” Jamie says, trying (and failing) to speak normally, “when I met your Uncle Roy, I was very young and very fit and much, much better than him at football. He didn’t like that so much, and I thought it was fuckin funny, so I just made fun of him for it. And me dad was kind of mean to me a lot, so I s’pose it was just easier to be a prick to everyone. Pretty sure he likes me know though.” Jamie pauses. “I’m less prickish now that this one came along.” He grins at you and winks, and you’re blushing like you’re a teenager. 

Phoebe is digesting all of this, and your footsteps slow as you approach Jamie’s doorstep. Finally she says, “If we play Princesses and Dragons, will you be the princess?”

“Only if I get a sparkly crown,” Jamie replies. 

Phoebe seems satisfied by this answer so she turns to you and asks if you want to be a dragon like her or a knight. 

“Knight,” you reply, no hesitation. 

“Aw, babe, you gonna rescue me?” Jamie asks, pushing open the door for you and Phoebe. 

You playfully pat his cheek as you walk by, not missing the way his eyes wander from yours to your lips. 

“Come on!” Phoebe shouts. She’s already at the door to the backyard. “We have to hurry before Uncle Roy gets back!”

—

It turns out that there is no need to hurry. Roy texted Jamie with a simple going to be longer than fucking expected, and a sorry to ruin your date night to you. 

Not a problem! you replied. Hope everything’s alright, and let Molly know that we can keep Phoebe overnight if she needs. 

Roy responds with a simple x, which is more than Jamie got, but he doesn’t care because Phoebe’s explaining to him the difference between a crocodile and an alligator in great detail over dinner.

You’re a little worried. Jamie is too, you can tell. His forehead gained a slight crease when he read Roy’s text. Neither Roy nor Phoebe have offered any explanation as to what had come up, and you just hope everything’s all right. You’re relatively certain it has to do with Keeley, especially because she hasn’t texted either of you all day. Phoebe is (you hope) oblivious, although she’s incredibly observant, so she’s probably already pieced together more than you and Jamie have.  

It’s a little past 8pm now, and Phoebe is beginning to yawn in your lap. Jamie’s sitting next to you on the couch, one arm around your shoulders as he hums along to Tangled. Phoebe’s wearing one of your t-shirts, and it’s long enough to be a dress on her. After an especially big yawn, you stand up and carry her to one of the guest rooms, a perk of Jamie’s fucking enormous house.

“Jaim and I will be in that door right over there,” you whisper. “The night light will stay on all night, and we’ll keep on the light in the hall. If you wake up and need anything, you can yell for us. We’ll be awake watching tv for a while, and I’m a light sleeper anyway, so don’t be afraid to shout if you need something.”

Phoebe nods sleepily, and you kiss her on the forehead. You pull the blanket up to her chin as Jamie says softly, “Goodnight, kid.”

“‘Night Jamie,” Phoebe whispers back.

You and Jamie get up and slip out the door, shutting it behind you softly. You pause in the hall, back to the door. Jamie’s close to you, and both of you have concern written on your faces.

You really had a wonderful time with Phoebe today, and you don’t mind the fact that she’s spending the night. Jamie has extra toothbrushes and Phoebe thinks it’s fun to wear your shirt to bed, but this is nowhere near how you thought the day was going to go. It’s just not like Roy or Molly not to call or to be out this late. 

Strike that; it’s not like Roy or Molly to be out this late for a reason that makes you feel especially joyous.

Your brows are knit together so tight that Jamie has to physically smooth them with his thumb.

“I’m worried too, love,” he says softly.

—

You’re both wide awake in bed, listening for Phoebe (she’s snoring) and checking your respective phones (still nothing). It’s not until 10:30pm that Jamie’s phone lights up with a call from Roy. He’s out of bed and down the stairs in an instant, just in case Phoebe can hear him.  

You’re still in bed picking at your nails, when your phone dings. It’s Molly.

She’s sent a long paragraph but the gist of it is what you’re sure Roy is telling Jamie on the phone:

I had an extra long shift today, which is why Roy was supposed to watch Phoebe. When he showed up to the house, Phoebe’s dad was outside, lurking in his car. I didn’t like it and neither did Roy, so he dropped her off with you to find out why he was coming ‘round. 

You shiver. You haven’t heard a lot about Phoebe’s dad, but you know that she and Jamie have shitty fathers in common. They had been talking about it earlier that afternoon, her expressing frustration and him gently explaining that none of it was her fault.

You go back to Molly’s text.

Turns out the bastard was here to take Phoebe. He got high and decided to just grab her, I guess. He and Roy got into it, so then Keeley had to bail Roy out of jail for assault and it became this whole thing because Roy wanted to make sure that prick was never allowed to be near Phoebe. He’s been pulling strings all day, filling out restraining orders and shit. Phoebe doesn’t know any of this, and I don’t want her to, but it sounds like her dad’s going away for a long time. Roy and Keeley have been at it all day. They know a lot of the right people, between the two of them.

Three bubbles appear, then disappear. You type, You’re more than welcome to come over and spend the night, Molls.

She replies, Only if I can borrow your toothbrush. 

Despite yourself, you smile. You and Molly grew up together and got even closer after Roy was recruited for football, so you both understand that when the other offers something, they mean it. 

She says, Be over in fifteen. Love you, so you send her a heart. You hear footsteps and look up to see Jamie in the doorway. “That was Roy,” he says, face somber.

You lift your phone slightly. “Heard from Molly,” you reply. “She’ll be here in fifteen minutes. She’s spending the night.”

Jamie nods and settles heavily into bed next to you. 

He blows out a breath. “Fuckin hell.”

“Yeah,” you agree.

“Poor Pheebs,” he continues. “I know how she’s gonna feel when she finds out.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “Do you think that Molly and Roy should handle it differently?”

“Fuck no,” Jamie responds, “wish my mum had a brother like Roy to lock up my piece-of-shit dad. Still, he’s her dad, isn’t he? Doesn’t matter how much of a prick he is, she’s still gonna fucking love him.”

You’re silent for a moment. “Jamie,” you say finally, “d’you think she’ll be alright?”

Jamie turns his head to you. “‘Course she’ll be alright,” he says. “It ain’t easy, but she’s got an amazing mum, plus Roy and Keeley. I fucking made it, and I only had me mum.”

He can tell you’re still not satisfied. “Look, babe- as shitty as Phoebe’s dad is, she’ll be alright. It won’t happen overnight, but she’s a tough kid. She’s got people who fuckin love her and who want to protect her. She’ll make it through.”

You nod. You two sit in silence until there’s a light knock on the door. It’s Molly.

You wrap her in a tight hug, a million unspoken words lingering between you two. You take her to Phoebe’s room and hand her an extra pair of your clean pajamas.

Phoebe says a sleepy, “Mum?” so you sneak out the door and shut it silently.

You head back to Jamie, and now it’s your turn to flop onto the bed. It’s been a long day, and you have a feeling tomorrow is going to be even longer. Jamie pulls you onto his chest in a tight hug, and you finally fall asleep to the steady beat of his heart.

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Saturday Morning

Plot: Jamie and Y/n spend an unconventional day off together.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: f!reader, language, mention of child abuse/neglect

A/N: Annndd we’re finally in it in it. A little bit of backstory, a little bit of trauma bonding and a whole lot of fluffy angst. Enjoy!!

(I also fell way behind w/ the taglist and since this series is maybe PG-13, I’m dropping the 16+ 💕)

—————

Someone was knocking on the door.

No, not knocking. Pounding.

Y/n slipped out of bed silently, as if the intruder was already inside her apartment. Bleary-eyed and stumbling in the dark, her hands fumbled for the baseball bat she kept behind her closet door. She’d had it since college and she couldn’t believe she was finally going to have to use it.

The banging continued as she walked through the apartment and down the stairs, growing louder the longer it went unanswered. Whoever was coming to abduct or rob her was clearly in a rush to do so.

Y/n steadied her breath and adjusted her grip on the bat, daring to peek through the peephole and see what she was up against.

“Wha-“ she uttered, lowering her bat and unlocking the door. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

On her stoop, Jamie was bouncing in place, “Can I use your loo?”

Y/n squinted, putting up a hand to block the bulb of Jamie’s stupid headlamp. “What?”

“Roy and I are on a run and I’ve gotta take a piss,” Jamie explained hurriedly, “You’re the only person I know in the neighborhood.”

With a heart rate well over 120 and a mind sluggish from sleep, it took Y/n a second to process his words. “I thought you were a fucking burgler,” she groaned.

Jamie whipped his hand frantically, “Is that a yes?”

Y/n was tempted to shut the door and let him take his chances with a public urination charge. Her friendlier instincts won out and she stepped to the side, letting Jamie race up the staircase to her bathroom. She shut and locked the door once more before trudging back up and setting her bat on the kitchen counter.

A moment later, Jamie emerged, calm and laughing to himself about something. “What kind of burgler knocks before robbin’ ya?”

Y/n was in no mood for his sense of humor. “It is 4-fucking-AM,” she pointed to the stove clock, “I am a single woman who lives on her own and it is 4-fucking-AM.”

“Alright, alright,” Jamie held his hands up in surrender, “Coulda texted you. I’m sorry.”

Y/n leaned against the back of her couch and wiped her hands over her face. Jamie made his way to the stairs, but was struck with a grand idea before he could take the first step.

“Do you wanna come with?”

Y/n glanced up from her palms, “What?”

“With me,” Jamie continued, “Roy. Go for a mornin’ run?”

“What part of 4-fucking-AM isn’t getting through to you?” Y/n asked, floored by his oblivion.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna be up anyway now,” Jamie shrugged, hopping from one foot to the other, “Get your blood pumpin’. Some endorphins.”

Y/n stared at him and wondered if she tried hard enough, could she kill him with eye contact alone?

“It’ll be fun,” Jamie smiled, jutting out his neck a little.

As much as it pained her to admit, he was right. There was no chance in hell she was getting back to sleep with all her senses dialed to 11. It was either tossing and turning in bed for an hour before she admitted defeat and started her day, or do something productive.

Y/n rolled her eyes and brushed past Jamie to grab her running shoes. “4 fucking AM…” she grumbled as she passed him once more.

Jamie made two victorious fists, too pleased with himself to acknowledge the fact that he’d robbed her of a precious Saturday sleep-in. She’d enjoy herself once they got out.

Grabbing a hoodie and locking up her apartment, Y/n followed Jamie out to the street where Roy was waiting on the sidewalk. Under the light of his own headlamp, he looked as confused as Y/n had moments before when he saw her trailing behind Jamie.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“Convinced States to join us, yeah?” Jamie answered as Y/n yawned.

“I’m gonna fucking push you into the first lake we see,” Y/n glared at the back of Jamie’s head.

Roy looked between his trainee and the woman he barely knew, but respected for the threat alone. Nodding, his eyes landed on Y/n, “You can stay if you keep up.”

“No problem there,” Y/n sighed, taking off into a jog. If Jamie was going to ruin her day off, the least she could do was beat him.

Sharing a glance of amusement, Jamie and Roy ran after Y/n, into the early London morning.

—————————

It turned out to be a fair fight between Y/n and Jamie. Jamie hadn’t underestimated her, per se, but he figured her exhaustion would slow her down. She’d held her own right up against him and impressed even Roy.

“You’re fuckin’ fit, you are,” Jamie said after, the two of them having gone for tea afterwards. He quickly realized the double meaning of the word, “I mean, not like that. I mean, you are, yeah, but I mean-“

“Oh my gosh, words,” Y/n groaned, reaching with one hand to Jamie’s mouth, “Stop.”

Jamie swerved to avoid the hit, chuckling after. “You’re a proper asshole when you’re tired,” he snickered.

“Well, when I get woken up at 4AM,” Y/n glared over at the man, “No, I don’t feel particularly kind.”

The two of them strolled through Richmond, Roy having left them mere minutes ago. They’d run on and off for about an hour before Y/n had to sit through the rest of their regiment. She’d taken a great deal of joy in sitting back with Roy and yelling commands at Jamie.

“I think Roy’s gonna invite you every mornin’ now,” Jamie mused, taking a sip of tea.

Y/n faked a gasp, grasping Jamie’s bicep, “Getting to hurl insults at you? Every day? Oh, well, that’s it. Better hand Keeley my resignation.”

Jamie laughed, shoving her off him before spotting and leading them to a bench. Richmond on a Saturday morning was bustling with people, but it was a peaceful kind of frenzy. The kind you could watch and enjoy.

“Admit it,” Jamie said, sitting down, “You had fun.”

Y/n sighed, pulling her tea to her lips. No such thing would be admitted.

“Why are you even still doing this?” She asked, looking out into the park where a group of kids were kicking around a football, “Zava’s gone. You’re back to being number one. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Jamie ran his fingers over his chin, she wasn’t wrong. Zava had made his unannounced exit two weeks prior. The whole reason Roy had offered to train him was to get him back to being the best. He may not have earned it, but the title had been bestowed back to Jamie. Mission accomplished.

“Think it’s more than that,” he answered, “More than Zava. I think…I know I can be better. And I wanna get there. See what I can do.”

Y/n nodded in reply, that was something she could understand. How many times had she pushed herself in school? At work? Not to beat anyone, but to know she had done her absolute best?

“Maybe it’ll pay off in Amsterdam,” she commented before taking a sip of tea. The exhibition match was just one week away.

“Ah,” Jamie smiled, “You excited?”

Y/n tilted her head from side to side in a shrug, “I guess. I’ve never been.”

Jamie’s face transformed in a split second, from content to near disgusted.

Y/n leant back, “What?”

“You’ve never been to Amsterdam?” Jamie was darn near incredulous at the mere notion.

“No,” Y/n replied, her voice jumping an octave under his judgement.

Jamie scoffed and turned away from her. “How the fuck do you live here this long and not go to Amsterdam?”

“And yet somehow, I still walk the earth,” Y/n chuckled at how bothered he was, “I’m guessing you’ve been.”

Jamie’s lips popped out very duckface-ish. “‘Course I have. Practically a fuckin’ tour guide.”

“Alright,” Y/n said, “Gimme your recommendations.”

Settling back against the bench as if he meant to stay a proper while, Jamie ran through his index. He picked through the pleasant memories, stag parties and one emergency diverted flight that ended in a particularly rowdy five star hotel evening. None of those amounted to anything stacked up against one trip taken much earlier in life.

“Gotta go to the Anne Frank house,” he began to list off ideas, “It’s super sad, but you gotta do it. There’s a really good place nearby to get stroopwafel, gotta go there. Eh, a boat ride down the canal. The tour guides driving ‘em give you all these fun facts about the architecture and the history and stuff.”

Y/n listened, it was the first time she’d seen Jamie properly excited about something. He was passionate on the field, but this was a childlike joy.

“You do remember there’s a match, right?” she laughed, “I’m only gonna end up having, like, one night.

“Then fuckin’ pack it in,” Jamie shrugged and gestured ahead of them like the country was laid out before them, “It’s Amsterdam.”

Y/n raised her cup to take a sip, “How do you know so much? You’ve really been that many times?”

“My mum took me when I were about 16,” Jamie answered, “Took me to all the historical sights and stuff. Guess it all just stuck.”

“Hm,” Y/n nodded, “What about your dad?”

What prompted her to ask, Y/n couldn’t know. She’d noticed that Jamie’s mother came up in conversation sometimes, but his father never did. Her subconscious curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Jamie felt his chest tighten at the mention of his dad. Y/n couldn’t have known anything about their relationship, he knew this. He just wasn’t sure how to reply when it was a subject he didn’t want to pick up. At all.

“Not really a thing,” he chose the safest answer, “He took me before me mum, but…wasn’t nearly as fun.”

Y/n watched his expression shift, how his eyes went from watching his fingers slide over his paper cup to the air in front of them. How Jamie was always fidgeting, but was now doing it with purpose. Worse, she recognized something about all of it.

“I’m sorry,” she backtracked, “That was way too personal, I shouldn’t have-“

“No, it’s-“ Jamie quickly held up a hand. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel bad for her innocence. “It’s fine. He’s just a,” Jamie shook his head, “Fuckin’ asshole.”

Y/n gazed down at her tea, sensing there was more that he wanted to say. Looking away not only saved her dignity, but it allowed him some quasi-privacy to say it.

“What about your folks?” Jamie finally looked back at Y/n, nudging her elbow a little.

That was worse, Y/n decided. Far worse.

“Uh,” she stalled, there was no choice but to answer, “We don’t really talk, to be honest.”

“Why not?” Jamie didn’t hesitate to ask.

Y/n inhaled deeply, blowing the air out with puffed cheeks. It was a piece of her history that she’d left in America, sending it into silent submission the second she stepped foot in London.

“We just…” Y/n shrugged, “Don’t have a relationship. Never have.”

Jamie’s brows dropped in confusion, “What’re you, like, adopted or somethin’?”

“Nope,” Y/n’s lips popped around the syllable, “They’ve just…never had any interest in their kids. Me and my sister, we kind of raised ourselves.”

“Fuck,” Jamie muttered, realizing he had definitely dug too deep. It was too late to back out though, their secrets were spilling themselves out. Better to lean into it than try and patch the all too massive leaks.

Y/n bitterly chuckled over her tea cup, “Yeah.”

Jamie absorbed what she said, leaning on his knees now. It was like he had to take a defensive position up a past that was nowhere near, yet all around him. If Y/n was going to be honest, the least he could do was match it.

“My dad and I,” he started, picking at a loose corner of the cardboard around his cup, “We kinda got in a fight. Earlier this year.”

Y/n turned to face Jamie, thinking he meant an entirely normal type of argument.

“Came back to the locker room after we lost a match,” he continued the story, “Talked a bunch of shit. Got ugly and…” Jamie hesitated, his fist feeling the phantom pain of the confrontation, “Yeah…”

Y/n’s lips parted in gentle shock, he didn’t need to finish for the meaning to come across.

Jamie could feel her eyes resting on him and found the strength to meet them. The tight smile across his face didn’t match the story, but it felt necessary. He sat back, hating the silence they were wading in.

“My parents never yelled. Not because me and my sister were perfect angels or anything, but…they just didn’t care enough to get that emotional,” Y/n admitted before she could even realize the vulnerability in which she said it with, “I mean, there was nothing we could do to even get them to pay attention to us. No recitals, no science fairs, no achievements…nothing. So long as they kept a roof over our heads and kept us breathing, they felt they were doing enough of a job.”

Jamie scoffed, bitter for both of them. “Me dad couldn’t be bothered to show up to any matches. Not when I were a kid.”

“What about when you went pro?” Y/n asked.

“Only in Manchester,” Jamie answered, “Screamin’ at me on and off the pitch that I were doin’ it wrong.”

Y/n traced the curve of Jamie’s jaw with her eyes, watching it clench. He made sense. For the first time since they’d met, he made total sense. You couldn’t go through a childhood like his and not come out with something to prove.

Their conversation became an exchange. One would share and, to make the other feel not so vulnerable, the other would chime in. “Once me and my sister could cook for ourselves, get jobs,” Y/n countered Jamie’s revelation, “My parents were even more done. It’s the main reason I came to England. To get away from them.”

Jamie was fully engaged now, his body turned to face Y/n as she matched his honesty. He knew all about running away.

“I worked so hard in school to get As, extracurricular stuff, anything I could,” Y/n gestured to the air with her cup, “So I could get out.”

“Yeah,” Jamie interjected, his memory sliding back to mornings before dawn spent on the pitch near his childhood home. He’d been just as relentless then as he was now. “Can’t tell you how many fuckin’ hours I spent just…tryin’ to get good. Tryin’ to do something he couldn’t touch.”

Whatever tolerance Y/n and Jamie had start with had long since morphed to a sort of comfortable acquaintanceship. It felt like, without ever moving from their bench, they had made some grand leap into kinship. They were both members of a club neither of them had asked to be in. With their shit spilled out on the ground before them, there was so very little left for them to hide.

“Y’know they’ve never visited me?” Y/n said softly, catching the shock on Jamie’s face out the corner of her eye, “Not once. I’ve been here since I was eighteen…not even for my graduation.”

Jamie watched with sadness as Y/n tried to hide hers. Once they found one another, it felt like there was nothing else to do but…laugh. It was one of those, this is our life laughs. Here we are, our families don’t love us, and it’s not right but here we are. Gentle and faded, but still unbelieving.

“Think we did pretty good,” Jamie said, “Yeah?”

Y/n’s smile came back, she’d allowed Jamie to cross so many of her self-drawn lines and she’d believed it had simply been out of convenience. No, there was something about him she’d only ever recognized in herself. Resilience. “Resentment’s a tremendous motivator, isn’t it?”

Jamie smirked at Y/n, wondering how he’d gravitated towards her knowing just the best, only to find out they had the worst in common. They were both a little broken, and it certainly felt better to be broken with someone else than by himself.

“I’ll drink to that,” he smiled, the two of their paper cups knocking into one another.

————————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @mentalistfan

[toxicroyjamie]

I need to hear your omegaverse HCs immediately!!

This is so embarrassing do NOT look at me

• So I'm thinking. Like. 70-80% of the general population are betas, 10-15% are alphas and 10-15% are omegas. Alphas are super overrepresented in professional sports, so the team is maybe 50/50 or 40/60 alphas:betas.

• Alphas include Rebecca, Roy, Isaac, Rupert, Zava, and most of Richmond's first team.

• Betas include Ted, Beard, Sam, Keeley (although I could also see her as a transdynamic alpha), Colin, Bumbercatch, and most of Richmond's second team.

• Jamie's either the first omega in the pl or one of the first, and Nate is the first omega to ever coach in the pl <3 I also think Trent would be an omega and take an interest in sports journalism because it's such a foreign environment to him.

• Jamie's dad is either an alpha or an insecure beta who is constantly overcompensating because he's not an alpha. But either way, he hates the idea of having an omega son and dips as soon as Jamie is born. Then later on when he finds out Jamie is actually a super talented badass who could make him rich down the line (because, shockingly, there's more to a person than their biology) he starts coming around again, because he figures Jamie might be worth something after all.

So James has Jamie on heavy-duty suppressants for years and years, which makes him build muscle and get rid of the ~omega look (sort of - he still has the hips, but there's not much you can do about that) and scent to the point that he can and does blend in with alphas and betas fairly well. He's extremely repressed and possibly closeted idk

• I think Roy kind of struggles with being an alpha in some ways, because even though he identifies with and is proud of the caretaking and protecting aspects of his identity, he worries a lot about whether he's like. Inherently too rough and Angry and dangerous to be around certain vulnerable people, especially Phoebe. Childrearing is not something alphas do a lot of, and he was never really taught anything about it, so he's constantly worried that he's going to do something horribly wrong or is ~infecting her with the worst parts of himself.~

• Also. Zava. This is the plot point I always imagine I'd write omegaverse for if I ever did. I normally think the whole Zava thing is boring but in A/B/O I could actually see it going somewhere interesting

Jamie as an omega is immediately put off by Zava, because he has like a built-in sixth sense for creepy alphas. But no one else detects it, because they're all alphas/betas, and they're just not as in-tune with that kind of thing. So Jamie tries to talk to the coaches about it, but they think he's just jealous because he's not the center of attention anymore and kind of brush him off.

Zava's constantly doing these little things that Jamie feels are obviously intended to make him feel like he doesn't deserve to be there or is less of an athlete than his teammates (petting his hair like a dog, stealing his goal, pretending he doesn't know who he is and thinks he's the kitman), but NO ONE else gets it and he just feels like he's losing his mind.

And then Zava calls Jamie over on the pitch to say something completely unimportant while rubbing his shoulders and smacking his ass, and Roy starts to pick up on the bad vibes because it was so obvious that Zava just wanted to prove to Jamie how much power he has over him in front of thousands of their fans, which makes Roy's skin crawl.

So that's how they start training together in this situation <3

Idk

[illiterateaffairs]

behind the scenes chapter five | fifty fake dates

masterlist | prev | next

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 6,388

summary: you and jamie face the biggest test of your fake relationship so far; a double date with keeley and roy

a/n: this is once again a bit later than i had hoped to post, but this is my favorite chapter so far so i hope its worth the wait! i cannot wait to hear what you all think, especially in regards to the reader's scenes with roy and keeley :)

Jamie could be a very cocky person, but he could honestly say, in a completely unbiased way that you two were absolutely crushing this fake dating thing. 

Not only had your movie premiere hard launch gone incredibly well the other week, you’d had many successful fake dates since. You’d been seen on various breakfast, lunch and dinner dates, as well as on walks together and even outside your flat again. You’d also posted a couple Instagram posts and stories here and there for good measure, slowly ramping up in a way that felt natural to a real relationship. 

The public was eating it up. From fans to journalists, everyone thought you were adorable together. Jamie knew for a fact no one in the world suspected this was all for show.

Unfortunately, the pitfall of doing such a good job meant that not only had his coworkers bought the whole ordeal, but demanded to see it up close. And while fooling Roy and Keeley was a major cornerstone of the whole plot, he wasn’t exactly prepared for what Keeley had in store for them.

“A double date?” Jamie squints at her, after she’d cornered him in the locker room at the end of training one evening.

“Yeah, doesn’t that sound like fun!” Keeley nods, “It was actually Roy’s idea.”

“No!” Roy exclaims raspily from where he was sitting in the coaches office. The three of them were conveniently the last ones to leave for the night.

Keeley shakes her head, “You were the one who said you wanted to meet her.” She turns back to Jamie, “And I for one think a night out, just the four of us, would be a perfect way for all of us to get to know each other.”

Jamie hesitates. Again, he knows that’s the whole point of this charade. But he hadn’t been mentally prepared for when the opportunity to show you off actually came.

“I mean, I’m having dinner with her tonight,” he starts out slowly, “There’s no guarantee she’ll be available, you know, her being a hugely popular and successful actress and everything. But I’ll bring it up.”

Keeley smiles, “That’s all I ask!”

Jamie gives her a tight smile, before bidding her and Roy a good night. 

Well, this should be fun.

“Hi, sorry I’m late. Filming ran long,” you say hurriedly as you breeze over to the table Jamie is sitting at. Despite there not being any photographers in this dimly lit restaurant, you feel the need to press a kiss onto his cheek, and he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

Jamie shrugs as you slide into the seat across from him, “No worries.”

You sigh, and mutter quietly, “Well, isn’t the point of this whole thing to be seen entering places together?”

“It's fine, really,” he insists. And then with a smirk, “We’ll be seen leaving together and I think that’s a little more important.” 

You can’t help but chuckle as you finally catch your breath from rushing in. As you’re collecting yourself, you notice a glass of wine and an otherwise empty table in front of you.

“No menu?” you question.

Jamie shrugs again, this time a little awkwardly, “I went ahead and ordered for you. I figured you were filming late and thought you’d be eager to eat quickly. You like chicken parmesan, right?”

An impressed smile takes over your face, “Wow. As far as fake boyfriends go, you’re pretty good.”

A bashful smile takes over his own face. “I do my best.”

“And let me guess, you got the steak but you’re going to tell Roy you got a salad.”

Jamie quirks an amused eyebrow, “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

You’re both equally proud and yet surprised at how quickly you’d become accustomed to each other’s lives and habits. And how natural it felt to fold one another into your own. 

Jamie lets you take a healthy sip of wine before taking a deep breath, “Speaking of Roy.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow this time in question.

“Yeah, uh, he and Keeley actually asked me something earlier. They - well, more Keeley - thought it would be fun for us to go on a sort-of double date? I told them I’d ask you, but I didn’t promise them anything. So, if it's not something you’re up for that's totally fine, I can blow them off.”

You bite back a laugh at how quickly and anxiously he’s speaking. You think it's best to cut him off before he passes out. “Jamie,” you reach across the table and take his hand, “I think that sounds fun.”

Jamie squints, “Really? Because we seriously don’t have to.”

“I’m serious! I think it would be fun to meet the people that sent you into a spiral and made you ask to fake date me,” Jamie scoffs but a smile starts breaking through again, “Besides, this deal is a two way street. You’ve done plenty to help boost my rep so far, it's time I return the favor.”

Now Jamie fully smiles, but still asks, “If you’re sure?”

“I’m positive!”

“Alright. Well, since you’re the one that has to pretend to be obsessed with me all night, I think it’s only fair that you get to pick the activity. What do you want to do?”

You mull it over in your end until the perfect idea strikes you.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I am absolutely shit at bowling.”

From the passenger's seat of Jamie’s car, you let out a cackle. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“There absolutely is.” Jamie frowns beside you, completely unamused. 

“Wow, finally something Jamie Tartt isn’t amazing at.”

“You know you haven’t seen me do that much,” he points out.

You hold your hand up and tick things off, “Amazing footballer, amazing fake-boyfriend. What else is there?”

This gets a laugh out of him. 

The two of you are currently parked outside a bowling alley that is surprisingly empty for a Saturday evening. Jamie had received a text from Keeley saying she and Roy had arrived a few minutes prior, so now the two of your were mentally preparing for the night ahead.

“You know you could have told me this before and we could have done something else?” you asked after a few moments had passed.

Jamie lets out a deep breath, “But you were so excited about it when you brought it up.”

You chew the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from smiling. “Well, I appreciate that. And I’m sure you’re not as bad as you think.”

“Let me know if you think that when you see me play.”

“Well, I can’t do that unless we actually go inside,” you whisper to him like it's a secret he hadn’t caught onto. 

Jamie sighs deeply again.

“Hey,” you reach across the console and squeeze his hand briefly, “Tonight’s gonna be great. We’re gonna play a game, I’m gonna wow your friends, we’re gonna drink a shit ton of beers and have a shit ton of nachos, and have a good time.”

The side of Jamie’s mouth tilts up, “I think my vocabulary is rubbing off on you.” 

You chuckle, shoving him lightly, “Come on, let’s get this show on the road already.” 

“God, you’re impatient,” Jamie teases, but he’s finally pushing his car door open. 

“Time is money, money is power, power is pizza, let's do this!”

If you were being honest, you had googled Roy Kent and Keeley Jones before. However, nothing could prepare you for how intimidating Roy was and how drop-dead gorgeous Keeley was in real life.

You and Jamie approached them hand-in-hand, and took little to no time for you to clock that you were the only people in the establishment. You’re confused about this, but you have to quickly bury any questions when Keeley pulls you into a tight hug.

“Hi, it’s so great to meet you, I’m Keeley!” she greets enthusiastically, before pulling away from you abruptly, “Holy shit, I’m sorry. The last thing you probably want is a random stranger hugging you out of nowhere. I’m sure you’re on edge all the time from the attention you get.”

You can’t help but flush when anyone makes a reference to your level of fame, not one to dwell on it yourself. However, Keeley’s energy is so bubbly and kind, you can’t help but feel comfortable as well as amused at how hard she’s trying. 

“No, no, not at all. Hugging is great,” You give her a big smile as reassurance, “Besides, you’re not a random stranger, you’re one of Jamie’s best friends, so you’re automatically already a cool person in my book.”

Keeley matches your smile before turning to Jamie, “Oh, my God, you were right about how nice she is.”

You turn to Jamie as well with a curious look, and he can barely make eye contact with you. “So, now you know Keeley, and that scruffy old-man behind her is Roy.” 

You turn to the man in question, and give him a kind smile and small wave, “Hey! I take it you’re probably not going to bear-hug me like your girlfriend, but it’d be funny if you did.”

To everyone’s surprise, Roy cracks a smile at your joke. It’s a small one but it's there. The bearded man gives you an approving nod before the four of you start making your way to your table. As you and Jamie trail behind the other couple, he gives you an impressed smile and you beam back at him.

Once you’re seated, you and Keeley send the boys off to grab bowling shoes and snacks for the group. 

“So, am I crazy or is this place extremely vacant for a Saturday night?” you ask the blonde as you type your name into the scoreboard. 

Keeley chuckles, “Oh yeah, we actually rented the place out for the next couple of hours.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Okay. Boujee.”

Keeley shrugs, “We don’t normally do things like that, but Jamie thought you’d prefer a night not being bothered by fans and such.”

Oh. 

“While I normally don’t do things like this either, it does sound nice to have a normal night out.”

“It’ll be fun!” Keeley says cheerfully. 

“Definitely,” you nod along, feeling warmed by her vibrant personality. “Even more so because apparently Jamie is really bad at bowling.”

Keeley snorts, “Oh, good. I mean, I’m not so great myself and Roy didn’t seem too enthused about this,” at your alarmed look, she quickly continues, “He’s never enthused about anything, don’t take it personally.”

You nod again, still a bit unsure. While you’d seemingly appeased Roy with your joke earlier, you were still anxious to get on his good side for some reason. You were a people pleaser through and through, but especially when the people in question were hard to crack. 

You don’t have much time to dwell on your thoughts when Jamie and Roy reappear with beer, nachos, and bowling shoes. 

Soon after the game begins. Between the consistent and easy flowing small talk, you bowl first with a respectable 8 pins down for your first go. You were just getting warmed up. Then Keeley takes a turn and manages 5 pins. You try to keep your laughter at bay when Jamie lands his first roll in the gutter, before just barely hitting 2 pins on his second attempt.

“I told you I was shit,” Jamie frowns, plopping down beside you after his turn.

You give him a playful pout, rubbing his arm. “Hey, the night is young, babe. You can still redeem yourself.”

You miss the flush on his cheeks from the pet name, as you and Keeley turn to Roy stepping up to the lane. 

“You got this Roy-o!” Keeley claps. 

Roy lets out a deep sigh before casually rolling the ball down the lane only to get a strike.

You and Jamie sit up straight in surprise, as Keeley’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. 

“I thought you hated bowling?” she exclaims, Roy sitting beside her and taking a gulp of his beer.

“I said I didn’t like it, never said I was bad at it,” he corrects, “Phoebe had like 3 birthdays here.”

“Phoebe’s Roy’s niece,” Keeley says, facing you before you could even ask, “You’d love her.”

You hum in response. You give Roy a friendly yet challenging grin, “Looks like I have stiffer competition than I expected.”

You catch a glimmer of competitiveness in Roy’s eye as you stand up to take your next turn. While you weren’t sure he’d be down for a little competition, he seems intrigued by your retort. 

You’re pleased when you score a spare this round. Jamie and Keeley cheer for you, the former planting a celebratory kiss on your cheek when you return. Roy, for his part, looks impressed. It was on. 

The game practically flies by after that. You and Roy are pretty evenly matched, taking turns between scoring strikes and fumbling a bit under the pressure. Keeley holds her own as well, but she’s mostly just happy to be there, cheering both you and Roy on. Jamie for his part manages to do better little by little, but he’s certainly no stranger to a gutter-bar or ill-fated split. And while he was resistant at first, he starts laughing along with your groups playful jabs at his expense. 

Between rounds, you thoroughly enjoy getting to know Roy and Keeley. Keeley is a bit more forthcoming in conversations, but after a couple beers, Roy loosens up a bit himself and you’re pleased to learn he has a fun sense of humor. 

By the end of the game, you manage to one-up Roy Kent by mere single digits. And while he’s graceful in the loss, he can’t help but point out he was a bit rusty. 

“Okay, now that you’re warmed up, why don’t we make the next game a little more interesting,” you challenge. 

Roy raises one of his thick eyebrows, “Go on.”

“Let’s say the next loser between us picks up the tab for the night?” you suggest.

Roy chuckles, “Big talk from someone with all that Hollywood money.”

“Oh, come on, I’m sure the highest paid coach in the premier league can handle it,” you throw back.

Keeley and Jamie amusedly watch you two like a tennis match.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto Roy’s face, before he extends his hand to you, “It’s a deal.”

You smirk, shaking his hand.

“Alright, if we’re doing this again, I need another beer,” Jamie announces, standing up from the booth.

“Ooh, I’ll come with,” Keeley says, jumping up as well.

“Wait, wait,” you call out, grabbing Jamie’s hand so he turns back around. 

“Yeah, love?” Jamie asks, startled by the ease in which the pet name rolls off his own tongue. 

“Can you get me some chicken wings, please?” you ask, with the sweetest smile you can muster. 

Jamie chuckles, “Of course.”

“Thank you,” you sing-song. He watches your eyes glance over at Roy and Keeley quickly and discreetly, before looking back up at him. Then you blink twice. 

Jamie doesn’t hold back the small smile that takes over his face as he leans down to press a chaste kiss on your lips. He forces himself not to linger, so he and Keeley can head to the snack bar.

This leaves you alone with Roy for the first time tonight. You have half a second to worry you’d be sitting in awkward silence before the man himself is speaking up.

“I like you,” he says suddenly.

You sit up in surprise for the second time tonight. Roy didn’t come across as the most transparent person when it came to feelings, and you’re once again sure the alcohol was helping, but it still took you aback.

“Oh?” is all you can manage to say in response. 

He nods, sipping on his beverage. “You’re good for Jamie. You treat him well, but you don’t take his shit. He needs that.”

You give him a small smile, touched by his words. You were both relieved you were pulling off the girlfriend thing so well, and also happy that he thought you were making a positive impact on Jamie. Your situation may be temporary - and mostly fake - but it felt good that you were a decent influence in the time you have.

“Thanks, Roy.”

He tilts his beer bottle in your direction, and you raise yours as well.

“You’re also a hell of a bowler, but you are going down this next game.” 

You scoff, “You wish, Kent.”

Meanwhile, Keeley is also singing your praises at the concessions stand with Jamie.

“Bravo, Jamie,” Keeley grins, shaking Jamie’s arm with an affectionate squeeze, “Not only is she fucking fit and talented - at acting and bowling nonetheless - she’s so fucking cool. She’s perfect for you.”

Jamie smiles bashfully, but accepts Keeley’s compliments of you. She was right. You were amazing. 

“And, I’m so happy you’re happy,” she adds, even more sincerely, “It always seemed like you were going through the motions in your past relationships, before and after me. And during me, I guess.”

Jamie moves to apologize but she shakes her head.

“You don’t need to do that,” she states forcefully, “You’ve grown so much. You deserve all the good things happening in your life. And this,” she nods in the direction you and Roy were sitting, “Is such a good thing.” 

Jamie’s smile wobbles a little, “You know I wasn’t just going through the motions with you, right? I really, really cared about you Keeley.”

Keeley instantly sobers as well, nodding aggressively, “I know that.”

“Good.”

“But I can tell this is different,” she insists. “You’re different. She’s different. And like I said, that’s a good thing.”

Jamie nods. Keeley’s words weigh heavily on him. Maybe that was the thing about him and her all along. You could care about a person, but that didn’t make you two the right fit. He considers this thought as he and Keeley carry their food back to the table. You and him were different. But not the different Keeley thought. You were just acting, and you were doing a hell of a good job of it. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Keeley and Roy were believing all of it, just like he wanted. So why doesn’t he feel as relieved as he should?

He buries those thoughts as you excitedly stand up to start the next game. That wasn’t before you happily thank him for the wings with yet another peck on the lips. And with that and more alcohol flowing through his veins, he can hardly remember any of his worries. 

After you score another strike right off the bat, instead of returning to your seat you gesture for Jamie to join you in front of the lane. 

“What are you gonna do?” he questions, “Wrap your arms around me to show me the right technique?”

“While that would be adorable, no,” you retort with a laugh, “But I can give you some pointers.” 

Jamie can barely focus on the tips you’re telling him, because even if you’re not physically showing him how to move, you’re still standing in such close proximity, and whispering to him nonetheless. How was he meant to pay attention? When you’re done with your explanation, you give him another quick kiss, wishing him good luck, before skipping back to the booth. 

Whether it was the tutorial or the kiss, he’d never know, but he somehow managed 7 pins that first try, and knocked down 2 more his second go. That was almost a spare. He’d be proud either way, but was even more so when you excitedly cheered for him on his way back to the table. 

The second game is just as much of a blur as the first, except this time as the competition and the alcohol levels grow, you and Jamie become much more affectionate. He knows you don’t love PDA, so you keep the kissing to a minimum around Roy and Keeley, but there’s no shortage of hugging and hand holding as you rack up points on the scoreboard. Towards the end of the game, you manage the first Turkey of the night, and Jamie picks you up and spins you around.

Before you know it, everyone’s down to their last shot. The score is so close, with you getting yet another strike at the last moment. Jamie and Keeley finish with respectable scores - Jamie having improved a lot this go - but they’re nowhere near you and Roy. 

Roy’s final roll is what makes or breaks the game. If he scores a strike, he wins. But even a spare means you’d win. Everyone watches with baited breath as he steps up to the lane. Its as if the ball rolls in slow motion, but as it hits the pins and you all watch as each and every pin gets knocked down, various exclamations are shouted. 

“He must’ve cheated!” is Jamie’s contribution to the yelling, but he and you are both half laughing at the same time. 

You, for your part, can’t be too disappointed when you’ve had such a fun night with more than amazing company. You also watch as Keeley gives Roy a sweet, congratulatory kiss, which was the first time they’d done so all night. Your heart pangs in your chest a little, feeling envious for the first time for what another couple had. It’s not something you’ve felt often in your life, but seeing how well the pair complemented each other all night made you long for the same thing with someone one day.

“You put up a good fight,” Roy salutes you, settling back down next to his girlfriend.

You smile, “It was a close game, but I’ll hand it to you.” 

You begin to take out your credit card, when Jamie pushes your hand away, already taking out his own wallet.

“I’ve got this,” he says.

You frown, “I don’t remember you being a part of the deal.”

Jamie shrugs, “A lady should never pay on a date, so your bill is now my bill.”

Normally, you’d argue on account of feminism, but you’re feeling a little loopy. Most likely from the beer and not at all from the boy in front of you with that lopsided grin.

After Jamie closes your group’s tab, the four of you change back into your regular shoes and start saying your goodbyes. 

“This was so fun!” Keeley smiles, pulling you in for another hug, which you gladly reciprocate, “We should do it again soon.”

“For sure,” you agree, before pulling away and addressing Roy, “I would like a rematch.”

Roy chuckles, “You’re on.” And then he surprises you by giving you a quick hug himself. 

With a final goodbye, Roy and Keeley start heading for the exit. Jamie gives you a sly grin once they’re far enough away.

“I’d say we did a good job tonight,” he says.

You nod, “We definitely did. You’re friends love me, and you know what? I love them, too.”

Jamie laughs, “Good.” He gestures his hand to the doors, “Shall we?”

You give Jamie your own secretive grin, “There’s one more thing I have to do before we leave.”

Jamie furrows his brows, “What’s that?”

Your grin only grows, before you grip his hand and pull him towards the far side of the bowling alley that housed a handful of arcade games.

Jamie cackles when you stop in front of one of them.

“The claw machine?”

You only nod, already shoving quarters into the machine, “I was hoping they’d have one of these.”

Jamie shakes his head, watching as you navigate the claw around the machine, “There’s no way you win this. You know these things are rigged, right?”

Before the words are fully out of his mouth, you’re already dropping a bright orange dragon in to the opening before pulling it out of the bottom.

Jamie stares at you with wide eyes, “How the fuck did you do that?”

You shrug, “I’m amazing at arcade games. And I needed a win.”

Jamie laughs again, “I’d say you’re far from a loser. Did you see whose name was at the bottom of the scoreboard?”

You giggle, and then hold out the dragon to him, “Well here. A consolation prize.”

Jamie takes the stuffed toy from your hands, “For me?”

“Of course. I mean, as long as you treat him right and give him a name.”

Jamie studies the dragon’s face for a moment. “Alfred.”

You snort, “Alfred?”

“Alfred the Dragon.” Jamie says, assuredly.

“Well, I love it.” 

“Good,” Jamie laughs along with you. “Well, the reservation we had on this place is about to end. People are going to start showing up any second so we should probably go.”

“Wait,” you grab Jamie’s hands again, “It's only, what, 9PM? Let’s go out and do something else.”

“Really?” Jamie asks, both surprised and amused.

“Yeah, why not? I hardly ever get out like this, might as well make the most of it while I have the mental energy,” you say with a laugh. “Come on, you’re the guy who knows all the spots where we can enjoy a drink on the down low right? Any bars like that?”

A smile starts to grow on Jamie’s face again, “Well, there is one.”

“Did you bring me to a karaoke bar?” you question, but there’s an excited grin on your face.

Jamie shrugs from the driver’s seat of his car, relieved he’d stayed sober enough to keep the night going. He feared that wouldn’t last much longer, though.

“Everyone at this place is so pissed they’d never realize they were around a famous actress, even if you wore a shirt that said ‘I was in Study Break’.” 

You laugh embarrassedly, rubbing your face. “Of course you’ve seen the sitcom I was in.”

Jamie smiles, “That and Parks and Rec are only two of the greatest comedies of all time.”

“That’s generous,” you say. “If we’re at a karaoke bar, does that mean you’re going to sing?” 

Jamie huffs, “Hell no. I would need several drinks for that.”

“I think we can make that happen,” you smirk. “Do you think Alfred will be okay to wait in the car?”

You both turn back to where Jamie had buckled the plush dragon in behind the two of you.

“Does that make us neglectful parents to leave our kid in the car?” he asks.

“Eh, he’ll survive.” You shrug, before the two of you jump out of the car. 

You and Jamie immediately camp out at open spots at the bar and order drinks. While much of the beer from earlier had worn off, Jamie could still tell you were feeling lighter, bopping along to the horrible singing from the karaoke performer on the stage in the front of the room. He’s adored getting to see such a playful side of you tonight. He hopes he can start to bring it out of you even when alcohol wasn’t involved.

“I just realized when we conducted our research on each other, I didn’t ask if you had a go to karaoke song,” you ask him after a few minutes of quiet between the two of you.

Jamie thinks for a beat. Not that he’d participated in the activity often, he did have a few go-to’s. “Probably something by The Beatles. Or Britney Spears.”

You cackle, “Those two couldn’t be more different options and yet they’re both so perfect for you.”

Jamie laughs along with you, “What about you?”

“Hmm, I like a good 80’s song. Some Madonna, or Pat Benetar.” 

“Those are solid.”

“And this isn't the 80's, but if I can get someone to do a duet with me, The Chain by Fleetwood Mac.”

“That is a bold karaoke song.”

“Sure, but it's so powerful.”

You both sip on your drinks as you keep humming along to the next singer who's doing a rough version of Bennie and the Jets. 

“I know another question I didn’t ask you that feels like an oversight,” Jamie says this time, “What is Miss Movie Star’s favorite movie?” Jamie’s immediately intrigued when you become embarrassed by the question. He pokes your stomach gently. “What? Now you’ve got to tell me.”

You answer so softly, he can barely hear you over the music. “When Harry Met Sally.”

Jamie’s mouth is agape, “Excuse me, When Harry Met Sally? The girl who hates romance’s favorite movie is a romantic comedy?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “I never said I hated romance, I just said some movies set unrealistic expectations.”

“Still!” Jamie exclaims with wide eyes.

“I know, I know. But it’s just so comforting! And Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal are so good together.”

“I mean, yeah.” Jamie agrees, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“But I stand by the fact that most romcoms can be a bit far fetched.” 

“Okay, that’s fair. What other movies are your favorites then?”

You once again look afraid to answer, but inevitably do. “13 Going on 30…Notting Hill…”

“Are you kidding me? 13 Going On 30 is the most unrealistic. It's about a girl who goes from a 13 year old to a full grown adult overnight!”

“Yes, but Mark Ruffalo!”

“And Notting Hill is about the biggest actress in the world moving across the world for a random bookstore owner, how is that realistic?”

“Well, I mean I’m pretending to date you!” you retort before thinking through what you’re saying.

Jamie doesn’t dwell on it, “Did you just compare yourself to Julia Roberts?”

You sputter, “Not fully, but that would make you Hugh Grant!”

Jamie gives you a look, “I’m of a little higher rank than a bookstore owner.”

You gesture between the two of you, “So you’re saying the two of us come across as realistic. That’s good, that's what we want.”

Jamie chuckles, as you ground your conversation back in reality. “That’s fair.”

You smile slightly, “And again; I never said I hated romance and stuff. I just wish it was easier to come by like it seems on screen.”

Jamie nods, speaking more softly, “Yeah, me too.”

Before you lose yourself in Jamie’s gaze, you turn the topic on him, “What’s your favorite movie, then? Bend It Like Beckham?”

Jamie snorts, “While that’s a great film, I wouldn’t say it's my favorite.”

“Fair. But if you say another one of my movies, I’ll punch you.”

Your conversation continues just as smoothly as your cocktails go down after that. You bounce between learning more about one another, to mindless conversations about seemingly nothing. You also take many breaks to belt the lyrics to songs you love as more and more drunk patrons lousily perform. 

Before you know it, you’re both nearly as drunk as the karaoke singers. Jamie soon realizes though, you’re much more of a lightweight, constantly coming up with random topics.

“I like the way you say Keeley’s name,” you tell him at one point, completely unrelated to the conversation you were having. 

Jamie furrows his eyebrows, “Keeley?”

You shove your index finger in his face, “See, like that! Keeley.”

He chuckles at your poor, yet adorable imitation of his accent.

“You’re from where again?” you ask.

“Manchester.”

“So, that’s what? A Manchester-an accent?”

Jamie laughs again, “Mancunian.”

“Mancunian,” you slur, making yourself laugh this time. “I like it.”

“Do you like the way I say your name?” Jamie asks teasingly.

You bob your head up and down, “I like the way you say everything.”

Jamie didn’t expect that answer. Even in his inebriated state, he feels his stomach flip.

It’s around midnight that Jamie realizes that even under the influence, you were still a sneaky one. You’re laughing through a story about you and your friend Katie, when the MC calls Jamie’s name out as the next singer. Jamie looks towards the stage in confusion, before it dawns on him. His suspicions are confirmed when he sees the cheeky grin plastered across your face.

“How did you- when did you??” he stutters. 

“When I said I had to go to the bathroom like 20 minutes ago,” you hiccup.

Jamie shakes his head, “I can’t go up there.”

“Sure you can!” you exclaim, attempting to push him off the barstool, although you’re doing a pretty pathetic job of it. 

As the MC repeats his name, some people around you clock that he’s The Jamie Tartt and start chanting for him.

He gives you a look, “So much for staying under the radar.”

In your state, you don’t even seem to care, instead joining the crowd, “Jamie. Jamie. Jamie.”

He truly believes if he were a little less drunk, he would have resisted harder. But what was Jamie Tartt if not a crowd pleaser?

He eventually makes his way to the stage, receiving a louder than normal applause from the bar crowd. He reminds himself that even if they’re aware of who he is now, they certainly won't remember this tomorrow. As he pulls the microphone off the stand, he realizes he doesn’t know what song he’s singing, until the unmistakable first beats of Toxic by Britney Spears play through the speakers. He locks eyes with you immediately back by the bar, and you have a shit eating grin still plastered on your face. He can’t help but smile back.

At this point Jamie’s inevitably given into the absurdity of the night, and unashamedly gives a full fledged performance. The bar goes wild, but he’s only really aware of you. He somehow hears your cheers above the roar of the crowd, and is egged on by your amusement. Under normal circumstances, he may be embarrassed by how seriously he was taking this, but he’s surrendered to the simple fact that if it made you happy, he didn’t care how ridiculous he looked. 

By the time he’s reached the final chorus of the song, you were up from your seat and the whole bar was singing along. Everyone cheers even louder when he’s done, and he gives them an over dramatic bow. As he bounds back down the stage, the people he passes offer high fives and tell him they’re huge fans. He even hears a few people breakout into his football chant. 

“Wow, you were so good!” you tell him genuinely, putting each one of your hands on his shoulders, “Football better watch out, cause you could have a real career as a singer.”

Jamie rolls his eyes with a laugh, “Sure I do.”

You laugh along with him, “Either way, now that I know you kill at karaoke, we definitely have to come back.”

“Alright, alright, but next time you’re singing with me.”

“As long as its Fleetwood Mac, I’m down.”

The two of you don’t last much longer after that. As soon as Jamie can tell you’re starting to grow tired, he announces you should call it a night. He calls a car this time though, planning to pick up his car the following day when he was much more sober. You beg him to take Alfred the Dragon, though, stating sincerely that you’d cry if he was left in the car alone all night long. He immediately hates the idea of you crying and hurriedly unlocked the car to retrieve the stuffed animal.

When the car pulls up to your flat, he tells the driver he’d be a few minutes while he walked you to the door.

Jamie amusedly watches you very carefully walk up the concrete stairs. Despite not feeling quite that steady himself, he still follows closely behind in case you trip. 

You stumble a little when you reach the top and Jamie gently takes hold of your arms, the two of you unable to keep from giggling. 

“Well, this is me!” you announce, standing up straight in his arms.

“You don’t say?” Jamie jokes.

“You can stay here, you know,” you say, “The couch is pretty comfortable. I fell right to sleep at the end of Ratatouille the other night.”

“You were watching Ratatouille?” he asks incredulously.

“Ratatouille,” you mimic his accent again, pinching one of his cheeks lightly, “I fucking love your accent.”

Jamie laughs, a little less amused this time with you in such close proximity, “Well, thank you.”

You nod to the door, “So, you wanna stay? I bet people would go crazy if they heard about you leaving my place tomorrow morning.”

Jamie huffs. He considers it. He does. He’s exhausted, and he’d also love more time with you. And you’re right, this would be good for the ruse. But even as the alcohol slowly wears off of both of you, he thinks maybe tonight isn’t the best time 

“Maybe another night,” he eventually responds softly. He nods behind him, “I can’t keep the driver waiting much longer.”

You pout playfully but nod, “Okayyy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow though?”

He nods back, “Of course.” A beat passes, “Thank you again for coming out tonight. With Keeley and Roy. Meant a lot.”

You smile at him brightly, “Anytime. Like you said, we’re a team.” Then you slide out of his arms that he’s long forgotten were even wound around you. “Good night, boyfriend.” you say dramatically, before turning to the door.

He smiles wistfully at the back of your head, “Good night, girlfriend.”

Just as you manage to get your door unlocked, you abruptly turn back around to face him. Before he can question anything, you’re gripping his shoulders and pulling him in for a quick, albeit sloppy kiss - and not on the cheek, but the lips.

Jamie can hardly process what is happening before you pull away from him. He looks at you curiously as you give him a coy smile and whisper, “Google Earth.”

Jamie breathes out a surprised and shaky laugh, “Always taking pics.”

You giggle with him, before once again going back to your front door. You wish him another good night, before entering your flat and shutting the door.

Jamie shakes his head. You definitely wouldn’t remember much of the last couple hours of your night. Part of him wishes he could forget some of it, too. That would make things a lot simpler. 

a/n: it's a race to the who falls first finish line! who do we think will admit to it first? also two notes- 1) criminal that jamie wasn't on the team when they went to karaoke in season 1, 2) idk enough about bowling scores to make this completely accurate, so work with me on this haha

taglist: @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @royalestrellas @torpedo--belly @skewedcherries @littlemisssunshine192 @hopefulromances @breakmyheartlater @ohpuckyeah @alipap3 @meg-ro @rexorangecouny @pythagothug @bonesbonesetc @xxenia14 @rockchickrebel @thatonedogwithablog @percysaidnever @msjb2002 @loveforaugust @dicgohargreeves @whimsical-roasting @tortilla-maria1 @rubyliquor @taytaylala12 @kno-way-home @gcidrvsh @lightninginab0ttle @beekprsdaughter it wouldn’t let me tag the last couple of you, but i will keep trying <3  

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter 13 I The Man

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

Chapter Summary: Reader is given an award. Jamie is supportive

Word Count: 5.2K

Warning: Some sexism hehehe

A/N: Plot plot plot! But there's some of my favorite jamie x reader moments in this one. Next is Amsterdam!!!!

Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

I woke up alone. Now this was something I was used to at this point. Ever since Jamie had started doing his early morning runs with Roy, we hadn’t been spending as many nights together. Not that I liked it, but it was something I was getting used to.

My alarm went off at 6:00, as per usual. I did some yoga, showered, then was brushing my teeth when I got an unexpected text from Rebecca. It read:

            Please come to my office when you get in today.

Hm. That was an unusual text to get from your boss at 7:30 in the morning. I racked my brain trying to think of something I’d done to get a talking to. Yeah, it hadn’t been a great month for us, but it wasn’t anything I’d particularly done.

I finished up with my skin care and decided to head into work early to get whatever this was over with. I arrived at the club not much later, waving at the caretaker as I walked in. The walk up the stairs to Rebecca’s office felt excruciating.

But when I arrived there, it wasn’t just her. I opened the door and there was Higgins, Keeley, and Ted sitting in front of her desk.

            “Good morning, guys,” I entered approaching the group. “I didn’t know it was a party.”

            “(Y/N)!” They all greeted in unison.

            “Ah, that wasn’t creepy at all!” I laughed, trying not to show my nerves.

Rebecca motioned to a third seat. “Please, take a seat.”

I took off my backpack as I sat, holding it in front of me. “I’m not getting fired, am I? Oh my god, you’re firing me?”

            “What? Oh heavens, no!” Rebecca dismissed, shaking her hands. “Why on earth would you think that.”

            “Well, its all of you here, and I just walked in and thought it, I don’t know!” I shook my head. “If you’re not firing me, what are you doing?”

They all exchanged looks excitement filling their eyes.

            “Oooo go on! Tell her!” Keeley insisted, clapping her hands.

            “Tell me what?”

            “The anticipation is killing me!” Higgins chimed in.

            “What anticipation?”

            “She doesn’t even know what’s about to hit her!” Ted added.

            “Please just tell me what’s going on before I kill someone!” I was practically shaking at his point.

            “Oh, alright,” Rebecca addressed me finally. “(Y/N), the league is honoring you with Coach of the Month!” 

The group all cheered as I took in the information.

            “We have a press conference this afternoon,” Keeley told me. “We’ll brief you on everything you’ll need to do but we are just so excited for you!”

            “Couldn’t be happier for you,” Ted smiled. “You’re part of what makes this team great!”

            “Of course, she is! I hired her!” Rebecca hummed proudly. “I always knew you’d be great.”

I frowned. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.  They kept talking at me about what was going to happen. An interview, a photoshoot, a magazine cover but all it sounded like I was underwater. I had to get out of this room.

I stood up, grabbing my bag and leaving without so much as a word. I hurried down the stairs and outside into the car park. Why was I so upset? Why couldn’t part of me just be happy about this? I heard the door open behind me and I knew one of them had followed me.

            “Look, now I know emotions are a subjective thing, but I don’t know usually there’s at least a smile when you get a cool award.” Ah Ted. Just the person I didn’t want to see right now.

I shook my head. “Please, Ted. I don’t want to do this right now.”

            “Now, I’m confused. What exactly aren’t we doing?” Ted asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

            “This!” I shouted, pointing between him and me. “You giving me some anecdote about how I’m good enough and how I earned this because you and I both know that isn’t true.”

Ted furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

            “I know why Rebecca hired you.” The statement hung in the air. The truth behind the whole operation at Richmond. The secret I’d overheard in the coach’s office at the end of Ted’s first season with us. “And it’s the same reason she hired me.” Ted paused, nodding his head. I couldn’t help but let out an ironic laugh at the situation. “We both know that I was hired because she thought it would make us lose.”

Rebecca, so overcome with her hatred of Rupert, hired Ted and Beard and I because she thought it would make the worst coaching team. We would drive the team into the ground ruining Rupert’s favorite team. This was something I tried to ignore but since finding out it seem to legitimize some of people shouted at me on the internet and what Max had said to me before I left. I wasn’t meant to be here. I wasn’t saving the league. I was just a girl pretending to know what I was doing.

            “Now, (Y/N), I don’t know what you think you heard but-“

            “Please cut the bullshit, Ted,” I snapped, cutting him off. “I’ve worked really hard to get past it, but I don’t deserve an award when I’ve done nothing to earn it.”

Ted’s mustache twitched. “You’re right. Rebecca hired both of us to make some point to Rupert. That is true. But something else that’s true is that you’ve consistently proved her wrong at every turn.” I opened my mouth to say something, but Ted held up his hand. “Now, you might not see it, but Beard and I and even Roy, we all depend on you to keep this whole thing afloat.”

I let out a breath and wipe at my lips as I stare at him. I certainly hadn’t been feeling like that recently. Since the West Ham match, we’d been on a losing streak, and I’d been so in my head about all of it that I couldn’t do my job.  

            “I just…” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore Ted. And this Coach of the Month is just another bullshit excuse for me to know that I’m not meant to be here.”

All I could hear in my head was the sound of my failed dreams and Max’s taunts and the paper missing the bin over and over and over again.

            “Hey (Y/N),” Ted’s voice appeared much closer than I thought he would be. “Do you remember that puzzle metaphor I told you about?” I scrunched my face up, nodding my head. “Well, that metaphor has a lot of different meanings. Maybe you should try to put it together again.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Can’t you just tell me what you mean for once, Ted?”

            “I mean,” He chuckled at my frustration. “You’re stuck in a rut, yeah? So, instead of trying to put the puzzle back together the same way over and over again… maybe you were putting it together the wrong way. Maybe you need to… try something new. And maybe…” He nudged me, forcing me to look over at him. “Maybe you should let someone help you put that puzzle together.”

I still didn’t get it. Well not fully. But I think I understood the gist of it. The funny thing was as we were staring at each other, Roy and Jamie came running up. Jamie smiled at Ted and I coming to run in circles around us.

            “Mornin’ Coaches,” He smiled, starting to run in place.

            “Tartt! You’re not done yet! Get to the training room and start lifting.” Roy followed up; a bit slower.

Jamie groaned loudly. “I ain’t even stopped or nuthin’. I were just sayin’ hi.”

            “Go!” Roy barked, pointing towards the door.

Jamie rolled his eyes dramatically before shooting Ted and I a wink. Roy shook his head as Jamie made his way inside, seemingly off to the training room.

            “Mornin’ Roy, good training with Jamie?” Ted asked Roy.

            “As good as it can be,” Roy grunted. “What are you two doin’ out here?”

Ted looked over at me, motioning for me to tell him. I shook my head at him, grunting that I wouldn’t. Ted hummed back that I absolutely would and that we wouldn’t leave until I said it. I let out a huff.

            “The leagues giving me some bullshit title of Coach of the Month that doesn’t actually mean anything but they’re making a big deal out of it,” I informed Roy finally.

He grunted is a way that sounded vaguely positive. “Good for you.”

            “Fuck off.”

            “Alright.”

The day was filled with Keeley throwing me through the PR wringer. What to expect, what to say, what not to say. I wasn’t super excited about it, but Ted’s words were rolling around in my head. I hated puzzles. I’d never liked them. I thought I’d figured out Jamie’s puzzle but now there was another puzzle. When would it end.

            “Okay, the most important bit is the press brief we have this afternoon. They’ll bring in you and some of the lads to talk about you as a coach,” Keeley told me, writing down some notes.

            “What will they be asking?” I questioned, trying to look over her shoulder.

            “Oi don’t be looking over my shoulder,” she reprimanded, shouldering me away. I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest. “They’ll ask you probably your normal annoying questions about being a woman, but also about the team and such.”

I grumbled. “I didn’t hear them asking Pep what it was like being bald why do I have to talk about being a woman.”

            “That’s because no one cares what it’s like being bald,” Keeley pointed out, giggling. “Being a woman is actually interesting.”

            “Is it really?” I rolled my eyes. “So, uh… what guys will be coming to talk about me?”

Keeley hummed as she flipped her notebook shut. “I dunno, I was gonna ask to see who wanted to later. Do you have anyone in mind?”

Yeah. Yeah, I did. “No, I don’t want to force anyone to do it.”

            “Sure. And Ted is gonna introduce you, of course.”

            “And this is all happening tomorrow?” I pushed out of my chair. I’d already waisted the whole day, I at least wanted to get to the end of training.

            “Yup!” Keeley smiled at me. “Don’t stress, you’re gonna be great.”

I shot her a sarcastic smile. “Oh yeah, I’m gonna love it. It’s gonna be amazing.”

…

Later that night, I was resting in Jamie’s lap. I felt goosebumps spreading over my body as Jamie’s hand stroked my stomach lazily. On the TV, an episode of New Girl that I’d seen hundreds of times played but I wasn’t really paying attention.

            “Jamie…” He hummed, letting me know he was listening. “Did they tell you about this… Coach of the Month thing?”

His face broke out into a smile as he looked down at me. “Yeah, it’s great, innit? So, fucking proud of you.” He tightened his grip around my waist, shaking me proudly.

I found myself blushing at his praise. Even though I thought it was kind of stupid, Jamie being proud of me was affecting my happiness a little too much.

            “Yeah… I guess… I don’t know what I think about it,” I admitted, rolling so I was looking up at him. He cocked his head, motioning me to continue. “I guess, I just don’t know if it’s because I’m a good coach or if it’s because I’m a woman or whatever.”

Jamie scrunched up his face pursing his lips in confusion. “What… why would they do that?

            “I don’t know to make themselves look better?” I sighed, lifting myself off his lap and leaning forward. I ran a hand through my hair. “I just… I’m not sure I’m ready to go out in front of all those people and talk about myself.”

Jamie leaned forward so his shoulder was touching mine, stretching his neck so he could try and rest it on my shoulder.

            “What are you doing?” I asked, looking over at him.

            “’m trying to comfort you, you daft idiot,” he explained, rubbing his cheek on your shoulder.

            “You’re acting like a cat,” I crowed, trying to push him off of me. But he wrapped his arm around mine arm pulling me into him, rubbing his cheek all over my shoulder and neck. “Stop!”

He grabbed my legs and pulled them up into his lap, pulling me so I was sitting on him.

            “Look, whatever happens tomorrow, just know that me,” he pressed his cheek into mine. “And the rest of the lads know how amazing you are. Not just as a coach but as a person. But especially as a coach.”

I giggled, pressing back into him. “What about you Jamie? How are you feeling about playing Man City this week?’

He shrugged. “My stats level up against Man City. They’ve played well this year but we’ve got the ability to win.”

            “No, Jamie… I mean,” I turned around, so I was facing him, my legs now straddling his waist. “How do you feel, like you.”

He frowned, his nose scrunching up in a way that was far too cute for one man. “I feel… uh… I feel fine.”

I reached up and rubbed the space between his eyes. “I don’t think you do babes, you’re gonna give yourself wrinkles.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning his neck back. His neck was so exposed, it was so tempting to just… lean forward and kiss his Adam’s apple. I looked up and decided to play a little bit. I leaned forward and kissed him, right on the bottom of his neck where the skin sunk in a little bit. He hummed, the vibrations tickling my mouth.

            “Jamie, baby,” I murmured, kissing up his neck, finally finding his Adam’s apple. He groaned in response. “C’mon, I want you to talk to me.”

            “Can’t talk when you’re kissing me like that,” he croaked, his voice deep and gravely. So, I stopped, pulling away from him completely. “Hey! Wait!”

I started to slide off of him, but he wrapped his hands around my waist and yanked me closer to him. He buried his head in my neck kissing me furiously. I shrieked grabbing onto his hair to tug him back.

            “Jamie, if you talk to me I’ll give you the best blow job of your life,” you waggled your eyebrows at him.

He whined, cracking his neck back and forth before slouching back. “I feel… fine. I guess. Haven’t heard from me dad in a while. It’s not like… I’m afraid he’s gonna be there but not knowing is worse.” I nodded at him, rubbing his collarbones. “But fuckin’ Zava’s probably gonna take the attention anyways.”

I gave him a sympathetic smile. “Well, it’s okay to be worried about your dad but… we’re at home. We’re on your turf. He doesn’t even need to be allowed in if you don’t want.”

            “I’m not gonna ban me dad,” Jamie grumbled. “I just… want to know.”

I nodded again. I gave him a satisfied smile before pulling him down into me to make good on my promise.

He wanted to stay over that night, but I insisted that I wanted to maintain my regular routine for the next day. But laying in my bed that night, staring up at the fan, I wished he was there with me.

I arrived at the club early. Like 6:30am early. The groundskeeper had barely arrived by the time I got there. But I was nervous. I’d been able to avoid press conferences, manage photo events and stay in my lane for the most part but today it was all on me. And why was I wasting a day doing this when we had out Man City game this weekend, I’ll never know.

            “Oh, my god, how long have you been here?” Keeley asked, handing me a coffee as she walked into the press room.

            “Since 6:30, I couldn’t sleep,” I told her accepting the drink gratefully.

Keeley clicked her tongue at me soothingly. “It’s gonna be alright, you’ve got this. I just want you to be yourself up there, yeah? We’re starting with the photo shoot first today, the press conference will be this afternoon, when the boys are free.”

And that came faster than I expected. After a long day of cameras and poking and prodding I was left staring at the door of the press room. I could practically hear it, the flashing of the cameras, I could feel it, the stares of the journalists waiting for me to slip up, waiting for their next scoop. Ted was in there right now, talking me up. I picked at my thumbs, trying to steady my breath but I was struggling to find it. I felt like my head was buzzing, and that my heart was moving at a thousand beats per second. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to drown out the now blinding florescent lights.

Suddenly arms were wrapping around me, holding me so tight. “Hey, it’s okay, I got you.”

Jamie. I immediately latched onto him. I didn’t care if we were in public, I didn’t care if someone from the press room got a peak at this, all I cared about was Jamie’s steady heartbeat helping me regain my control.

            “There you go,” He murmured, lips brushing against my temple. “Just breath, love.” I did as he instructed, finally finding the control of my breathing. I let myself blink my eyes open and look up at Jamie. He smiled at me, brushing some of the hair out of my face. “There she is.”

            “Hi, Jamie,” I squeaked at him, resting my chin on his chest.

            “You know it’s kinda nice seeing you be the needy one for once,” he said to you.

I gaped at him, scoffing. “Don’t say that, I’m having a panic attack and you’re gloating?”

            “I gotta take it where I can find it,” He chuckled. Then he leaned down and kissed my temple, his lips lingering there. “You’re gonna be amazing in there.”

            “What if I’m not… what they want?” I croaked. “What if I mess up or do something stupid.”

            “It would be right funny if you did that!” You gasped and hit his chest. “Hey! That hurt. I’m just sayin that you could become a meme.”

            “Jamie!”

            “Alright, alright, jus’ there’s no way they won’t want you cause… I mean you’re everything there is to want,” Jamie noted, as if it was easy, as if it was simple.

I felt that breathless feeling again but this time it wasn’t because of panic, it was because of Jamie. I smiled with my lips tucked, looking between his eyes before reaching up and kissing him. He kissed me tenderly, softly. In a way that made me hum in contentment. I probably would have stayed like that if it weren’t for the next intrusion.

            “Oi!” Roy’s voice made us jump apart. “If the two of you want to keep this a secret, then you better stop kissing in the fucking hallway.” He growled as he marched towards us. “Tartt, go get changed you’re gotta be in there in 5 minutes.”

I looked over at Jamie surprised. “You’re coming to talk about me?”

            “Obviously?” He stated, rolling his eyes. “Even if we weren’t dating, you’d still be my best friend.” I just about melted at that one.

            “Uuuuuugggggghhhhhhhhh,” Roy groaned loudly, grabbing Jamie by the arm and starting to drag him down the hallway. “Good luck, (Y/N).”

I laughed, covering my face as I watched them go. Then the door to the press room opened and Keeley poke her head out.

            “You ready, babes?”

I watched Jamie disappear into the locker room and I felt that tell-tale flutter in my chest. I felt okay. I was going to be okay.

            “Yeah, let’s do it.”

She pulled me into the room as Ted was finishing up his speech.

            “(Y/N) (L/N) has overcome incredible odds. And she has done it with a smile. So, without further ado, it is my honor to present you with (Y/N) (L/N)!”

I walked up on the stage to scattered applause. I waved hesitantly sitting down in front of the microphone. As I did, they all flooded the stage putting up their own recording devices. My eyes darted around the room at the different reporters until they landed on the back of the room where Rebecca, Higgins, Trent, and Keeley stood. I nodded at them, glad to have some friendly faces in the room.  

            “Uh… hi! I’m (Y/N) (L/N)…” I started, looking around to focus on someone. How did Ted do this? “I’m happy to be chosen as the Premier League’s Coach of the Month. Uh… does anyone have any questions?’ Immediately the room exploded as all their hands raised up. “Um okay you, in the front row.”

            “Hi Ms. (Y/N)-“

            “It’s Coach (L/N).”

            “As a woman, what do you think the league can do to work on intersectionality across the teams?”

I furrowed my eyes brows. “That question doesn’t even make sense.”  

Again, the hands raised, everyone calling out my name. I pointed to someone in the back.

            “Coach, do you think being a woman has enhanced your ability to coach men or made it more difficult to understand the difficulties of being men in sports?”

            “That’s like two questions shoved into one and the answer is no.”

            “Coach (L/N), when you applied for the job here at Richmond did you do it to prove a point?”

            “What? That’s not-“

            “Where do you think the feature of the league is in terms of gender equality?”

This was going about as well as I thought it was going to be. I let out a frustrated sigh as they continued to shout questions at me. In the back of the room a door opened and in walked Colin, Sam, and Jamie. Colin waved at me, crossing his arms at his space in the back. I looked across the back of the room, at Ted and Keeley, Colin and Sam, and Jamie. The people in my life that made this possible. That made me possible.

            “Okay, okay, everyone listen up,” I announced, hitting my hand on the table. The room went quiet. I shot Keeley an apologetic glance before taking a deep breath. “Listen, I didn’t take this job because I wanted to make some big statement about feminism or gender inequality or intersectionality. I took the job because I wanted to play football for money, just like any of the lads on the team.”

“And if you really cared about gender equality, you’d be talking to the many female coaches that coach the women’s league. Or the many female players? Why don’t we talk about the wage inequality when the women win more games? That’s what you should be asking me about!”

I leaned back in my chair and looked around the room. The reporters were all silent until one, Marcus Adebayo, raised his hand.

            “Yeah, Marcus,” I called on him.

            “Coach (L/N), how do you feel about Richmond’s chances against Man City on this weekend?” He asked, pen at the ready.

I paused for a second, let out a huff. “Thank you, you know Man City has kept us down for a long time, but I think our chances look good.”

…

Our chances were not good. The game was bad play after bad play, the boys were just not at their best. You wanted to blame it on Zava, the bastard decided to retire without telling anyone and didn’t even show up to the game. It was depressing and everyone felt it.

            “Yeah… it was tough out there today,” I said to the reporter after the game.

            “You are Premiere League’s Coach of the Month; do you feel like there was something more you could have done to secure this win?” The reporter asked bluntly.

            “That’s somewhat of a redundant question. I’m an assistant coach. I do the best I can, but the boys are the ones who need to win, and they just didn’t have it today.” I replied, shrugging. “That’s all I have time for, sorry.”

I left the reporters with a small smile and started towards the locker room running a hand through my hair. This had been tough, and Keeley hadn’t been able to show up. Something about Shandy and a baby lamb and a lot of poop. I’m sure I’d hear about it more later.  But for now, I walked into the depressing atmosphere that was the locker room.

I looked around the room, the boys sat silently in their despair. Jamie sat on the floor in front of his cubby like he did when he was upset. I glanced over at Bead and Roy who gave me a pair of sad smiles back. I looked over at Zava’s empty cubbies and frowned. I hated Zava. To come here and bring these boys hope then abandon them without a word I’d never be able to forgive him for that.

            “Gentlemen, Hey,” Ted Emerged from the office. “That was a tought on tonight. Okay? Man City has still got our number. That… that’s all right.” The boys murmured a sad response. “We’re gonna get another crack at them later in the season. Uh-huh. Coach,” He addressed Beard. “No practice tomorrow yeah?”

            “That’s right”

            “Okay, well, I’ll see y’all on Monday,” Ted finished starting to turn around.

            “Hey, hey. Hey Coach!” Sam spoke up. “What about Zava? He quit the team.”

I looked back over at Ted, wondering the same question myself. Ted sputtered a moment before answering. “Technically he retired from the whole sport, which does make it feel a little less personal, yeah? You know, like if, uh, your girlfriend runs off with some dude and it turns out they were soul mates.”

Again the boys grumbled a response, something about Gina Gershon was in the mix but it was mostly positive. I thought Ted might end it there, but he didn’t.

            “Look. I hear you, okay? Zava is gone. And You what? I think it’s a good thing.” I perked up, interested to see where he was going with this. “Well, I do! Okay, look. Do I wanna win? Heck yeah? But I also wanna do it with folks that wanna be here.” I nodded, agreeing with his sentiment. “It’s not like we could handcuff him to his locker and make him love us.”

            “We could have tried,” Dani cried from his spot. I could help but let out a chuckle, knowing that he really meant it.

            “Hey, guys, look,” Ted regained their attention. “We got a good thing going here. Alright? We didn’t need Zava. Yeah?” Ted looked over at Jamie who nodded. I felt my heart warm knowing Ted was using Jamie’s words to encourage the team. “All we need to win are the fellas in this room right now. And all you fellas need to do is believe it.”

Just as he spoke the believe sign behind him fell, the torn pieces revealing themselves. The boys all starting clamoring shouting in fear.

            “It’s a sign!” Bumbercatch shouted.

            “That’s it. We’re doomed,” Colin agreed.

In the moment it was hard to disagree with them. Things hadn’t been great recently. And this just felt like the final nail in the coffin.

            “Hey, knock it off, okay? We’re not doomed. No one is doomed,” Ted putting his hands up to calm everyone. “But, Bumbercatch, yes, you’re right. It is a sign. I agree.” He took down the two pieces and ripped them in half. I felt myself reaching out to stop him, not even knowing I was doing it, but surprisingly, Jamie’s hand on my leg stopped me. I looked down at him and he nodded towards Ted. “Belief doesn’t just happen cause you hang something up on a wall. Alright? It comes from in here.” He pointed at his chest. “And up here,” at his head, “ and down here.” At his stomach.

“Only problem is, we all got so much junk floating through us, a lot of time we end up getting in our own way. You crap like envy, or fear, or shame.” I swallowed hard, biting my lip. I knew he was right, I’d been letting my fear and shame of who I was get in the way of my happiness. Of my abilities as a coach. “I don’t wanna mess around with that shit anymore. Do you?”

We all shook our heads, some of the lads responding with a ‘no’, or a ‘no, coach’

“No, me neither. Hell no.  Well, you know what I wanna mess around with? The belief that I matter, you know? Regardless of what I do or don’t achieve. Or the belief that we all deserbe to be loved. Whether we’ve been hurt or maybe we’ve hurt somebody else.”

“Or what about the belief of hope? Yeah? That’s what I wanna mess with. Believing that things can get better. That I can get better. That we will get better. Oh, man. To believe in yourself. To believe in one another. Man, that’s… that’s fundamental to being alive. And look. If you can do that, if each of you can truly do that…” He ripped the sign in half again. “Can’t nobody rip that apart.”

With that he walked over to the middle divider and slapped the ripped-up sign down on top of it.

“See y’all, Monday?”

The whole team responded with a ‘Yes, Coach’ before turning back to their cubbies to get ready to leave. But I stayed there. Staring at the broken sign. I wanted to believe. I needed to believe. And this team, these people, they helped me believe. Come what may, this whole room had my back.

…

I was still thinking about it as I arrived home that night. I didn’t expect Jamie to come over, it’d been a long day and he was waking up early still to do extra training. So, when he knocked on my door, I was surprised.

            “Jamie? What are you doing here.” I asked him, pulling him inside.

            “I wanna tell people about us,” He answered quickly. My eyes widened. “I know why you’ve been wanting to keep it a secret and I get that; I do. But… what Ted said today I just… I believe in us. I believe in you making me a better person and I don’t… I don’t want to hide that anymore.”

I stared at him, unsure of how to respond. I didn’t know if I was ready yet for the whole world to know. For ours to become theirs. I loved Jamie, I really did but what if it changed too much. Or worse, what if people tore us apart. Luckily Jamie continued speaking before I could answer.

            “You don’t have to decide right now. I just wanted to put it out there.” He nodded at me before leaning down and kissing my cheek. “Alright, I’m gonna go now.”

And he was out the door.

Fuck.

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

[liesmyth]

@takiki16 tags on my post are too good not to be shared! The context is wild shit that legit happened in IRL football ⚽ that I need the Ted Lasso fandom to be aware of, because it'd make for excellent fic material:

the MANAGERS #the PERSONAL DRAMA#I KNOW that ted lasso is not designed to be an actual realistic show #I KNOW that this whole thing did in fact begin as a way to soft trap Americans into watching the Prem #to the point that JOSE FUCKING MOURINHO ACTUALLY HAD A PART IN THE ORIGINAL NBC AD #I do NOT want to change the vibe of the show at all #(but like…a dramedy about the EPL that REALLY wanted to roast some fuckers would perhaps…NOT look like ted lasso #if they wanted to start with the managers it would just be two middle aged idiots with BOILING beef #who had to be physically restrained from throwing hands every other game and have personally destroyed each others’ marriages

Okay WHO would Roy have managerial beef with. I vote Arteta. Actually as @elizabear suggests, it's funnier if it's one sided

He would also instinctively dislike Rob Edwards of Luton because Jamie once said he's the hottest manager in the EPL. Roy's annoyed and he doesn't know why. (Rob Edwards is very hot)

For an example of managers throwing hands... the Tuchel/Conte handshake

In fact here's a whole compilation of managers throwing hands.

Thank you for bringing up Mourinho! This is his ad, btw. "What do you WANT Ted?" lives in my mind rent-free

After much soul-searching I've decided Roy likes Mou a lot among all the managers he's played for. YES, he is a total cunt BUT

he's really fucking funny about it. Like, really.

he's never met a referee he didn't have beef with but most of all Anthony Taylor (as a Roma fan I have to agree with him on that)

the entire 2005 Chelsea team would've died for him. I've said this before, but there can't be a Frank Lampard in TL if Roy plays the box-to-box midfielder role, so this quote about Mourinho walking into Lampard naked in the shower to give him a pep talk? That's Roy. To me.

I can't even pick a quote among all the shit he's said about all the managers he's played against, but I especially enjoy when he used to be a bitch about Pep and Pep was like "I don't know her." It was like a one-sided crush dating back from their Barca days

#if they wanted it to be about the players the literal sky is the limit. WHATEVER the writers room can come up with#it cannot come CLOSE to the batshit drama that real Sockckckckcer Playahs have amongst each other#also intricate rituals. NOT ENOUGH INTRICATE RITUALS#when Jamie scored that free kick after getting permission to be a prick Dani should have kissed him with tongue

Here's some homoeroticism:

#but TO COME BACK TO OP’S POINT ABOUT ACTUAL GAMEPLAY#I want to see Coach Roy get red carded and have to sit in the stands for the next game cursing and swearing

He'd get, like, 3 red cards a season MINIMUM. Mourinho who. Here's Klopp losing it a bit. Here's Pep being passive aggressive as fuck. Pochettino from 2 days ago. Also from last weekend: De Zerbi's "I don't like 80% of referees in England" he's so right for this.

Manager Roy would get himself red carded the week before Richmond play Chelsea away. Totally accidental. So he doesn't have to have a lil cry about it.

#I want to see what it would take to get Zoreaux sent off#and then they have to stick Bumbercatch in goal and it turns out he has some Hyper Specific Phobia about the situation#he manages to save the team but his coping mechanisms for dealing with Forcible Keeper Phobia make up the comedy B-plot of the episode#

I want CLUB RIVALRY. dunno where Richmond actually physically is but imagine if they had derbies#Ted has to be made to understand that no coach - for THIS game we will not stop till we see BLOOD#Richmond wins but bc they are playing away the home fans actively are tossing crap at them as they celebrate on the pitch#also the sprinklers come on and it’s a bus full of soaked greyhounds on the ride home

They're in West London! Maybe they just fucking hate Fulham. Or Brentford.

Actually, I've thought long and hard about Richmond's derby rivalries. Semi-canon sources say they have a bit of a West London rivalry with Brentford BUT to me it doesn't make much sense because Richmond are supposed to have been mid-table in the Prem for years, top-flight but mediocre. Brentford only made it to the Prem in 2021.

Actually, I've decided that Richmond kind of take the place of QPR for most of their history, except they didn't get relegated when QPR did. This is because 1) it'd be too many London-based clubs otherwise but, more importantly, 2) when Man City won their first title in 2012 with Agueeeeeero!!! that was against Richmond. It's funny, To Me.

Also you know Roy still fucking hates Newcastle from his Sunderland academy days. If his pundit career had lasted longer he'd be having top tier shithousery with Alan Shearer every week about it.

Anyway here's a whole youtube playlist about WILD derbies.

#ALSO BC SUAREZ IS COMING TO MIAMI - BITING INCIDENTS CAN THEY DO THAT

As an Italian I am legally obliged to SAY that if Suarez hadn't bitten Chiellini at the World Cup we would have gone past the group stage because Uruguay scored off a corner they won while Italy were all busy telling the ref that there was a fucking cannibal on the pitch. I don't forgive and I don't forget.

Anyway for context: cannibal Luis Suarez. He's a repeat offender. Someone at Richmond would think it was very funny

[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.

[welcometololaland]

2023 CHARACTER WRAPPED

i saw @ajcrowleys do this and i wanted to do my own - hopefully you don't mind!

rules: share your top 9 characters from the year (or 10. lol. i cheated)

(spoiler: mine are in no particular order except for alex who is always no. 1)

1. Alex Claremont-Diaz, RWRB

(will always be my number 1 - you can pry him from my cold, soulless hands. there will never come a day when alex is not my spirit character)

2. TK Strand, 911 Lone Star

(someone in the alta comments described him as a horny, bitchy tamagotchi and i died. he is the greatest feral cat to sassy husband transformation ever. don't get me started on The Hand Gesture)

3. Veronica Mars, Veronica Mars

(annoy, tiny blonde one. annoy like the wind! The definition of a badass bitch)

4. Jake Seresin, Top Gun Maverick

(if we wanna talk bitchy tamagotchis, here's one. he also comes in arrogant idiot and cowboy!)

5. Eli "Weevil" Navarro, Veronica Mars

(this episode is my favourite episode EVER. little bit bad boy, little bit sweetheart, I can't get over the biker gang leader with the heart of gold)

6. Carlos Reyes, 911 Lone Star

(i gotta say, carlos lost me a little bit in season 4, but i'll never get over the soulmates scene and he's just all around a favourite AND SO DAMN PRETTY)

7. Marjan Marwani, 911 Lone Star

(marjan's episode in season 4 was - aside from 4 x 16 - my favourite episode. some of the best plot lines that season and natacha really killed it!)

8. Sam Obisanya, Ted Lasso

(i watched ted lasso for the first time this year and i am just OBSESSED with this man. he's so damn sweet and true to himself. GOLD)

9. Paul Strickland, 911 Lone Star

(this man is literally out here officiating weddings, solving mysteries, putting out fires and making a mean chilli. like he does THE MOST. hats off)

10. Keeley Jones (and Jamie Tartt and Roy Kent), Ted Lasso

(not afraid to say i love the throuple but ALSO i just feel like all three of these characters had such beautiful arcs in ted lasso, i can't possibly choose one so i have to choose them all)

i'll open tag this one and also tag @strandnreyes @guardian-angle22 @inexplicablymine @three-drink-amy @fitzherbertssmolder @heartstringsduet @birdclowns @beautifulhigh @reyesstrand @lutavero @stereopticons @statueinthestone @apothecarose @celeritas2997 @goodways @carlos-in-glasses @theghostofashton @thebumblecee @reasonandfaithinharmony @happiness-of-the-pursuit @suseagull04 @whattarush @kiwiana-writes @alltheprettyplaces @lyhrcyrianne @st-elle-ar @fckingyrs @fuckingyrs @thisbuildinghasfeelings @tiffanymaxwels @lemonlyman-dotcom

[lunar-years]

maybe if we imagine the worst possible s4 whatever we do get will seem okay in comparison. like, whatever they do probably wont be as bad as say jamie only appearing in the 1st episode to tell everyone he's going back to manchester to spend time with his dad. and before he leaves he tells roy that he's over keeley and roy should go for it.

oh my GOD. now that is cursed. 😭 whyyyyyyy. this could be real and that's terrifying.

Now me, I love being delusional until forcibly proven otherwise, so if it gets confirmed that he's only guest starring, I'm falling back on my "the season starts after a time jump that leaves Roy and Keeley back together in episode one. Phil guest stars a few episodes into the season and it's revealed in a fun twist that Jamie's been together with them as well this whole time" theory. I will also accept:

Keeley and Roy get the GOOD single eras of self-growth that they (well, Keeley at least) should have had in s3. Keeley's serial monogamy is finally addressed and she grows comfortable in both herself and her independence. When Jamie guest stars there's still that classic mom city sexual tension between all three of them (bc duh) that suggests the door isn't quiteee closed on the possibility of a future together. the season ends just as ambiguously on the r/j/k front as it did in s3 and we the fandom continue playing in our lovely sandbox on ao3

same general plot as above OR roykeeley slowly reconnect over the course of the season, culminating in them getting back together near the end (when Jamie guest stars there's that lingering sexual tension, but it doesn't go anywhere because he always has to leave again) After the season finale, s5 of ted lasso is immediately confirmed to fix whatever kind of mess s4 made. phil triumphantly returns as a series regular (and to Roy and Keeley).

👍

[nativestarwrites]

to the surprise of absolutely no-one, all of your wips sound AMAZING! i would love to hear about 'hostages' and/or 'comfort s2 sick' and/or 'that tennis one'

🌹💚🌹💚🌹

Thank you!! Apologies for taking so long to answer this. I got busy and then I got busy hoarding the ask like treasure.

Hostages is the continuation of a drabble I posted a while back where Roy and Jamie discover a break-in at Jamie's. Except the culprits are still there.

Jamie’s eyes are distant, clouded with pain and just enough out of focus to make Roy worry. “Hey, how’re you doing?” Jamie blinks, but his eyes focus back on Roy. “They’re not gonna let us go, are they.” Jamie says quietly, it’s less of a question and more of a statement. “We’ve seen their faces. Know their names.”

Comfort S2 sick is (unsurprisingly) set in S2 where Jamie's only just getting friendly with the team again. He screws up in training, lashes out at Sam and then comes down sick the next day but tries to power through because how will it look if he calls in sick?

Ted’s hand flies out and Jamie flinches, he fucking flinches but his reactions are slow and Ted’s palm still makes contact with his forehead. “Are you sick, Jamie?” Ted asks with concern. Jamie’s caught off-guard enough to not have a quick response lined up and the pause goes on too long for him to not get caught in a lie. He lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

That Tennis One is me finally carrying out my threat to write a Tennis AU every time Wimbledon comes around. As I'm starting with the plotting well in advance of Wimbledon I think it'll get written this time. I'm currently having so much fun outlining! Writing out little bios for all the characters with their backstory and tennis styles.

It's going to focus on the Davis Cup as that involves teams rather than individuals but there's definitely going to be a Wimbledon chapter too as it's my favourite tournament.

“Why’d you sack Cartrick?” “���Cause he’s a prick.” “He’s always been a prick,” Roy says as if that isn’t a good enough answer. He’s not wrong. Jamie had known going in that Cartrick wasn’t what anyone would call pleasant. Crude jokes were par for the course, often at Jamie’s expense. Cartrick had made his dad laugh though, he’d approved of him, even more when Jamie had started to move up the rankings under his coaching. Jamie could take the jibes from Cartrick if it meant he got his dad off his back.

[wodrueckts]

so i’ve been sitting with the ted lasso finale for a few days now, trying to nail down what exactly it is that made me not like it very much. because generally i don’t really think it was BAD. i think it was fine. as far as overall plot beats are concerned it hit pretty much all of what i was expecting or at least thought was very possible (ted going back to kansas, beard staying, rebecca getting with dutch guy, nate being back, keeley, roy and jamie all being single at the end) and i don’t really have a problem with these developments on paper although the execution often left some things to be desired.

for me personally especially how nate’s arc with ted resolved was particularly unsatisfying. i mean, what we got was a nice, emotional scene (thanks for the most part to nick mohammed’s acting) but all in all it just lacked impact (at least for me). i mean, i’ve waited the whole season for these two to finally have a heart to heart but then it ended up being quite underwhelming.

and i think that’s what i’d call the finale in general: underwhelming. lacking emotionality. especially from ted, as many people have already pointed out.

 so it was underwhelming, big whoop, finales rarely feel wholly satisfying. so why did it kind of make me feel worse about the whole show? that’s what i’ve been trying to figure out.

and i think it has to do with how it made me look back on ted as a character. because it opens the door for me to see him in a less favorable light than before and it undermines the arc i thought (or hoped) they were going for for him.

ted starts off as a very *kind* character. kindness is pretty much his core attribute. but not in a naive or unthinking way; his kindness is a conscious choice. he is kind because he thinks everyone deserves kindness and because he believes kindness will lead to the best outcome. his kindness is also a defense mechanism, a kind of armor. it keeps people at arm’s length without them noticing. and ted deploys his kindness to that effect a lot. because ted is also afraid of letting people in. he’s nice to everyone but doesn’t really let anyone get close.

and i thought his arc would be that ted finally learns to let people in, to make himself vulnerable to them and risk them being able to hurt him. and i do think that that was actually the writers’ intention. and they did achieve that, kind of.

but for me the finale calls all that into question again and makes me wonder whether ted actually DID let people in. whether he actually CARED about anyone at richmond (beyond the way he generally just cares about everyone).

people have said they were upset about the finale because ted left his (found) family and his support system behind. but is that even true? have we really seen them be his family and support system? or rather have we seen him think of them like that?

the show has shown us a lot of instances of people loving and caring for ted but i don’t remember a lot of instances where we really see how much that means to HIM. or that it actually means anything to him at all.

what i’m trying to say is that i don’t really remember feeling like they were really IMPORTANT to him. of course he cares about them but ted cares about everyone. he cares about them in a very selfless way. but i think if someone is really important to you, you also care about them in a “selfish” way (and i don’t mean selfish in a negative way here). and the only times we’ve seen ted care about someone selfishly was with michelle, which makes sense because she was his wife and he loved her and they have a kid together so of course she is important to him, and with dr sharon, when she left and triggered his abandonment issues. but of course dr sharon is also his therapist so it’s a whole different dynamic in general.

with everyone else he’s just very accommodating, very forgiving, very nice, very... dispassionate.

and i was hoping we’d get to a point where we actually see how much the people in richmond mean to ted, where it would actually be hard for him to leave them, not because of some sense of duty or obligation but because he just genuinely, deeply loves them. but i feel like the show never quite got there. they got kind of close with nate at the end of s2 and beginning of s3 when ted seemed genuinely sad about what happened with him and missed him but that also just fizzled out (and was ultimately squashed in the finale when ted was essentially like “eh no biggie” in the scene where nate apologized)

and the finale just cemented ted’s seeming lack of care when we didn’t seem him wrestle at all with his decision to leave. he just decided to leave and that was that. and many other people have noted how he didn‘t even seem emotional or like he cared at all while other characters (especially rebecca) were practically throwing their love at him.

so really, what was his supposed growth in the show? that he finally went to therapy (admittedly a big step, not slagging that)? that he can ask for help in the form of letting his friend hire someone to stalk his ex? (not the kind of help i’d want him to ask for tbh)? There was some growth in other departments of course, like when he actually admitted to michelle that her relationship with dr jacob bothers him, something he probably would’ve never done before, but again, that’s him selfishly caring about michelle.

so the show now appears to me as: ted runs away to england, he touches many people’s lives without really getting too close himself but does learn some life lessons before he goes back home.

and maybe that was the intention. it is a story, i guess. but not a very satisfying one. at least to me.

or maybe they just made ted a bit TOO nice, a bit TOO caring and forgiving and perfect, that it reached all the way around to coming across as uncaring and detached, which was then only exacerbated by the finale.

(OR this is just my own baggage and issues with social anxiety rearing its ugly head which always makes me a bit suspicious of people who are nice and caring to everyone not because i think these people are fake or not genuine or anything like that but how can you tell if someone like this actually likes you or is just nice to you because they’re a genuinely nice and lovely person. which meant ted has always been on thin ice for me anyway and seeing him leave everyone with seemingly not much trouble just confirmed all my fears. WHO’S TO SAY)

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Part of the Team

Plot: On her first day working for KJPR, Y/n tours AFC Richmond’s facility and meets some of the staff.

Warnings: language, use of f!reader, (16+)

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Well, first off, thank you for the lovely response! I certainly didn’t endeavor to write anything for Ted Lasso (I was actually going to take a writing break) but this idea seemed good enough to indulge.

This has been added to the taglist in my bio, so don’t be afraid to click it and add yourself. It will be kept 16+ just for language and the show’s subject matter so I won’t be adding anyone unless your age/range is specified in your bio.

All that being said, I hope this nurses a little bit of your finale hangover. No Greyhounds to be found in this chapter, but a wild Ted does appear. Writing for him is going to be a hilarious exercise for me lol. Enjoy!!

—————————

Wanting to be prepared, Y/n had started doing research on AFC Richmond the morning after accepting Keeley’s job offer.

The slight buzz she’d managed at the bar had blocked from her memory that she knew more about Rebecca Welton than she thought. Years before, she’d seen her face splashed across all the tabloids at news stands and markets talking about her divorce from…for the life of her, Y/n couldn’t remember the man’s name. All she remembered is there’d been perfect pictures of him and his various models of the months, while the cameras always managed to catch Rebecca with a sour look on her face. Y/n remembered feeling like she could read the whole situation without without ever perusing a filthy word.

As she studied, Y/n put together that Richmond consisted of three coaches. The manager, Ted Lasso, was a name the whole country knew, regardless of whether you watched football or not. It wasn’t Y/n’s place to judge, but she assumed if he was still around, there was a reason. He’d brought along an assistant coach from the states with him, along with Roy Kent joining their staff the previous season. Another name she didn’t need to bother to learn as it was already burned in every Brit’s brain. There also seemed to be a scandal with a previous coach, Nathan Shelley, having abandoned Richmond for West Ham United as Richmond reentered the Premier League.

Having gone to school in London and staying after, Y/n had gone to plenty of football matches with friends. Much like American sports, she’d never been as interested as those surrounding her, but she enjoyed the atmosphere. However, she pulled up highlights of old Richmond matches on Youtube and studied them to try and get a feel for the players. Two in particular stood out to her.

Sam Obisanya caught her attention for his raw talent, the graceful way he managed to move in such a brutal sport. She’d also seen the way he handled himself in press conferences, always soft and well spoken. He’d been fearless in his defense of Nigeria, his home country, and against Dubai Air and Cerithium Oil. She had mad respect for him and his bravery.

Then there was Jamie Tartt. Going through videos of his stints at Richmond left Y/n puzzled. He seemed to have started out the cocky striker, too busy kissing his own foot to realize there were twenty more on the pitch waiting to shine. He never passed. He never assisted. It was all him. But then, after his swift departure and return to the team, his playing style shifted. Suddenly, he did pass. He did assist. A few months difference and it was practically night and day.

Y/n sighed as she shut her laptop, having just finished the video of him letting Dani Rojas take the penalty goal that secured Richmond’s return to the Premier League. She hoped Jamie Tartt, and all other Greyhounds, wouldn’t be a PR headache.

The night before she officially started at KJPR, Y/n found herself nervous. It seemed like too ideal of a situation to meet someone at a bar and be offered a job right after losing yours. She felt hesitant to trust that when she walked into Keeley’s office, she wouldn’t find a complete nightmare. She went to sleep with a clenched jaw and stiff shoulders, praying that this wouldn’t be another loss to face.

—————————

Y/n pulled up to the KJPR office building at 8:55. She adjusted her carefully ironed pants, smoothed down her blouse and blazer and took a deep breath. Her capabilities were the one place her insecurities had no place living. She was good at what she did, she just needed a place to do it.

When the elevator doors opened, she was surprised to find a small office with multiple occupied desks set up. Keeley had made it sound much smaller than it actually was.

“Y/n!”

A familiar voice exclaimed and Y/n peered across the room to see Keeley rushing out from behind her desk and bursting out her office door.

“I’m so glad you showed,” she grinned as she scurried to Y/n and took hold of her hands.

“You offered me a job and you thought I wasn’t going to show up?” Y/n asked with a confused chuckle.

“I mean, to be fair, I offered it to you in a restaurant after, like, a glass and a half of wine,” Keeley replied, “I’m not sure I’d have believed me either.”

Y/n laughed a little, very aware that all her fellow employees were not only watching the unprofessional display, but hearing the story of her even more unprofessional hiring.

“Should we…” Y/n gestured towards Keeley’s office.

“Oh, right,” Keeley practically shouted, leading Y/n back and through the door.

True to the little Y/n knew about the woman, Keeley’s office was head to toe…Keeley. Pink everything, floral patterns, a ceramic jungle cat in the corner…it was, most definitely, the most unique of any boss’s office Y/n had ever entered.

“Right,” Keeley said as she took a seat on the couch in the corner, leaving a spot for Y/n, “Let’s get to it.”

Y/n settled onto the couch, leaving a fair amount of space that Keeley immediately cut in half.

“So I know you said that you’ve been more of a manager lately, but that you’re good with PR,” Keeley recounted, “What did you do for you last companies?”

“Oh, I floated around a lot,” Y/n began to mentally run through her old positions, “I managed small teams under a much larger umbrella of board members. Minor stuff. But in the public relations department, I’ve been in charge of social media campaigns, run a few accounts, and handled plenty of press conferences, interviews, that sort of thing.”

Keeley’s smile grew with each task that Y/n listed off. “I think you might be the most perfect fucking fit!”

Language, another unprofessionalism Y/n felt she was going to have to get used to.

“Before all of this happened,” Keeley gestured to the frilly space around them, “I did full time PR for AFC Richmond and did all that kind of stuff. That’s actually where I wanted to potentially start you off.”

Y/n shrugged, silently grateful she’d gone the extra mile with her research, “I’ll go anywhere you need me.”

“Perfect,” Keeley grinned, already getting off the couch, “I was actually heading over there for a meeting with Rebecca. It’d be a great opportunity to show you around and introduce you to some of the staff.”

“Uh, sure,” Y/n quickly picked her purse back off the floor.

“I really think you’re gonna love it there,” Keeley continued, collecting her bag and a pink binder, “I feel bad I’m not there full-time anymore. It really is one of the best places to work.”

As Keeley spoke, Y/n followed her out of the office. She struggled to keep up with how fast Keeley managed to move in her high heels. As they waited for the elevator to arrive, a brunette woman passed them by.

“Oh, Barbara,” Keeley called out, “I want you to meet the newest member of KJPR. This is Y/n.”

Barbara looked Y/n over from top to bottom as if inspecting the latest crop. Y/n’s confidence in her extended hand began to drop under the pair of judging eyes.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/n,” Barbara seemed to shake her hand with caution before turning to Keeley, “You didn’t mention anything about bringing on a new hire, Miss Jones.”

Keeley visibly shrank at Barbara’s words, “It was a spur of the moment thing.”

“Ah,” Barbara replied, turning back to Y/n, “May I ask what, if any, experience you have?”

Looking between Barbara and Keeley, Y/n listed off the positions she’d previously held and the companies names. With each title, Barbara’s frown turned into…something between a smile and a frown.

“Ah, well,” Barbara took a breath, “Lovely. Welcome to KJPR.”

With one more firm shake of her hand, Barbara departed, off to whatever task needed her attention. Keeley and Y/n were left in an awkward silence not of their creation.

“We’re still getting to know one another,” Keeley explained with a nervous smile.

“I got that,” Y/n nodded.

“Right,” Keeley shifted gears and gestured towards the elevator, “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

—————————

Richmond wasn’t far from the heart of London, where Y/n had spent most of her time. Functioning nearly exclusively within the corporate world had kept her within a bubble that rarely gave her opportunities to venture outside its walls.

As Keeley drove them through Richmond, making pleasant small talk, Y/n’s eyes were transfixed on the sights. Nothing was particularly extraordinary looking, but compared to the grays and blacks of London office buildings, the place was like a daydream someone like her might create during their 9-5.

“Do you live near here?”

“Hmm?” Y/n snapped out of her thoughts, “Oh, I’m about 30 minutes away. But I’ve never really spent any time here.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Keeley replied, turning them down another road, “You should take some time this weekend to roam around.”

Y/n filed the idea away, first she needed to confirm that AFC Richmond was the right fit.

Soon enough, Keeley pulled them into the parking lot of Nelson Road Stadium. Y/n recalled that she’d been there once to see a match with friends in college, but that had been on the spectator side. Parking mere feet away from the pitch felt surreal, even for a non-football fan.

“I’m gonna take you up to Rebecca first,” Keeley said as she shut her car door, “None of the players or coaches’ll be here since they’re still on break.”

Y/n followed alongside her, entering the stadium through the side doors. The inside of the building was painted in team colors of blue and red. Along the walls, there were trophies and framed pictures showcasing the Greyhound’s accomplishments over the decades. The history of the club was something Y/n had yet to do research on, but even ten minutes spent in the halls would tell her more than Wikipedia probably could.

Keeley led them up two flights of stairs till the colors of the walls changed to neutrals. The door at the top of the steps hung open, but Keeley still gave a courteous knock.

Rebecca looked up from her desk, smiling when she recognized the two guests. “Good morning,” she said, cheerily.

“Hi, babe,” Keeley smiled, “I brought Y/n with today. Thought it might be good for her to tour the place.”

“Of course,” Rebecca rose from her chair and met Keeley and Y/n in the middle of the room. She brought Y/n in for a half hug, half handshake, “I’m absolutely thrilled you’re here.”

“Oh,” Y/n smiled, awkwardly accepting the greeting, “I’m…pleased to be here.”

“Right,” Rebecca released her and gestured for the women towards the couch, “I’m not sure what Keeley has planned for you, but we’re never without work here.”

Before Y/n could voice her neutrality, Keeley spoke up.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she began, “I’d really like to have another pair of hands on the club, just in case there’s anything I might miss,” Keeley turned to Y/n, “I’d love to put you exclusively on Richmond duty.”

“Like I said, I’ll go where I’m needed,” Y/n raised both her hands in surrender to their plans.

Rebecca exhaled and grinned, “Perfect. Like I said, there’s never a shortage of work. With this being our first season back in the Premier League, there’s plenty of press to be handled.”

“I’m happy to go wherever I’m needed,” Y/n restated, deciding it was best to just go with the flow of things.

A knock at the door turned their attention.

“Good morning, ladies,” a shorter man sporting a suit and glasses entered the room.

“Higgins,” Keeley greeted.

“Good morning, Leslie,” Rebecca smiled, “I’d like you to meet KJPR, and Richmond’s, newest addition, Ms. Y/n Y/l/n. Leslie is our director of football operations.”

“Ah,” Higgins nodded, coming to the couch to extend his hand, “Welcome to the team, Ms. Y/l/n.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Y/n said politely, shaking his hand before sitting back down.

“Y/n will be helping Keeley handle the PR department,” Rebecca further explained, before her train of thought visibly halted, “Hang on…” she looked to Keeley, “Your old office is still vacant.”

Keeley gasped, “It is.”

Y/n’s eyes bounced back and forth between the woman.

“If Keeley can spare your presence at the KJPR office,” Rebecca placed a hand on her best friend’s arm, “How would you feel about working here?”

Searching for her words as quick as she could, Y/n shrugged one shoulder. “I’m completely fine with that,” she looked to her boss, “If Keeley’s alright with it.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Keeley smiled, “I’d actually love it if we had feet on the ground here.”

Y/n blinked. Just like that, everything was settled.

“Excellent,” Rebecca clapped her hands together once, “Shall we go for a tour?”

“Ah, that was going to be my suggestion,” Higgins spoke back up.

Never before had Y/n been swept up so quickly in a job. Nothing moved that fast in the corporate world.

Keeley, Rebecca and Higgins led her back down to the main floor of the facility. Higgins and Rebecca spouted off a few historical facts about Richmond that Y/n logged away. Rebecca reiterated Keeley’s earlier statement that since they were still on break, Y/n wouldn’t be meeting the players and the coaching staff until training began the following week. Nonetheless, Y/n felt like she was somehow encroaching on the Greyhound’s territory as the tour led to the locker room.

“This will be the only time you enter and the smell is pleasant,” Rebecca quipped.

Y/n chuckled, her heels clicking against the floor as she scanned the numbers above each locker.

“Any favorites amongst our Greyhounds?” Higgins asked playfully.

“Oh, no,” Y/n paused to answer, just below Jamie Tartt’s ‘9.’

“Y/n has openly admitted to not having partaken in much of the sport,” Rebecca added.

“But I’m very excited to make Richmond my club,” Y/n was quick to do damage control over what her tipsier self had admitted, “I think what you all have accomplished here is brilliant.”

The sound of a door opening on the other side of the locker room turned their heads. A man jogged into the coach’s office, bending over one of the desks in search of something.

“That’s odd,” Rebecca muttered, stepping forward and opening up the connecting door, “Ted, what are you doing here?”

Y/n followed Keeley and Higgins’ lead and entered the room. She could finally get a clear view at the man who was, indeed, Ted Lasso.

“Oh, last time he was visiting, Henry left somethin’ in my desk and we needed to come grab it,” Ted answered, searching through one of his drawers until he retrieved whatever he was seeking.

“Ah, well, lovely timing,” Rebecca gestured for Y/n to come forward, “You can meet the newest addition to AFC Richmond. This is Ms. Y/n Y/l/n. She’ll be helping Keeley head up the PR department.”

Ted gave a friendly smile and stuck out his hand, “Well, how ‘bout that? Welcome to the family! I’m Ted.”

Y/n gave a firm handshake and returned the smile, “Y/n.”

The simple utterence of her name caught Ted’s ear. “Hang on now,” he stopped and held up both his hands, “Am I dreamin’ or do I actually hear a lack of accent?”

The five of them laughed to varying degrees. “It’s nice to hear a little bit of home for me as well,” Y/n said warmly. It had been at least four months since she’d met someone who hailed from the states that wasn’t a tourist.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” Ted continued, still shaking Y/n’s hand, “It’s gonna be real nice to have someone around here who’ll understand what I’m sayin’. Like if I text the word ‘color,’ nobody’s gonna tell me it ain’t the right spelling. Or if I mention Chick-Fil-A, they won’t think I’m just shortenin’ the name of a delicious entree. Matter a fact,” Ted came up for a lightning quick breath, “Where we at with that? Is it still okay to eat there? Waters were a little murky ‘round the time I left.

Y/n was trying to process the speed in which the man spoke. “Uh, I don’t know,” she answered politely, “I haven’t been home in a while.”

Ted hummed in reply and moved on, “Well, we’re real happy that you’re here. Hey, you need anything, don’t be afraid to gimme a holler.”

“That’s very kind,” Y/n nodded as Ted finally released her hand, “Thank you.”

“Well, I gotta run,” Ted announced to his co-workers, “I got Liam out there watchin’ Henry. See y’all next week!”

With a chorus of farewells following him, Ted Lasso walked back out the way he’d come.

“Well,” Y/n began, trying to sum up her first impression as tidily as she could, “That was-“

“I felt the same way at first,” Rebecca interjected, “But truly, one of the nicest human beings you will ever meet.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keeley agreed, sweeping her hand through the air, “Seriously, spend one day with him and he’ll be your emergency contact by lunch.”

“The players love him,” Higgins added to their defense.

But it wasn’t Ted’s personality Y/n was startled by. Ted was the midwest personified, that was all familiar. It was the speed in which Ted had offered up his kindness, how at ease he was voicing every thought on his mind. That, to Y/n, was more disarming than anything else he could have done.

“Well, I look forward to getting to know him more,” Y/n said, and there was truth to it. She appreciated co-workers who were actually pleasant to be around, even if Ted was a lot to take, “And the other coaches.”

“Why don’t I show you where your office is?” Rebecca suggested.

Their welcome wagon moved up to the second floor where, at the end of the hall, lay the space in question. It was half the size of Rebecca’s office, which was more than enough for Y/n. She’d last been in a shared cubicle far too small for two people to comfortably fit.

“My office is just at the end of the hall,” Higgins said as Y/n took in the space, “If you ever need anything.”

“It’s lovely,” Y/n smiled, her eyes running over her desk. She turned back towards the door and faced Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins, “Thank you all so much for all the hospitality you’ve shown.”

“Nonsense,” Higgins spoke for the trio, “You’re part of the family now.”

The same unease that had come from interacting with Ted Lasso filled Y/n once again.

The rest of the day was spent bouncing between Keeley and Higgins, discussing PR strategies for the new season and learning about the club’s operations. By the time 5:00 came around, Y/n felt like she had information spilling out of her ears. Her mind was filled to its brim.

After Keeley dropped her back off at the KJPR office, telling her she dazzled on her first day and wishing her a good evening, Y/n hopped in her car and drove right back to Richmond. She had no dinner plans and thought Keeley’s idea to explore the city worthwhile.

She decided on the pub they’d driven past on their way to Nelson Road, the Crown and Anchor. With it being a weeknight, it wasn’t too crowded, and she found a spot at the bar, ordering a sandwich for herself.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” the woman tending bar said after Y/n had placed her order, “You new to town, love?”

“Oh, no,” Y/n shook her head before scrunching her eyebrows, “Well, sort of. I live closer to the city but I just started a job here.”

“Ah,” the white haired woman replied as she filled a pint, handing it to a customer, “Where at?”

Y/n wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were about working for a football club. Were you supposed to go around sharing that information? Or did it mean you’d have thirty drunken fans hounding you for tickets suddenly?

“AFC Richmond,” she answered truthfully, “Public relations.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised an inch, seemingly impressed. “Well, that’s the right answer to get your meal on the house.”

Y/n laughed a little, relaxing slightly.

“Good first day then?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Y/n bobbed her head from side to side, “I mean, I really just met co-workers and learned the basics. No complaints so far.”

“Did you meet Ted yet?”

“I did,” Y/n answered, slightly confused, “You know Coach Lasso?”

The woman pointed towards the pub doors, “Lives on just the other side of the building. Comes in a couple nights a week. He’s a good man.”

“That he is,” Y/n nodded, not wanting to tarnish anyone’s reputation with her own discomforts, “Definitely tries to make you feel welcome.”

“Oh,” the woman was now coming to lean against Y/n’s side of the bar, “He won’t stop until you know you’re welcomed. Best to just let it happen. Whatever he’s done to Richmond, it works.”

It hadn’t escaped Y/n’s notice that in the two seasons Ted Lasso had been coaching the Greyhounds, there was a shift in…everything. Between videos of the players on the pitch, to little stories interspersed in her conversations with Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins throughout the day, Y/n was given the impression that Ted Lasso was a miracle worker. It didn’t take much thought to deduce that Ted was going to try and integrate her into their team as well.

“Well,” Y/n shrugged slightly, seeing that her sandwich was coming around from the kitchen, “I mean, it’s just a job. It’s not supposed to change your life or anything.”

Just as she was about to be handed her meal, the white haired woman took it from the waiter’s hands. Y/n could tell she wasn’t getting her food until the bartender had spoken her piece.

“You just watch out, love,” the woman warned with a smile, “Whole city hated Ted when he arrived, and now take a look.”

She gestured to the space around the bar as if Y/n was supposed to be seeing the peace.

“The best things that happen to us are usually the most unexpected,” she continued, giving her a wink.

Y/n drew a breath, locking onto the woman’s every syllable.

“You’re part of Richmond now,” the woman continued on, “Whether it changes your life or not isn’t up to you.”

Without another word, the woman set Y/n’s sandwich in front of her and went off to tend to another patron.

Y/n was fearful to move, lest the bartender’s words appear in thin air and smack her thoughts into line. What was this strange hold the word ‘Richmond’ seemed to have on people? Y/n had lived long enough in England to know how passionate people got about their football clubs, but this was different. This was dedication separate from the sport itself, rather devotion to the inner workings. To the coaches. To the heart of AFC Richmond itself.

Higgin’s words came back to her, part of the family. It all filled Y/n with an anxiety she’d never quite been able to put a name to.

Regardless of what the culture was, on and off the pitch, she was determined to keep to herself. Interact pleasantly with her co-workers and the team, but no more than necessary. Be proficient at the tasks given to her. Stay in her lane.

Family or not, Y/n decided as she bit into her dinner, she was there to do a job and nothing more.

——————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94

[toxicroyjamie]

Headspace is so crazy if my gf was telling all my coworkers and her ex about how clingy and annoying I was I would walk into the ocean. And he apologizes?? Like he’s in the wrong for not reading her mind??? Healthiest couple on the show 💕🫶🥰 this is the future liberals want

Unpopular opinion

I pinpoint Headspace as the exact episode that they took a left turn with Keeley's character and never recovered. I've noticed that some TV shows nowadays try so hard to avoid vilifying female characters that they just end up making their female characters one-dimensional girlbosses while their male counterparts are actually afforded the depth and complexity of real human beings. I think TL makes this mistake in a big way with Headspace and then just digs that hole deeper and deeper until the finale

Simply put, Keeley becomes uninteresting to me post-Headspace because she loses all autonomy. All the bad things that happen to her happen because another character did something bad to her (through no fault of her own, of course) and all the good things that happen to her happen because another character decided to be nice to her.

Prior to the latter half of season 2, Keeley's arc is driven by decisions she makes, for better or for worse. She chooses to leave Jamie. She gets herself a job offer from Rebecca by actively showcasing her talents in a way that the audience can clearly see, and then she takes time to consider whether she can/should accept the offer. She pursues Roy actively. She invites Jamie up for sex. She considers whether she wants to be with Roy and demands a certain level of respect from him before agreeing to date him. She sets boundaries with Jamie. We see her actively doing her job frequently - she finds the pundit job for Roy, she gets various brand deals for the boys, she has to deal with the fallout of the thing with Dubai Air, etc.

Are all of her decisions good decisions? Is she always in the right? No!!!! Which is a good thing, because real people don't always do/say the right thing!!!! But more importantly than whether she's making the right decisions, she is MAKING DECISIONS. She's advancing her own arc!!!!

After Headspace, things start happening TO Keeley rather than because of her, and that's where they lose me. She becomes a fundamentally passive character. What are Keeley's major plot points in s2e8-s3? Jamie tells her he loves her (+ Nate kisses her lol). Jack decides to pick up KJPR, not for any particular reason the audience can see. Roy leaves her. She does choose to hire Shandy, but Shandy pretty quickly becomes the advancing character in that storyline, going off the rails for reasons that have nothing to do with anything Keeley does. Jack starts courting her. Someone else leaks her nudes. Jack leaves her and stops funding KJPR. Rebecca steps in to save KJPR. Then she rejects Roy and Jamie, to show the audience that it's feminism and she ultimately has the ability and good sense to reject both of them, which I appreciate, but feels hollow given the complete lack of autonomy inherent in her s3 storyline

It's just like. Idk. I wish we could've seen even just a little of what Keeley's family and childhood were like and how they influence her behavior, or where her unhealthy coping mechanisms come from, or how she felt about the breakup beyond "sad," etc etc etc. Compare the narrative complexity of Roy, Jamie, Ted, Nate etc. to Keeley. She was completely shafted. She's like a really interesting outline of a character with nothing filled in