#richmond's receptionist

[jamiefartt]

richmond's receptionist; part three

part 1, part 2

pairings: jamie tartt x reader, whole cast is mentioned

summary: with Rebecca's charity gala rapidly approaching, Jamie tries to get you to be his date, so why not take you dress shopping?

words: 19 458

warnings: no smut but hot n steamy descriptions and def some thirsting, alcohol (pls don't mix ur drinks).

outfit references: x your dress x Keeley's dress x Rebecca's dress

———

standing in front of the small mirror hanging above your bathroom sink, you brush your fingers through your damp hair. you're dressed in your work clothes, chic pleated trousers paired with a billowy blue blouse tucked into the waistband. you sigh as you lean on the sink, the porcelain cool to the touch. you pick up your mascara from next to the sink, leaning close to the mirror and carefully brushing it onto your eyelashes. once applied, you admire the way your eyes pop, accentuated by the makeup.

normally, you would dot some blush across your cheeks, but expecting you'll be seeing Jamie at work all day, you know you won't need the added flush of colour.

adding a tint of red to your lips, you begin doing your hair, masterfully tying it up into a half-up half-down hairstyle. you pucker your lips in the mirror, turning your head side to side to make sure everything is in place. a smile appears on your face, your confidence surging as you look at yourself.

as much as you're getting ready for yourself, you can't help but imagine the look on Jamie's face when he sees you today, especially after the teasing trick you pulled on him yesterday evening. of course you always try to look good at work, but the added effort is worth it for the potential to make the Jamie Tartt even a little bit flustered.

the music playing through your cozy apartment is interrupted by your phone ringing, and you rush from the bathroom to turn it off, toothbrush still in your mouth. seeing Keeley's name written across your screen, you answer, and the call opens onto her sitting at her vanity doing her own makeup.

"hey babe," she says, mouth agape in an O-shape as she curls her eyelashes. she's wrapped in her fluffy pink dressing gown and has matching coloured hair curlers wrapped in her locks.

"good morning, y/n." Roy speaks from the plush sofa behind her. in contrast to Keeley, he's fully dressed, leather jacket and all.

you wave at the couple, walking back to the bathroom to rinse your mouth. once the toothbrush and suds are down the drain, you can finally say: "hey guys! how are things?"

Roy says nothing, only giving you a thumbs up as he keeps his eyes on the book he's reading. back in your bedroom, you place your phone on the bed as you begin sliding on your staple jewellery.

"great! now, listen y/n, Rebecca's charity gala is this weekend and we need to get you a dress," Keeley says sternly, now putting on mascara.

"oh– I'm sure I have a dress in my closet somewhere," you say, turning and opening your cupboard to see if you have anything adequate.

Keeley bursts into a cackle, catching you off guard; "no, no, you need something new... something expensive and rich that will blow Jamie's socks off! or, you know, you could do that."

"oh my God, Keeley!" you shriek, your mouth flying open at her words. her laugh echoes loudly through your phone and you can't help but giggle along with her. picking up your phone, you head to your living room, grabbing your handbag from the sofa before heading to the front door.

Keeley continues explaining as you struggle to slip on your shoes with your free hand whilst holding your phone and your bag in the other; "I've booked you an appointment for tomorrow at a dress boutique in town. I can go with you if you'd like, just let me know."

"oh wow, that's amazing. thank you so so much!" with your flats slipped on, you pick up your work heels and shove them in your bag. you pant a breath before clicking open your door and heading out to your hallway. your voice echoes as you head into the stairwell of your apartment building; "are you sure, Keeley? I mean, it seems a bit excessive and I doubt I could afford anything too exp–"

"where the fuck are you?" Keeley interrupts you, peering at her phone screen with squinted eyes.

"I'm leaving my place, I like taking the stairs." you shrug in response.

"ooh, is that how you keep your glutes so tight then?" she sticks her tongue out at you playfully, and you laugh at her words.

"shut up," you reply and playfully roll your eyes.

"anyway," Keeley continues, "don't worry about the price, Rebecca said she'd cover it."

your eyes blow wide open, and you almost tumble down the stairs in shock; "what?! no, absolutely not!"

"hush, y/n, I don't wanna hear it. we're gonna make you look the sexiest you ever have in your life!"

finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, having descended 4 whole floors, you push through the double doors leading to the small car park outside. passing straight past your beaten-up old car, you walk onto the footpath.

"Keeley, I really don't think I can accept that,"

"are you walking to work?" she says, ignoring your sentiment. you shake your head a little, surprised by her question.

"yeah?"

"why?"

"because I like to walk."

"Keeley–" Roy begins, but Keeley interrupts him, "okay, y/n, gotta go. see you at work!"

before you can say bye, your phone beeps, and the screen goes black. you stop in your tracks, staring down at your phone. quickly typing in your password, you go to check your texts.

"oi!" someone shouts to you, and the fright almost makes you drop your phone. a hand flies to your chest as you look up, not at all expecting who you see.

"Isaac?" you ask, leaning down to look through his car window.

"get in. lemme give you a lift." he says before pressing a button on his dashboard. the passenger door suddenly opens, and your eyebrows raise at his evidently very expensive sports car.

without a word, you drop your phone into your handbag and walk around the car, slipping into the passenger seat.

"thanks, Isaac." you smile at him, and surprisingly, he cracks a wide, toothy one back at you. the sight makes you smile even more, and you wonder if you're bond with the Richmond players is going beyond just Jamie.

"were you walking to work?" he asks you, pushing his foot to the gas pedal and continuing down the road.

"yeah?"

"why?"

"because I like– why is that so shocking?"

your frustration evident in your voice, Isaac glances at you with a scared expression. "I was just asking," he mutters, and you sigh in exaggerated annoyance with a smile before turning your head to look out the car window. you settle into a few seconds of silence, just admiring the view of Richmond's greenery as you drive. music plays quietly through Isaac's speakers, and you enjoy the peaceful company.

"Isaac?" you ask, still staring out the window.

"yeah?" he replies gently.

"has Jamie ever mentioned me at training or anything?"

Isaac chuckles to himself, thinking for a moment before replying: "he doesn't talk about you really, but he does ask about you."

"what do you mean?" you turn to look at him, placing your elbow on the door and playing with your hair.

"like, when Keeley comes in to do promo with us, he'll hang back to ask her questions about you."

"like what?" you feel a blush appear on your face as you get shy at the thought.

"a few weeks ago, when the sign-in thing started, he asked her how long you'd worked at Richmond. then a few days later, he asked her if you were single."

"really?" you laugh, "what a slag."

Isaac laughs with you, shaking his head; "truer words have never been spoken,"

a few beats pass as your laughter dies down, and the thought of Jamie being so curious about you surprises you. he always acts so cool and unbothered, and you've only seen him soften a few times, so knowing he still thought about you before you'd even properly spoken warms something in your chest.

"but, y/n, I do wanna say..." Isaac keeps his eyes on the road as his voice softens, "whatever it is Jamie feels towards you, it's clearly something real. since you two have been doing this thing, he's been kinder, not just to us but also himself. I don't know how you got through to him, but whatever it is please don't stop. we've all seen the way he looks at you, he really likes you, mate."

lips parted and eyes wide, your gaze is fixed on the road in front of you. you're speechless, and all that's going through your mind is Jamie; how he looks at you, how he touches you, his scent and the feeling of his lips brushing past yours. before you can think of anything to say, Isaac pulls into the Richmond car park. he parks his car smoothly, slotting it next to Colin's dented Lamborghini.

"look, you don't have to tell me how you feel about him, but try not to break his heart too much if you have to." Isaac says, turning to look at you.

you nod a few times, clicking open your seatbelt before looking up at him through your eyelashes; "Isaac," you say, "I'm way too into him to break his heart."

he squints at you, obviously suppressing a smile, and he presses the buttons to open your doors.

"cheers, bruv." he nods at you.

"thanks for the lift, Isaac." you nod at him too.

both of you exit the car without another word, and you hurry in the door so you can get started with your day. unsurprisingly, Colin is already inside standing at your desk.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles at you.

"hey, Colin. sorry I'm late!" you hop behind the desk and sit in your chair, quickly changing your flats into your heels. you take the sign-in clipboard from atop the desk, only to notice you don't need to change its pages at all.

"oh," you say before putting it back in its place, "can I help you with anything Colin?"

you expect Colin to answer, but he stays silent as Isaac squeezes past him and signs in. you stare at him expectantly, and Colin just looks at you nervously until Isaac is walking down the hallway.

"are you okay?" you ask him quietly, leaning closer to him. he glances around suspiciously, making sure the coast is clear and Isaac is out of earshot.

"yeah, I just need your advice on something."

"hit me," you smile.

"I've been seeing this guy for maybe... two or three months? and I'm not sure if it's too soon to invite him to the gala this weekend."

"oh my God, Colin! that's so exciting! I'd say go for it, it's definitely not too soon." you assure him, smiling wide. his face mirrors yours and a blush appears on his cheeks.

"okay, great, thanks y/n!" he says before jogging down the hallway and to the locker room.

you smile to yourself, wondering when you became his go-to for advice. you won't complain, you're happy to make friends with the Richmond players.

"what's he so happy about?" Jamie's voice pipes up beside you as he places a coffee cup on your desk, watching as Colin borderline skips his way through the building.

you smile at him, picking up the cup. before it reaches your lips you look up at him with a sceptical look; "this isn't gonna be fucking green tea again is it?"

"don't worry, love." he assures you, sending you a wink as he finishes signing in. placing his elbow on your desk, he leans against it casually, smirking down at you. you furrow your brows, slightly suspicious of his intentions after the morning before. taking a sip, you're pleasantly delighted at the taste, although he didn't bring you a latte.

"hot chocolate?" you smile up at Jamie.

"yeah..." he says, eyes soft and smile genuine, "with a shot of whiskey."

your face drops suddenly as the aloholic aftertaste hits your throat. your nostrils flare as hot anger fills your veins, and you stand up from your seat in shock; "Jamie! what the fuck?!"

Jamie sticks his tongue out and cackles, slapping a hand to your desk before running backwards down the hallway. as you stand behind your desk, breath heaving, he blows you a kiss.

frustrated, you roll your eyes and grunt, sitting down again. you pick up your cup, lifting the lid and bringing it to your face. you inhale, instantly smelling the whiskey in the drink. with a gag, you push the lid back on, putting the cup far away from you on your desk. a grimace paints your face as you try to swallow the flavour away, but the gross liquid feels coated down your throat.

"y/n!" Keeley exclaims, excitement painted on her face as if you hadn't been speaking just this morning, "what's wrong with your face?"

"Jamie put whiskey in my fucking hot chocolate." you whine, rolling your eyes again.

"oooh, lemme have a sip," she says, holding her palms together as a plea.

"I don't think he'll ever bring me an actual latte ever again," your lips pout as you slump back in your chair.

Keeley ignores your complaint, quickly scribbling down her name before saying: "your fitting appointment is tomorrow at 6:30 after work. let me know if you'd like me to join!"

"thank you so much Keeley but I don't want to take Rebecca's money just for a dress,"

"it's not just a dress, y/n, it's a gown." she presses.

Rebecca's heels click into the building as if on cue, and she smiles wide at the two of you as she approaches.

"Rebecca! please tell y/n you don't mind buying her a dress for the gala." Keeley sighs.

"I thought you just said it was a gown, not a dress." you tease, and she rolls her eyes at you in response.

"oh, don't be silly! of course I don't care – in fact, I actively want to. can't have my employees looking cheap, now can I?" Rebecca states in a cocky tone, picking up the pen and signing in.

you look at her with an grateful look; "thank you, Rebecca, seriously."

she shoots you a wink before saying: "don't worry about it. we need you looking good for Jamie, don't we?" you can't help but blush at her words, overwhelmed by the gracious gift.

"my hair stylist and the girl who does my makeup is coming over to mine after work on Friday, we should all get ready together!" Keeley says, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

"that sounds lovely!" you say.

"I'll be there." Rebecca adds.

Keeley squeals as she waves; "see you later, girls!"

Rebecca smiles at you with a nod before walking to her office, and your excitement for the gala has finally kicked in. you think to yourself; an event where everyone is dressed up to the nines, with music and an open bar? what could go wrong?

—

the next day, as you make yourself a latte in the staff room, you're surprised by two strong hands suddenly gripping your shoulders. two thumbs dig into your skin, massaging the taught muscles.

"Jesus woman, why are you so tense?" Jamie whispers in your ear, lips grazing your skin.

your eyes flutter as you struggle to keep them open, the pressure of his fingers instantly relaxing you. you smile to yourself, dropping your head back, leaning against his shoulder.

"I would be a lot more relaxed if my morning coffee wasn't such a fucking gamble every day," you joke, looking up at him through your eyelashes, "mouthwash, Jamie... really?"

Jamie chuckles to himself, smiling at his own prank. using his grip on your shoulders, he lifts you off his shoulder, spinning you around to face him. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you close to him. standing chest to chest, you can smell his cologne, woody and rich on your senses.

"you smell nice," you say absentmindedly, not thinking before speaking the thought out loud.

"ya think so? cheers, it's Tom Ford." he says with a cheeky wink, clearly bragging.

rolling your eyes, you cock your head to the side. when you look up at him again, his face holds an expression you haven't seen before. his pupils are blown wide and a small smile sits on his pouty lips.

"what?" you ask, a smile creeping onto your face too.

"nothin'" Jamie mumbles, and you can feel his thumbs rubbing up and down your sides. his eyes move to your lips, and you blush in response. nervously, you fill your cheeks with air and purse your lips as he stares at them. he chuckles at your funny face, quickly leaning down and pecking your lips. the kiss makes you drop the expression, and his eyes finally meet yours again. you raise your eyebrows and pull your head back, and his grin grows at your surprised eyes.

"what?" he says nonchalantly.

"nothin'" you say with a fake deep voice, mocking him.

as he laughs, Jamie moves one of the hands from your waist to your back, sliding it up your spine. when he gets to your hair, he wraps his fingers around the long strands and tugs lightly, tilting your chin up. your eyes threaten to close again, and your heartbeat quickens as Jamie's eyes darken.

"wanna kiss me properly Tartt?" you whisper, teasing him with a smile.

taking a few painfully long seconds to drag his eyes over every inch of your face, he eventually drops the hand from your hair. his other hand leaves your waist as he takes a step away from you. as he spins on his heel to leave he says: "you wish."

you tsk at him, rolling your eyes while shaking your head. turning to the beeping coffee machine, your mouth speaks before your brain thinks; "Jamie," you call after him, turning back around. he reappears in the doorway in merely a split second, hand resting on the doorframe as he looks at you with raised eyebrows. "I have to go buy a dress for the gala after work and I need a lift... would you mind coming with me?"

Jamie's eyebrows relax, but his eyes widen as he stares at you, blank expression on his face. you can't read what he's thinking, immediately regretting your question: "if you can't, that's fine, I just–".

"yes." he breathes, "yes, yeah, course I'll go with ya,"

you smile at him shyly, and his straight face turns into a smiling one as he mirrors you. you nod at him as a silent thanks, and he nods back before making his way back to training. taking your cup from the machine, you smile to yourself. as you pour a sugar packet into it, you shake your head, wondering how you got into this game with Jamie in the first place.

as the time approaches six o'clock, you wait impatiently for the Richmond team to sign out. as your colleagues say goodbye and sign their names, you politely smile and chat to them, and by the time the players make their way through the hallway, you're halfway out of your chair. standing up, you pick up your handbag and shove your things into it.

"you in a hurry, y/n?" Sam laughs.

"going on another date with Tartt?" Colin adds.

"leave the two love birds alone, bruv." Isaac says, picking up a pen and signing himself out. Sam takes the pen next and does the same before passing it to Colin.

from behind the large group of players all waiting to leave, Jamie appears in his regular clothes. wearing a blue hoodie with grey jeans, you admire how simple his outfit is.

"Hughes, sign me out there would ya?" Jamie calls, heading straight for the door. he brings the pendant of his gold chain to sit between his teeth as he grins at you, eyes lingering on your white top.

he cocks his head towards the door with a curt nod; "shall we?"

the players all erupt in teasing oohs and cheers at Jamie's shameless flirting, and the excitement makes you laugh. you step down from the desk, pushing your bag onto your shoulder. Jamie walks through the door ahead of you, holding it open for you to walk through. before you go, you turn back to the group of players and blow them a kiss, making them shout even louder, jumping up and down and slapping each other's shoulders. you cackle at the dramatics, following Jamie outside.

continuing your laughter as he leads you to his car you ask him: "are they always like this?"

"sadly," he pulls open the passenger side door for you, "yes."

you drop into the seat, the plush and expensive leather comfortable beneath you. as Jamie gets into the car, you look around. there's a football shaped air freshener hanging from the mirror, and there's a small rubber duck wearing a bow tie stuck to his dashboard. his gearshift has a bracelet wrapped around the base of it, colourful wooden beads with a small heart adding a pop of colour to the black leather interior.

"didn't think I could be so intrigued by car decor," you say, and Jamie chuckles shyly as he looks around at his car.

"yeah, it's just things me mum's given me... for good luck, ya'know." the look he gives you is sincere, and you smile at the sentiment of it all.

"that's really sweet, Jamie."

he dips his head down and smiles, and you're sure you spot a blush cover his face. turning the keys in the cognition, his BMW roars to life, and you both buckle your seatbelts. you tap the address into the car's gps, grateful Keeley texted it to you without you even having to ask. as he drives out of the car park's gates, Jamie asks: "if you need a lift to this shop, how did you get to work?"

"I usually walk to work, but Isaac gave me a spontaneous lift yesterday and then picked me up again this morning," you explain, looking at the side of his face as his eyes stay fixed on the road. you watch his face morph into a confused pout.

"you walk to work?"

"yeah?"

"why?"

"what the fuck?!" you exclaim, throwing your hands in the air in frustration.

"what?!" Jamie yells back, matching your tone.

you groan, dropping your head into your hands before raking your fingers through your hair, "nothing, sorry, that's just the third time someone's asked me that."

"it's a bit weird, to be fair," Jamie shrugs.

"what? no it isn't! I swear you're all such snobs," you joke, "it's a good way to get your steps in,"

Jamie snorts, and your head snaps to the side to look at him again.

"you're such a loser," he says, shaking his head.

"as if! my phone tracks them and then I get little messages every time I do 1000 steps," you explain proudly. Jamie says nothing else, just smiles before glancing at the screen showing the directions.

the two of you sit in a comfortable silence as you watch other cars go by. sitting in Jamie's car, you can almost feel how expensive it was just by the way it glides so smoothly across the road. you try to spot similar cars at stop lights and crossroads, but somehow Jamie seems to be the only one with this fancy of a car.

"y/n?" his soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

"mhm?" you hum, looking to him.

he doesn't as much as glimpse at you, keeping his eyes forward; "how come Isaac gave you a lift?" his voice is quiet and shy when he asks. with an amused smile, you stare at him, wondering if you've imagined his reserved tone.

"Jamie?" you start, "are you... jealous?"

"pfft, what? no, why would I be?" he sputters.

"are you serious?" you ask with a giggle, and his silence speaks volumes. "Jamie..." you sigh, "the only reason Isaac gave me a lift yesterday was because he saw me walking and offered me one. this morning, he passed me again, so he stopped. it's polite to accept and, to be completely honest, I just wanted to sit in a sports car." you shrug, reassuring him.

he exhales and nods, trying to disguise his worry as a joke when he forces a chuckle; "oh, right, yeah,"

you lean closer to him, leaning your chin on his shoulder. finally, he glances down at you, smiling softly. "don't worry, Jamie. from now on, I'll only take lifts from you in your sports car."

he rolls his eyes but can't help but huff a small laugh, and you smile up at him, biting your lip. "can I turn on some music?" you ask sweetly, fluttering your eyelashes at him dramatically.

"go on then."

you squeal in excitement as you tap the screen on his dashboard, admiring the high-tech of it all. connecting your phone to his car, you press play on one of your playlists. soft music falls from the speakers, and you don't think you've ever heard your favourite songs in such good quality before. pressing a hand to the speaker on your door, you close your eyes, feeling the vibrations of the music. you fall back against the head rest, completely relaxing into Jamie's presence. he doesn't speak, letting you feel the sound in peace.

humming along to the song playing, you smile to yourself. you feel like you're floating as the car drives smoothly over the roads to the boutique. Jamie's a surprisingly gentle driver, never hitting his brake too hard and not swerving around bends. dropping your hand from the speaker, you start picking up on the sound of Jamie's movements. his breathing is steady, and you can hear him absentmindedly sigh every so often. you hear his hands run over the steering wheel when he takes a turn, and the sound soothes you. driving with Jamie makes him feel so human. usually only seeing him in the context of football, you feel like you know athlete Jamie more than person Jamie, despite your date last weekend. the date was amazing, and you learnt so much about him, but sitting in silence with him is a big difference to your usual constant banter.

after the car drives over a bump, you feel the car slow to a halt and the music stop, presuming you've arrived.

"y/n?" Jamie whispers gently, and you've never heard his voice so quiet. the other times he's whispered to you it was definitely not this sweet and soft, and the sound warms your heart.

when you turn your head towards him and open your eyes, he's unexpectedly close to you. with his elbow on the armrest between you, Jamie holds himself a few inches away from you. his gaze softens when you look at him, your eyes wide and amused.

"we're here," he whispers in the same gentle tone, nodding his head towards the windshield. your eyes don't leave each other's as you breathe in deeply. the smell of his cologne fills your sense again, now mixed with fresh conditioner and a slight hint of lavender. you yearn to be closer to him, and you have to fight the urge to wrap an arm around his neck and pull him into you.

instead, you let your eyes drop to his lips before quickly looking away, staring out the window at the shop in front of you. you feel Jamie's eyes on you for a few more seconds before he peels them off of your face, looking down at his hands awkwardly. facing him again, you smile nervously before leaning over the center console and pressing a quick kiss to his soft cheek. his head snaps up at the feeling and when he turns to you, he's blushing a deep pink.

"let's go then," you say, sighing and picking up your bag from between your legs, placing it on your lap. Jamie jumps out of the car, rushing over to the passenger side to open your door for you. one hand holding the door out of your way, his other hand reaches out for you to take. you place your hand in his, and he helps you stand up from the car – not that you need it, but you'll never say to no to some princess treatment.

"thank you, Jamie." you smiled at him.

"you're welcome, y/n." he says as he closes the car door behind you.

you approach the small shop, stopping by its window to admire some of the dresses on display; "oh my goodness," you breathe, "these are gorgeous!" your excitement doubles as you look back at Jamie.

his eyes are fixed on you as he breathes: "yeah... gorgeous,"

your heart rate speeds up suddenly, noticing the way his pupils are wide again, just like in the staff room earlier. your mouth opens, desperately trying to breathe in more air, but you get lost in his gaze. he definitely isn't talking about the dresses.

you swallow and try to snap out of it; "okay, Jamie, I'll see you tomorrow."

"what?" he says quickly, expression faltering and you can almost see his heart break in his face. you furrow your brows and repeat after him; "what?"

he stands up straight, suddenly acting uncharacteristically awkward as he fidgets with his car keys. attempting nonchalance, he shakes his head and looks away from you.

"I mean, I just thought I'd go in with you, ya'know... you might need a second opinion or something," he says quickly, scratching the back of his neck while he looks anywhere but at you.

you chuckle at his silly sheepishness, saying nothing before reaching out for his hand, taking it in yours. a blush appears on your face, and you turn and pull him into the boutique with you.

"good evening!" a squeaky voice chirps, and you can't see the person it came from. your hand still clutches Jamie's, and he holds yours tighter as you both look around. you're overwhelmed by the amount of gowns strung along racks against each wall, and your mouth hangs open as you run your free hand along the fabrics.

"phew! sorry about that, I'm here!" the voice speaks again, and when you turn around, a small blonde woman appears from behind an equally small counter.

"hiya," you speak politely, "uhm, my name is y/n. I think my friend Keeley made an appointment for me."

"ah! Keeley Jones! she's one amazing firecracker, isn't she?" the woman says with a smile, "now, where are my glasses?" she thinks to herself. her curly blonde hair is half pinned up, and her bright red glasses sit on top of her head. you're not sure whether to say something or not, watching her pick up and move stacks of paper on the counter as she searches. Jamie squeezes your hand, and you turn around to look at him. he lifts his pointer finger to his mouth and shakes his head, smiling at you. you smile up at him, taking note of what he means, but decide to do the right thing.

"sorry, I think they're on your head?" you say as politely as possible.

"oh! thank you, darling." she smiles at you before reaching out a hand and introducing herself; "I'm Sarah, it's so lovely to meet you, y/n,"

you drop Jamie's hand to shake Sarah's, which makes her notice his presence.

"and you are?" she asks, holding a hand out for him too.

"I'm Jamie," he smiles, shaking her hand with his right and covering the back of her hand with his left.

"such a sweet thing," Sarah smiles, "you're a lucky girl." she says, looking at you.

Jamie turns to you, letting go of her hand, raising his eyebrows at you with a teasing grin. you roll your eyes at him, ignoring Sarah's comment.

"right–", she says, pushing her glasses back into her hair and moving across the boutique towards a rack of dresses, "what are you looking for today?"

"well, I'm going to this big fancy gala on Friday and I need–"

"something blue." Jamie interrupts, hands politely held behind his back as he smiles at Sarah, avoiding your confused face.

"perfect! let me take some measurements and I'll get you set up. follow me, love. Jamie, you can wait here, take a seat." Sarah's excited, and completely oblivious to your surprise at Jamie's words, as she leads you through a curtain at the back of the shop. you glance back at Jamie over your shoulder, and he winks at you as he sits down on a velvet purple sofa.

the room you walk in is small, but tidy and chic. there's a large mirror covering one of the walls, and the carpet is white and shaggy. it seems to be one big dressing room, and it looks completely different to where Jamie is waiting for you. there's an iced window opposite you, allowing for natural light to flood the cream walls.

"he said something blue, is that right?" Sarah asks, handing you some kind of unitard which matches your skin tone.

"uhm, I guess, yeah," you say, agreeing to Jamie's suggestion. you're not sure why he said it, but it gives you more inspiration than you had when you arrived to the boutique.

"okay, darling. go slip on this little bodysuit behind the curtain over there and I'll be back to measure you whenever you're ready." Sarah smiles politely, guiding you towards a small but tall booth in the corner of the room.

once you've changed, wearing nothing but the skin tight playsuit, you call for Sarah. the carpet is soft under your bare feet as you admire yourself in the mirror. you run your fingers through your hair, adding some volume into it as you smile at your reflection. soon after, Sarah pushes a rack of dresses into the room.

"you haven't even measured me yet?" you laugh at the amount of fabric hiding her small frame.

"don't worry, angel, I've got a good eye for this stuff," she says with a strained voice, struggling to push the wheels over the carpet. you rush over to help her, pulling the opposite side further into the room. there's a variety of different shades of blue and fabrics on the rack; there's silk, satin, and chiffon, and you admire the way some of the rhinestones sparkle under the light.

"these are beautiful, woah..." you say, looking through the dresses.

"we have plenty of time to play dress-up later! let's get you measured," Sarah says, slipping on her glasses and taking the measuring tape from around her neck.

as you move to stand on a small platform in front of the mirror, music starts playing from the shop's speakers. you instantly recognise it as one of the songs you played in the car ride with Jamie. you blush, chuckling to yourself.

"did Jamie turn this music on?" you ask, looking at Sarah in the mirror.

"he did," she says, quickly scribbling down the length of your leg into her notebook, "he asked if he could connect his phone. he's a very nice man, very charming,"

you huff, a smile creeping up your face, "hmpf, isn't he?"

"how long have you two been together?" she asks you absentmindedly. the question makes you shake your head and sputter out your words; "oh, no, no, we're not together,"

"really?" she asks, "I thought I saw you two holding hands when you walked in,"

"it's complicated," you explain vaguely.

"oh sweetheart, there's nothing complicated about the way he looks at you," Sarah says quietly, and her statement stuns you, "he helped me choose these dresses for you by the way, I already know his favourite one."

not sure how to process her words, you turn your head to the rack of dresses, trying to guess which one he likes the most. your chest grows warm at the thought of Jamie's waiting for you in the next room, listening to a song you like, picking out dresses for you. with a blush on your face, you start to realise what Isaac meant; Jamie can be exceptionally kind.

"all done, my love! now, pick whichever ones you want to try on and if they need any tailoring, I can get that done for you before Friday." Sarah brushes strands of hair out of her face, standing up straight and pointing to the rack of gowns.

you look at her with kind eyes and smile; "thank you, Sarah,"

"now, I'll be just out there taking care of your friend, but just gimme a shout if you need help with a zip or anything." she winks at you before heading through the curtain into the boutique.

you take a deep breath, trying to focus on the sound of the music playing through the room. either Jamie has exceptionally good taste, or he's found your spotify account and has turned on the same playlist you played in his car.

trying on a navy dress, you spin around in the mirror. nice bodice, but ugly tule sleeves. you take a turquoise gown from the rack, deciding against it before even trying it on simply due to its big frilly skirt. next, you pull out a dress the brightest shade of blue, and try it on for fun, just to see Jamie's reaction. you pull aside the curtain into the shop before stepping through.

Jamie's hands fly to his mouth, biting back a laugh. you do the same, rolling your lips into your mouth to avoid a cackle from escaping. the dress is made of polyester, and is covered in sheer tule with big plastic diamonds.

"oh... babe," Sarah says awkwardly, grimacing.

"Jamie?" you say, still holding back a laugh.

"you look... absolutely stunnin'" he forces, face morphing into an almost painful expression.

a few beats of silence pass, before the three of you burst into loud and boisterous laughter. Jamie clutches his stomach in laughter, while Sarah covers her mouth the hide her amusement. you stop your laughing and pretend to look offended; "what? you don't like it?" you smile at Jamie. he digs his phone out of his pocket before holding it up proudly.

"go on, do a twirl," he says, filming you as you do what he asks. you laugh at the antics, holding up the skirt and curtsying. you blow a kiss to his camera and close your eyes, smiling sweetly.

"fuckin' beautiful," Jamie mutters, and he sounds more sincere than the jokey tone he had used before. you pretend you didn't hear it, taking a dramatic bow before disappearing into the changing room again.

laughing to yourself, you tug off the dress, appreciating the little ribbons Sarah has tied onto each dress' zip, allowing you to easily reach back and pull it down yourself. you take your time trying on three more dresses, and as much as you look like a princess, you don't feel like one just yet.

the final dress on the rack is a sequined baby blue one, and you're unsure of its boldness before you even put it on. you take it off the hanger, undoing the zip and stepping into it. pulling the skinny pink spaghetti straps over your shoulders, you feel the soft inner lining of the dress tickle your legs. all the dresses you had tried on were floor length, but this one falls three quarters down your legs, ending a few inches above your ankles.

reaching back, your hand searches for the ribbon in order to zip up the dress, but you can't seem to find it. turning around in the mirror, you stretch your neck to see it's missing.

"fuck," you whisper to yourself, desperately trying to fold your arm back and zip it up, but to no avail.

"Sarah?" you call, but she doesn't answer.

"eh, she's gone upstairs to her workshop for a minute. is everythin' alright?" Jamie replies. you hang your head, taking in a deep breath.

"could you come help me zip up my dress please?" you say, eyes to the ceiling as you dread Jamie's entrance. a knot grows in your stomach; you wanted Jamie to see the dress on Friday, after getting all dolled up, not when you're barefoot in a dressing room with your hair messy.

"yeah, sure, of course," he mutters, his voice coming closer through the curtain. pushing it open, he covers his eyes with his hand; "you decent?"

"yes, Jamie, just come in." you sigh, hand clutching the back of the dress as you stand on your tippy toes, mimicking the effect your heels will have on the outfit.

"alright, alright, just–" Jamie stops mid sentence. you look over at him, and his face bares a look of pure admiration. his pouty lips are parted, eyes wide and glossy under the light. eyebrows raised, his arms hang limp by his sides, and his chest rises and falls noticeably with his shallow breaths.

you don't speak, your face holding an embarrassed expression as you turn your back towards Jamie; "please," you squeak quietly.

he inhales a shaky breath before saying: "yeah, sorry, yeah,"

avoiding looking at him, you wait impatiently for the feeling of his body behind you. you hear his uneven breaths first as he stands behind you. fully aware he's blushing, you can't help but wish you had turned to the mirror, then you could at least see his expression as his hands carefully clutch the bottom of the zip, right above your ass. seeing the red tint on his face would make you feel a lot better about your half-assed appearance. his fingers brush the arch of your back as he pulls the zip up the length of your back, as his other hand rests on your waist. when he nears the top, his hand leaves your waist to brush your hair over your shoulder and out of the way. as the dress tightens around you, one of the straps slip from your shoulder.

as soon as the dress is secured, you turn towards the mirror again, lifting yourself onto your toes. the shiny fabric hugs your frame tightly, accentuating the curve of your hips and pushing up your chest ever so slightly. you hear Jamie gulp, and your eyes move to look at him in the reflection of the mirror. his eyes don't meet yours, however, as they're glued to your back and shoulders. he carries his gaze across your shoulder blades, slowly lifting a hand to your arm, gently sliding the thin strap up to your shoulder again. his breathing still sounds heavy in your ear, and his fingers linger on the exposed nape of your neck.

Jamie finally lets his eyes glance up to meet yours, and your breath hitches in your throat. his eyes are dark, not with lust or intoxication the way you've seen before, but with something else – something indecipherable. he holds your eye contact while his fingers continue their path over your skin. he brings them down to your shoulder before dragging them back up to your neck. trailing them down your spine, he follows the shape of your shoulder blades, drawing absentminded shapes on them. goosebumps appear on your skin, and you bring your hands up your torso nervously. the slight scratch of the sequins on your palms grounds you, and your eyes trail over your body. Jamie settles both hands on your waist again, and you drag your hands up over your stomach, to your ribcage, before sliding over your chest. you bring them back down, fingers smoothing the sparkles on your thighs.

when your eyes flick up to look at Jamie, you're surprised to see him staring at your eyes already. his cheeks are flushed, but he's managed to close his mouth for the first time since he opened the dressing room curtain. his hands drop from your waist, and he reaches up to bring your hair back off your shoulder before taking a step away from you. Jamie's eyes are sincere as he finally speaks: "y/n..."

"mhm?" you hum, turning to the side to admire the back of the dress in the tall mirror.

"I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you in my entire life." he says firmly, face unwavering as he looks you dead in the eye in the mirror.

you soften at his words, sighing as you tilt your head. he flashes you a small smile as you stare at his reflection. looking at you sheepishly, it's almost like he doesn't know the words he just spoke went straight to your heart – as if the look in his eyes didn't scream love.

turning around quickly, your breath is shallow as you hold his eye contact. his eyes drop to your lips and yours do the same, and soon enough you're stepping closer to him. peering up at him through your eyelashes, your eyes stay wide, and he looks at you expectantly. his eyes flick down to glance at your lips once more, but this time, your eyes stay fixed on his. the longer you stare at him, the more you feel your eyes gloss over. the sweet smile on his face doesn't fall, and you shake your head as you finally grin back.

standing up on your tippy toes, you throw your arms around his neck and hold him tightly. his strong arms wrap around your waist, placing one of his palms flat on the middle of your back. you sigh as you press your face into his neck, and you hear him exhale deeply as he holds you impossibly closer.

you breathe in his skin, feeling his hair tickle your cheek. Jamie groans into your neck, squeezing you so tight your feet lift an inch off the ground. you giggle into his neck, lifting your head up and back to look at him. he moves his head off your shoulder too, keeping your feet off the ground.

"is this your favourite dress then?" you tease him with a smile.

"definitely." he nods his head eagerly, eyes focused on your mouth. you bite your lip nervously, the way you always do when you notice him staring at them.

"what?" you ask sweetly, moving your head to the side in an attempt to get him to look you in the eye again.

"will you be my date to the gala?" he says quickly, eyes back on yours. his face breaks out in a large grin as you raise your eyebrows at him.

you look up, as if deep in thought, before furrowing your brows and pouting; "uuuhm... no." you state. Jamie's happy face immediately drops into a pouty, confused expression.

before he can contest your answer, you quickly peck his frowning lips, taking him aback all over again. kicking your feet, you laugh out loud; "okay, put me down now. I need to go pay for this dress."

—

looking at your reflection in Keeley's vanity mirror, you absolutely adore who's staring back at you. your hair is curled to perfection, pinned up in the classier version of a messy bun. loose strands frame your face and make the hairstyle look naturally effortless, despite it having taken 40 minutes to perfect. your eyelids sparkle with a slight dusty pink colour. skin looking filter smooth, you admire the way the light bounces off your cheekbones after Keeley's makeup artist fanned some highlighter on them.

she's behind you on the pink sofa, painting her toe nails, whilst Rebecca is next to her on her phone. you had agreed to all get ready together but Rebecca, picky as ever, arrived completely dressed up, having already had her stylist get her ready.

leaning close to the mirror, you screw open your shiny pink lip gloss before lathering it on your lips. you pop them together before puckering them in the mirror, making a kissy noise. Keeley laughs at the sound, and when you turn around, a mischievous grin grows on her face; "look at you with your lip gloss! Jamie and y/n sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!"

the three of you share a big laugh as you stand up from the chair, the pink robe Keeley lent you keeping you cosy as you get ready.

"okay, time for my dress!" you sing, and Keeley squeals.

"I can't wait to see it," Rebecca says sweetly. you tilt your head, looking at her with kind eyes;

"thanks again, Rebecca, I don't think I can ever repay you for this favour,"

"shut up and get dressed!" Rebecca shouts, waving a hand to dismiss you.

"aah! okay!" you shout back, running into Keeley's bedroom, dress bag folded over your arm.

putting it on is easier this time, having tied your own ribbon onto the zip. you look at your reflection in the bedroom mirror, and you can't believe this is you. the dress fits you like a glove, and is still the most comfortable thing you've ever worn. the fabric is flowy around your legs, and tightens to hug your body around your hips. your pinned up hair shows off your clavicle, and the framing front pieces make your face look chiseled as ever. sitting on the bed, you slip your feet into your light pink heels, the platform pumps adding an extra two inches to your height. as you buckle them up, you can finally say you truly do feel like a princess.

"ready?" you call, cracking open the door out of the bedroom.

"yes!" Keeley and Rebecca both say at the same time, excitement evident in their voices.

you step out of the room, letting out a deep breath. there's no reason to be, but you're nervous. you hold your head up, imagining Jamie sitting in that room, and you're suddenly filled with a newfound confidence. taking long strides, you walk into the next room. stepping in front of Keeley and Rebecca, you smile wide. both of them are dead silent, staring at you with blank expressions. you do a twirl, hoping to pull a reaction from them, but when you face them again, you still get nothing. smile slowly fading, your brows furrow.

"is there something wrong?" you say, holding out your hands in confusion.

Keeley and Rebecca shake their heads in sync, and the latter finally speaks up; "not at all, y/n, wow,"

"Jamie-" Keeley starts, life re-entering her eyes, "is... going to..." she jumps up in the air as she screams "DIE!"

she runs over to you and hugs you as you cackle at their theatrics; "you look fucking amazing!" Keeley squeals.

you look at Rebecca as you squeeze Keeley's arm, and the smile she gives you feels warm and sincere. she doesn't need to tell you what she thinks, you can read it in her face. you mouth the words 'thank you' to her one last time, and she blows you a kiss.

"let's get going!" letting go of you, Keeley runs to the mirror to quickly check her makeup. you move towards the sofa, picking up your clutch bag and slipping your phone and lip gloss into it. Rebecca stands up, brushing down her outfit. her red dress highlights her long legs, and her pinned up hair makes her look even taller than she is. turning your back to her, she kindly helps you take the ribbon off your zip. Keeley's hair cascades over her shoulder in waves, and her black corset fits perfectly over a big pink silk skirt.

"we look so good," you turn to them, smiling wide before heading for the front door.

you all slip into the back of the slick black limousine Rebecca organised for the three of you, and you waste no time in popping open the complimentary champagne.

each of you have a flute in hand as you sing along to the music playing. Keeley holds up her phone to take selfies and pictures of all of you, together as well as posing on your own. laughing and cheering, you hype each other up as you show the camera your best faces. three champagne flutes down and your cheeks feel hot, the alcohol rushing through your veins.

"oh by the way, y/n, you'll be sitting at a table with me and Keeley tonight." Rebecca smiles as she takes a sip of her drink. your eyebrows arch in surprise, and you mirror her as you bring the glass flute to your lips.

"yeah, we didn't want you sitting with random staff," Keeley adds.

"I'm surprised you didn't put me at a table with Jamie," you say.

Rebecca wags her pointer finger at you; "hm, no, see that wouldn't really be playing the game, would it?"

"if you're sitting at the same table, there's no longing, no yearning, no sexual tension!" Keeley explains, grunting the last words as she balls her fists in front of her and shakes them.

"exactly!" Rebecca continues, "our table is in front of his, which means that each time he looks at the stage, his eyes have to pass you, which they obviously won't and he'll probably sit there all night staring at you until you notice him" she states matter of factly.

"you guys..." you drawl, "this is so lovely, but at this point I'll just want jump his bones the minute I see him. I've been holding off for so long!"

"I promise it's worth it... believe me, it's all about the wait." Keeley says, placing a firm hand on your knee and squeezing it in reassurance. "Rebecca knows all about it," she continues, "she's put Sam behind us as well, at the same table as Jamie."

gasping at her, you let out a small scream; "Rebecca! you're going to try pick things up with him again?!" she rolls her eyes at you and Keeley, but still smirks slyly. the three of you holler and laugh, drowning out the music with your noise. your stomach twists in nerves and excitement, not at all knowing what to expect from tonight. whatever happens, you have to try to resist the one thing you've been thinking about for weeks; let's see how hard he's going to make that.

—

the limousine finally comes to a halt at the Richmond Theatre, and the flashing cameras already catch your eye. the driver steps out, walking over and opening the car door for you, Keeley, and Rebecca. one by one, you exit the stretch, giving each other hands to help the other up.

the red carpet is rolled out from the end of the stoop, all the way up over the stairs into the venue. there's a backdrop set up for photographs displaying an array of sponsors including bantr and KBPR. Sam and Isaac pose in front of the cameras, standing a few feet from one another.

"Jerry! Dave! it's so good to see you guys again! make sure to get my good side this year," Sam points at the group of photographers, choosing for a simple wide smile. Isaac on the other hand, has his hands together in a prayer pose, face emotionless. "don't forget the shoes," Isaac says to the cameras, "make sure you get the shoes, bruv." he reiterates bluntly, pointing a finger down at the ground.

shaking your head, you laugh at their antics. looking at the people around you, you can't help but think about Jamie; is he inside already? what is he wearing? will he still like your dress? oh my God what if he doesn't show up just because you said no to being his date-

"y/n, it's your turn babe," Keeley whispers in your ear, and she places a hand on your back to guide you onto the red carpet. eyes widening in panic, you turn to grab her hand; "Keeley, I have no idea what to do, please come with me,"

she giggles, running in front of the photographers, still holding your hand. she flicks her hair aside, placing a hand on her hip and smiling wide. through her teeth she tells you: "just copy me, you're gorgeous."

as the two of you stand and pose together, Rebecca steps onto the carpet at its far end, smiling on her own. you reach over, taking her hand and pulling her between you and Keeley, and the three of you laugh and pose together in front of the cameras. slowly but surely, you get more comfortable, stepping aside to get a few photos on your own. Dani, Colin, and a number of other Richmond players stand next to the photographers, whistling and whooping in encouragement. your laugh is big and genuine as the cameras continue to flash, and the adrenaline running through your veins reignites the excitement you've had all week.

"thank you!" you say to the photographers as an event organiser beckons you off the carpet. she leads you, Rebecca, and Keeley towards the steps into the theatre. the three of you laugh at the rush caused by the attention of the cameras, and your words are filled with disbelief; "I've never done anything like that before! that was so much fucking fun!"

"I know right?!" Keeley cackles.

"ladies, I have to go in and sort some things so I'm going to go ahead. I'll see you at the table," Rebecca speaks quickly, blowing a kiss before rushing off.

"she's so sexy when she's all in charge and shit," Keeley says, watching as Rebecca struts up the rest of the stairs and into the venue. she turns to face you, looking you up and down. with an inquisitive expression, she reaches her hands up and twists your necklace around, hiding the clasp behind your neck.

"perfect," she says, "how do I look?"

"absolutely amazing," you reply to her, pulling some fluff from her lace corset.

"let's fucking do this," Keeley says with a determined expression, and the two of you hold hands again as you walk up the stairs. at the door, a server holds a silver platter with champagne flutes filled to the brim. Keeley immediately drops your hand, taking one glass in each hand. you struggle holding back a laugh as you take one for yourself, thanking the server quietly.

approaching the double doors into the theatre, you reach out your free hand to pull the handle, holding it open for Keeley. "thanks, babe," she says, taking a quick sip of her drink. the second she enters, she squeals "Barbara!" and rushes over to her friend nearby.

left to fend for yourself, you blink and widen your eyes at the sheer size of the ballroom. at the far end is a large stage, and the walls are covered in red velvet. you look up at the ginormous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and the chatter from the large amount of guests bounces against all sides of the room. you can't discern any of the voices despite recognising almost every face. everyone is dressed up to the Gods, mingling and chatting in small groups. some people are sitting at their tables, whilst some are simply standing around.

you spot Ted and Beard talking to Trent Crimm to your left, and as you're about to move towards them to say hello, a recognisable voice finally breaks through your thoughts; "holy fuck."

snapping your head towards the sound of the voice, your eyes immediately notice Jamie standing next to the bar to your right. he stands up straight when your eyes meet, sliding his elbow from the counter and placing down his beer bottle.

your jaw slacks as you move your eyes down his body, noticing his suit. it's a smooth navy, tailored to fit him perfectly. his signet ring shines beneath the bright lights, and his tattoos peek out from under his sleeve. the tie he's wearing has a light blue pattern you can't quite make out from your distance, but when your eyes drift to his suit jacket, your mouth snaps closed.

Jamie's eyes are wider than you've ever seen them, and he doesn't seem to blink at all as you walk over to him. you stand close to him, nostrils flaring as you clench your jaw; "Jamie," you say flatly, trying to keep your breathing steady, "what the fuck is that?" you tuck your clutch under your arm, moving your hand up to his chest and poking a finger against the pocket of his jacket.

his mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words come out. avoiding your eyes, he frowns his lips and shrugs; "what's... what?"

you tsk at him, moving your head to the side in an attempt to catch his gaze again. your finger digs into his chest harder, finally making him look at you as he pulls away in pain.

"ow, what was that for?"

"where did you get that pocket square?" you ask, making your question clear. you glance down at the sequinned blue fabric folded in his pocket, and your ears start ringing as your heart rate increases rapidly.

"Sarah made it for me to match your dress," Jamie admits sheepishly, shoulders slumping as he looks down at his fidgeting hands.

"come with me." you say, turning around and walking across the ballroom. Jamie follows you like a lost puppy as you walk past the other guests. "hey guys, I'll see you in a bit!" you chirp as you pass the coaches and their resident writer. they wave at you and Jamie with confused faces, but you ignore them. pushing through another set of double doors, you walk into a hallway.

looking side to side, you spot what you're looking for down the hallway and on the left. you don't look behind you, sure Jamie is right there, as you strut past another bar and some couched booths. stopping to chug your champagne, you discard the glass one of the tables. when you finally reach the door labelled 'ladies, you push open the door, hoping nobody's inside.

Jamie's suddenly stops as you head into the bathroom, brows furrowed, and you roll your eyes before pulling him in with you. when you walk in, you thank God there's no one in there to see you drag in the man trailing behind you. pushing open the first stall you see, you yank Jamie's arm to pull him inside.

you drop his hand, pressing your hands against his chest and pushing his back into the door, making it shut. you waste no time in slotting your feet between his and leaning forward, connecting your lips together. his hands find your waist as he realises what's happening. your clutch drops to the floor and you grab his biceps, keeping yourself steady.

hunger sets into you as you kiss him deeply, already panting as you messily move your lips against each other. your tongue slips into his mouth with ease as your hand reaches for his hair, grabbing a handful and tugging it. he groans into your mouth as his hands move up your back, holding you impossibly closer. you struggle to suppress the moan in the back of your throat as his tongue dips into your mouth, and your knees buckle at the feeling. Jamie uses this as his chance to spin you around, pressing your back against the cold door and quickly locking it without even having to look. with one hand placed firmly on the arch of your back, the other comes up to your face, tilting your jaw up as he kisses you even harder. your heads move side to side quickly, not once pulling away for breath as you move against each other vigorously. your fingers are still tangled in his hair whilst your other hand grips his arm tight, feeling the way the muscle flexes as he holds your body against his.

your mind goes completely blank, and your senses heighten as Jamie feels warm - no - hot. your heart hammers against your chest as you feel yourself start to sweat, your shared body heat starting to become overwhelming as your ears ring. all you can see, feel, and smell is Jamie; his cologne, his cold rings, his smooth skin on yours. both of your lips are sticky with lipgloss, and the noises your mouths make together make you blush. Jamie slides his hand from your face to your neck, running his thumb down your throat as he continues to tangle your tongues together. the touch pulls a low whine from your throat, and you completely lose the strength to hold yourself up.

your hand leaves his hair and quickly finds his tie, wrapping it around your fist and tugging it. you use the leverage to pull your back from the door before pressing the same hand into his chest.

Jamie reluctantly pulls his lips off of yours as you push against him. you're both breathless, panting with open mouths as you stare at each other. his pupils are dark and blown wide, breathing jagged, and his lips are even more plump than usual. yours feel equally as swollen, cheeks hot and hair messy.

without a word, you bend down, picking up your long discarded purse from the floor. turning your back to Jamie, you unlock the stall door and walk towards the sinks. dropping your purse on top of the marble, you run cold water over your hands in an attempt to cool yourself down before digging through your clutch. pulling out a bobby pin, you fix a rogue strand of hair which has fallen out of your updo. as you do so, Jamie appears from the stall, hair no longer messy. he catches your eyes in the mirror and smirks at you. as he passes you by, he brings his palm up to slap your ass, making your disheveled expression form into a smile.

you watch his back as he leaves the bathroom, and the fact he doesn't turn to glance at you makes you part your lips and huff, impressed by his sudden composure. turning back to the mirror, you stare at yourself. your cheeks are flushed, lips red and swollen, and your legs shake beneath you. holding the sink for support, you lean forward, fanning your face with your hand in an attempt to cool your skin. the door squeaks open, and you quickly stand up straight and pretend to fix the hair around your face.

a brunette woman you don't recognise walks in, and you send her a polite smile through the mirror's reflection. "having a good night are we?" she grins knowingly, scrunching up her nose and raising her eyebrows. you let out a surprised cackle, quickly shaking your head and shrugging; "just fixing my makeup, you know how it goes."

"right..." she drawls, winking at you before she disappears into a stall. you sigh out a breath, glad it wasn't Keeley or Rebecca walking in on you, even though they would probably have a few tips to make yourself look less sloppy after you and Jamie's heated make out.

sure, you weren't exactly playing the game of tension they were talking about, but your kiss with Jamie was worth every second. you wouldn't have lasted flirting with him all evening without knowing what he tasted like. the feeling of his lips on yours, hands pressed against your back while you clawed at his hair, is going to replay in your mind all evening, and you hope you won't be going home alone.

pulling your lipgloss from your bag, you quickly dab some more on your still-puffy lips. hoping all traces of Jamie are gone, you clip your clutch closed and head for the door. as you push through into the hallway, the loud chatter of the event reverberates through the walls, and adrenaline sets in again. you decide against returning to the ballroom just yet, walking down the hallway and to the small bar at the end of it.

"y/n!" Sam beams as you meet him at the bar. you get the attention of the bartender.

"I'll try the peachy keen, please," turning to face Sam you say: "how are you, Samuel?"

"I'm doing good, what about you?" he laughs at your use of his full name.

"hungry! I'm so excited for the meal and the auction and everything," you say, accepting your cocktail from the bartender with a "thank you so much."

"ah, really? are you going to bid on Jamie?" Sam asks with a grin.

"ha!" you cackle, "Jamie wishes I'd bid on him! but... I don't really think I can afford the auction anyways. Keeley said it goes into the tens of thousands!"

"I think Jamie would do it for free if it was you bidding on him, he's obsessed with you." Sam takes a sip of his drink, and you arch your eyebrows; "really?" you ask.

"oh yes, for sure... but I don't think I need to tell you that," he says with a smirk on his face.

"what do you mean?" you shrug nervously, already picturing Jamie's dark eyes when you pulled away from him in the bathroom stall. you bring your sweet drink to your lips in attempt to distract yourself.

"well, I saw him stumble out of the women's restrooms a few minutes ago. he's not very good at hiding his certain excitement, if you know what I mean,"

Sam's words take you aback, and you snort into your drink and cough as you place the glass down. you wipe the splatters from your face and look up at him with a shocked look.

he continues, the smirk on his face growing even more devilish; "and then I see you walking out of the same bathroom a few minutes later... which makes me think that maybe... you were in there together?"

you inhale deeply, raising you eyebrows and smiling at him. picking up your glass from the bar, you turn to walk away. "I will speak to you later, Sam. enjoy your meal." you say politely, and he laughs at you as you turn and head through the doors and back into the large ballroom.

contrary to when you arrived, the carpeted room is now bustling with people. you stand still in front of the door, stunned by the crowds. you can hear the familiar laughter and shouts of the Richmond players, but you can't see them. you look over to the stage to see Rebecca standing beside it, nervously discussing something with Higgins. glancing back towards the bar you had previously found Jamie at, his place is now taken by Roy and Keeley as they stand close together. her hand holds his arms as he looks down at her lovingly, a content smile resting on his face. you smile at their interaction, the gentle side of both of them is a rare sight at work, and it's as if they're all alone in this room full of people.

"excuse me ladies and gentlemen," Rebecca's voice sounds through speakers around the room. chatter dies down as everyone turns their attention to the stage, where Rebecca is standing behind a microphone.

"thank you so very much for coming," she pauses as the chatter dies down quickly, "dinner is going to be served soon, so if everybody could please find their seats, that would be delightful." everyone applauds Rebecca as she smiles and walks off the stage. you beeline towards her, awkwardly smiling at people as you push past them. standing next to the stage, Rebecca is flattening non-existent creases in her dress as she now talks to Ted.

"it's gonna be amazing, boss, don't you worry!" you hear Ted chirp as you approach the two. sensing your presence, Rebecca turns her head and smiles at you.

"oh, y/n, thank goodness you're here." she breathes.

your face contorts into a puzzled look as you glance at Ted whose face is still in his classic closed mouth smile; "we arrived together," you chuckle to yourself, and her face of realisation makes the three of you laugh. "let's go find our seats." you say, and you look back to Ted, "will you be sitting with us, coach?"

the three of you move towards the tables, and Rebecca guides you to table nine, smack down in the middle of the ballroom.

"that's right! I can't wait to tell Roy about my new uniform designs,"

"it's called a kit, coach," Beard suddenly appears next to Ted, Jane beside him.

"well we'll have to make them thermal then... winter is coming!" Ted says proudly, snapping his fingers with a chuckle.

you look up at Beard, completely confused. "Game of Thrones," he says in a flat tone. from beside him, Jane also speaks up in the same way; "Kit Harington."

"ah," you say, the awkward smile on your face fading as you turn away from the encounter, shaking your head as you walk to the other side of the table. pulling out the chair directly across from Ted, you're facing the stage with your back to the rest of the tables. as you move to sit down, however, Rebecca stops you.

"wait, okay, hold on," she circles the table, stopping at each chair and crouching down. your brows furrow as you watch her, clueless as to what she was doing. she brings her hands up in front of her face, holding her fingers in an L-shape as she frames her vision. "perfect..." she stands up straight and pulls out the chair in front of her, "this is your seat."

the antics make you laugh, giving in and moving two seats to the left and sitting down; "thanks?"

"you're so very welcome," her tone is sincere, as if she didn't just dance around the table choosing you a chair. she sits down in the seat to your right, immediately grabbing for one of the complimentary bottles of white wine set in the centre of the table. screwing open the top, she fills your glass first, all the way up to the brim. she does the same for her glass, almost making it overflow, before putting the wine bottle back into its ice bucket.

"Rebecca, oh my God," you widen your eyes at her with a smile, and her mischievous smirk makes you laugh. "I've already paid for it! we might as well drink it." as the two of you giggle, you raise your glasses and clink them together, some wine spilling over the rim as you cheers.

"hey! wait for me!" Keeley runs over, Roy trailing behind her, before lifting her cocktail up to join your toast, "here's to y/n shagging Jamie tonight!"

your hand flies to your mouth in shock and you shush her, glancing around to see if anyone heard her vulgar words. the only other guest who heard her comment was Roy, who smiles at you sympathetically before muttering "fucking gross," under his breath as he sits down. Keeley playfully sticks her tongue out at you before moving to sit beside between Rebecca and Roy. she leans over closer to you and Rebecca as Roy fills their glasses with wine; "have you seen Jamie's pocket square, by the way?"

you don't need to be looking in the mirror to know the intense blush that just set across your cheeks as you avoid looking at her. Rebecca furrows her brows and shakes her head, looking between you and Keeley. you suck in your lips and close your eyes, knowing what Keeley is about to say.

"it's the same as y/n's dress!" she whisper yells, and you reluctantly open one eye to see Rebecca's reaction.

"what the fuck?!" her eyes shoot open wide as her head snaps to look at you. you stay quiet, opening your other eye and bearing your teeth in a wide grimace. "how did he get a piece of your dress?" Rebecca says to you in a hushed tone before her face drops, "oh my God, y/n, don't tell me you've already slept with him."

now it's your turn to widen your eyes in a shocked expression; "Jesus, no!" you say, slightly offended by Rebecca's assumption. she, Keeley, and Roy stare at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue.

"what?" you ask them, nervously chugging the rest of your peach cocktail. none of them speak as they watch you drink, and you roll your eyes before explaining: "he went dress shopping with me and I guess the tailor made him a pocket square for tonight. I swear I had no idea he was going to do that! he did it behind my back."

Keeley squints at you, clearly not believing a word you say. when you look at Rebecca, she pouts her lips and nods, but you can't decipher whether it's in reassurance or mockery. "I believe you," Roy suddenly says, "he's a possessive little bitch, he would definitely pull this shit."

you chuckle at his words, and he sends you a quick wink with a small smile. as you look past Roy, your smile drops, not giving you the chance to return the wink, and Rebecca says what you're thinking: "speak of the devil,"

"you talkin' bout me?" Jamie says, firmly placing his hands on Roy's shoulders as he stands behind him. a cocky grin plasters his face as he stares down at you, quickly winking at you as your mouth falls slightly open.

"let go of me." Roy states, face stone cold as he stares ahead. Jamie doesn't follow his order, simply squeezing Roy's shoulders and shaking him side to side. "I'll kill you." Roy says again, but Jamie ignores him.

"Rebecca?" he asks sweetly, taking his time to drag his eyes off of you and look at the woman next to you, "why can't I sit at this table?"

"oooh..." Ted says, watching intently as Rebecca folds her arms on the table. Jamie's tight-lipped smile is sweet, but fake, and Rebecca mirrors his expression. she inhales deeply, tilting her head to the side as she looks up at him.

"because I said so, Jamie." she says, and your eyebrows arch as you bite back a smile when he glances at you, his cocky expression now cracking slightly. his grin turns into a pout as he gasps for a response. "but-" he starts, but Rebecca interrupts his rebuttal: "because I pay you to play football for me, Jamie, not to accompany me to dinner."

Roy bursts into a loud laugh, gaining everyone's attention as the table goes completely silent. Jamie slides his hands from his shoulders, startled by the sound of his laughter. Keeley giggles from beside Roy, covering her mouth to hide it. the whole table looks at him, amused smiles creeping up your faces. Jamie, on the other hand, looks defeated, eyes finding yours again. he sends you a sad look, pouting his lips. silently, you lift your shoulders in a shrug, smiling at him. your smile is sincere and warm, despite his opposite expression. still, since your encounter in the bathrooms not too long ago, your heart is finding it hard not to be fond of Jamie as you look at him. you'd like to keep up the tension-filled flirtatious banter, but since feeling the pressure of his mouth on yours, you can't help but long for the next time you'll get to taste him.

"good one, Rebecca," Roy finally speaks, falling back into his blunt normality as he brings his drink to his mouth.

Jamie composes himself, rolling his eyes before glancing at everyone at the table; "whatever," he mutters, looking straight at you again, "see you during the auction, y/n," he winks before turning and walking away, clearly quickly recovering from the embarrassment.

Rebecca and Keeley slowly turn towards you, mouths agape, and the three of you wait a few seconds before squealing in excitement.

"holy shit!" Keeley says, reaching across Rebecca to grab your hand, "he wants you!" she growls, and you all share another screech as you process Jamie's parting words.

"who wants who?!" a voice interjects your noise, matching your excitement with an amused tone and a wide smile. you look to your left as the same brunette from the bathroom sits down in the free seat next to you. your expression drops as you feel the blood drain from your face, contrasting the deep blush Jamie had just given you. she catches your eye and smiles wide; "hey! we're at the same table, what a coincidence!"

"Sassy Smurf?!" Ted hangs his head to the side to try and see her face. she immediately turns to him, opening her arms wide as they match each other's wide smiles. "Marlboro Man!" she shouts, and they embrace in a quick hug. the interaction both warms your heart and confuses you, turning to give Rebecca a questioning look. you're overwhelmed by all of the interactions you've had since sitting down at the table, and at this point you have no idea how the evening is going to pan out.

Rebecca smiles at you, interrupting Ted and the mystery woman's conversation to introduce you; "y/n, this is Flo, my best friend,"

"since childhood," she includes, "and you can just call me Sassy, it makes me feel more interesting," she smiles and winks at you as she holds out a hand for you to shake. you take it, repeating Rebecca by saying "I'm y/n, it's so lovely to meet you."

"y/n is our receptionist at Richmond, and she's really good," Keeley says, "she gets along with literally everyone, especially Jamie Tartt." she smirks at Sassy and raises her eyebrows suggestively.

Sassy turns to look at you wide eyes, an intrigued smile spreading across her face as she looks at you. you can almost see the cogs turning in her mind, and your face falls as you try to shake your head as subtly as possible. panic starts setting in as you realise she's connecting the dots between you in the bathroom and the conversation at the table, and you hope your wide eyes tell her not to mention your post-Jamie run in.

"ooh," she drawls, elongating the vowels as she nods her head. you hold your breath, hoping she understood your silent plea. "yeah, he's not really my type but, go get it babe," she sends you a cheeky grin and raises her brows at you. you feel the back of her hand tap the side of your thigh in reassurance as she turns her back to you; "so Ted, how have you been?" you hear her say, and you sigh in relief before drinking as much wine as you can in one gulp.

everyone quickly moves on, diving into their own conversations. Ted and Sassy seem to know each other quite well, Sassy leaning close to him as he speaks, making him blush. Rebecca must notice your confused expression, interrupting her own chat with Keeley and Roy to lean in to your ear; "they've slept together a few times." your eyes widen as you dramatically scoop your head to the side to look at Rebecca. you exchange knowing smiles, and her eyes soften as she looks at you. furrowing your brows as you notice her expression change, you're about to ask her if everything's okay, but she beats you to it.

"as much as we tease you about it," she starts, "Keeley and I think you and Jamie are perfect for each other. I can see how much you like him and -- not that he's hiding it very well -- but I can tell he is utterly in love with you."

you open your mouth to contest, but Rebecca holds a hand up to stop you; "I promise, y/n. now, during the auction, I want you to bid whatever amount needed to win him. don't worry about the cost, I'll cover it."

"oh- absolutely not!" you gawk at Rebecca, "you can't buy me a dress and a man!"

"of course I can. I'm the boss, remember?" her voice is stern as she pats your thigh.

"please, I'm begging you, just take the dress out of my paycheck." your eyes are pleading as you clasp your hands together. she shakes her head at you and tsks; "none of it. now, let's eat."

as if on cue, dozens of waiters appear out of nowhere, carrying platters of plates. first they bring the chicken, then the steak. you all dig into your dinner, and the food is delicious - not surprising, Rebecca would never settle for less than perfect. you eat, drink, and laugh, especially with Sassy beside you, her numerous offhand comments making you laugh louder than you normally would if you didn't have this much alcohol running through your veins. you notice the way Ted looks at her, even when she's speaking to someone else, and you recognise it as similar to the way Jamie looked at you in the dress boutique earlier this week. his eyes are soft and features relaxed, a small smile resting comfortably on his lips. his pupils are big, and his chest moves up and down slowly as he breathes -- he seems completely at ease, despite the hustle and bustle of the room. it makes you think of seeing Keeley and Roy earlier, looking at each other as if they were the only ones here, not a care in the world about who's around them. you smile to yourself before turning your attention back to the story Sassy is telling, some retelling of a funny memory she shares with Rebecca.

Keeley laughs at her words, and the sound is just infectious, making you laugh more than the story itself. your eyes move to look at Roy, who looks at Keeley with soft eyes identical to Ted's. you huff a small laugh to yourself, it going unnoticed by those around you as they're all engrossed in the conversation. Roy stares at Keeley with such adoration that it tugs at your heartstrings. their chairs are pulled close together, and his arm is draped over the back of her chair as she leans into him ever so slightly. her wine glass sits in her hand as she laughs, and each time she does, Roy smiles to himself. you doubt he's even listening to Sassy's tale, completely distracted by Keeley's joy. he's infatuated with her, and you can tell by the way she continues to crack his hard exterior. you wonder what he's like with her behind closed doors; you bet she has him walking around wearing her signature pink robe.

you look down at your hands, admiring the manicure you got in preparation for the event. the glossy light pink colour matches the details of your outfit, and you're still surprised at how comfortable your dress is. you run your fingers over the blue sequins, seeing how they reflect the chandeliers above you. you can't believe Jamie's little stunt he pulled -- when did he even ask Sarah to make him that pocket square? you look over your left shoulder, trying to find him at the table behind you, but he's not there. when you look to your right and past Rebecca, you see a table with Richmond staff, but no still no Jamie. scanning the countless people at the event, you can't seem to spot him.

it seems you were looking too far, however, as when you look at the table diagonal to yours, also in the middle of the room, your eyes land on him immediately. he's already looking at you, lids low on his eyes as he stares. you quickly glance away, trying to hide the fact you were looking for him, but you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. he's sitting with other Richmond players, but doesn't seem engaged with them at all as he stares at you. you have no idea of knowing how long he's been staring at you, but decide to meet his eyes again. as predicted, he's still looking in your direction. unlike usually, his face isn't cocky or teasing. instead, his eyes are soft and dark, and his mouth is closed in a small and subtle smile, probably unaware of its presence on his face. your gentle smile morphs into a shy one as he doesn't break away from your stare.

looking back to your lap, you touch your fingertips up to brush your lips, replaying every second of your kiss with Jamie in the bathroom. your skin recalls each goosebump as you imagine the way his hands ran up your spine. as you remember the taste of his tongue against yours, a blush takes over your face and your vision blurs. days of tension and patient waiting were interrupted by that first kiss, and you hope that wasn't your last.

—

the evening continues smoothly; you all finish your meals and continue emptying the wine bottles. warmth runs through your veins as alcohol mixes with contentment, and you fight the urge to blurt out something stupid about Jamie in your conversations. this proves to be made extra hard with him in your peripheral vision, and you can feel his eyes on you every time you laugh. you get more flustered the more wine you drink, and it's a true struggle not to stand up, take Jamie's hand, and take him home.

your engrossed in conversation with Sassy and Ted when Rebecca speaks into the microphone on the stage. you hadn't even noticed her leaving the table, a testament to your tunnel vision after a few drinks. Keeley shuffles over to sit next to you, and you see Roy standing up from the table. he buttons his suit jacket swiftly as he slides past the other tables and towards the stage. Keeley grabs your hand and squeals; "time for the auction! I will literally kill anyone that bids on Roy."

"ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming to support this year's annual Benefit for Underprivileged Children gala!"

the room breaks into a loud applause at Rebecca's words, and you take the opportunity to glance at Jamie. this time, to your surprise, he's not looking at you. his eyes are focused on the stage, and you use his distraction to look him up and down, eyes lingering on his pocket square. dragging your eyes upwards again, you notice Sam looking at you. he's sitting right next to Jamie, and is clapping absentmindedly as he stares at you with a challenging look, eyes squinting. you ignore him, quickly facing the stage again.

"now for the part you've all been waiting for," Rebecca continues, "the auction for a chance to spend an all-expenses paid evening with one of Richmond FC's very own football players!" everyone claps again, and the cheers get louder as Roy makes his way onto the stage. you jump at the sound of Keeley screaming beside you, her arms in the air as she claps for her boyfriend. his face remains expressionless as he lifts a hand up to salute to Keeley, and she does the same. she grabs your arm with one hand as the other holds her bidding paddle at the ready.

"I love it when he acts all 'I'm Roy and I don't smile'" she puts on a gruff voice as she smiles, "I just keep trying to make him crack!"

"first up, Roy Kent." Rebecca says, gesturing as Roy steps up to the microphone.

he takes a deep breath before using his best deadpan voice to say: "if any of you, other than Keeley Jones, put up your hand, I'll have you escorted out of here." the crowd laugh at his words, but his face stays cold as Keeley throws her paddle up into the air; "twenty-five thousand!" she shouts with a beaming smile, standing up from her seat with a small jump. "sold to the lovely lady in the puffy skirt!" Roy says into the mic before Rebecca even has the chance. Keeley squeals as Roy immediately exits the stage, making his way back over to the table. when he reaches Keeley, she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him sweetly. Ted coos at the gesture, and the players behind you cheer and ooh at the couple obnoxiously. Roy flips them off as he keeps his lips on Keeley's, and it makes you think of Jamie again.

when you flick your eyes over to his seat, you find it empty, but Sam still manages to catch your eyes again. you curse under your breath before forcing a smile. he points to the stage and when you turn your head, you see Jamie standing on the stage next to Rebecca. the spotlights make his pocket square sparkle, and the sight makes your heart beat faster than it should. "he's a possessive little bitch" Roy's words run circles around your head, and you can't help but admit you don't mind his possessiveness -- only when it comes to you.

"next we have a free meal with unlimited wine at the luxurious Richmond Hill Hotel with the one and only Jamie Tartt!" Rebecca exclaims, "and if the lucky bidder gets even luckier, she can have one night's stay in the hotel included!"

your cheeks flush a deep crimson as your mouth drops open wide. Sassy turns to you with a loud gasp, and Keeley cackles as she grabs your hand, bouncing up and down in her seat. your hands cover your mouth as you duck your head shyly, your entire table encouraging you to reach for your paddle. you finally make eye contact with Jamie, who is biting his lip with a teethy grin. he shoots you one of his classic winks and you sigh, picking up the paddle.

"let's start at five thousand for Jamie," Rebecca says.

you're about to put your number in the air, but someone else beats you to it. you look to the right, following the voice repeating the number, only to see Roy with his paddle in the air. the room erupts in laughter, including Jamie. Roy looks at you and winks; "we could get some extra training in," and he cracks you a smile.

"five thousand for Roy Kent? okay," Rebecca says as she holds back a laugh. her eyes are on you as she continues; "six thousand?"

finally lifting your paddle, you call out: "six thousand!"

Jamie smiles as Rebecca says your name into the microphone. unlike at the table earlier, his face is back to a cocky grin. strong arms crossed in front of his chest, his chin is held high as he runs his tongue across his teeth. his eyes are glued to yours, so you take it upon yourself to drag them up and down his body, enjoying the view. his trousers are tight around his thighs, and his arms practically bulge out of the suit jacket. how had you not noticed this earlier? how big he looks in the fitted outfit, and how much you like his blonde hair, and how the button up shirt he's wearing isn't white, but is actually the same shade of dusty pink as your shoes. your lips part as you realise just how much you two are matching, and your brows furrow in feigned anger. Jamie smirks as he sees you looking him up and down, but you decide to tease him just a bit more.

"do I hear seven thousand?"

eyes on his, you refuse to lift your paddle, despite Sassy trying to lift your hand. keeping it tucked under your crossed legs, you don't make any move to bid on him.

"seven thousand pounds!" you hear from behind you, and you turn to see Sam's hand in the air. everyone laughs again, and his joke starts a ripple effect amongst the football players.

"ten thousand." Isaac says bluntly, and when Jamie blows him a kiss from the stage he says: "love you, bruv!"

the bidding goes through a number of players dotted throughout the room until finally, the number reaches nineteen thousand.

"any more for any more?" Rebecca hopes, glaring at you.

Keeley drums on the table suddenly, and Sassy is quick to join in. soon, Roy, Ted, Beard, and even Jane are all tapping the table, giving you a drum roll.

"twenty thousand!" you shout, shaking your head as you throw your eyes to the sky. Rebecca doesn't give the chance for any more bids, immediately saying: "sold for twenty thousand to y/n y/l/n!"

Jamie laughs as he looks down at you, and you bite your lip as he mouths to you; "you're mine."

—

with the auction finished, and some of the Richmond players paired up with new potential wags, most of the tables are empty. although Rebecca couldn't hire the real ABBA, Higgins managed to find a more-than-decent cover band to take the stage as musical guest. you bounce up and down to the rhythm of the music, hand-in-hand with Rebecca. you spin her around, and she does the same to you as you sing along to the classic 'Dancing Queen', and you point to her every time the chorus plays. you laugh and cackle as you scream along to the songs, dancing with Rebecca and Keeley, and sometimes Sassy. allegedly, Roy doesn't dance, so Keeley has resorted to dancing on her own. she has long discarded her heels, and you wish you had the balls to do the same.

when the song switches to 'Chiquitita', Keeley collapses against Rebecca's chest, clutching her tightly in a hug. Sassy whispers something to Ted, who has been krumping the whole time, before they both disappear through the double doors into the hallway you had pulled Jamie through earlier. you smile as you watch them walk away, hand-in-hand. when you turn back to Keeley and Rebecca, you're surprised to see Sam standing in front of you, hand outstretched. you take it with a shy smile, and he pulls you close. you put a hand on his shoulder as he leans down, but he keeps the hand not holding yours to himself; how respectful. together, you move side to side as he has to shout in your ear to be heard above the music.

"where's Jamie?" he asks.

"I don't know," you reply, standing cheek to cheek so he can hear you.

"you look stunning tonight, y/n."

"thank you, Sam! you look great!" when you saw him at the bar earlier, you hadn't completely recovered from Jamie, so you hadn't noticed his sophisticated look for the night.

"I know you and Jamie were in the bathroom together," he says, ignoring your compliment, "and I noticed your matching outfits."

you roll your eyes, pulling him close to you so you can explain yourself; "I didn't know how was going to do that! Roy said he was being possessive."

"and Roy is right...," he says, twirling you around using your entwined hands, and he stops your spin halfway, allowing your eyes to fall on a sulking Jamie, "now go talk to Jamie. I've gotten him all jealous and bothered, now you have to handle the rest while I try to talk to Rebecca."

turning to face Sam again, you laugh wildly, slapping his arm as you pretend to be upset at his antics. he matches your expression, cackling as shakes his hips. you hold your pointer finger up to him, quickly grabbing his hand again and pulling him towards Rebecca, who is still holding Keeley in her arms. their height difference is exacerbated by Keeley's missing shoes, and her eyes are closed as she rests her head on Rebecca's chest. your boss looks at you, pursing her lips as she holds back her laughter. you move closer to her; "Sam has no one to dance with, maybe you can lend him a hand?" you say before leaning down to whisper in Keeley's ear. "Sam is here." you say, and she doesn't need any more information before standing up straight and dancing through the crowd and out of sight.

pushing Sam towards Rebecca, you let go of his hand, quickly fixing the twisted strap on your pumps before stepping back onto the carpet. fittingly so, the band starts singing 'Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!', and you smirk to myself as you walk towards Jamie. his jacket is unbuttoned, pockets hanging loosely at his side. with his head down, he has one hand in his pocket and the other fidgeting with a toothpick on top of the table. he doesn't notice you approach, so you move to stand behind him. you bend over slightly, folding your arms over his shoulders as you hold your face next to his. Jamie, stubborn as always, doesn't react to your presence, so you flatten your palms against his midriff, feeling his hard abs beneath his shirt. this makes him sit up slightly, taking a hand out of his pocket and placing it over your hands.

"isn't it funny you're at table six, and I was at table nine..." you say in his ear, but he ignores your silly comment.

your fingers drag up painfully slowly, reaching his chest before he drops his hand down. his chest moves up and down rapidly as he borderline pants at your touch. separating your hands, you bring them across his chest firmly before pulling them up to his shoulders. you squeeze his solid muscles, secretly admiring his strength.

"there's not a soul out there," you whisper along to the song, lips brushing his ear, "no one to hear my prayer,"

"Jamie," your voice is sultry in his ear, knowing exactly what you want from him right now. the song isn't helping your heated state, the bass pumping in your flushed chest. he tips his head back as you continue to massage his shoulders, resting it in the crook of your neck. you can see every inch of the soft skin on his throat, and you drag your eyes over his adam's apple as it bobs with his nervous gulp. stopping the movement of your fingers, Jamie stands up abruptly, buttoning his jacket with shaky hands.

smirking as you look up at him, he clenches his jaw and shakes his head as if telling you not to say anything. without another word, he takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers tightly, and walks towards the door. he pushes through the first set of double doors, you in tow, before suddenly coming to a halt. you stand beside him, both of you silent for a few seconds. torrential rain slaps the pavement outside of the venue, and you look at your clothes with wide eyes. he does the same, and when your eyes meet again, you both laugh. his hand comes up to brush his air back as he looks out at the rain, but your eyes are glued to his bicep. the seams of jacket look like they're about to burst as he flexes his muscles, and your smile fades into an O-shape as your jaw slacks. yes, he's a professional footballer, but he's so big, and so muscular. your eyes drop down as you lean back, taking a glimpse of his backside, and that is definitely a rugby ass.

"fuck it," he mumbles, pulling you from your trance, and before you know it he's pulling you outside. you rush down the steps, squeezing his hand tight so you don't slip, before running to the street corner. there's a line of black cabs picking up guests, and Jamie pulls open the door to one. holding open the door for you, he lets you crawl in first, before ducking down.

"hi!" you chirp to the driver as Jamie climbs in next to you, "sorry you have to drive in this weather," you apologise before giving him your address through the plastic privacy partition. the driver closes it, so you buckle your seatbelt, and once Jamie's shut the door, he does the same.

"we're going to yours?" he asks, pushing his dripping wet hair out of his eyes.

"yeah." you say simply, smiling at him. you're sure you look like a drowned rat, and you hope your makeup isn't running down your face. despite only being in the rain for a minute or so, you're both completely soaked.

you look at each other for a few seconds as the driver takes off, and you can't help but laugh at each other's appearance.

"you look like you do after training, but... worse," you giggle, pushing a misplaced strand of his hair over.

"and you look... just a little bit melted," he laughs, "but still gorgeous." while you laugh, your lip quivers as you shiver from the cold rain, so he shrugs off his wet jacket, laying it over your legs in a poor attempt to keep you warm, but it's the thought that counts.

turning to look through the window, the air suddenly grows a little bit awkward. five minutes ago you were ready to let him do whatever he wanted to you, and now you're sitting next to each other in a silent cab completely drenched from the rain. you sigh, thinking about your next move. you want to reach over the middle seat and take his hand in his -- quite frankly, you'd prefer to straddle him and make out with him right here and now. but you stick with your first option, glancing down at your lap before sliding your hand over and taking his. as you fold your fingers together you bring his hand up, brushing your lips over the back of it as you kiss each of his knuckles. you don't look at him, just hold his hand in your lap as you continue staring out the window.

the drive continues in silence for a few more minutes, before Jamie clears his throat. eyes glued to the street, you don't look at him when he speaks; "aren't you happy you won me in the auction?" you can hear the smirk in his voice as he says it, and you roll your eyes with a smile.

"is this our free date night, then? because I was actually going to give it to my dad as a birthday gift, he loves you." you reply, still avoiding turning to him.

"I'll make sure he tells you how good I am in the bedroom," this makes you snap your head towards him, mouth agape, and he laughs at your expression as he tosses his head back against the car seat. you laugh along with him, staring at his bright smile. your eyes drop down and look at how his wet button up clings to his skin, and suddenly your heart beat speeds up again.

attempting to calm yourself, you look at the jacket draped over your lap. reaching for its pocket, you pull the folded blue fabric out of it. you hold it up to Jamie, raising your eyebrows in silent question. his expression falls sheepish again, smile fading. he glances out the window briefly before turning to you again, concerned look on his face.

"y/n, I just wanna say -- I'm sorry if me wearin' that pocket square made you uncomfortable. I guess I was so wrapped up in all of the flirting and everythin' that I didn't think about how it would look wearin' that tonight," his words are sincere as he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"Jamie," you whisper, eyes softening as you process his worry, "thank you for apologising, but don't worry. sure, it was surprising, but honestly I think it's really fit..."

his worried look turns to confusion as he puckers his lips; "what? are you serious?" he asks you, eyebrows arched.

"yes, Jamie, I'm being very serious. why do you think I took you to the bathroom and made out with you?" you say, absentmindedly playing with the fingers wrapped around your hand.

his eyes look to the ceiling of the car, and he licks his lips as he thinks hard. sighing, he starts slowly nodding his yet; "yeah... I guess so... well-played." he says, winking at you, and suddenly he's back to his regular, teasing self.

"so, why aren't we going to my superstar footballer mansion?" he asks, lips frowning in a grimace.

"because my penthouse flat is right here," you say, ducking your head down and pointing out of his window. the cab stops right in front of the small car park of your apartment. it's not a big building by any means, so it's more like a drive way that have a few cars parked on it. Jamie looks up at the four-storey building before looking at you with a bored expression.

"penthouse?" he repeats, pointing his thumb out the window, "how luxurious." he rolls his eyes before digging through his trouser pocket, pulling out a money clip.

"a money clip?" your tone now matches his, "what are you? fifty?"

"here ya go, sir," he hands a wad of cash to the taxi driver without even knowing how much the ride was. he ignores your comment, opening the door and holding it for you. you pass him his jacket, and when you step out of the car, he throws it over your shoulders. the rain is still lashing, and you make a run for the front door as Jamie closes the cab door and thanks the driver.

you hold your clutch over your head as you try to shield your hair from any more rain, but you doubt it helps at all. you knock on the double doors to the entrance, and the doorkeeper sitting in his small booth inside buzzes you in. Jamie catches up with you and places a hand on the small of your back as you walk inside. you shrug his jacket off, handing it to him as you make your way to the lift. he folds it over his arm, and smiles at the doorkeeper as you walk past his desk. you press the button to call the lift, and the doors immediately open.

"Jamie Tartt?" he asks out loud, completely bewildered.

the two of you step inside the lift, and when Jamie turns to face him with a friendly face, he holds a finger to his lips as if to shush him. the door slides closed, and the doorkeeper remains in shock the entire time. leaning against the wall, you stare up at Jamie with an amused grin, but the second the lift starts its ascent, Jamie turns to you. he grabs your face and crashes his lips onto yours. your hand flies up to clutch his wrist as you lose yourself to his touch. you waste no time slipping your tongue into his mouth again, and you feel like you can finally breathe. all evening you imagined doing this again, and now your body shivers as the anticipation comes to an end.

the lift stops, and Jamie stands up instantly, clearing his throat. you're left panting against the mirrored wall of the lift as it dings and the doors open. Jamie stands aside, holding out a hand as he beckons for you to walk in front of him. pushing yourself up, you pop open your clutch to dig for your keys. when you walk past Jamie he, of course, gives you a small slap to your ass. you squeak at the noise, but don't say anything else, pulling your housekeys from your bag. Jamie follows you around the corner and towards your door, and when you unlock it and push it open, the warmth of your apartment feels like heaven on your wet skin.

"it's small, but it's all I need really," you explain to Jamie as you walk towards your sofa. "nah, it's nice," he smiles at you sweetly, the opposite to the way he looked at you in the lift.

your living room and kitchen are conjoined, and the space definitely isn't the biggest, but its coziness welcomes you. dropping yourself onto the plush couch, you sink into the pillows, staring at Jamie. he clicks the door shut behind him before slipping off his dress shoes and placing them next to your doormat, right beside your work shoes. he turns and walks towards you, unbuttoning his jacket and throwing it over the arm of your grey sofa. you expect him to sit down next to you, but instead, he crouches down, kneeling on the ground proposal-style. quickly sitting up, you stare down at him skeptically, wondering what his next move is. his eyes hold yours as he slides his hands up your calves, and goosebumps raise on the smooth skin instantly. leaning forward, Jamie pushes your dress an inch over your knees before gently kissing them. you can't help but laugh at the feeling, it tickling slightly due to your damp skin. his thumbs slide over the divots in your knees, and graze over some scar you've had since childhood.

his hands slide down your legs before he focuses his fingers on the clasp of your heels. lifting your right foot up slightly, he brings his lips to your ankle, kissing gently before sliding the pump off. he does the same to the your other foot, and the relief of having your shoes off makes you sigh as you hang your head back. Jamie presses his thumbs into the sole of your left foot, easily rubbing the knot out of the arch of your foot. a small whine slips from your lips at the feeling, and Jamie lets a low chuckle slip as he moves on to your other foot, doing the exact same thing. this time, you manage to hold back your groans, biting down on your bottom lip with your eyes screwed shut.

moving his lips back to your ankle, Jamie straightens out your leg, running kisses up the side of your calf. when he reaches your knee, he brings your leg back down before sliding his hands up to your thighs, one hand on each leg. you lift your head to look down at him, and his eyes hold a pleading look as he stares up at you. your lips part, completely invigorated by the sight of Jamie on his knee in front of you, hands hidden under your dress, practically begging to touch you. leaning forward, you take control, wrapping his tie around your fist as you pull up, helping him back to his feet. he holds his hands out for you, and you take them as he lifts you from the sofa. staring up at him, hands resting in his, your flutter your lashes.

"you okay?" Jamie whispers, a crooked smile appearing on your face.

you nod and hum in response, letting go of one of his hands and stepping past him. he follows you as you pull his hand, walking down the hallway. you pass the bathroom, heading straight for your bedroom. leaving the door open behind you, you push Jamie into the room ahead of you, letting go of his hand. he sits down at the end of your bed, legs spread. you slot between them, back turned to him. reaching up, his fingers delicately pull at the zip on the back of the dress as you pull down the straps, and you think back to the boutique; you knew you wanted tonight to end this way, but never in a million years had you actually thought it would.

as the dress drops from your frame, you hear Jamie's breath hitch at the sight of your pink lingerie. his hands immediately come to your waist, spinning you to face him. straddling his lap, your hands come up to his neck as his hold your back to keep you up. a smile creeps onto your face as your cheeks go hot, and Jamie mirrors you. moving to look down to avoid your gaze, his eyes snap up again immediately, flustered by the lace covering your body. a giggle escapes your lips as you pulls his face to yours, pressing kisses to each cheek before moving up to his forehead, then down to his nose, before finally reconnecting your lips.

deepening the kiss, your lips move against his with a hasty hunger, and as you're about to slip your tongue into his mouth again, Jamie pulls back; "oh shit," he says, and you shake your head in confusion.

"what?" you ask, embarrassment beginning to cloud your mind as you stare at him expectantly.

he avoids your eyes, shaking his head with his lips parted in thought; "I forgot to sign out after work today."

———

i told u this would be long x_x

thank u so so much for reading richmond's receptionist! i've had the most fun writing this and will probs write an epilogue asap (i'm not ready to move on yet)! any feedback is welcomed and appreciated, thank u! <3

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Finding Refuge.

Chapter two.

Surviving a Zombie Apocalypse with Terry Richmond

“I’m so sorry, Raelynn. The position has been filled.”

Raelynn Matthews looked into the eyes of the receptionist standing behind a sleek front desk. The stillness within that corporate building in Downtown Atlanta left an eerie feeling she was intensely familiar of.

“E–Excuse me?” Raelynn finally found the words to speak, “I–I–I–don’t understand.”

The nonchalant receptionist stared back at Raelynn with a cool expression and a slow blink.

“I received an email from your company for a job opportunity. You have an opening here,” Raelynn displayed the email to the receptionist, “So help me understand…”

The sunken, almost lifeless eyes of the receptionist flicked down to her iPhone and then back to her face.

“That email was sent two days ago. We don’t wait around for a response. If you wanted the job, you’d have shown up within the allotted timeframe.”

The even, condescending tone of the alabaster bitch sitting before her was about to bring the evil out of Raelynn.

“Are you being sarcastic? The date says March 25th. Today is March 25th—”

“I’m trying to be nice here. What would you rather me do? Go grab one of the big boys and have him tell you what I just told you?”

Emerald green eyes stared into Raelynn’s coffee brown orbs. The receptionist with a nameplate that reads: Monica Caudle, started packing her patchwork satchel, prepared to leave Raelynn standing there. The sound of dress shoes against polished, concrete floors echoed around her as her fingers covered in various silver rings twitched against the desk’s surface.

“You know your way out—AHHH! WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Somehow, Raelynn’s hand smacked against Monica’s Big Gulp cup and spilled the contents of a blue slurpie all over her white capris and black, pointed toe, ballet flats. Monica leaped up and almost tripped from the velocity of her sudden movements. The blue, icy-cold liquid drifted all over her desk, soaking very important documents and Monica’s AirPod Pro case.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Monica screeched, “I OUTTA SLAP THE FUCK OUT OF YOU—”

Whoops,” Raelynn twisted her full lips and gave a single shoulder shrug, “My hand just…has a mind of its own.”

“I’m calling security—”

“Call them, I don’t care. You deserved it. I’m sure you’ve gotten by so far in your miserable life being nasty and rude to people. Today is the day you feel how it feels to be treated poorly. And it doesn’t help the fact that you’re so ugly on the outside. It matches that rotten core of yours.”

Raelynn beamed at Monica. Monica stared at her with her mouth agape.

“Think about what I’ve said. Really think on it, Monica. I could have done worse,” Raelynn placed her large, black, Telfar bag over her shoulder, “Have a good rest of your day!”

Turning, Raelynn walked away, ready to get so far away from that building. She refused to allow herself to cry over it. Maybe it was a sign for the heavens above that this job wasn’t for her. She was still in college working towards a certificate in medical billing and coding. Other opportunities were on the horizon.

Raelynn had a temper, one she couldn’t control when in situations. Slowing down, breathing deeply, and taking a break before responding were methods she tried to use to reduce her anger. Practicing relaxation skills and developing new anger-management strategies may also help. She just started therapy, so it was an adjustment for her.

A black girl from Decatur, apart of the 14.57 percent of African Americans within the eastern suburb. Her foster parents had her attend the best schools, put her in many clubs from ballet to karate, and made sure she got a full ride to Spelman.

You may have heard the expression “children are resilient,” promoting the idea that children can overcome and conquer hardship and trauma. While it may be comforting to believe in the rhetoric of childhood resilience — that children are immune to adverse experiences and won’t be damaged by trauma — it’s far from the truth. Raelynn suffered heavily from PTSD. She was neglected by her biological parents and abused by her mother’s boyfriend at the age of seven.

The cigarette burn in the center of her chest was a reminder. The sensation of piping hot water against her skin brought back memories of sitting in a hot tub after receiving a beating, the whelps on her skin so painful she couldn’t stand the heat against her skin. Nights without a meal because she ‘disrespected her mother’s man’. Going to school at the age of nine with a black eye was enough to have her 4th grade teacher call CPS.

“Take her, I can’t afford her anyway. One less thing to be concerned with.”

George and Tonya Williams adopted her. George was a Veteran and Tonya was a pediatric nurse. They drove all the way from Decatur to take her back with them. George was a very disciplined man. Very straight and very structured. He was like a drill sergeant. Tonya was loving and often times smothered Raelynn. They built a picture–perfect daughter to their liking, and Raelynn felt she didn’t have a say in the matter. Although she was forever grateful of them, she wished they could understand.

Raelynn became rebellious. She skipped school, got suspended multiple times, fought often, and stayed out way past curfew. It was a cry for help that fell on deaf ears. Eventually, George started to regret adopting Raelynn. And just like her mother’s boyfriend, he hit her. Slapped her in the face. Slapped her while her foster mother watched. Thankfully, she was of age to leave them both behind and figure out what she was going to do.

She left Decatur and moved to Atlanta where she worked two jobs to make ends meet, got her license, made poor dating choices, and partied till she couldn’t party anymore. It did nothing but numb the pain. She tried reaching out to her biological father, but discovered he had passed from colon cancer a year prior. Her mother was no longer with that abusive man but she was living in South Carolina with extended family until she got back on her feet.

Before stepping off the curb and into the street, Raelynn stopped herself, realizing what she was about to do. Was she about to…walk into incoming traffic? She took two wide steps back and closed her eyes. That wasn’t the answer. Raelynn noticed a bench and took a seat. She sat her bag down next to her and retrieved a small note pad and a pen with purple ink. Raelynn removed the top to the pen with her teeth and started jotting down what had just happened.

After what felt like an hour, Raelynn stood from the bench and walked safely across the street to her parked car and climbed inside. The drive back to her shared apartment with her roommate took longer than usual, cars bumper to bumper. Raelynn opened the door to their two bedroom apartment and dropped her shoes off where she stood. Walking inside, she spotted her roommate, Ashley, an art major with the beauty of a pageant girl and the body of an IG model. Ashley was wearing a matching, pale–pink pajama set with her honey blonde knotless braids cascading down her back.

“Raelynn? Did you see the news?” Ashley glanced over her shoulder at Raelynn with light–brown eyes, “look…”

This is a worldwide emergency broadcast; a viral outbreak has been reported and is spreading quickly. The virus is a fast acting strain and is passed through bodily fluids from the infected. Once bitten or contaminated in any way, it attacks your bloodstream and brain. The symptoms of the infected include profound sweating, fever and nausea.

Raelynn’s eyes were hooked to the screen. Ashley stood from the carpet and began ringing her shaky hands as fear rushed through her. Life was about to get interesting. So, a worldwide pandemic? Great. What else can go wrong? They were behind in rent, she couldn’t get another job after being fired from her job delivering packages from Amazon. With a pandemic, she’d have no way to pay bills and survive.

Call up George and Tonya. Move back home to Decatur, she thought.

“It’s probably one of those distractions, Ashley. Just like all of that Area 51 bullshit—”

“Shhhhh! Listen!”

Ashley turned the volume up on their wall—mounted flat screen.

The virus is fatal and there is no cure as we speak; we have reports coming in now that the infected that have passed are rising and attacking the non–infected. Please stay in your homes and do not get close to anyone sick, in severe cases that you need to protect yourself, the only way to stop them is damaging the brain. Do not try to come to emergency services or hospitals and wait for more information…

“Rae…”

Ashley was starting to have a panic attack right before Raelynn’s eyes. The intense fear and anxiety she was experiencing made her dizzy. Ashley almost lost her balance and fell face first against the carpet. Raelynn dropped her bag and rushed over, slowly lowering Ashley to the sofa. She wrapped her arms around her shaking body, rubbing her back in soothing circles. Ashley’s hyperventilating began to slow down.

“Ash, it’s okay…it’s okay—”

“I need to call my mom and my sister! I need to know that they’re okay!” Ashley shouted hysterically.

“Ash, Ash, please, calm down—”

“NO!”

Ashley shoved Raelynn, causing her to fall back against the couch while she stormed off down the hall. Raelynn shot up from the couch and followed Ashley, angered by her rage against her when she was only trying to help. She stood within the doorway of Ashley’s bedroom and watched her pack an overnight bag with random pieces of clothing.

“So, you’re just going to go out there when they just said to stay indoors—”

“I need to be with my family, Raelynn. They’re all I’ve got left. I don’t expect you to understand that—”

“HOLD ON,” Raelynn charged inside of Ashley’s room, “I was only trying to help you! If they’re saying it isn’t safe to go out, then why would you?—”

Raelynn wasn’t prepared for what just happened. Ashley bent over in front of her and vomited all over her bedroom floor. Raelynn rocked back on her heels to avoid it from getting on her. The putrid smell of her stomach contents filled the cramped space and Raelynn couldn’t stand there any longer.

Ashley looked up at her with a sweaty face and spit hanging from her bottom lip. They locked eyes and the silence between them was almost chilling.

The symptoms of the infected include profound sweating, fever and nausea.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” Raelynn questioned.

Ashley avoided Raelynn’s penetrating gaze.

“Ashley, how long?”

Ashley wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She rushed past Raelynn and into their shared bathroom to grab cleaning supplies. Raelynn watched her scrub and clean, the scent of bleach mixed with vomit toxic to her senses.

“Do you think you were infected—”

“Shut up right now, Raelynn.”

“I need to ask these questions! Because if you are…if you are…”

Raelynn disappeared down the hall to her room. Fuck what that news anchor said on television. If Ashley was indeed infected, she would attack Raelynn and do the exact same to her. She packed an even bigger bag, grabbing all the important things she needed before heading back to Decatur.

Speaking of Decatur.

Incoming call…

“Tonya?”

Raelynn glanced down the hallway, the sound of Ashley scrubbing catching her ear.

“Raelynn, honey, is everything alright? Did you hear what’s happening? Are you safe?”

“Uh…” she lowered her voice and cracked her door, “I don’t think so…my roommate is sick…she just threw up everywhere.”

“You need to come home. Get out of there fast. I rushed home from work because the hospital is in an uproar. The things I’ve witnessed…come home, Rae.”

“How does George feel about all this?”

“…George wants you home too. Leave now and let me know when you’re on the way. I love you. Please be careful, Raelynn.”

Beep.

Raelynn started to feel her own sense of trepidation. She continued packing, and when she finished, she opened her door, silence ahead of her.

“Ashley?”

Nothing. Just an eerie silence.

Raelynn hated the unknown. She hated not knowing what she was walking into. That hallway was her only chance of leaving that apartment. Mustering courage, Raelynn gathered her things and began walking the hallway. Before she approached Ashley’s door. She stopped, reaching inside of her Telfar bag, gripping the handle of her licensed gun. She made sure to bring it with her if what the news was saying was true.

In severe cases that you need to protect yourself, the only way to stop them is damaging the brain.

Raelynn stepped in front of Ashley’s door and it was empty. She’d left. Raelynn exhaled, hoping that Ashley wasn’t infected. She was on her way to her mother and sister. If she’s infected, she would definitely do the same to them.

Not wasting anymore time, Raelynn left the apartment behind and as she exited the complex, her eyes moved back and forth, taking in the sight of people rushing and screaming and crying. She hadn’t been in her apartment for an hour and already there was mass hysteria. She jogged with her bags to her Honda Civic, popping the trunk and throwing her bags inside. Raelynn made sure to keep her eyes focused around her. She hopped in her car and slammed the door shut, thankful she was safe.

We’re gonna die!

It’s the apocalypse!

Those words stuck with her the entire ride to Decatur. She could only hope it wasn’t true. Maybe she was asleep. Maybe she needed to be woken up from this growing nightmare.

——

3:00 pm

The town of Senoia

located 45 minutes south of Atlanta. It was established in 1860 , the land was purchased by a Reverend. Cotton and Peaches where the agricultural products shipped from this area. There are still plenty of farms, now they have lots of honey farms and other fruits. The town was named after a captain's wife from the civil war.

Terry walked into that town with a shotgun flung across his body and a crossbow in his hand. He wore his favorite jeans, a grey T-shirt beneath a flannel shirt, and a beanie on his head. His hazel eyes took in the appearance of the charming little town, small shops surrounding him. The sound of shuffling feet startled him so he ducked low behind an abandoned, faded blue sedan.

It was a small group of zombies.

Terry silently watched while fixing his crossbow to shoot. He steadied his breathing, something he’d learned to do over the months. No use in making it known that he was highly anxious. His eyes peeked through the dusty window at the zombies moving along with weak attempts to stay on two feet.

It’s crazy to think that these were once everyday people. Waking up, going to work, driving, laughing, making love…

They stumbled around, moaning and groaning.

Rauuuhhh…guhhhhhhhh…

Another method that allowed Terry to keep the zombies away from where he hunkered down was to bait them. He’d tie dead animals to a wooden board and hang them in various locations within the forest to keep his scent away. It worked, because if they caught a whiff of him, they’d go crazy. He had to do it every several days. A lot of work, but worth your life.

When they were far enough away, Terry remained low, his eyes casing the area like a hawk. Solid back against a brick wall, Terry retrieved his walkie talkie from his back pocket. He’d made it to the first landmark Rae told him about.

“When you find the history museum, radio me and I’ll tell you what to do from there. Good luck, Terry.”

He was still unsure about Rae.

“Why are you helping me?” Terry questioned her hours prior.

“Because…I know what’s it’s like…and we have to have each other’s back, right?”

He’d like to believe that. Terry refused to travel in a pack. He refused to trust anyone else besides his cousin. But, with Mike gone, he had no choice but to let his guard down just a little. Only a little this time. As soon as he finds Mike, he’s leaving everyone behind. Including Rae.

“Rae, this is Terry, come in.”

Terry moved further away until he was hiding beside a dumpster, crouched low.

“Rae, what’s your 20?”

He couldn’t stay here any longer. What the fuck was she doing? His head snapped to the right when he thought he’d heard something.

Terry whispered a low “fuck,” before jogging as quickly and quietly as he could across to the other side.

“Rae, come in, I’m too exposed. You got me open out here.”

“Terry, Terry, I’m here, sorry…”

“What the fuck was that?” Terry whispered aggressively into the walkie talkie.

“Signal strength down. I’m trying here, Terry. Are you at the landmark?”

“Yes, yes. Now, where to go from here?”

“Travel north. You’ll notice train tracks straight away. Stick close to the trees. When you reach a tunnel, I’m waiting inside for you.”

“Will you? I need your word, Rae.”

“I promise. I wouldn’t lead you astray.”

Terry moved. He hadn’t been in this position for at least two months. His well, structured game plan to remain hidden most of the time was being tested. It took Terry about twenty minutes to find the tracks. He stepped over carefully and did as Rae suggested: sticking to the trees. Ignoring the twigs and pointy greenery scraping his skin, Terry could see the tunnel straight ahead.

“Argh!”

Terry dropped to his knees when the back of a gun collided with his head. He dropped his crossbow and turned around on his hands to see who had attempted to knock him out. He was resilient. it would take a lot to put Terry Richmond down. Not even a taser could subdue him for long. He’d withstood a bullet to his back. His bright eyes stared up into the eyes of a wild—looking white man with overgrown facial hair and thin, oily, dirty blonde hair.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

Terry wanted to kill this man with his bare hands. He was going to draw attention to them.

“Get that gun out my face.” Terry warned.

“I don’t recognize your face ‘round here. We don’t take kindly to outsiders in Woodsbury. You could be infected…”

“Yeah, well, I’m not. And you’re right, I’m not from around here. But I damn sure don’t owe you an explanation. After all, you don’t own this town.”

Click.

Terry acted quickly and charged the man into the bushes. They wrestled, rolling around in the dirt. Terry took his arm and pinned it back, causing the man with rancid breath to wail in agony. He wouldn’t keep still. Terry had to put him in a choking headlock with his bulging bicep.

He squeezed.

The man tapped his arm frantically.

“You wanna go to sleep? Drop the fuckin’ gun. Do it now, motherfucker.” Terry spoke through clenched teeth.

The man loosened his grip on the gun. Terry gave his throat one more painful squeeze to let him know he meant business before releasing him. Terry picked himself up from the ground while the man tried to catch his breath. He picked up the gun and placed it on his hip.

“This mine now.” Better move along before they come find you after making all that noise.”

Terry snatched up his crossbow and adjusted the shotgun around him as he walked, with one final look of pure hatred down at the man, he continued on his way and fast. Terry lifted his forearm and studied the bloody abrasion with fierce eyes.

He wanted to scream. He couldn’t afford to walk around with an open wound. If anything, that man he was fighting back there could be infected.

Terry took off running as fast as he could, darting between trees like a track runner. Up ahead, he came out onto the train tracks and sprinted into the dark tunnel. He slowed his footsteps and pressed his chest into the wall of the tunnel, exhausted breaths billowing from his mouth.

He didn’t have a second to gather himself before he had his crossbow aimed at the face of a woman.

Ebony skin a deep brown with a dewy appearance.

Heart shaped face with eyes coffee brown and a flared nose decorated with a hoop ring.

Lips full and lush.

Hair styled in thick, rope twists that reached her waist

She had her hands raised in surrender. Those entrancing eyes didn’t look away for a second.

Staring down the length of his crossbow, his eyes that appeared green drifted down her tiny frame. She was wearing a hoodie beneath a thick, utility jacket. Her lower half was dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and her feet were covered with dirty high–top Vans.

His eyes locked with hers again, and he slowly lowered his weapon. She released a shaky breath, the sound settling his nerves. He held the crossbow to his side and parted his dry lips to speak.

“Rae?”

She nodded her head, her own eyes taking him in from head to toe.

“Terry…”

She reached behind her and Terry’s eyes followed cautiously. Raelynn held up a hand to calm him down.

“I’m just grabbing the walkie talkie,” She displayed Mike’s walkie talkie, holding it out for him to take, “Here…figured you’d want this back—”

“Show me the worksite where you found it. Maybe there’s a clue there that’ll lead me to Mike—”

“That’s not a good idea…”

Terry tilted his head down at her short body. Rae had to crane her neck to look at him.

“That’s my family, Rae. And we had a deal. Did you forget that?”

Rae’s eyes darted down to her feet. Terry released a sigh.

“Fuck it, just point me in the direction and I can be out your way.” Terry said with a frustrated voice.

“It’s not that I don’t want to help you, Terry. It’s just…there’s guys from this group that are pretty dangerous…they’ve been on the hunt for anyone that could be infected and they’re killing them on the spot.”

“Hmm, is that so?” Terry looked left and right before his intimidating eyes fell on her again, “I just took down one of those guys not too far from here. I ended up with this,” Terry raised his arm to show her, “And I’m not tryna stick around to get infected. Got something on you to wrap me up?”

“Yes,” Rae started walking backwards towards a door, “This way—”

“Stop.”

Rae paused.

“What’s down there?”

“Our refuge. You coming or not?”

Terry hesitated. He looked around him one last time before following Rae through a door, darkness the only thing he could make out ahead.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @blackerthings @deja-r@kanafunee @helloncrocs @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @kokokonako @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

[jimmybutlrr]

Missed or Licked

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Average Height Thick brown-skinned Women

Warnings : 18+, Mature Content (Cursing , Teasing and smut), Missing good dick.

Summary: Missing dick could be dangerous

A/N: I have decided that I will be releasing my smut fanfictions first, then fluffy, Drama etc. just because it's easier and as always, feedback would be appreciated😁*Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future writings.

“Do I really have to work? Why can’t I just quit and life would work itself out..…....nevermind, I sound dumb as hell, let me shut up and get out of this car”. She said laughing at herself, Alisha started getting ready to exit her car when she heard a knock on her driver's side window. She looks to see her co-worker Terry Richmond (Who by the way is in a tight fitted shirt, showcasing his big veiny arms and thick chest ). Winding down her window “ Terry, hi”  she said confused, wondering why the hell he was at her window.

“Sorry to bother, I was just wondering if you're alright” He wondered staring into her eyes, “I’m good just.. preparing myself, for the long ass day ahead of me” she said feeling a little flustered, as he continues to stare into her eye’s not daring to look away. 

Alisha and Terry had a bit of a complicated history together. They met in a Walmart parking lot, when she was clearly struggling to fit her tv into her car. Which brought the attention of Terry, Sparking up a conversion between the two which ended with her bringing up that she wanted help moving some items into her home. Terry agreed, asking to swap information. After a few days of talking, Terry was in her living room and  helped her move furniture where she wanted it, putting up her tv etc.

Time went on and Terry got tired of the unspoken tension, which ended up with Alisha’s legs on either side of her head, being filled to the brim with dick and hot tears falling down her face. A memory she remembers so vividly. 

Their situationship came to a stop when he left the state and stopped answering her text, which left her a little broken because you can’t find dick like that just anywhere. Time passed, she moved, switched jobs and found out that Terry was one of the warehouse workers while she worked as the receptionist in the building beside it.  

Throughout the time they worked there, they had stolen glances at each other and greetings but never daring to engage in a conversation. 

A few minutes went by before Alisha broke eye contact, the need to let him spread her open was too great to start ignoring. “Sorry, but I have to get out of the car, so if you could move” Alisha said trying to open her door “I just wanted to say I'm sorry for leaving you, there was some family business that I had to take care of” Terry said hoping that what he said was taken into consideration.

Alisha pushed her car door open and stood up as Terry walked backwards giving her space to get out of her car. Reaching forward to grab Terry by his arm, she pulled him in  closing the space between them believing what he said. If it were her family, she would have done the same no doubt. “I believe you, I was just a little heartbroken that you filled me to the brim, Touching spots that no other man is able to reach, then decided to leave a day after that”. 

She said, whispering in his ear while staring into his eyes, seeing a shocked expression on his face, moving to the right side of his face,she grabbed his body to support herself on her tiptoes.  “I’m just a little hurt because I wanted you in my throat but I guess…… that fantasy will no longer happen”. The feeling of her breath tickling his ears as she spoke, Alisha  looked down to see him wrapping his big, veiny arms around her body, he bent his face down to level their faces going as close as possible to her face that  if you were a person just a few feet from them, you would think they were kissing.

“Who said that can’t happen here, hm”. Terry mumbled, his eyes moved from her eyes to her lips feeling bold, she closed the space between them, pulling his face towards hers. She open mouth kissed him, making Terry press his body even more into hers, pushing his tongue in her mouth, roaming her mouth with his tongue endlessly trying to lick every inch of her mouth. They both stumbled back into the open door of the car Terry pulled back, picking Alisha up with one arm and his hand squeezed her ass, moving to kick the door closed while simultaneously opening the back door, laying Alisha down, kissing down her neck.

 “Terry, wait” Alisha breathlessly said  “Sit down, I wanna you in my mouth” “Are you sure” “Yes, I want to show you how much I missed you”. Terry kissed her, lifting her on top of his lap her hands roamed his body. She slowly removed her lips from his, bringing her body down between his legs. Staring at him in his eyes, she pulled his belt buckle open while her mouth was practically slobbering, waiting to be filled with his pink tipped dick. She pulls his pants to his knees with the help of him raising his hips and freeing the one thing that she truly missed.

She stared at the sight before her,  admiring his pink fat tip dripping with pre - cum, her eyes making its way down his thick hard dick with prominent thick veins littering his dick with fat heavy shaven balls. Alisha took one long lick from the base to the tip, circling her tongue around the tip slowly sucking “ohhh fuckk, mmhm”. Terry moaned looking down from half opened eyes at the complete brown skinned goddess taking his dick in her throat. Alisha continues to suck the tip, slowly inching down his thick dick down her throat.

“Stop playing with me, open your throat” he demands, putting one of his hands  under your chin making you look up into his eyes “ Open your mouth as wide as possible” he said trying to stuff her mouth with his dick. 

As his dick reaches the back of your throat, you gag, making him inch out. “When I go in, take a deep breath, when I retract, you exhale, understood”. “Yes,” Alisha tried to say with her mouth half full. “You ready,” Alisha nodded, ready to take whatever he gave her. Terry inches back down her throat, Alisha following his instructions, suppresses her gag reflex. Terry roughly starts to fuck your face, grabbing your $500 raw bundles.

When he gets to the back of your throat, he holds your head there for a few seconds moaning at the feeling “Shiiitt, this throat is so good, fuuck”. He continues to fuck your face, tears start decorating your face, with the help of your silva falling down your chin. 

His moans motivating you to swallow and moan on his dick causing him to let out a string of moans. He starts fucking your face faster making the car shake, creating a rhythm between the two of you. “ oohhh, ssss, i'm gonna nut, you ready for it” Alisha nods her head ready suck this man dry as soon as his grip gets weak, “Shit , Shit, Shit, hmmmhmhmm” He groans, busting a fat nut. Alisha takes the opportunity to grab his hands, pinning them into the seat of the car. 

Twisting and sucking his tip with the help of her tongue, she sucks up the mess he made while staring him in his eyes. Terry ‘s eyes roll back, he bites his lip and moans ”my god”  he overpowers her grabbing her head pushing it back and a deep exhale. He finally feels relieved that she is no longer trying to push him past more than he can take. Terry stares up at the ceiling as Alisha pulls his pants up, tucking his dick back into his pants.

“I left you speechless, didn’t I big boy” Alisha laughed. Terry drops down his head, grabbing Alisha pulling her in for a kiss. “I'm so glad that I” and before Terry could finish his sentence, there was a knock on the window making them turn there heads towards the notice, “THE FUCK, YA’LL DOING IN THERE”.

Tags -

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@blackgurlnhermoods

@easybrezzy

@planetblaque

@urfavblackbimbo

@jenlovey

@avoidthings

@kimuzostar

@skvrpion

@theereina

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@theereina

@melaninpov

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[kaylasficrecs]

jamie tartt recs - part 2

the heart wants what it wants | one shot, fluff | @softspaceboibrian

change in perspective | one shot, fluff | @justauthoring

cinnamon tartt | one shot, fluffy flangst | @wlntrsldler

nye | imagine, fluff | @lolahasmoxie

it's nice to have a friend | series | @pandorasprongs

birds of a feather | imagine, fluff (slight angst) | @its-time-to-write

your reassurance | imagine, flangst | @justauthoring

practice mishap | imagine, fluff | @axelsagewrites

will carry you if you're injured | imagine, fluff, comfort | @veryberryjelly

richmond's receptionist | series | @jamiefartt

autographs | imagine, fluff | @ofstarsandvibranium

if somebody hurts you, i wanna fight | imagine, flangst | @alloftheimagines (tw)

i can see you | one shot, smut, fluff | @rqgnarok

secret romance | imagine, fluff (slight angst) | @ofstarsandvibranium

twentysomethings | imagine, angst | @its-time-to-write

misery loves company | one shot, flangst, comfort | @alloftheimagines

halloween decorating | drabble, fluff | @alwritey-aphrodite

[axelsagewrites]

Hello. Could I request a fic with f reader working at Richmond and Jan Maas faling in love with reader. Just fluff. ❤️

Jan Maas*Sweet As You

Pairing: Jan Maas x f!reader

Word count: 1134

Warnings: pure fluff

Masterlist here

There were definite perks and draw backs of working at Richmond. On one hand as a receptionist, you got paid to do honestly not very much. However, on the other hand you had to deal with a weird amount of prank calls from football fans.

One recently developing perk was the free coffee you received every morning. No, it wasn't a company thing or from your boss or other colleagues. Every morning this week Jan Maas walked in with a black coffee in one hand and an iced caramel mocha latte with an extra shot of expresso in the other.

It all started when you happened to walk into work at the same time and he noticed the Starbucks cup in your hand. "Is that even coffee at this point?" He half teased half seriously wondered.

"It is coffee," you said, drawing out the words as you defended yourself as Jan opened the front door for you, "caffeine not enough for me. I need that sugar high to deal with you lot,"

Jan chuckled at you, walking you over to the desk where your coworker pretended not to be listening in. "Funny. I thought you were sweet enough. See you later," he said, walking away to leave you a blushing mess.

However as soon as he got out of sight Jan became equally as flustered as he realised what he'd said. What was worse was Sam hearing him muttering under his breath about it resulting in Sam telling all the guys who then set up a plan to teach Jan how to flirt.

The issue was he wasn't very good at it. Instead, every morning without fail he got your coffee for you. "Hey Jan," you called, rolling down your car window as you slowed down. It was 7am and he was walking to Richmond with two coffees in hand, "need a lift?"

Jan preferred to walk. He'd never really seen the big deal around cars. However, he was quick to accept your offer. "My coffees will bankrupt you," you joked as you accepted the drink before resuming your drive.

"Don’t worry about it," he laughed, "your worth the money,"

"Think you can buy my affection? “you teased as you were pulling into Richmond.

"Maybe," he said it quietly, his eyes darting away before back to yours. "Is it working?" He asked.

You turned the car off, taking a long sip out your coffee while pretending to think about it, "I think it might be," you finally said, a smile on your lips and a large grin on his. "Throw in a pastry next time and I'm yours,"

When people saw you get out the same car there were some rumours to say the least. Another drawback of the job. However, another perk was walking in right now with a coffee and a suspiciously sweet-smelling brown bag.

"I wasn't sure which to get so I picked whichever looked the sweetest," he said as he placed the bag down.

"You know me so well," you grinned, "thanks though. Take it you don't have time to have one before practise?" You asked despite knowing he didn’t, but you couldn't help but try.

Your smile plus the way your eyelashes batted had Jan Maas willing to pay the late fee. "I suppose one wouldn't hurt," he said as he moved to sit on the edge of the reception desk as you offered him a pastry, "You should make Stroopkoeken with me one day. You'd like them,"

"What are they?" You asked, not realising how adorable Jan thought your head tilt was in your confusion.

"They're like a Carmel biscuit. My mum would make them for me growing up. Better than any Starbucks pastry," he joked, “But you have to make them from scratch to get the best experience,”

“You’ll have to teach me some time,” you smiled back and is if on queue his phone began ringing.

Jan deflated when he saw his teammates call, “I’ll need to go now. I’ll see you later,”

As he began to walk away you cringed before taking a deep breath, “Wait!” you called making him stop in his tracks. “Are you free tomorrow night? Maybe we could try making those biscuits,” you offered with an awkward smile that he found insanely endearing.

A wide grin broke onto his face, “I’d love to. It’s a date,” he said before actually turning to go to practise, leaving you a grinning mess.

-

“A baking date is perfect!”

“Nah man you should go out to a restaurant for the first date,”

“Oh, what if you take her to Sam’s place for dinner first?”

“There’s a new bar up the street you could go to after,”

“What you gonna wear bruv?”

“Make sure you actually clean up. Chicks notice that kinda stuff,”

“Oh, you should get her flowers. Birds dig flowers,”

“And make sure when you go to kiss her- “

“Woah woah guys!” Jan said, standing up from the bench and pushing past his teammates who’d essentially jumped on him after practise when they found out why he was late, “It’s just a first date. Well, I think it’s a date. I said it’s a date, but people here don’t always mean date, oh god what if she doesn’t realise it’s a date?” Jan began to panic, turning to his equally clueless mates.

They were all panicking till a loud, “Oi,” stopped them, “Don’t listen to these pricks,” Roy told him after pretending not to care the whole time, “Shower, shave, tidy up, and calm down. She’ll know it’s a date since all you two do is flirt like some snot nosed teens,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Roy’s right,” Sam said, standing to put a hand on Jan’s shoulder, “You’ve got nothing to worry about,”

“Not what I said but alright,” Roy shrugged but this time he got ignored.

Well apart from Jamie who rolled his eyes before adding his own words of wisdom. “Yeah, mate just be yourself,”

-

The kitchen was now a mess, sugar spilt everywhere, and a pot that looked like it would never be clean again and of course a plate of perfectly made biscuits. “I don’t know how my mum made it look so easy,” Jan said.

You laughed as you reached up to wipe the flour off his forehead, “Yeah but they taste good so who cares,” you said, noticing the way his cheeks tinged pink whenever you touched him.

“They’re almost as sweet as you,” he smiled softly, brushing your hair out of your face making your own skin flush.

Enough was enough you thought, “So tell me something,” you said, Jan humming as he waited for you to ask, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” you nearly whispered.

“I thought you’d never ask,”

Pairing: Jan Maas x f!reader

Word count: 1134

Warnings: pure fluff

There were definite perks and draw backs of working at Richmond. On one hand as a receptionist, you got paid to do honestly not very much. However, on the other hand you had to deal with a weird amount of prank calls from football fans.

One recently developing perk was the free coffee you received every morning. No, it wasn't a company thing or from your boss or other colleagues. Every morning this week Jan Maas walked in with a black coffee in one hand and an iced caramel mocha latte with an extra shot of expresso in the other.

It all started when you happened to walk into work at the same time and he noticed the Starbucks cup in your hand. "Is that even coffee at this point?" He half teased half seriously wondered.

"It is coffee," you said, drawing out the words as you defended yourself as Jan opened the front door for you, "caffeine not enough for me. I need that sugar high to deal with you lot,"

Jan chuckled at you, walking you over to the desk where your coworker pretended not to be listening in. "Funny. I thought you were sweet enough. See you later," he said, walking away to leave you a blushing mess.

However as soon as he got out of sight Jan became equally as flustered as he realised what he'd said. What was worse was Sam hearing him muttering under his breath about it resulting in Sam telling all the guys who then set up a plan to teach Jan how to flirt.

The issue was he wasn't very good at it. Instead, every morning without fail he got your coffee for you. "Hey Jan," you called, rolling down your car window as you slowed down. It was 7am and he was walking to Richmond with two coffees in hand, "need a lift?"

Jan preferred to walk. He'd never really seen the big deal around cars. However, he was quick to accept your offer. "My coffees will bankrupt you," you joked as you accepted the drink before resuming your drive.

"Don’t worry about it," he laughed, "your worth the money,"

"Think you can buy my affection? “you teased as you were pulling into Richmond.

"Maybe," he said it quietly, his eyes darting away before back to yours. "Is it working?" He asked.

You turned the car off, taking a long sip out your coffee while pretending to think about it, "I think it might be," you finally said, a smile on your lips and a large grin on his. "Throw in a pastry next time and I'm yours,"

When people saw you get out the same car there were some rumours to say the least. Another drawback of the job. However, another perk was walking in right now with a coffee and a suspiciously sweet-smelling brown bag.

"I wasn't sure which to get so I picked whichever looked the sweetest," he said as he placed the bag down.

"You know me so well," you grinned, "thanks though. Take it you don't have time to have one before practise?" You asked despite knowing he didn’t, but you couldn't help but try.

Your smile plus the way your eyelashes batted had Jan Maas willing to pay the late fee. "I suppose one wouldn't hurt," he said as he moved to sit on the edge of the reception desk as you offered him a pastry, "You should make Stroopkoeken with me one day. You'd like them,"

"What are they?" You asked, not realising how adorable Jan thought your head tilt was in your confusion.

"They're like a Carmel biscuit. My mum would make them for me growing up. Better than any Starbucks pastry," he joked, “But you have to make them from scratch to get the best experience,”

“You’ll have to teach me some time,” you smiled back and is if on queue his phone began ringing.

Jan deflated when he saw his teammates call, “I’ll need to go now. I’ll see you later,”

As he began to walk away you cringed before taking a deep breath, “Wait!” you called making him stop in his tracks. “Are you free tomorrow night? Maybe we could try making those biscuits,” you offered with an awkward smile that he found insanely endearing.

A wide grin broke onto his face, “I’d love to. It’s a date,” he said before actually turning to go to practise, leaving you a grinning mess.

-

“A baking date is perfect!”

“Nah man you should go out to a restaurant for the first date,”

“Oh, what if you take her to Sam’s place for dinner first?”

“There’s a new bar up the street you could go to after,”

“What you gonna wear bruv?”

“Make sure you actually clean up. Chicks notice that kinda stuff,”

“Oh, you should get her flowers. Birds dig flowers,”

“And make sure when you go to kiss her- “

“Woah woah guys!” Jan said, standing up from the bench and pushing past his teammates who’d essentially jumped on him after practise when they found out why he was late, “It’s just a first date. Well, I think it’s a date. I said it’s a date, but people here don’t always mean date, oh god what if she doesn’t realise it’s a date?” Jan began to panic, turning to his equally clueless mates.

They were all panicking till a loud, “Oi,” stopped them, “Don’t listen to these pricks,” Roy told him after pretending not to care the whole time, “Shower, shave, tidy up, and calm down. She’ll know it’s a date since all you two do is flirt like some snot nosed teens,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Roy’s right,” Sam said, standing to put a hand on Jan’s shoulder, “You’ve got nothing to worry about,”

“Not what I said but alright,” Roy shrugged but this time he got ignored.

Well apart from Jamie who rolled his eyes before adding his own words of wisdom. “Yeah, mate just be yourself,”

-

The kitchen was now a mess, sugar spilt everywhere, and a pot that looked like it would never be clean again and of course a plate of perfectly made biscuits. “I don’t know how my mum made it look so easy,” Jan said.

You laughed as you reached up to wipe the flour off his forehead, “Yeah but they taste good so who cares,” you said, noticing the way his cheeks tinged pink whenever you touched him.

“They’re almost as sweet as you,” he smiled softly, brushing your hair out of your face making your own skin flush.

Enough was enough you thought, “So tell me something,” you said, Jan humming as he waited for you to ask, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” you nearly whispered.

“I thought you’d never ask,”

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[alwritey-aphrodite]

Never Looked Back

Prologue of There’s Nothing Like This

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem!footballer!reader

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: the rest of the chapters will have more Jamie and more words. Shoutout to @buckychristwrites for letting me word vomit to her and to my wife @andr0medafallen for being a supportive baddie

Flying has never been your favorite thing, and as you begin your descent over London, you’re reminded of the last time you’d flown this far. You’d been seventeen, alone and anxious and on your way to Chelsea, brimming with excitement over finally reaching your dream.

Not even seven months later you were on your way home, ligaments torn and joints aching in a way you’ll never get rid of.

Now, sitting for so long makes your hips cramp and your knees lock and you can feel your ankle swell and pulsate with pain. You know your back would start cramping if you weren’t landing, so you have something small to be thankful for. Really, you’re just lucky that you have a few days to recover before training begins.

It hits you how pathetic it is that you, a professional footballer, need to recover from a plane ride. You try not to let it bother you, try not to wallow in self pity and hatred the way you did when you were 17, laying on your mother’s couch post-op and believing your life was over.

If only you could see yourself now, on your way to join the brand new AFC Richmond women’s team.

The idea of leaving the US was nerve-wracking, but you simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to play in England again, to try one more time to achieve a dream you’d had since you were a little girl. It was so clear that everyone you talked with truly believed in creating a space for women, to support them and push the sport forward, and that starting a women’s team wasn’t simply a way to keep up with other clubs, to stay relevant.

As the plane lands, you finally allow yourself to feel excited in that same giddy way you did the last time you made this journey. You were finally one step closer to making your dreams come true, and you weren’t going to let your negative thoughts and fears ruin it for you.

The entire ride to Nelson Road, you couldn’t help but let that giddy excitement course through your veins, feeling like you’re a little kid again and on your way to your first day of school. You can’t help but wonder who’ll be in your class, who your teacher will be. The Richmond women’s team has been kept fairly quiet, and you have practically no idea what you’re getting yourself into.

Walking through the doors, your nerves start to build again, and you think your heart is going to beat right through your ribs as you make your way to the front desk. Before you start speaking, you need to take a deep breath or else you’re worried you’ll collapse, and that seems like bad luck considering you’re here to be an athlete.

“Hi, I’m here-“

“I know why you’re here,” the receptionist cuts you off and you’d be upset if she wasn’t beaming at you, “Ms. Welton is waiting for everyone in her office.”

The receptionist shows you the way, gesturing up a grand staircase that gives you plenty of time to freak out some more, your anxiety only growing the closer you get to the owner's office. As you open the door, you wonder if it’s too late to turn and run and catch a flight back to America.

All those feelings disappear when you see one of the other players talking with a gorgeously tall woman, and you can’t help but to squeal despite how unprofessional you know it makes you look.

“Mackie!” You yell out, causing the other woman to turn towards you, a grin blooming on her face when she notices you. Claire McKenzie had been one your best friends since you both debuted for the US team together at twenty years old, bonded by your age and your bench riding skills.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She asks as she pulls you into a tight embrace, completely forgetting about everyone else in the room.

“I’m here to play some fucking football!” You reply, feeling ten times lighter than you did in the hallway now that you know you have Mackie on your side.

Breaking apart from the hug, you feel everyone’s eyes on you and you’re wishing the floor could just open up and swallow you when the woman who must be Rebecca Welton smiles kindly at you.

“I’m glad to know some of you ladies are already friends,” she says, the room breaking into laughter and the weight lifting off of your chest.

After everyone had arrived, she took the time to introduce herself and the few other non-players in the room, including Keeley Jones, the true mastermind behind the Richmond women’s team. No matter how much this team means to you, to the rest of the team, to Rebecca, it means ten times more to Keeley. This was her idea, her baby, and you can already feel the pride and excitement radiating off of her at the sight of the team gathered before her.

You’re determined to win it all for her.

“This is Coach Kent, and Beard and Nathan Shelley will be your assistant coaches until we can find someone to fill those spots permanently,” Rebecca says with a smile, but you can all feel the tension coursing underneath the surface.

“So no one wanted to coach us?” A voice from the back of the room asks, and it’s like you’ve been drenched in freezing cold water now that somebody’s said it out loud.

“No one has expressed interest… yet,” Rebecca adds, trying to keep up her jovial facade as the players start to mutter to each other. It feels like you’re in gym class again, standing and hoping and praying you get picked for dodgeball but knowing you’ll be last again.

“Oi! I fucking want to coach you, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Roy says, sounding angry but you can’t quite place what he’s truly feeling, “and these two want to fucking coach you.” Beard and Nate nod, Roy crossing his arms across his chest as your murmurs die down, placated by his statements.

“With the limited space and limited coaching staff, there will be some days where you share training with the boys, but we’re all one big family here,” Rebecca adds, and you can tell by now that the smile plastered on her face is fake, that she’s trying to convince herself as much as she’s trying to convince you.

As you wrap up in the office and head downstairs to see the dressing room, you can’t help but feel as if the entire world’s against the team, against you. All you know right now is that you’re going to need to work ten times harder than everyone else to prove yourself to the fans, to the media, to the world.

Passing by the men’s dressing room, you briefly lock eyes with someone walking towards the pitch, who smiles as you pass. It’s so quick that your brain isn’t able to process who it is, so you try to forget it and follow the rest of the team to the brand new women’s dressing room.

The players rush into the room as if the floodgates opened, everyone trying to find their kit and their name and their number. As much as you want to play it cool, want to make a good first impression on Rebecca and Keeley and the coaches, you can’t help but grin and run with the other girls, everyone giddy as they see the kits in person.

When you finally find yours, you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes.

It’s the classic Richmond blue, with your name in bold white above a large number nine.

It’s as if everything you’ve ever wanted is right in front of you: you’re a striker on a team you care about. You know it’s going to be an uphill battle, know you’re going to need to prove yourself over and over and over, but right now, with your kit in your hand, your team laughing and smiling around you, you think you can face it.

Tags: @andr0medafallen @buckychristwrites @benedictscanvas @whimsical-roasting @sokkigarden @scaramou @guccilongboard @onceuponaoneshot @presidential-facts @yepyeahuhhuh @loveslide @allthefandomtherapy @gibby31 @buddyjuststop @ellietartt @cancvr @rae4725 @brianandthemays @sonyume @aiyaiy @captainfrisbee @dalebo3 @theloud-yet-quietone @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @rockchickrebel @legobatmans9thab @curlypeter @lostinwonderland314 @yokolesbianism @jamietarttdodo @kno-way-home @nicklet94 @fan-goddess @innocentbi-stander

[moonbeam-dragon]

Summary: The receptionist blinked, looking at him in confusion. She was frozen, hand halfway to her coffee. “Um- Excuse me?” She abandoned her coffee and folded her hands in front of her keyboard. “Who are you?” “Louis Markus,” he told her, squeezing Martha’s hand firmly. “Father Markus at St. Cassian’s Catholic School. The students that were brought in last night. They’re mine.” “Father,” the receptionist repeated, frowning. She quickly pulled up something on her computer. “Are- Are you the grandparent of one of the students? I don’t-” “I’m their director,” he clarified. “A teacher at their school. They were under my care at the time of the accident. I have to see them-” “Louis,” Martha said calmly. She tugged his arm back as she turned to the receptionist. “Hi, Krista, is it?” The receptionist reflexively covered her nametag. “I’m sorry my husband seems a bit frantic. He’s the teacher of those students. He was up all of last night, worried sick about them. If you could let us-” “I’m sorry, nobody outside of immediate family is allowed to visit right now,” Krista said. She folded her hands again. “I wish I could do more.”

[tartt9]

new verse just dropped on the carrd wooooo

1897 tattoos. jamie tartt, age 25, has recently become a tattoo apprentice at 1897 tattoos in richmond, london. from the time when he was 9 until the time when he was 15, he was a lad in the manchester city football academy, but he had to change paths after a bad acl tear rendered him unable to play. he recovered incredibly well from his injury, but not nearly well enough to ever play football at a professional level. so jamie turned to art. moving to london, just to get away from the city that he was meant to be a footballer in, jamie has taken odd jobs to get by, but this new apprenticeship is where his heart has found a home. named after the town's mediocre (but beloved) premier league team, 1897 tattoos is a cosy space for all who enter it. jamie specialises in lettering, blackwork, and abstract work - and you're in good hands with him. he'll do anything in his power to keep you comfortable and at ease in his chair [ a study in. the buzz of a tattoo machine and a manchester accent talking your ear off, a well-worn chelsea blue shirt with a 6 on the back, a lollipop in between pink lips, tiktok comments that are far too lewd for a proper brand page (but jamie'll never deny himself praise), premier league matches playing on a tv, a blue and red scarf hung above the receptionist's desk. ]

[jamiefartt]

masterlist <3

just so you can find what i've written! thank you for reading <3

• richmond's receptionist; jamie tartt x reader

— part 1.

— part 2.

— part 3.

— epilogue.

• run the world; jamie tart x femfootballer!reader series, enemies to lovers

— part 1.

— part 2.

— part 3.

COMING SOON!

• bit of banter; sam obisanya x makeup artist!reader oneshot, strangers to lovers

[canadajobbank]

Hiring now: Dental receptionist

[canadianjobbank]

Apply now: https://canadianjobbank.org/receptionist-22/

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starter for @selinturan​ at riverside medical center —

Despite now having the best pulmonologist in the county that was actually flying in to look at her, she was still sitting in waiting room. He flew in, worked out of the hospital, and she came and waited like any other patient. Except for the fact that she had a looming bodyguard that was no longer subtle anymore. June was looking at every nurse that walked back and forth to see if she could spy Liv. When she didn’t see her, June just sent a text of the outfit she was looking at online for thoughts. Her shopping habits had moved to being online now. At the call of her name, she moved to stand gingerly and her bodyguard gave her a hand as she scuffled to where the receptionist was. 

“It’s Richmond,” June said with a nod. “Watson’s my maiden name and now stage now.” It was new, having to explain that, but it was fine. She glanced to the nurse who was there now and June gestured to her bodyguard, “he’s gonna stay out here.” It was an another new thing, but it kept the anxiety of being alone that was also new from creeping in. It was another check up, another check to see how her lung was healing. “Lead away, but I don’t move fast anymore.” She wasn’t supposed to be really walking, but that never stopped her before, much to the dismay of Vann. “It’s like I get winded or something,” June joked. 

[primasveraas-writing]

"Kent v Fucking Automobile" -Ted Lasso

This is an accompanying piece to 2 others in this series, but I consider it an AU of the first one. The subject matter is the same, but things go down differently. This one can be read on its own.

Part 1 // Part 2

WORDS: 3482

XXX

Roy Kent’s life is fucking incredible.

For one, he has a gorgeous, wonderful wife, with whom he has a fucking wonderful son, and if that weren’t enough, they’re expecting another baby in just a few short months. But, not only does Roy have a perfect fucking family that he loves, he also has one of the greatest fucking jobs in the world: coaching AFC Richmond (a career second only to being a footballer himself).

He’s headed to work early; Sam needs him for something before practice, and apparently, Roy loves this team enough to miss part of his morning with his wife and son.

It’s one of those days where he’s on autopilot, barely needing to pay attention to what he’s doing. He’s slowing for a traffic light when it turns green, and then there is a mass moving towards him, and he jerks the steering wheel, dread heavy in his chest.

All Roy knows is that he’s bracing himself, then there’s pain, then a hot flash striking his arms and face, then the world stills and he’s opening his eyes. There’s an airbag in his face and horrible pressure against his right side. He blinks, slowly, and tries to take a steadying breath. That doesn’t hurt, at least, and he looks around.

His door is bashed in, bent awkwardly into his body. He can hardly see around the airbag, but he can feel the metal against his leg- his fucking leg, as if it weren’t fucked up enough- and the other car is rammed into his own. Roy swears, loudly, and realizes that there are people starting to swarm around the wreck. He groans and curses again- he doesn't particularly fancy making the headlines with this one.

He gives one of the pedestrians a thumbs up, then fumbles around for his phone. There's no moving until the other car is gone, and even then, Roy's not sure he'd be able to climb out of his seat without collapsing. The phone rings once, twice; long enough that Roy can feel his hands shaking.

"Keeley," he says when she picks up.

"Roy," his wife answers, and she sounds startled.

"I'm okay," Roy says, staring down a bystander, who's unabashedly taking pictures of the scene. "Whatever you see, I'm okay."

"Okay," Keeley says, and there's an edge to her voice now. "What's-"

"I was in a car accident. I'm fine."

Keeley gasps; Roy wavers, suddenly regretting his bluntness. "Some wanker hit me from the side. Airbags went off but aside from being very pissed, I'm alright."

He hears Keeley breathe in and out deeply, and more anxiety bubbles in Roy's stomach. He feels hot, uncomfortably warm, and when he raises his free hand to his head, it comes away wet with blood.

"Are you sure you're alright, Roy? Did you call 999?"

"No," he mutters. "Though I'm sure someone else did." A beat, then:

"I think I fucked up my leg."

"Does it hurt?"

Roy looks down, tries to move his leg, and bites down hard on his tongue to keep from yelling. "A little."

"Okay." He can hear Keeley moving in the background, undoubtedly getting her keys. "Where are you?"

Roy peers through his cracked windshield and finds his vision is blurry. "I don't know," he whispers, and closes his eyes. "I was on my way to the pitch, but-"

"Right. I'm coming to find you."

"Wait," Roy warns. He can hear sirens approaching. "Worry about Oliver first. I'll meet you at the hospital, okay?"

"Okay." Keeley manages to sound businesslike. He knows she's trying not to reveal her worry, and that she knows he's downplaying the circumstances. "I'll see you there, then."

Roy waits for her to end the call. There's a few seconds of silence.

"You're okay, yeah?"

"Yes, Keeley," Roy promises. "I'll see you soon."

"Okay," she whispers back. "Love you."

"Love you, sweetheart."

-

Keeley stands in her kitchen and releases the kind of profanity only Roy is usually capable of. Her purse and keys are already gathered in her hands, but there's just one thing she has to worry about first.

"Oliver, love, we're going-" She bites her tongue. She can waste precious minutes asking the neighbor to come and watch him; if that fails, she'll have to find someone to come over and that could take any amount of time.

"We're going to the hospital!" She declares, and her and Roy's little terror sprints into the room and cheers.

Keeley scoops him into her arms, feeling incredibly unbalanced, and makes her exit, grabbing the first pair of baby shoes she can find. She's sure she's missing something, but at least her toddler won't have bare feet.

She calls Ted and Rebecca on the way there; Ted to watch her son and Rebecca to watch her. It'll make them both late to work, she's sure, but there are few people she'd trust more to support her family.

As expected, both of her friends drop everything to help her. Ted sobers up the moment after Keeley says hello; the worry in her words must be painfully evident. In turn, Rebecca vows to be at the hospital in a time that guarantees some horribly reckless driving, which is terrible, given the circumstances, but Keeley knows Rebecca and her best friend bribing her driver isn’t Keeley’s greatest concern right now.

Unsurprisingly, Rebecca is waiting at the hospital for them, Ted at her side. He’s white in the face, which confirms Keeley’s suspicions about their ride over, but he scoops Oliver into his arms, asking how his day has been and if he’d like Special Texas Pancakes for lunch. Keeley offers Ted a wordless smile in thanks before Rebecca takes her inside.

“All I know is they’ve admitted him,” Rebecca says, glancing at the receptionist. “They wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

“Right, well, you can’t bribe hospital staff all too easy,” Keeley muses. She gives her name to the attendant, who, despite Rebecca’s glowering, tells them to wait, and they take a seat.

It’s only a few minutes before a nurse is pointed towards them. He smiles at them, which Keeley takes as a good sign, though she still clings to Rebecca’s hand during the whole of the conversation.

Roy is fine; he was brought in conscious, but with a severe leg injury and a probable concussion. The doctors aren’t terribly worried, but they have to act fast.

“We understand that Mr. Kent has a previous knee injury.” Keeley nods. “This complicates things. Preliminary tests suggest that there’s further damage to his knee. We still need to do an x-ray and an MRI, but it’s likely that he’ll need surgery.”

Keeley swallows, hard; the youngest Kent-Jones gives her bladder a kick, and she shifts uncomfortably.

“We’ll let you back as soon as we find a room for Mr. Kent.”

“I’d like to see him before any surgery,” Keeley asserts, but her voice is strained.

The nurse nods. “Of course, Ms. Jones.”

-

Soon translates to an hour, but Rebecca occupies Keeley, complaining about idiot businessmen and updates on her mum and anything else asinine that Rebecca can think of. Keeley’s leg shakes up and down, but her thoughts aren’t totally captivated by worry, and that’s good enough.

A different nurse takes her back to see Roy when it’s time, and they wind down a long series of identical hallways. The air is stale with sickness and nerves, and Keeley’s boots click on the linoleum of the otherwise silent hall. Then, they round a corner and the nurse pushes open a door, leading Keeley past curtained-off beds and finally, to Roy.

His eyes are closed. Bright red skin indicates the burn of a deployed airbag, and there are cuts on his face and arm. The hospital gown does him no favors, revealing his mangled leg and the mess of bandages covering his knee.

Tears well in Keeley’s eyes. It’s the most vulnerable she’s seen Roy, topping his last game with Richmond, his retirement conference, and his reaction to the birth of his first child. He’s pale, clearly in pain, but when his eyes open, they seize her up quickly.

She breathes out his name, moves to the head of the bed to run her fingers through his hair, and presses a kiss to the unmarred part of his forehead. His hand captures hers, gripping tightly.

“I fucked my knee,” he whispers, and Keeley nods.

“We’re gonna unfuck your knee,” she tells him, unsure of how much she means it. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Roy nods, alert, but obviously tired. His voice was shaking on their call; it’s steady now, but Roy is stuck in a grimace, and he’s barely moving as he talks to her.

“What did they tell you?”

“Not a lot. What did they tell you?”

Roy eyes her suspiciously. “Fuck all. They did a hundred fucking tests and kept their damn mouths shut.”

“Okay. Let’s wait for the doctor, then.”

“Keeley-”

They know each other so well. She’s hard-pressed to get out of this one.

She can see the argument brewing in his mind- his lips are parted, his trademark scowl graces his lovely features, and she knows that he has every right to be frustrated.

“Well, you’re not gonna lose your leg,” she informs him, and Roy snorts. Keeley bites her lip. “I think.”

“It’s fucking useless anyway.” Roy rolls his eyes. “I’m not fucking playing football with it.”

“Legs have other uses, you know,” Keeley points out, and Roy snorts again.

“Fuck that."

A smile is tugging at her lips, and Roy is about to mirror the expression despite everything fucking hurting when metal scapes against metal, and the curtains part to reveal a doctor, who smiles at them both. Roy scowls.

“You’re going to cut my fucking knee up.” He accuses, and the doctor nods.

“You tore several major ligaments and we need to prevent permanent nerve damage and limit the risk of blood clots.”

Roy’s scowl deepens, impossibly. “Fine.”

“Excellent. We’ll get prepped for emergency surgery.” She looks at Keeley and Roy, at how tightly they’re holding each other. “I’ll give you two a minute before we take you back.”

Keeley murmurs her thanks, and turns back to Roy.

“Right,” she says, brushing a stray curl off of his forehead. “You be good, and enjoy the hell out of those painkillers. I’ll see you soon.”

“Right,” Roy agrees, kissing the back of her hand. “Don’t eat shitty hospital food if you get hungry. Make Rebecca order you something fancy while you wait.” Roy’s brow creases. “Ted has Oliver, doesn’t he?”

“He does, yeah.”

“Fuck. Well, Ted can keep him when he has his massive fucking temper tantrum ‘cause of all the biscuits he’s eaten. And you fucking relax and don’t worry too much about me and my fucking knee, okay?”

“Okay.” Keeley bends to kiss him, and he smiles at her, not with his usual brilliance but something close, and that’s enough. She knows he’s in pain; she can read it in every line on his bruised face, but he’s being unflappable for her, and she can try and do the same. “I love you so much, Roy Kent.”

“I fucking love you, Keeley Jones,” he tells her. “And tell Ollie I love him too.”

“I will. He’s gonna cuddle the fuck out of you when we get home, you know that.”

“Damn right.”

-

Keeley stays with Roy until nurses come to take him into surgery. She watches them wheel her husband down the hall and through a forbidden set of double doors, and exhales.

She finds Rebecca quickly enough, who ensures they celebrate Roy’s prognosis and consciousness and retainment of his humor. Over and over, she repeats Roy’s words in her head: he’s going to be fine, and she shouldn’t worry too much.

Rebecca regales her with tales of the worst men she’s worked with; when that fails, they compare notes on baby names. They laugh and grin without light ever reaching their eyes and neither utter a word about it, but Rebecca confiscates Keeley’s phone when her Twitter mentions blow up. There are pictures of the accident, and of a bloodied Roy Kent being loaded in an ambulance, and Ted texts her to let her know that he’s brought Oliver inside where any nosy press won’t catch a glimpse of him. Her heart aches for her son, who would be distressed if he knew any better, and who likely won’t get to see much of his parents today. Ignorance is bliss, though, and Keeley thinks of Roy’s last smile to her, and not of his strained words when he called her, or the pictures of his totaled car online, or how fragile he looked in the hospital bed.

There’s a nagging at the back of her brain, though, of what would’ve happened if Roy couldn’t reach his phone, or if he left home a second sooner or a second later, or if she had gone with him, or if he had to drop Oliver off somewhere along the way, or if the other driver had been going a tiny bit faster or hit Roy at a slightly different angle. He’s lucky, after all, that it’s just his leg, that it’s not even broken, that their baby wasn’t in the backseat, that Roy will ultimately be fine after this, he’ll be fine, because he’s still so fucking young and his son is still a baby, really, and he hasn’t even met his second child yet.

Keeley takes a shaky breath, and Rebecca captures Keeley’s hand in both of her own. She rubs her thumb across the back of Keely’s hand, and the younger woman rests her head against Rebecca’s shoulder, and the two women stay like that for a long time.

-

It’s three hours before they get any word about Roy. Keeley thinks, really, that it should have been like, half an hour at most, but the nurse who talks to them says all good things, and that they’re almost done. Some of the damage is permanent, especially to Roy’s nerves, but the rest of him is fine. Walking normally will be the greatest challenge, and to Keeley, that’s a nominal problem given the rest of his prognosis.

Rebecca stews when they have to wait another couple of hours: first, the surgery has to wrap up, then Roy is brought to a recovery room to be monitored, then finally, finally, he’s moved to a private room where they can sit with him. The whole time, Rebecca lingers an inch away from total fury, but Keeley lets Rebecca be as angry as she likes, so that way, Keeley doesn’t have to be and all her energy can be focused on Roy.

It’s quieter when she sees Roy this time, more peaceful. Even Roy Kent doesn’t scowl in sleep, and despite the IV in his arm and the injuries peppering his skin, Roy appears at rest, genuinely so. Keeley waits, alone for the first time that day, for him to wake, and when he does, Roy only mumbles hi and offers a groggy smile before he’s out again. Keeley texts Rebecca and Ted an update, and that’s how her afternoon passes, her husband in and out of sleep, and not much else in the world mattering.

-

The next day is a flurry of doctors and physical therapists, and their three-year-old son navigating a hospital for the first time. Roy’s concussion means wearing sunglasses indoors, but Ted drops Oliver off with a matching pair for him and Keeley, and their first family picture after the accident is of them in the hospital, all wearing shades inside like a bunch of proper arseholes, Roy’s face impassive but Keeley and Oliver positively beaming at the camera. Roy learns how to navigate on crutches, as is the condition of his release, so he struggles his way up and down a short hallway, swearing all the while, his grouchy disposition only faltering when Oliver makes his opinion known about the matter (“Daddy has four legs!).

They’re sent home, donned in sunglasses and laden with crutches and high-grade painkillers, late that day, and Roy has to wonder if Rebecca’s paid off the press when he’s loaded from wheelchair to car without any twats snapping pictures of him at his worst. Later, he’ll confirm that she did, in fact, pay the tabloids to piss off, accompanying a press release along the same lines. He and Keeley are lucky to have such a friend, he knows, especially one that doesn’t believe in bullshit.

He’s absent at the next Richmond match and most of their practices the following week, in favor of sleeping frequently. Something wonderful about needing three fucking naps a day is that Oliver will nap with him, which gives Keely a much-needed break, and also there’s nothing fucking better than his baby asleep in his arms, because he loves his son so fucking much but sometimes it’s fucking nice when Oliver isn’t running around like a maniac, and Roy can just hold him.

Putting any weight on his leg is fucking hard. Showering is fucking impossible, bending down to pick up Oliver’s ridiculous toys is difficult, stairs are a fucking burden on humanity, and Roy is in so much fucking pain all the time. It gets better at a snail’s pace, and he manages to make it through a full day of work on an obscene amount of Tylenol and Ted literally cheering him on in the most annoying way possible. The only thing that pacifies him is Keeley coming in to kiss him at various intervals throughout the day, and he buries his head against her side and she runs her fingers through his hair, and their kid-on-the-way sometimes kicks against Keeley’s stomach, which never fails to be spectacular.

Roy masters crutches, even though the dumb fucking things make his armpits hurt, and a month after surgery, when Roy has endured physical therapy and public sympathy and a thousand fucking stairs, he begs his doctors to let him off them. And so, they introduce the next alternative that Roy will use for the rest of his fucking life.

A cane. Roy Kent, still fucking young, is fitted for a cane, which Ted immediately wants to decorate with lights and streamers and shit, and that Oliver tries to use as a fucking lightsaber and wack people with. It’s fucking terrible, but it’s also the first thing that makes Roy laugh after coming home from the doctor’s with his fancy new stick.

They told him and Keeley this, that first day in the hospital after the wreck. That he would never walk the same, that some of the nerves were too far gone. There’s nothing he can do, aside from physical therapy to build up some strength. It’s damning, and a hard pill to swallow, but Roy’s knee has been fucked since his last football match against Manchester, and he knows that. Keeley reminds him that his life is still pretty incredible, after all, and Roy has to agree.

His daughter is born shortly after, and Roy weeps when he figures out how to hold a cane in one hand and his precious baby in the other. Frequently, he looks like the corniest fucking dad ever, because it’s honestly easiest to carry Lily in a papoose, but Roy fucking Kent’s reputation holds up: he’s still the scariest motherfucker to ever grace the face of football. When he takes her to practice, though, he finds that this effect is somewhat diminished; he yells at one of the boys to tighten up, then his daughter gurgles, and Roy is caught gazing down at her with a dopey fucking smile on his face.

The first cane breaks when Richmond loses by a slim margin thanks to a few small mistakes. Roy is minutes into a post-match debrief when he punctuates what went wrong with the cane against the whiteboard, and the wood slams against metal and splinters into a hundred fucking pieces all across the locker room, footballers ducking for cover, Roy’s chest heaving as he surveys the scene. Then Ted sits Roy down, commends his incredible strength, and tells the team to goldfish their way through this, and that they’ll work through it during the next practice.

Oliver breaks the second cane. And the third. And then Roy concedes style to durability and gets a fucking metal cane that his kids aren’t allowed to touch.

His life is different, largely because he’s a father of two now, and stairs are fucking terrible and he hates them. But, aside from that, he’s still Roy Kent, Keeley Jones’ husband, parent to the two best fucking kids in the universe, football coach extraordinaire. That’s pretty fucking good, in his book, and in the end, there’s nothing fucking wrong with using a cane so long as Oliver doesn’t kill anyone with it.

[lligkv]

the smartest person who doesn’t do anything

Alison Rose, the daughter of a psychiatrist and a wealthy housewife, was hired as a receptionist at the New Yorker in her 40s—her first “real” job—and ended up writing “Talk of the Town” columns in the 1990s, striking friendships with writers like Renata Adler, Harold Brodkey, and George W. S. Trow along the way. Reading her memoir, Better than Sane, it’s clear it took Rose a long time to really achieve something, to grow beyond what she calls the “ancient feelings of freakishness” that her childhood left her with.

Her father is authoritarian and volatile. He mocks his patients and his family; he’s constantly on the verge of losing his temper with his wife and daughters. He calls them all scathing names. His wife and oldest daughter, Alison’s sister, are Babs I and Babs II, and Alison herself is Babs III, or “Personality Minus,” since she’s so quiet. Alison’s mother is glamorous and removed. She seems to treat Alison’s father as a fact of the world, one she can only accept, as she goes on to do what she likes—for instance, having children with him though he doesn’t really want them. She speaks up for her daughters sometimes, but the protests are fairly mild, in the way they might be when you’ve come to accept that the world is as it is, detaching yourself from it enough to remain sanguine.

Rose, as the product of a glamorous, abusive, inscrutable sort of childhood, is a master of the weird swerves that come from idiosyncrasy. Early in the book, she’s talking about her childhood friend “Squirrel.” “Before Squirrel’s arrival,” she tells us, “I had three mops as best friends.” “My first love, though,” she adds, “had been my pencil collection,” each member of which she names and comes to treasure. She loves the pencils because they are reliable, faithful, quiet: all the things she’s missing. And when her mother sharpens them—whether it’s by mistake or on purpose, Rose doesn’t say—it’s genuinely affecting:

Their faces were obliterated and unrecognizable. Some of them were a lot shorter, too. It was as if everyone I knew had a different head and face on a now stunted body. I couldn’t look at them anymore, all distorted like that, so I abandoned them. In the years that followed, I would see one of the pencils around the house, by a telephone, vaguely recognizable, but dead.

I came to like Alison for her humility along her halting path to some sort of accomplishment, some sort of wholeness. You could look down on her for looking up to so many famous writers, like Trow and Harold Brodkey, but her childhood left her so deeply pressed into timidity that her attachments to these magnetic figures she’s somehow become so close to is touching. Even Alison’s attachment to a youthful paramour, Billy the Fish, is touching.

Billy is Burt Lancaster’s son, whom Alison dates while she’s living in West Hollywood in the 70s, trying to become an actress. He’s a cool character, with his ironic attitude, his charisma, his “certain air of separateness”—Rose calls him “the Fish” because “it was as if he lived in its own element… [a fish] who came up for other people’s air, curious, but not very often”—and his boredom with the whole world at just twenty-two. “T’s to my E’s,” he says—short for Tears to my eyes—when he’s given a gift; “Cringe,” he says, aloud, when he feels like cringing; the people who love him, he seldom treats well. It would be easy to roll your eyes at him and wonder why Alison stays with him for seven years, on tenterhooks and speed much of the while, if her love for him weren’t so clear and so honest. “My heart liked him,” she says, simply. And the closest she ever got in life to what she calls “normal pie”—“this thing men and women get married about”—was with him.

“All of us,” Rose writes—the people who knew Billy in LA—“loved him, but he couldn’t feel it, I don’t think,” and she isn’t the type to blame him for that; she knows too well what not being able to feel love feels like. She forms deep attachments to charismatic people, the way you do when you’re raised to doubt yourself—and she’s not afraid to talk admiringly about the people who shaped her, those who challenge her notion from childhood that she’s “unsuited for human connection.” And I like that a hell of a lot more than the alternative: saying nothing or being shaped by no one.

What’s more, her self-doubt is belied by the wit she so often demonstrates. For instance, her retort to Brodkey as he calls lovingly out to her in the New Yorker’s hallway:

“My Bride,” Harold calls to me in the corridor.

“My Conscience,” I answer.

Or to Trow as he teases her when Brodkey isn’t around:

“Since Harold’s gone, why not throw a little attention my way?” George asked me that same week.

“I thought you might find it repellent,” I said.

“Not as long as you keep coming up with those snappy answers.”

In still another, more sober moment, Brodkey is trying to convince Alison to find someone other than George to bring to dinner with him and his wife. A real interest. “But Harold,” she says,

“I don’t have an appropriate suitor. You know that.”

“Not a suitor. No one likes you all that much.”

“Maybe that’s true,” I said.

Shit!

He tried to be comforting. “But nobody likes anybody all that much—it’s just moments, you know that.” After a pause, he added, “I’m the one who likes you that much, but if you get to know me better your life will be considerably shorter. Hang up now or I’ll start to cry.”

Seeing moment after moment of such quick wit from Rose, and pure honesty—such willingness to say what’s true and such refusal to sugarcoat—you see why Trow, Brodkey, and Penelope Gilliatt, another writer who often stops by Alison’s desk, like her so much. And why they seem to believe she has talent even when she does not. Anytime Rose says something Trow particularly understands, he tells her: “Darling: Write that down.”

The college-degreed writers in the office call the New Yorker “the magazine”; Alison, out of place as a Californian with no college education or work experience of any kind, calls it “School.” And the name is apt for deeper reasons than the one Alison gives, which is that she gets to write “notes to boys” like Brodkey and Trow. It’s an education. And it’s a second shot at a real life, with people who take pleasure in her mind.

“For nearly four decades,” Rose writes, she struggled with “enemy thinking”:

people deciding that the way I saw things was punishable by exile. Enemy-thinking people seem to have a ceaseless, brutal, active desire to punish; perhaps it made them feel superior and powerful. The writers at this School, who in their context were superior and powerful, were a divine present to me—their ease, which created a freedom from worrying about enemy thinking. The destruction it had done to me so far, like my conviction that I just plain didn’t belong in the world, was gone, or it felt like it.

The narrative rolls on. Alison, whose job performance is always a little erratic, is let go from her receptionist position; Trow—who tells her, in a memorable moment, that she cannot keep being “the smartest person who doesn’t do anything forever”—becomes determined to get her another place at School as a “Talk of the Town” writer; she gets the position and stays there for a while, until she leaves. Better than Sane is a force-of-personality book, and most of the things that happen in it go only elliptically explained.

But there is one narrative driver. The trauma that keeps Alison adrift can’t be gone until she confronts the people who instilled enemy thinking in her in the first place.

In the final chapters, Rose describes returning to her mother’s house in Atherton for her mother’s 90th birthday. Alison’s father drops out of the narrative after its first few chapters, but her mother has recurred throughout, often as a provoking presence in Alison’s life. And at the party, so close to her again, Alison’s character regresses. She becomes very clingy with her dog Puppy Jane, clutching Jane to her so she doesn’t have to be spoken to about anything but the dog. She behaves in alienating ways because she fears being alienated, on-the-outs with her mother and sister; better to fit their perception of her as the “crazy” one.

The crisis doesn’t resolve until Alison and her sister Belinda track down their old housekeeper Nita, now living in neighboring Richmond, to ask her about their childhood. In the conversation they have, Alison’s father returns and again comes to seem like the real enemy: “He was cruel,” Nita says firmly. “Very cruel.” “There was one person,” she tells Alison, “who wasn’t nice to you. Your father. He was real mean and your mother was so nice.”

Is what Nita says true? It’s hard to be sure. It’s certainly plausible, but Alison’s mother is a little too distant and arch for you to get a clear bead on her character, and as you hear her comment on the family’s drama, it’s clear Nita herself sees the family at some distance (which is healthy, for a housekeeper). But it is true that the person who terrifies you, as Alison’s father terrified her and her mother, is a force of nature. You don’t talk about him; you certainly don’t talk to him. Instead, you treat him as a fact of the world. You might harm yourself (or your children) as a result. Or you leave, and you push the person who terrifies you into the past. And usually the damage is still done. The anger that is permitted is the anger you feel toward the ones who are nice to you, at least sometimes, who seem as though they could be convinced and reasoned with and moved to act on your behalf yet refuse to respond to reason or persuasion or pleading or need. At the same time, terror of her father, and her mother’s seeming implacability, leave Alison timid, unable to express any of that anger or feel confidence in herself. So she wanders for years, not doing anything. And it takes Nita telling Alison, “Alis’, it was a crazy house. That’s all” for Alison to realize she can let it all go.

These final chapters—in which Alison, having finally accomplished something with her life, and having been recognized and loved by the writers at School, goes home and learns the truth, that it was her family that was crazy and not her, and is redeemed—do feel a little pat. But Better than Sane was published in 2004, and maybe that was before we all became cynical about the memoir form from seeing the familiar arc (a normal or painful childhood, an experience of crisis and failure, a fall to the depths, an opening to others, a redemption, a happy ending) play out so many times. Or maybe the end feels that much more predictable because the path Alison’s taken to get there has been so unpredictable.

The book did leave me wondering where Rose is now. Better than Sane is her only book. There are quite a few literary Alison Roses out there, but none seem to be her. There really is something “regal” about Rose, as Stacy Schiff put it in her New York Times review of the book—something deeply affecting about her honesty, the plainness of her feeling beneath the elliptical prose, the humility with which she presents herself. If she never writes again that I know of, it’d be a shame.

[neitherlandslibrary]

Happy International Women’s Day

to all the female-identifying people! 

As we could not put everyone on the gifset, we also want to shout out to all the woman inside and outside the show

Character in the show: Callie, Camille, Carol, Cindy Gaines, Copy Girl, Crying Woman, Dr. Jennifer London, Dragon, Emily Greenstreet, Etta, Eve, Female Professor, Fray, Genji, Gretchen, Harriet, Healer Faye, Hedge #1,  Homicide Detective  #1, Irene McAllistair, Iris, Kimber D'Antoni, Kira, Lia, Librarian Rona, Mackenzie, Old Woman, Orgy Girl #1, Orgy Girl #2, Phyllis, Prof. Pearl Sunderland, Poppy, Professor Bigby, Psychic Girl #2, Rainbow Girl, Receptionist, Sam Cunningham, Shelia, Stone Queen, Sylvia, The Prophet, The White Lady, Whitley, Young Hedge, AD, Arielle, Arleen, Ashley the Bookie, Baba Yaga (and the girl she posess), Beatrice McAllister,Beatrix, Becky, Dana, Doctor Meers, Dr. Higgins, Evelyn,Fairy Queen, Fillorian Mother, Goldie, Hanna, Harriet, Healer Tara, Heloise,Homeless Lady, Jane Chatwin,Marina Andrieski,Mellony, Napster, Natural Student #1,Nurse#1, Nurse#2, Persephone, Physical Kid #1, Poppy, Professor Lipson, Prudence Plover, Quentin's Mother, Rhona, Scared Woman 36,Shara,Shoshana, Silver, Skye, Sonia 36, Spectre, Stephanie Quinn, Stephanie's Friend, Suzie, TV Crew, Victoria, Water Dragon,Zal, Zelda and all uncredited characters!

off cameras woman : Adela Baborova, Aeryn Gray, Alexandra Rojek, Allison Gordin, Alma Kuttruff, Alyssa Jacobson, Amber Crombach, Amber Waters, Ana Lossada, Ana Lossada, Angie Kennedy, Anna Register, Annalese Tilling, Anne Grennan, Ashley Biggs, Ashley Mason, Athena Wong,Audrey Himmer-Jude, Aylwin Fernando, Barbara Jansen, Beth Williams, Blair Richmond, Blythe Bickham, Breanna Watkins, Bree Brincat, Briana Skye, Brittney Diez, Caitlin Groves, Candice Harvey, Cara Doell, Carmen Lavender, Carole Appleby, Caroline Milliard, Carolyn McCauley, Carolyn Williams,Carrie Audino ,Cassandra Parigian, Cathy Darby, Chere Theriot, Cherie Bessette, Cherie Smid, Cheryl Callihoo, Christina Nakhvat, Clara George, Clarinda Wong, Coreen Mayrs, Crystal Mudry, Danielle White, Debbie Douglas, Deborah Burns, Deborah Burns, Deneen McArthur, Denya McLean-Adhya, Desiree J. Cadena, Donna Stocker, Elie Smolkin, Elizabeth Rainey, Elle Lipson, Emily Nomland, Emily Upham, Emily Weston, Emmanuelle Charlier, Errin Clutton, Eunice Yeung, Eva Abramycheva, Gilda Longoria, Ginge Cox, Grace Delahanty, Heike Brandstatter, Helen Geier, Irina Berdyanskaya, Irwin Figuera, Janene Carleton, Janet D. Munro, Janice MacIsaac,Janice Williams, Jayne Dancose, Jenni Macdonald, Jennifer Gilevich, Jennifer Kaminski, Jennifer Machnee, Jennifer Nelson, Jesse Toves, Jessica Goodwin, Jessica Williams, Juli Van Brown, Julia Holt, June E. Watson, Justin Coulter, Kai Lesack, Kara Bowman, Karen Lorena Parker, Karina Partington, Karley Stroscher, Karly Paranich, Kate Marshall, katerina Motylova, Kathie Singh, Katie Letien,  Katrissa 'Kat' Peterson, Kelli Dunsmore, Kendelle Elliott, Kristy Jelinek, Kyla Rose Tremblay, Kyle Landry, Laura Dickinson, Laura Schiff, Lauren Aspden, Lauren Beason, Laurie Lieser, Leslie Cairns, Lisa Blaxley, Lisa Chandler, Lisa Godwin, Lisa Pouliot, Lisa Pouliot, Lisle Fehlauer, Liz Goldwyn, Lucie Elwes, Luisa Abuchaibe, Lyne Talbot, Lynn Werner, Madeline Jensen, Madison Mah, Madison Penland, Magali Guidasci, Maisie Lucas, Margot Ready, Maria Gleeson, Marie Marolle, Marijke Richman, Martha Dietsche, Mary Hubert, Meghan Kelly, Michelle Kabatoff, Michelle Kee, Michelle Yu, Miluette Nalin, Mimi Dejene, Nadia Alaskari, Natasha Wehn, Nicole Bivens, Nina Göldner, Patricia Jagger, Patti Henderson, Paula Antil, Polina Nikolai, Pricilla Rodgers,Priya Ayengar, Rachel O'Toole,Rita K. Sanders, Rudy Jones, Sam Ochotta, Sarah McLauchlan, Sera Gamble, Shae Salmon, Shae Salmon, Shailey Horton, Shannon Courte, Shannon Kohli, Shannon McArthur, Sharon Dever, Shelly Goldsack, Shelly Shaw, Sina Nazarian, Sondra Durkse, Sonia V. Torres, Sophia Delgiglio, Stephane Bourgeault, Stephanie Plett, Sue Blainey, Sumner Boissiere III, Sunil Pant, Taja Perkins, Tamara Daroshin, Teresa Brauer, Tracey McLean,Tracie Hansen, Tracie Leaphart, Tracy Craigen, Vanja Cernjul, Wendy Foster, Wendy Snowdon, Wendy Talley 

(Source IMDB) 

[jamiefartt]

need ur advice <3

I'm writing the exciting part 3 of richmond's receptionist but it's so long! I don't want to bore you guys with a long chapter, but also don't want to lose you through the lead-up in part 3 before the climax in part 4. what should I do? any feedback is appreciated thank you so much for reading <3