#sam obisanya fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rqgnarok · 1 year

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i can see you - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 6,082

warnings: SMUT, both implications and the actual act. no use of pronouns but reader is described with female anatomy.

summary: you and jamie have been watching each other for ages, trying not to feel the pull between you. a moment in the hallway changes everything.

author’s note at the end <3

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

Jamie comes back to Richmond one cold, quiet morning.

Quiet, because his teammates refuse to talk to him even after he’s at the receiving end of the harshest glares Jamie’s ever seen. They prickle his skin and make him feel too small in his own body, but he juts his chin up and trots around the field following Ted’s instructions.

“He’s the worst,” Sam tells you one morning after the facts. You bought an extra coffee on your way in because Sam had spent the entire week clenching his teeth so tightly you could see it in his jaw. It had only taken you one nudge and he spilled his feelings out like a dam breaking. “He just makes me feel awful about myself. And even if he’s apologized, that doesn’t mean he’s changed. I know Ted believes in second chances and I do, too, but that man is incapable of improving. The only person he’s ever cared about is himself.”

You’re inclined to believe him just because of how dejected he sounds. So when Jamie Tartt comes by the PR office later looking for Keeley and finds you instead, the annoyance that overtakes his features only cements your bad image of him.

“Keeley ain’t in?”

“Just missed her,” you say, short and clipped, head bent to focus on your work. “She’s out for lunch, Roy’ll probably bring her back in an hour.”

Silence meets your words, and you look up to see him looking at you, seemingly lost in thought. “Is… there anything else I can help you with?”

He snaps out of it, eyes a little wide and mouth struggling to find the right words. He’s pretty, you allow yourself the thought before immediately filing it away from your mind. He’s an asshole, your brain supplies, and yeah, that’s much better.

“Sorry,” he says in that awful accent of his that’s in no way endearing. Not even a little bit. It doesn’t help that he looks actually apologetic, unsure, tugging at his shirt nervously. “We, um, haven’t met, have we? ‘m Jamie.”

“I know,” you say, not exactly kindly, but the whole world knows who he is. You’d have to be living in outer space to not be aware of Jamie Tartt’s existence. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Jamie’s tentative smile turns bitter and he tucks his head down, embarrassed. “Ah. ‘Course. Yeah, no, I’m. ‘m sure you have.”

He sounds just like Sam had when telling you about Jamie’s torment and it tugs at your heart despite how you don’t want it to.

“Anyways, just,” he shrugs, trying to give you a sunny grin and failing only slightly. You almost respect his efforts. “Know you’ve been here a while and all but, uh. Welcome, anyways. Richmond’s a nice place to be.”

You sigh.

“You, too,” you say when he’s already at the door, surprising both of you with your sudden considerate candor. You shrug a little. “What you’re doing can’t be easy. It takes a lot of guts to come back here. I hope it’s worth it.”

“So do I,” he says before giving you one last smile, albeit a bit more genuine, and leaving your office.

After that, you’re both extremely aware of each other. It’s like the universe has decided to make sure you’re always in close vicinity, bumping each other in the hallways, arriving and leaving work at the same time, being paired up by Keeley for ad campaigns and photoshoots. You have the suspicion that Keeley’s been doing it on purpose– a good boss but a nosy friend, nevertheless, but it’s proven incorrect when she assures you don’t have to work with Jamie if you don’t want to.

“I know how he can be,” she says, eyes kind and hands on your shoulders, shaking you a little. “If he makes you uncomfortable in any way just say the word and I’ll take care of it, babes. I know how to handle him anyways.”

But you’re a grown woman. You can handle an asshole at the workplace, even if it comes in the beautiful package that is Jamie Tartt.

You can’t say you haven’t noticed him; his plump lips and smart mouth, defined arms covered in tattoos, hands that look like they know their way around the in-between of someone’s legs. You’re angry at him by your connection to the other boys but you’re not blind– and Jamie is a sight to behold.

He seems to know it, too, smirking at you whenever he catches your eye. He brushes by you in the hallway and you get a whiff of his cologne, sometimes a steady hand around your elbow when your steps stumble.

He murmurs a quiet alright, love? and you both move on with your day, your skin a little too warm and the imprints of his fingers tattooed on your skin until you get home.

You pay him back for those moments at random times. Once, during a photoshoot, you make a noise of frustration when the photographer insists that Jamie poses a certain way, dressed in his uniform as if he were about to jump into the pitch but looking a little too put together.

“It doesn’t feel genuine,” you explain, but you only receive blank, annoyed looks in response, so you take matters into your own hands and walk into the set, placing yourself in front of Jamie.

“Just-” you sigh, frustrated, and reach towards him before hesitating. He’s sitting down for the photo, and the sight of him looking up at you, his body between your legs does something you can’t bear to think about in a workplace environment. “May I?”

Jamie stutters, suddenly nervous. “I- sure. Go ‘head.”

You take off his hairband with a swift motion and tangle your fingers in his hair, messing it up. It’s soft and runs like water between your fingers, the smell of some fancy conditioner and hair product hitting your nose.

You dig your nails into his scalp a little too roughly, and before the apology sitting on your tongue can be said, Jamie’s shiver overtakes his body, a muffled sound being bitten back for you not to hear it, but you hear it anyways.

It makes you stop, just for a second, and your eyes meet. There’s something different in Jamie’s, greyish green darkening like you’re looking into the eye of the storm. The air is suddenly thick with tension, your hands still in his hair, his own twitching in his lap as if wanting to reach for–

Behind you, the photographer asks, “Are you done?”

You gulp and look away from Jamie, voice incredibly steady despite how dry your throat feels. “Almost.”

You hand him the hairband back and your fingers brush when he goes to take it. He exhales a gust of air, slowly, as if trying to avoid any suspicion of how badly the little touch is affecting him.

When it’s back on, you reach again to pull loose some strands of hair and your other hand holds him by the chin, keeping him still.

“There,” you say after a couple of moments or after an eternity. You let go of him and the room comes back into focus.

Jamie blinks as if he’d been having trouble thinking past the touch of your hands on him, oddly intimate. You move out of the way so the photographer can squint at whatever you did with his hair. “You see what I mean?”

The rest of the photoshoot is uneventful, but it becomes quite clear that whatever things you do to get into Jamie’s head work as efficiently to get into yours.

The team begins warming up to him after the whole Dubai Air debacle, and something inside of you unclenches in relief when you see Jamie sharing beer and laughter with the boys in the locker room after Sam’s press conference.

It feels like permission. The guilt you feel whenever you stare at Jamie a little too long suddenly dissipates, and you dare to bite your lip when he catches your eye across the room. His stare slips to your mouth before refocusing on his conversation, and the way he tugs at his collar and his cheeks flush makes you feel victorious despite the team’s loss tonight.

Later at Keeley’s, Roy nurses a beer while splayed out on the couch and asks you about Jamie. “Please tell me he’s done something stupid so I can punch him in the dick next time I see him.”

“You need an excuse for that?” you raise your eyebrows in question.

Roy grunts, but there’s hidden glee in his expression as he concedes your point. “Fair enough. He’s given you any trouble?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, I guess,” you shrug, but you make the mistake of hesitating before answering and Roy perks up like a dog who’s caught an intruder.

“Spill,” he orders, but you’ve been friends with both him and Keeley long enough to know rolling your eyes when he gets all manly is an appropriate response. “Come on, out with it. What he’d do?”

“Nothing!” you exclaim, throwing a pillow at him. He catches it swiftly, which annoys you a little. “Relax, old man. If he ever pulls a little too hard on my pigtails you’ll be the first to know.”

Roy grunts again, not satisfied but done pushing for the night.

The real trouble begins at Christmas, hours after the boys exchange gifts and most of the staff is sent home. You’re on your way out, coat on and Uber on the way when you run, once again, into Jamie in the hall, almost knocking both of you to the ground. He has to quickly hold onto your waist, your hands on his chest, to stop it.

“You scared the hell out of me,” you chastise him, both hating and loving the way he smirks at your breathlessness. “I thought you all troublemakers were gone already. You’ve got the rest of the day off, what are you still doing here?”

“Can’t go back to Manchester with a game tomorrow here, can I?” his hands tighten around your waist for a delicious, stretched-out moment before he lets you go. Jamie covers his flush coughing behind his hand as your own slip from his chest. “You lot just got me back after all. Can’t leave you hangin’ without your best player.”

“Ha, ha,” you laugh sarcastically, knowing he’s mostly kidding about that. “Still, I thought you’d be the first one home. Some Louis Vuitton slippers and Gucci robe on, expensive rum…”

“Oh, know me so well, do you,” he teases, poking at your bag. “What about you? You’re on your way out?”

“Uber’s almost here,” you show him your screen so he can see that your ride’s less than five minutes away. “Are you coming around to Higgin’s later?”

Jamie shrugs. “Don’t know if I’m invited.”

“Of course, you’re invited, Tartt. Everyone is.”

“Don’t know if I’m welcome, then,” he corrects.

“Everyone is,” you say again, firm but a little bit gentler than before. “Honestly, you’re lucky you look the way you do, ‘cause you’re a little bit thick.”

Jamie brightens like a kid on, well, Christmas. “You think I’m hot?”

“Of course, that’s what you take from that,” you roll your eyes. “I gotta go, but I better see you there later.”

You point menacingly at him but he only steps forward until your finger’s touching his chest, towering over you with a smirk that screams trouble. “To give you your gift, you mean?”

“You did not get me something,” you say, as sure about it as you are that the sky is blue and dirt is brown. “Not when you dropped the ball with your Secret Santa earlier today.”

“Maybe I like you better,” he suggests, voice low and rich. The sound makes a knot of heat tighten in your belly. “Than I like them, you’ve ever thought about that?”

You remember what Sam told you when Jamie first came back, how he was incapable of thinking about anyone other than himself. The Mancunian had proved that statement to be incorrect a handful of times already, and you’ve been flirting with him long enough to know you’re attracted to him, but you don’t expect any kind of emotional reciprocation from him. Sure, you’re friendly, maybe you’ll call him your friend at one point, but that’s as far as it usually gets with someone like Jamie.

You didn’t even get him a present. That’s how close you two are.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” you relent. You really should be going, but a part of you needs to entertain this conversation for some reason. It’s not always that you get to talk to Jamie without anyone else present. “What could you have possibly gotten me that you couldn’t give your Secret Santa?”

You barely see the face he makes before you’re being kissed within an inch of your life. Right there in the hallway of AFC Richmond’s training headquarters, Jamie Tartt holds your face in his hands as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, warm and wet and relentless.

You open yourself up to him without thinking it through, your phone lost somewhere in the mess of limbs as you latch onto his shirt, desperate for balance.

The kiss is toe-curling hot, your arms wrapping around Jamie’s neck while his own flail a delicious path through your back, hands going under your coat so you feel his skin hot against your sweater.

He ends up with his arm tight around your waist and a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close. Your mouths slide against each other, warm breaths trapped between your lips as the desperation for more grows and grows and grows and–

Jamie draws back and leans his forehead against yours only to kiss you again, softer and lingering while you’re still catching your breath, then one last kiss for good measure before finally drawing back. Like it happens around Jamie, the world you’d forgotten had existed outside the two of you comes back with rushing clarity, the hallway still miraculously empty.

“Somethin’ like that,” he says, and it takes you a moment to remember what you were talking about before this. Christmas, parties, gifts…

Jamie takes one last look at your face like he’s trying to commit you to memory while you’re all flushed and breathless before he lets you go, walking away into the locker room. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You stay there for a while after he goes, your fingers inevitably going to your kiss-bruised lips, brain still struggling to catch up to the moment.

Jamie kissed you. You kissed him back. You kissed each other like you weren’t at work and where anyone could walk by and see you.

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Your Uber’s outside and waiting.

You end up missing Higgin’s later that afternoon, unsure if Jamie would actually go after you bugged him about it and are terrified that he might.

You’re not avoiding him. For fuck’s sake, you’re a little too old for high school-level social skills, but you’re not sure your heart could take it if you see him so soon after your kiss, acting like nothing happened.

Or worse, making sure to sit next to you during dinner just so he could put his hand on your thigh and make you sweat while everyone’s watching, unaware of the change that’s just transpired in your relationship.

By the next day, you’ve decided to keep things professional, and it helps that Jamie doesn’t really bring it up. You see him before the game in the locker room when you go record some stories for the Instagram page, and he says hello as casually as the rest of the boys.

You exhale a breath you didn’t know were holding and wish them all the best for the game, though if it’s relief or disappointment that washes over you, you’re not sure.

Life moves on. You continue to work together, not sans stolen glances and running into each other in the hallway. It’s different now, because you both know the other remembers that Christmas kiss and accidentally touching when passing each other by makes your breath hitch and Jamie’s face flush.

The energy you had building up between you is charged with something dangerous now, and unless you dare to talk about it it’ll only build up into something you eventually won’t be able to ignore.

But fuck, do you think about it. About the way Jamie’s hands held you, how they kept you in your place and how they would pin you down if you ever were to end up in bed together, his hips driving home while his mouth brushed the shell of your ear, his voice low and accent thick with the heat of the moment.

Fuck. Fuck, you’re so fucking gone for him.

It’s also different because Roy comes back, and it’s like he just knows there’s something about Jamie that you’re not telling him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What?” you question, trying not to sound too defensive.

“What was that… look?” he splutters. Never once in your life have you seen Roy Kent fucking splutter like he couldn’t get a grip on a situation.

“What look?” maybe you can gaslight your way out of this one, you hope, because Jamie had been less than subtle when coming up to you both in the parking lot and talking about needing your help for a sponsored post he was supposed to make.

He got real close, so near you could smell the mix of cologne, sweat, and plain Jamie that rested on his skin. While showing you his phone put a hand on the small of your back, fingers spread open and hot like a brand.

It’d stolen your breath for a second, a hitch in an exhale that had caught both Jamie’s and Roy’s attention. You eyed Jamie warningly but he only smirked, completely aware of what he was doing. You said something about tagging the sponsor and then he was gone, brilliant smile and thanks on his lips as he waved you goodbye.

“That look, all cheeky and shit,” Roy points at where Jamie used to be and looks around for witnesses. You roll your eyes so hard it makes your head hurt a little. “Like he knows something I don’t, as if there’s anything in his brain other than elevator music.”

And of course, he tells Keeley about it, which earns you an interrogation as soon as you come down to the office.

“Thought he didn’t have access to his account,” Keeley frowns. “Didn’t you change his password after the Oreo Incident?”

“God, don’t even think about the Oreo Incident while near me,” you rub at your temples to try to diminish the migraine building up at the mere thought of it.

Now you gotta worry about Roy becoming a buffer between you and Keeley not buying your usual excuses. With them and the rest of the team and staff in the mix, you don’t stand a chance to get near Jamie.

You start surviving on fantasies alone that grow and spiral into unrealistic, too-hot scenarios.

Jamie, his shorts around his ankles and you on your knees in an empty locker room, his hands on your hair as he pants please, love, so fuckin’–

You on the desk and Jamie with his head between your legs, late into the night after everyone’s gone home and it’s you and him in your office as you moan fuck, Jamie, that’s– yeah, that’s good–

A night in a hotel room after some away game, Jamie letting you ride the leftover energy out of him. Thassit, angel, put your back into it, yeah? Be good for me.

It’s too much and it’s not enough.

Jamie throws himself into his training, trailing after Roy’s approval and eager to improve in every way he can, both as a person and a player. It’s nice to see him so dedicated, you think, remembering the traces of cockiness when you two first met in your office.

They’re still there somewhere, and you see them shine when, for some reason, all the coaching staff– Ted included– give Jamie the bird mid-game. You’re sitting on the V.I.P. box next to Keeley when his monster of a goal goes through, screaming your lungs out and hugging everyone within six feet of you.

You’re too far away from the field to see clearly, but you can imagine Jamie with striking clarity: cocky expression and tongue out, arms crossed before the rest of the boys jump with glee to embrace and congratulate him.

The locker room is a mess of sweat and laughter when you go down there, Keeley making a beeline for Roy and Rebbecca going straight to Ted. It leaves you with a bunch of overexcited men hugging you and handing you drinks in celebration.

“No stories for the ‘gram today,” you promise when Zorreaux and Dani begin posing, making faces, and showing off muscles to you. You can’t help but laugh, Sam’s arm around you. “I’m off duty tonight, boys. On a fan capacity only.”

“Are we allowed to date fans?” Jan Maas asks, half joke half genuine question. The boys make ooooh noises of interest.

You laugh again, not taking it seriously, but Keeley suddenly pipes up from her spot on Roy’s lap. “Please don’t! It’s a PR nightmare.”

Roy adds helpfully. “I’ll punch you in the dick.”

The conversation shifts to other topics but you search the room to find Jamie already looking at you, eyes dark and jaw tight. It’s barely a moment of eye contact, insignificant to anyone else in the room, but it’s enough to make your insides flutter. Meet me outside.

Thank God everyone’s too distracted celebrating when you sneak out of the locker room about half an hour later. You find Jamie already there, waiting for you at the end of it. He brightens when he sees you, shutting his phone and putting it in his back pocket.

It’s a little overwhelming, having Jamie Tartt’s full attention on you. As if it’s not exactly what you’ve been pining after for months.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Man of the Match?”

“Me?” he wonders faux incredulously while leaning casually against the wall, a dramatic hand to his chest. You walk till you’re right in front of him. “I work here, love. Or are you forgetting my heroic play out there already?”

You scoff. “We work here, dumbass, and how can I forget? It’s all everyone’s talking about. What are you doing away from your victory parade?”

“Same thing you are. Taking a breather,” he shrugs, giving you a slow once over, taking you in head to toe. You’re wearing a Richmond jersey and some loose jeans, nothing to write home about, but Jamie seems to like it. His tongue wets his lips before he focuses on your face again, charming. “Lots of people in there, yeah? Needed a minute.”

You raise your eyebrows, amused and unconvinced. “I can leave you alone if you want.”

Jamie abandons his spot against the wall and goes to you, slow and careful like a hunter stalking its prey. He says, voice a low, rough murmur, “Didn’t I already tell ya I like you better? You can stay as long as you want, love.”

Your entire body heats up at the callback to last December, the reminder of how easily Jamie snuck into your personal space and stole your breath with a heart-stopping kiss in this very same hallway.

“I‘m not gonna lie, this seems a little orchestrated, Tartt.”

He smiles, indulgent. “Oh?”

“Sending me looks, getting me all alone…” you take a step closer so you’re poorly hidden behind the water cooler. If someone were to walk out of the locker room, they’d have to walk this way and take a turn to see you standing so close to each other.

“You were the one who followed me out,” he reminds you, tilting his head and raising his brows. He’s so expressive and you can’t take it, want to put your mouth to every inch of his face until he’s saying nothing but your name. “Who’s the real mastermind here, ey?”

“Don’t even,” you warn, unable to bite back an upward tilt of the lips. “I know how you get in hallways, mister. I haven’t forgotten, yet.”

“Haven’t forgotten you kissed me back, either,” he adds and dares to place a not-quite kiss on the corner of your mouth, a barely-there brush of the lips. “Couldn’t let go of me, could you?”

“Yeah, well, you leave a lot to the imagination,” you can’t help but complain, the little touch not enough to satiate the hunger you’ve been cultivating since that moment. You grab onto his shirt with a strength you didn’t know you possessed. “I gotta brush up against you just to see if you’ll do something about it and you never do.”

Jamie laughs, rich and warm.

“You think I don’t see ya?” he wonders, fingers brushing against your knuckles before his hands travel slowly up your arms, touch agonizingly warm. Your breath hitches, and it only makes him bolder. “When you pass me by right here in the hallway, touchin’ me ‘on accident’? Leavin’ me wantin’ more?”

“Do you?” you wonder, voice low, facade cracking as your eyes fall to his mouth for a second, stare hungry. “Want more?”

“How could I not?” he admits. You’re looking at him like you want to take a bite out of him, and the adrenaline of that goal is finally wearing off to find more unreleased energy behind it, a tension that’s been strung tight long before he stole a kiss from you. “Fucking Christ, angel, you’re…”

“What?” you wonder when he trails off. Your hands brush against the hem of his shirt and Jamie feels your touch even through his clothing. “What about me?”

You make him feel like he’s on fire, right here in the hallway where anyone, anyone, could see you. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

You smirk, pleased.

“What would you do, huh? If I touched you right now?”

Jamie breathes out his nose harshly. “Fuck.”

“What if I told you-” you begin, slow and tortuous. “That I haven’t stopped thinking about you here? Against the wall where anyone could walk by? What if I wanted you so badly that I didn’t care if they did?”

Jamie follows the bridge of your nose and the shape of your eyebrows with his eyes, the bite of your lip calling to him like a brightly lit bullseye.

He thinks fuck it. Fuck it, fuck restraint, fuck stringing this out any longer. He’s a winner tonight, in more ways than one.

Who knows who leans in first? All you know is that you both meet in the middle, clashing like two waves hitting each other, his mouth frantic and eager on yours. He has one hand at the small of your back, pulling you to him, and another one on your collarbone edging dangerously to wrap around your throat, fingers drumming against tender skin.

You’re touching him everywhere you can reach, feeling so untethered to the rest of the world that your knees buckle, helping him keep you right where he wants you. Whatever remaining bravado you had left vanishes when he has you like this, and you’re desperately trying to keep him close by clutching at the back of his shirt, tanging your fingers into his hair, and raking your nails against his clothed torso.

You can’t make up your goddamned mind. You want all of him, putty in your hands, all the time.

You hear a couple of voices, laughing and joking, leaving the locker room and becoming louder by the second. You separate, mouths bruised and tender to the touch. Jamie offers you his hand, smile glinting dangerously. “You trust me?”

You scoff, taking it and intertwining your fingers. “Against my better fucking judgment.”

He pulls you towards the closest exit and you let yourself be led, anything other than your phone forgotten in your office.

In the blink of an eye, he’s got you in his car, his hand on your thigh edging closer and closer and closer to where you want it. You’re sure he misses one or three stop signs and runs a red light, but the streets are almost deserted at this hour and your skin is warm, only getting warmer even with the AC at full blast.

When you get to his place it’s like you never stopped, and despite your urgency for him to have you right there in the middle of the training facilities, you love the way he pins you against the wall of his home, picture frames rattling with the force of it. His hands bruise your hips and he lifts your jersey up to your chest so his mouth can travel a path of bare skin down your torso, wet and open-mouthed.

He looks up to you when he reaches the waist of your pants, kneeling in front of you, a question melted in the sheer want of the green of his eyes.

He’s asking for permission, you realize.

Something sweet momentarily replaces the urgency you have for him, and you have to drag him back up for another kiss. He makes a questioning noise when you pull him towards you but melts against you when his lips touch yours. It’s a tender thing, an answer, one last quiet moment before you both sink into the chaos.

“Lemme see you,” Jamie kneels back between your legs, this time cleverly undoing your pants and leaving you in nothing but your underwear while you struggle out of your shirt and leave it forgotten on the floor.

His fingers brush over the wet spot between your legs and you gasp, insides clenching in response to his touch. He sounds gutted when he says, “God, look at you. Haven’t even touched you, yet, fuck.”

He tucks his face between your legs and runs his tongue over your clothed clit, the sensation of the wet fabric against his tongue driving him crazy.

He’s painfully hard against his boxers. Jamie’s been waiting for this too long– there’s no way he’s lasting as long as he wants to, but he can focus on you for the time being. It’s not a difficult task, your body’s trembling with the force of your arousal and begging him to do something.

It calls to him, muting the rest of the world around him.

“Are you ever gonna, or should I get things going on my own?”

He smirks against your thighs, biting playfully at the skin there before going alright, alright when you pull at his hair, though it only makes his dick twitch in his pants.

He feels more than he sees your shiver when he finally gets your underwear out of the way, and he wastes no time before hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder before diving in, eating you out with the energy of a man starved.

You hadn’t even made it past the living room.

“Fuck,” you moan, hips thrusting forward and your hand tightening against his hair, the other one searching and failing to find balance against the wall you’re leaning against.

You want to close your eyes as the waves of pleasure wash over you, your muscles taunt with how Jamie’s expertly driving you closer and closer to your orgasm, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. “Fuck, Jamie, that’s good. You’re so good at that, oh–”

You see how his body takes in the praise and feel it against your center when he moans into you, tongue cleverly touching all the right places. Jamie closes his eyes, thoroughly enjoying the experience.

He suddenly draws back, earning a noise of displeasure from you only to be rendered back into a moaning mess when his hands replace his mouth. He looks up at you like he’s staring at a deity.

“What d’ya want?” he asks as he slides two fingers through your folds, his other hand keeping your hips pinned to the wall as you try to buckle into his touch, whimpers echoing through Jamie’s home. “Huh, love? Have I left you speechless already?”

“You said I left you thinkin’ about it,” he recalls, too coherent for someone as terribly horny as he is. But Jamie needs to know, he wants you to crave him as desperately as he does you. “Back in the hall, that’s what you said. Whad’ya want, love? Where do ya want me?”

“Here,” you pant, eyes closed and face tilted upwards as you try to move your hips, chasing ecstasy. Jamie’s fingers are slowing down, probably to make you focus and only driving you further insane. “Anywhere, everywhere. Fuck, Jamie, I want all of it, all of you, please–”

“Greedy,” he singsongs, but any amusement is ripped from his throat with a moan when you pull at his hair again, walnut mist locks like silk between your fingers. He quickens the pace, unable to deny you. “Fuck, greedy thing, aren’t you? Wasn’t enough to stare me down and to steal a kiss, ya want all of it.”

You sigh, muscles clenching. “Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

“Then take it,” he gives you all you want on a silver platter, right there for you to take. “All you need, angel, ‘s all yours, ‘m all yours–”

With both his fingers and mouth back at work, you’re a lost cause, reaching your high and letting it wash over all your limbs like TV static before you become boneless against the wall.

Jamie kisses your knee before moving your leg from his shoulder and setting it gently on the ground, back on his feet just in time to kiss you soundly.

He’s practically holding you up, your arms limply hanging around his neck and your legs made of jelly after the strength of your orgasm. It’s like you let go of all the tension that started building up the second Jamie walked into your office that cold November morning and there’s nothing left holding you up other than his hold on you.

Except Jamie’s hips push into yours and you feel the length of him pressed against you. It’s a reminder that no matter how badly he seemed to enjoy eating you out he hasn’t been able to find his own release. Yet.

You smirk lazily, finding the strength from God knows where to cup him in your hand, watching his expressive face contort in desperate pleasure. “What about you, Jay? What do you want?”

Jamie is unable to do anything other than babble nonsense as you move past his shorts and boxers to take him in your hand, slow and tight. He gives out a little cry when you strengthen your grip, exhaling as he rests his head on your shoulder.

He never does answer you, and Jamie comes like that in your arms, quick and easy. He’s kissing your shoulder, your neck, the hinge of your jaw before finding your mouth and slipping his tongue past your lips, languid and easy.

“You getting tired on me, angel?” he wonders, massaging the skin of the back of your neck to gain your attention. You turn your head, following his motions. His eyes haven’t lost their dark edge. His mouth is red and calling for you to worsen the damage. “Cause the night’s young, you know. Bed’s comfortable, too. If I’m good against a wall, wait ‘til I get you in me bedroom.”

“You’re an idiot,” you say, but you feel a flutter of interest between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m attracted to you.”

He steals another kiss just for that, giddy with victory, though you don’t know how long you’re gonna get away with calling it stealing when you keep giving yourself to him without a second thought.

“Is that a yes?”

You pretend to ponder on it. “Well. You haven’t fucked me, yet. There’s still room for improvement.”

Jamie shivers. He can’t resist the challenge and you know it. Whether you’re on the other side of the room or in his arms, he’s never getting enough of you and you love it.

“Oh, angel,” he cups your face, already on his way to seal his lips onto yours. “You’ve no idea.”

___

IT’S HERE IT’S HERE IT’S HERE

i’m so afraid of not living up to the expectations of the song but i couldn’t get this idea out of my head!!! thank you if you got this far into the read and i appreciate any comment of support and feedback!

i’m hoping to put out two or three more fics this summer before school starts, after that my schedule might not allow me to post that often but i’m not gonna leave you guys hanging, don’t worry!

_____

taglist: @dunster @daisy-crybaby @talksoprettyjjx @loveslide @ccomandercody @marrianena-library @shakespeareanwannabe @ajkdjdnkekemfxj @higherthanheroes @jamietarttdodo @lightninginab0ttle @seacactusplant @sokkigarden @kti2004 @mrfitzsimmons @guccilongboard @jellycolors @littlemisssunshine192 @uniiversed @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @royskents @youbelongwithflo @curlypeter @alipap3 @feelinthesefics

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #fanfiction #leo writes #ted lasso imagine #reader insert #phil dunster #sam obisanya #toheeb jimoh #roy kent #brett goldstein #keeley jones #juno temple #can't believe i forgot to add tags lmao so stupid

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burnthoneydrops · 1 year

Note

Could you do a fluff Jamie Tartt imagine where the reader takes care of a drunk Jamie who forgets that they've been dating for months and thinks they're back in their crush phase after they and the boys went out celebrating a win?

Drunk in the Back of the Car (j.t. x fem!reader)

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 654

warnings: language, alcohol

a/n: here you go love! i hope you like it and requests continue to be open!! (also first time writing for jamie so pls be kind lol)

The early 2000’s pop music blasting through the speakers was about to make your brain explode. The boys were celebrating a great victory in their match earlier that day and had all decided to crash this club that Colin had found. The flashing lights and sticky floors were slightly off-putting but the boys just wanted to celebrate and Jamie had insisted you came along too. Keeley and Roy were somewhere, probably at a table stuffed in a corner as Roy hated anyone spotting him. Isaac immediately bought a round of drinks upon entry and thus started the flow of alcohol. You were just glad that you and Jamie had agreed that you would drive home so he could properly celebrate.

Speaking of your boyfriend, he was nowhere to be seen. A group of you had been gathered in front of the bar, chatting and drinking and dancing- though somewhat badly- and then as the night aged on and people found different things that piqued their interests, the group dispersed into smaller groups across the club. You were clumped together with Colin and Sam, chatting about the opposing team from the earlier match, while Colin interspersed some lyrics from the rap songs that were playing overhead. While laughing at Colin doing this weird dance while rapping, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Your boyfriend is smashed,” Roy commented as he held Jamie under his arms. He was clearly having a hard time standing on his own and it seemed like Roy had dragged him from wherever they were previously stationed.

“I’m fine grandad,” Jamie retorted, though slurred and he clearly had to put a lot of thought into the short sentence.

“I’ll take him,” you smiled at Roy, silently thanking him for making sure Jamie got back to you. He nodded and passed Jamie over to you before he walked off, probably going back to find Keeley again. You grabbed one of Jamie’s arms and threw it over your shoulders, leaning his weight into you. “Looks like I’d better get this one home. Enjoy the rest of your night lads”. Sam and Colin say their goodbyes before going to find the other boys.

“Woah, you better be careful there. I’ve got a girlfriend and I don’t think she’d like you touching me like this,” Jamie tries to stand up straighter to get away from you, but almost immediately tips back over.

“I am your girlfriend,” you laugh.

“No way,” Jamie says quietly, in an ‘I can’t believe it’ type of way.

“Come on Jams, let’s get you home”.

Despite the copious amounts of effort it took to get Jamie through your front door- which included him almost throwing up in the back seat of your car- you finally got him in bed in a semi-comfortable position. Once you were sure he wasn’t going to throw up in the bed, at least long enough for you to get ready for bed, you headed to the bathroom to take your makeup off and change out of your clubbing outfit.

“Y/N?” You heard Jamie call from the bed.

“Yes love?” you question, sticking your head out of the bathroom doorway.

“How’d you get into my house?”

“I have a key Jams,” you laugh.

“Did I give you that?” He tilts his head.

“How sloshed did you get Jamie?” You move closer to him, sitting down next to him on the bed.

“Oh my god I’ve got Y/N in my bed,” he whispers more to himself.

“I’ve been sharing a bed with you for the past two months, love,” you remind him, moving his hair away from his sticky forehead.

“Holy shit, no way,” he mutters before passing out again. You laugh at his antics and go back to the bathroom, finishing your nighttime routine before grabbing some water and aspirin for the morning. You were so going to make fun of him tomorrow for this.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso fanfiction #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #ted lasso #roy kent #keeley jones #sam obisanya #jamie tartt imagines #jamie tartt fluff

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bbymunsonx · 3 months

Text

slumber party

pairing: ted lasso x reader (f)

warnings: language, pure smut, thigh riding, fingering, piv (unprotected oops)

word count: 2k

when ted invited you to an away game and they accidentally book the wrong amount of rooms, you're gonna have to stay with him for the night. one bed plus a bar of sexy chocolate makes for a very interesting sleep over.

Alrighty, does everyone have their room cards?" Ted asked the group. You looked around, and of course, you were the only one that didn't have a room card.

"Um, I don't have a room." You spoke up. Ted immediately looked at you with softened eyes.

"I'm very sorry, we don't have any more rooms available." The hotel employee said. You groaned in response. This is why you don't go to any away games. Luckily, you and Ted were really close friends so of course, he offered you to stay in his room.

"It's really no problem at all, it's just one night." Ted reassured. One night shouldn't be a problem.

Ted was even more than willing to carry your bags into the room too. The two of you walked into the room and automatically groaned in response.

There was only one bed.

"I could've sworn this room has two beds." Ted said, annoyed.

"It's alright, look," you pointed at the couch on the side of the room. "There's a couch. I'll just sleep on the couch and you can take the bed.

"I'm not gonna let you sleep on the couch, but I know if I sleep on the couch, my back is be like a right angle when I wake up." Ted laughed.

"I mean, I think we can both be adults and take the bed, yeah?" You quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Alright, only if you're comfortable with it." Ted really wanted to make sure he wasn't putting you in an uncomfortable position, but little does he know, you've had a crush on him for ages. You've always dreamed about a moment like this.

"I'm absolutely comfortable with it." You confirmed.

The two of you sat on the bed and got comfortable on your respective sides. Ted decided to turn on a movie so the two of you laid in bed and watched the movie. Halfway through the movie, Ted offered you a drink from the mini fridge, to which you said yes.

After the both of you became buzzed, you decided to go into your bag to get your phone charger, but something else had fallen out of your bag, also.

"Darlin' you dropped your candy," Ted picked up the chocolate bar to hand it back to you, but his eyes widened as soon as he saw the wrapper. It was one of those chocolates that make you extremely horny when you eat it. "What the hell is this?" He laughed.

"Oh my god," You groaned. "Beard gave it to me as a joke. He told me that him and Jane eat these all the time and that it's like... unreal."

Ted's glance kept dancing between you and the chocolate bar in his hands. He cleared his throat. "That sounds, interesting."

"I don't even know why I took it. It's just gonna be a waste." You turned away from Ted to get your pajamas out of your bag.

"It doesn't have to be a waste." Ted quirked his eyebrow at you.

"Really?" You raised your eyebrow back at him.

"Why not? It's storming out so we can't do anything, it'll give us something to do. Unless you don't wanna do it." Ted quickly reassured.

"You're right, why not? Let me just get my pajamas on and let's do it." There's a chance nothing will even happen, but he's right. There was nothing else to do.

You went into the bathroom to get changed into your pajamas. When you looked into the mirror, you had to give yourself a little pep talk before you could go back out there.

You walked out in a pair of satin pajama pants and a satin tank top, with no bra, of course. Ted quickly adjusted his sweatpants and cleared his throat when he saw you. You think he would be completely fine without the chocolate.

You plopped down on the bed next to Ted, resting on your knees. He was nervously playing with the chocolate in his hands.

"You ready?" He broke the chocolate in half and gave you one half.

"Let's do this." You both clinked the halves of chocolate before eating them. You took the chocolate and thoroughly chewed it before swallowing it. When you and Ted both finished eating it, you two just looked at each other.

"I don't feel anything," Ted said.

"Yeah, me either. I feel fine." You said. It was true, you really did feel fine. "Let's just give it some time."

Ten minutes passed and you two felt okay. Ted was completely focused on the movie you guys were watching while you kept trying to glance over at Ted through your peripherals.

Twenty minutes passed and neither one of you said a word. You were starting to feel more awake, but that was the only extent of it. Maybe Beard just gave you a regular chocolate, but he wanted me to think it was the special chocolate. Kind of like a placebo effect.

Thirty minutes passed and you finally began to feel something. You weren't sure about Ted, but you were starting to feel uncomfortable in your skin. The fabric of your clothing was just too tight. Your nipples were strained against the very thin material of your shirt. Underneath your underwear, your clit began to throb, desperate for some sort of contact.

Ted was still watching the movie that was on while you subtly crossed your legs, trying to relieve some of that pressure. It did, the tiniest bit. I clenched my legs and slowly rubbed my legs back and forth, trying so hard not to groan at the frustration. It wasn't good enough.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ted's hand slowly moving over to your side of the bed. His hand finally landed on your thigh, and you already wanted to scream. The inner skin of your thigh was incredibly sensitive, and his touch made you turn to jelly.

"Just watch the movie," Ted said coldly. "I'll take care of ya." Ted used his finger nails to softly draw circles around your inner thigh, working his way up to your center. He softly cupped your pussy over the fabric of your shorts, causing you to inadvertently grind on his hand.

Without even looking at you, he slipped his hand underneath your shorts and your underwear and began drawing lazy circles over your clit.

"You're so wet. Is this all for me?" Ted said cockily. "I don't think we even needed that chocolate. I think you get yourself all worked up on your own."

"Fuck," I moaned. He finally looked over at me and his eyes were completely blown with lust. As his finger continued to circle your clit, you hand reached up under your shirt to pull at your nipples. Between the sensation on your clit and your nipples, it was enough to push you over the edge.

"Wait, wait." You moaned out to Ted, not ready to come yet. He quickly pulled his hand out from underneath your shorts. You quickly got up and straddled Ted's lap, over his obvious boner. You wrapped your arms around his neck and connected your lips onto his. It was messy and desperate. The two of you couldn't possibly get closer to one another.

The outline of his cock was directly underneath your clothed pussy. As his tongue slipped into your mouth, you moaned right into his mouth causing you to grind down right on his cock.

"Oh my god," You cried out as the fabric of your shorts hit your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. The pressure you've been looking for.

As you continued to work your hips back and forth, Ted took it upon himself to pull your tank top off, exposing your tits right in front of his face.

"Fuck, look at you. You're unreal, darlin' you know that?" Ted groaned into your tits. He latched his lips onto your right nipple and swirled his tongue around the peak. The warmth of his mouth was ungodly.

Your hips began to move faster as you were about to come. The moans that left your mouth were filthy, the type of moans that you only hear in porn. Ted must've been able to tell that you were able to finish.

"Come on baby, that's right. Come all over me. I've gotcha." He continued to play with your nipples as he tried to get you to finish.

"Mmmmm," You squealed as the cord in your lower belly snapped, causing you to come all inside your pajama pants. Out of breath, you exhaled, "My god."

"That was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen," Ted said. "But, if I don't fuck you right now, I think my dick will explode."

You helped Ted rip off his t shirt while he worked on his sweatpants. Just in his boxers, he flipped you over so he was hovering above you.

He leaned down and placed a desperate kiss on your lips and he worked his way down the rest of your body. Trailing a mess of kisses down your neck and collar bone. You began whining, needing more from him.

"Darlin', I would love nothing more than to have my tongue all over you, but I need to be inside of you, okay? Besides, I think you're more than ready for me." Ted groaned.

"Next time, then." You said cockily.

Ted pulled his boxers down, his cock springing right on his lower belly. You gulped, not only because you wanted him, but because you weren't quite sure he was going to fit.

"Ted, I-," You grew worried.

"It's okay. honey. I'll go slow." He placed a kiss on your lips before lining his cock right at your pussy and slowly pushing inside. He had one hand on the side of your face, using it as leverage to kiss you. His other hand rubbing slow circles on your clit so you'll take him in easier.

"You okay, sugar?" He asked.

"I'm perfect, Teddy. I need you to move," you whined.

Ted moved in you more and more. You moaned louder every time he moved. When you wanted him to go even deeper, you felt the tip of his cock nudge against your cervix causing your back to arch in pleasure.

Ted slowly moved out of you just to slam back in. As he could feel your pussy getting accustomed to his size, he began to pick up the pace. Slow and passionate turned into fast and desperate.

"Would you take a look at that?" Ted breathed out, forcing your head to look down. As drew out his thrust, you could see the bulge of his cock in your lower stomach.

"Jesus, baby. You look so fucking hot like this." Ted moaned as he continued to thrust into you.

As he continued rubbing your clit, you could feel your second orgasm begin to build.

"Ted, I'm close," you moaned into his mouth.

"Me too, baby. Come on my cock, sugar." Ted moaned back. That's all it took for you to let go, coming all over Ted while he was still inside of you.

"Where do you want me, darlin'?" Ted asked while you were riding out your high.

"Inside. I need to feel you fill me up." I moaned. At that exact moment, Ted let go and came inside of you. His thrusts became lazier as he was riding out his high inside of you.

As he pulled out, he groaned at his come just sliding right out, "Baby, you should look at this. I'm just falling right out of ya."

The thought of that made you wanna jump on top of him and fuck him again.

Ted rolled over and laid in bed next to you and the two of you started to laugh. You covered your face as you laughed, with a hint of embarrassment.

"I gotta ask Beard for more of those chocolate," Ted exclaimed.

"I thought you said I didn't need it. I honesty don't think you need it either." I smirked at him.

"You're completely right. I just like chocolate." Ted joked, causing you to laugh.

God, this man was perfect.

#jason sudeikis #rebecca welton #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #apple tv #jamie tartt #leslie higgins #roy kent #sam obisanya #fanfiction

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walnutmistjamie · 1 year

Text

fave Ted Lasso moments 47/? : We don't start counting until it hurts.

#sometimes i forget this is a real line #and not something i read in fanfiction #jamie looks so good there #my favourite part is jamie's confused look to sam at the end #jamie tartt #roy x jamie #*mine: gifs #roy kent #*ftlm #ted lasso #sam obisanya #jan mass #dani rojas #afc richmond

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someplace-darker · 1 year

Text

In The Static | Ted Lasso

Pairing: Ted Lasso x reader (no y/n) Wordcount: 2.1k Warnings: panic attack/talks of panic attacks, vague mentions of trauma. That's about it I think, it's a touch angst and hurt/comfort I suppose. Fluff. Summary: Ted thought he was past his panic attacks until he encounters another, and you follow him to make sure he's okay. A/N: "now jay" you might be saying "wasn't the last thing you posted smut almost a year ago?" and the answer is yes. But i've recently become insanely attached to Ted Lasso, and I dipped my toe into writing more than a wip. SO here's my middle aged white man of the month. Enjoy :)

“REFEREE!!!” Keeley stands with a force that causes her to latch onto your arm to keep from falling forward. It continues to astound you that for such a tiny lady, she really contains an insane amount of spunk. One of the opposing team’s men had just slid Sam’s legs out from under himself, causing him to land hard on his shoulder. The game had been a rough one so far, more aggressive and bitter than most. Richmond had been respectful at first (as per usual) but the second their opponents had started playing violent and dirty, that changed.

Roy and Beard were obviously shouting and pointing angrily, though you couldn’t make out what they were saying from your seat in the box. Ted, however, was standing stiffly with his balled fists shoved into the pockets of his Richmond zip-up. You can feel that something is off. Even if you can’t see his face, you know him well enough to read his body language. There’s mere minutes left in the game and the teams are tied.

Rebecca is already standing and gathering her belongings to head back in, gesturing for the lot of you to follow. That’s exactly what you begin to do before the crowd goes ape-shit, jumping from their seats and screaming so loud it makes your head thrum.

“ROJAS INTERCEPTS THE KICK AND PASSES TO TARTT AND JUST LIKE THAT-”

You turn just in time to watch Jamie kick the ball into the net, the stadium erupting in cheers that shake the ground.

“AFC RICHMOND TAKES ANOTHER VICTORY 2-1 IN A SHOCKING LAST SECOND SCORE”

Keeley, Higgins, and Rebecca rejoice, grabbing at each other in shock. Placing your fingers between your lips you let out a piercing whistle, jumping up and down as thousands of chants echo. You look down to your coaches, expecting to see all three soaking in the sweet relief of not gaining another loss. Instead, you see Ted darting for the locker room, head down with his phone held two inches from his face. It was obvious to you that he was trying to use it as a cover.

“I’ll meet back with you guys later, I’ve gotta check something real quick.”

They smile and wave you off, relishing in the buzzing excitement clearly felt throughout the facility. As much as you wish you could join them in celebration, you were pretty sure Ted needed you more. So you slip through the small crowds with ease, having much practice during your time with Richmond, taking the back staircase to the locker room hallway.

At first you check his office, finding only his jacket laying on the floor. The second spot you search is the right one, opening the door to darkness. You almost turn and leave but a staggered breath gives him away.

“Ted?” you whisper, stepping into the boot room and closing the door gently. He sniffles almost silently and hums in response, curling in on himself when the lights flicker on at your touch.. You’ve never seen him look so small before, his entire body condensed into half of his height in the corner of the room, the sight moving you to shut the lights back off for his sake.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, walking over to kneel in front of him. He has his head placed between his knees, hands on the back of head with his fingers intertwined tightly. As much as you know of his panic attacks, you’ve never been present for one. Something tells you he tends to keep it that way with everyone around him.

However, you’re well versed with them yourself.

“I’m gonna sit beside you, but I won’t touch you unless you say it’s okay.”

You lower yourself onto the ground, the floor cold beneath your already freezing ass. England's weather was not kind to the warm blooded. Ted doesn’t lift his head all the way, simply angles it towards you just enough for an eye to peek out from behind his arm. He looks at you with the gaze of a wounded puppy, eyes red and wet, smeared with warm tears.

The silence that follows is deafening, a faint ringing the only thing you hear. Ted looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. It’s not like you can blame him. The last time he opened up to someone he considered close about his panic attacks, it ended up plastered on every magazine and tabloid across the country. Trust within himself and others had been fractured- not broken. No one could ever betray Coach Lasso enough to break that within him, it was fundamental to who he was as a person.

After a few more minutes of silence his foot slides over to yours, just barely nudging it. He lifts his head and sniffles, using his sleeve to wipe the mix of tears and snot off his face.

“I want to tell you about it, I do. I’m just… stuck. Feels like if I tell you, it’ll be too much,” he murmurs, keeping his foot pressed to yours.

“I understand, Ted,” you whisper. “I started having panic attacks before I was even a teenager. I’d been through things- rough things -and they plagued me for years.” He begins to unfurl himself, listening intently to every word you say, the blatant honesty and vulnerability easing his anxiety. “It took me a while to open up to anyone about them, let alone a therapist. I spent so long trying to hide them, that when I finally did get help I felt like a fake.”

Ted adjusts himself to sit up straighter, shimmying closer so your shoulders touch. You can tell he’s trying to be inconspicuous about it, but the man is known to be anything but subtle. Outside you can hear the boys begin filing into the hallway, headed for the locker room surely for some type of victory activity. Their shadows dance across the wall in the darkened boot room, slashed into segments by the blinds slanted slightly open. Both of you seemed to have held your breaths as they passed, because as soon as they’re gone there’s a simultaneous exhale of relief.

An amused breath comes from Ted, palm pressing from the corner of his eye to the tip of his cheekbone to wipe away the stray tears. He knocks his knee against yours and dares to glance at you, opening up enough to make eye contact. Here in this room, he looks more human than you think you’ve ever seen him. For the most part he keeps his mood insanely optimistic, tending to care more about others happiness than his own. It gave him an almost otherworldly bounce to his step and light to his eyes.

But now that he’s sat no more than two inches in front of you with puffy eyes and a chewed lip, Ted is just… a broken man.

“You’ll never be too much, Ted. It’s normal to feel stuck, and it’s okay to not be able to talk about it yet.” His eyes flick to your hand when you lift it towards him, a lifeline of trust, openness in the form of warm skin and an upward facing palm. Internal conflict tugs at his lungs, his breath hitching as he weighs his options for all of five seconds before taking your hand. You are someone Ted knows he can always find solace in.

Someone who he could spot in a crowd of thousands, someone who he will always seek out.

His other hand reaches to pat the top of yours, rubbing his thumb against your skin in soothing circles. A shuddered breath begins to pass his lips, but he smothers it to ashes with the cool press of a kiss to your wrist.

Humming amusedly at the feeling of his mustache tickling your skin, you lean your head on his shoulder, moving slightly as they lift with the intake of air into his lungs. “I suppose you’re right. I just feel bad that I haven’t spoken to you ‘bout it,” he tsk’s softly to himself, carefully navigating his brain for the right words.

“I was fine out there, y’know? I’ve been doin’ better, Sharon’s helped a lot. But it just got so loud, and everything felt out of my control- out of any of our boys’ control and I- I just couldn’t breathe. Tunnel vision, boom, just like that.”

You whisper encouragements softly under your breath, murmurs of ‘it’s okay’ and ‘you can keep going’ pushing him gently in the right direction. Voices can be heard from the locker room, loud cheering and chanting from the team acting as muffled background noise for Ted’s moment of vulnerability.

“After everything that happened with Nate, I learned to mask it a bit better I guess. That’s the fancy word Doc told me about,” the corner of his lips quirks up “I figured I’d be okay in here for a bit anyway, then you walked in.” Your brows furrow and you pull away from his shoulder, opening your mouth to apologize for intruding but he beats you to it.

“No, no, that sounded different than I meant. I am very glad that you found me here. I needed you even if I didn’t know it,” he traces the details of your face with his eyes, not stopping you when you move your head back down to his shoulder.

“I think you’ve worked on it so much quicker than you realize, Ted. It wasn’t that long ago, yeah? Healing and improving takes time, and it’s okay that it takes time. I certainly took my time,” you muse, channeling your own therapist’s word. “But I think it’s right on par with who you are, who I know you to be, that you got on it as fast as you did. Even if it was begrudgingly at first.”

“Yeah, Doc definitely had her work cut out.”

You laugh, normally at first but then Ted snorts and you both lose it, bodies bumping against each other with the shakes that come with post-meltdown laughs. Soon enough you’re both wiping away tears of a different variety, the air in the room much lighter than before. You take that moment to push yourself up and off the floor, lending a hand to Ted to pull him up.

“I am immensely proud of you, Coach Lasso. So is the team. You have a very large family backing you up, as unorthodox as said family is.” You take one step closer, hand still holding onto his, pressed between your bodies. Taking your free hand, you hold the side of his face and lean in to kiss his cheek, thumb stroking his jaw.

Ted presses into your lips, chasing your touch even when you turn to the door. Twisting the knob open you find Will standing there, boots tied by their laces hanging over his shoulder, hand outreached to grab the now absent handle.

He blinks at the two of you for a second, gaze one of vague shock, before curling his lips in an embarrassed smile and stepping out of the way.

“Not a word, Will,” you sing-song when he opens his mouth, pulling Ted down the hall to stand outside of the locker room door.

You can hear Roy in the middle of a somehow happy/angry sounding congratulation speech that only he is capable of, grinning and turning to face your Coach once more. “Now, get your butt in there and relish in the sweet taste of winning.”

“I mean, relish is pretty tasty-”

“Ted.”

“Yep,” Ted takes a deep breath and nods, squeezing your hand “you coming in with me?”

“I don’t want to intrude on your moment, Coach.”

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and pushes the door open, dragging you with him. The boys’ faces light up, immediately rushing to storm him, all reaching to touch him and jumping up and down. Their team song buzzing and bouncing along with them.

“WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE, WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE, WE KNOW WE ARE, WE’RE SURE WE ARE, WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE”

You slide past the group, safely reaching Roy and Beard without your feet being stomped on. The smile on your face is one of pure joy and contentment, not faltering when Beard slides to your side, bumping your elbow.

“Thanks,” he speaks, nodding towards Ted. It’s easy to know what he means immediately, always one to be of few words.

“No need to thank me,” you reply easily, watching your family bond even more “it’s what we do.”

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its-a-show-stoppin-number · 1 year

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Me waiting for Isaac Mcadoo, Will Kitman, Sam Obisanya, and Moe Bumbercatch fanfics:

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hacash · 1 year

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"Alright, bruv?"

Sam doesn't even notice Isaac's presence until he thumps the locker next to Sam's head with his fist: the team captain's preferred form of greeting. He jumps, and then with a sigh goes back to staring at his phone. The beaming faces of the newly called-up Nigerian football team, resplendent in green and white. "Huh? Oh, yes. Yes, I'm fine, thank you."

"Bullshit," Isaac scoffs. "C'mon, what's wrong?"

Sam doesn't want to admit that anything's wrong. Treat your wins with humility and your losses with grace, that's what his father always says. But he supposes to do that you have to admit that there was a loss in the first place. Besides, if anyone would understand it's Isaac, Isaac who's never once been called up to the England team, who hadn't even looked up when Beard was reading out the roster. England team's bursting with great players anyway, he'd grunted when Colin had asked if he was alright. Even if I was good enough, don't think they're too keen to call up a guy who tried to throttle someone in the stands a month ago. Their loss then, Colin had said. That's, like, top of my list for qualities of a best mate. Not to mention team captain. Harry Kane's quaking in his boots whenever he sees you on the telly, boyo. And Isaac's face had split into this massive grin, and that had been that. "I just found out Edwin Afuko is the reason I didn't make the Nigerian team," he says. "What - that guy who tried to sign you up to his African super-team?" "Yeah," Sam sighs. "When I turned him down he told me I'd never play for the Nigerian national team. Now I found out he bribed the government - my home, Isaac, the place where I grew up - not to invite me onto the team." "Jesus Christ." "Yeah." "You think it was to do with the Dubai Air protest as well?" Isaac asks. "Like, this guy made us all look like a bunch of corrupt dickheads, we ain't gonna have him represent our country sort of thing?" Sam's eyes widen, and then slam shut as his head falls back against his locker. "Well I do now." "That's bullshit," Isaac announces. For once, Sam is tempted to agree. Isaac is staring intently at the ground. Finally he looks up and clears his throat with uncharacteristic caution. "Would you have done the same thing? The protest, staying at Richmond - if you knew it was gonna go down like this, I mean?" It's something he's not wanted to ask himself: but there it's been, niggling away like some horrible little imp in the back of his mind. Sam thinks about that photograph hanging on his childhood wall, the feeling he had strolling through the British Museum alongside Edwin. He thinks about running over the beaches of Lagos as a child, how it felt to see those pictures of the destruction and the dying animals on those same beaches. The thrill of returning to the Premier League. The teenagers who'd come up to him in the street, newly arrived and still stumbling over their English, thanking him for speaking out even as the glass was still being swept up at Ola's. Men like Gary Lineker and Ian Wright quoting his tweets on Match of the Day, and the UK government not being able to do anything to stop them. The way his heart had skipped, seeing young men just like him playing on Richmond Green wearing his jersey. "Of course I would," he says finally. "I couldn’t have taken a place on the team if it meant not speaking out." "Right. You wouldn't have been happy just sitting down and shutting up. Or playing for some rich prick who bribes people all the time. And it's totally shit, but - I guess it's, like, the price you've gotta pay right now for doing so much awesome stuff." "I suppose it's worth that." They sit together in companionable silence for a little while. Finally Sam sighs. "I still really want to play for the Nigerian national team though, Isaac." Isaac nods and sets an arm around his shoulders. "You will, bruv. I know you will."

For @boasamishipper. There’s something really interesting about seeing reality ensue when Sam faces the backlash of following his heart - but I’d have loved to get a little scene like this.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #my fanfiction #isaac mcadoo #sam obisanya

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sloth-babied · 1 year

Text

Love Will Find a Way

Sam Obisanya x reader

Summary: After a year of trying to get over Sam Obisanya, Colin insists you attend a speed dating event with him.

And would you look at that, Sam’s here too.

Contains: Drinking, light angst, and fluff. No use of y/n.

Word count: 2.8k

Notes: The fact that there aren't a numerous amount of fics about Sam is actually a crime so I had to step in.

Enjoy!

“Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life,” Colin reads the pink chalk-written words on a wooden A-frame sign in front of the restaurant. He turns to you, pursing his lip while nodding as if he were impressed.

You simply smile and nod, indulging your friend who suggested you come here with him.

You observe the room once you two enter—the quintessential red and pink balloons at every corner of the room, including pink lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Red and pink decor are set all around the place with a banner hanging maliciously over the seating area:

FOR SINGLES READY FOR LOVE

You sigh before you continue to look around. There’s a lot of older people here; people in their mid-forties and up. Makes sense. Those around your age usually rely on dating apps, but there are a few exceptions which, you guess, is a relief.

You’re able to identify two other young people and realize one of them is Isaac. And the other is…oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck.

You grab Colin’s bicep, hoping to reroute your plans. “You know what, actually I think I change my mind—”

“Wait, is that Isaac and Sam?” He notices, raising his damn hand excitedly. “Isaac! Sam!” Colin places his fists on his hips, shaking his head. “Who knew they’d be here?”

You give him a hardened stare before offering the other two footballers a disingenuous smile as they walk your way, drinks in hand.

Naturally your eyes drift to Sam and you can’t resist admiring his outfit for the night. A black turtleneck and brown khakis.

This is going to be a long night.

“Wild seein’ you here, innit?” Isaac says.

Colin nods fervently. “Yeah, weird coincidence.”

Sam gestures his drink in your direction. “What brings you here?

Oh, god, he’s talking to you.

You scratch the back of your neck nervously. “Colin was nice enough to invite me,” you tell him, though ‘nice’ is not the word you would honestly use. ‘Cruel’ sounds more accurate, but you digress.

Sam smiles thoughtfully, though he can’t say he doesn’t feel as awkward as you. “I’m sure you’ll find a match. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

You ignore Isaac and Colin glancing at each other, gripping the strap of your tote bag just a tad bit tighter. “And to you, also,” you shoot him a finger-gun with your free hand. “ As well. Too.”

You’re insufferable, but Sam chortles anyway, thank goodness for that.

“Finally got Sam off Bantr.” Isaac pats Sam’s back.

Sam shakes his head. “I deleted my account a long time ago.”

And you know why. It’s hard to think about Sam’s relationship with Rebecca without feeling a little jealous…okay, a lot.

Sam sips his punch. “Isaac suggested I come here, so here I am.”

Ding, ding, ding!

You all turn your heads to a woman holding a call bell in her hand. “The event begins in five minutes!”

And so the night begins.

Each date feels prolonged despite being on a three-minute timer. Many people who are much older than you discuss topics beyond your time or too early in your longevity to experience. And when you meet people around your age, well, let's say a severe lack of chemistry is the only thing that comes into mind.

Admittedly, you debated pregaming before Colin picked you up. You decided against it until you saw Sam here, therefore during the five-minute break, you mumble, "Eh, what the hell?" to yourself before sneaking off to the bar, ordering a shot of tequila before you and Sam meet.

Liquid courage.

Sam greets you with a pursed smile, waving his questionnaire card (cutely) and taking a seat in front of you. "Hi."

“Hey.” You smile back a bit more enthused than usual. Less nervous. More loose.

“So how are your dates going?” Sam wiggles his eyebrows.

You lean forward closer to him, balancing a pen between two fingers. “Hmm. Oh, see that guy over there?”

Sam’s head stealthily turns to the man you point at—slick back gray hair with a salt and pepper beard.

“Apparently, he owns 0.5% of West Ham.”

Sam looks back at you, leaning closer. “Dealbreaker?”

You nod exaggeratedly, leaning away. “Very much so, Sam. You know I’m ride-or-die for Richmond.”

He pats his chest, smiling playfully. “I’m flattered.”

From two different areas of the room, Colin and Isaac are seated with their respective dates. Colin and Issac narrow their eyes on you and Sam, shushing their poor dates whenever they attempt to speak.

When you feel your neck practically burning, you swivel your stool, catching them do a questionable job at pretending they weren’t just hyper-focused on you and Sam.

Colin mouths fake words to his very confused date who will certainly write him off later. Isaac looks upward, chin on his palm, eyes squinted, and mouth parted as if he were in deep thought.

“Okay…” You murmur to yourself before facing Sam again. “How about you, huh? Meet anyone you fancy yet?”

He offers a sigh, tilting his head towards his previous date. “See that woman over there?”

You discreetly look to the left and see an elderly woman speaking with her date, a man fortunately around her age. They seem to be hitting it off.

Sam shakes his head, feigning a disappointed sigh. “I thought we had something.”

“Another older white woman stolen from you, man. You gonna take that?” You tilt your upper body towards the perhaps soon-to-be couple before sipping your ice water.

Sam’s shoulders bounce, chuckling. He turns to them. “Yes, I am.”

You also turn, feeling envious from the sight. You observe the woman’s incredibly pink face and the subtle red on the olive-skinned man’s cheeks. Mutually smitten.

You and Sam face each other in unison, both of your hands below the table as you lean your torsos against the round table. Sam’s hands clasp beneath the surface while yours continue to fiddle with your pen.

Colin hides behind his questionnaire paper below his eyes—espionage still at work—and Isaac ignores his date once again, enthralled by your date as if it were a movie.

If only there were popcorn, he thinks.

Sam says your name, but you’re stuck in his trance, buzzed and hypnotized. His voice swims around the atmosphere he tends to unintentionally create whenever you speak to him.

Then you remember what occurred a year ago; you remember the reason why you slightly furthered yourself from him in hopes of moving on. Frankly, it didn’t work very well.

Isaac’s brows furrow even deeper than usual, and he looks over at Colin who shrugs at him, sharing the same concern as you back away from Sam. You sober your deluded mind with another drink of water, reminding yourself that Sam is just…Sam. He’s naturally kind, charming, and genuine. He gets along with everyone. You’re not special.

You hold your questionnaire out, smiling tightly. “What am I doing? We’re supposed to be asking each other questions. Uh, okay, let’s see.” You scan your sheet. “What’s your dream career?” You ask hastily. You awkwardly laugh at yourself. “That’s a stupid question.”

Sam repeats your name, but you’re too lost rambling about the stupid questions in your hand.

“Where are you from originally?” You cower behind the paper. “Know that, too. Uhm, okay, let’s see. Oh! Here, if you were an animal, what would you be—”

Sam says your name louder and places his hand on yours, lowering the paper from your face.

“A goldfish. If I were an animal, I’d be a goldfish,” he answers.

You peer down at your hands. “The ten-second memory thing Coach Lasso told you about.”

He slowly pulls his hand off yours, but it sits close by. He nods. “Exactly. There are certain things I want to forget; things I cannot change. But there are things that I can change.”

Things he can change? Where is he going with this?

He continues. “Last year when you asked me—”

Ding, ding, ding, you both hear, jumping at the sound of the call bell. Chairs scrape the red-checkered floor and the sound of shoes patter all around you. Time to go.

“See ya, Sam,” you hurry to your next date who just so happens to be the captain of the Richmond football team. “Isaac, hey.”

He simply shakes his head.

Four more rounds pass until the host of the speed dating event gives out the last announcement.

“Alright, everyone! Whoever you scored most with is your match. Say ‘hi’ to your potential partner! And give yourselves a round of applause for putting yourself out there tonight!”

Two pairs of hands clap with her, hands belonging to Colin and Isaac. You refrain from rolling your eyes at them when the bartender approaches you.

“What can I get you?”

“Uh, a Jack and Coke please.” You face her before turning around again.

You observe Sam speaking with one of the organizers of the event. The organizer reluctantly hands Sam his score sheet with a confused expression on her face. He nearly catches you staring until you turn back to the counter.

“One Jack and Coke.” The bartender sets down your drink, but not without noticing you eyeing Sam. She smirks, wiping down a glass cup with a cloth that was previously on her shoulder. (Classic bartender move.) “Obisanya your match?”

You study the small sheet in your hand, analyzing the scores and the contact information of someone already on your phone.

“Oi! How the hell did you match with me?” You hear Isaac stomp behind you.

You smile mischievously, gesturing your head toward him.

The bartender nods, pouting her lower lip before finding another customer, and you use the counter to spin yourself around to your distressed friend.

“Maybe we’re soulmates,” you suggest facetiously, lifting your drink towards him.

Truth is, you might have taken a peek at his questionnaire sheet when he kept exchanging looks with Colin. His disappointment earlier combined with Colin’s invasive questions about your date with Sam after you got through all your sessions helped piece things together.

Plus, Colin’s insistence that you come to this event in the first place.

“Get in line.” He stands with his arms crossed next to Issac.

Isaac sits and harshly waves his sheet. “Why copy my sheet when your real match is-”

Colin clears his throat, poking his elbow against Isaac’s arms.

“Somewhere in this room,” Isaac finishes.

The only one in this room who piqued your interest was Sam. Towards the end, there were potential candidates. However, neither was Sam Obisanya.

You scoff, sipping your drink. “Nice save, Lindsey Lohan. I’ve seen Parent Trap enough times to know what’s going on here.”

You wonder why they’d want to pull something like this, especially after you told them that Sam turned you down. Pestering Sam to go on a stupid date with you is not something you would ever do, nor something a normal person should do, period.

God, you hope Sam doesn’t think you did this on purpose.

Isaac continues to eye you disapprovingly before his gazes shifts upwards to a new presence behind you, this presence being none other than Sam leaning his side against the counter. And now you’re sitting between him and the other two sneaky bastards.

“Sam! Who’d you match with?” Colin reaches in front of you and snatches Sam’s score sheet. He frowns. “No one?”

Isaac yanks the sheet from Colin’s hand. “What? How’s that even possible?”

Sam plucks his sheet back from Isaac, stuffing it in his back pocket. “If it’s alright with you two, I’d like to discuss something with them.” He looks down at you. “Alone.”

Your cheeks burn up, easily. Is it the whiskey? Is it Sam? Either way, you’re taking another sip.

Isaac gets up immediately, rapidly nodding alongside Colin, saying, “Yeah, ‘course, bruv,” before the two footballers leave, whispering to each other.

You place your drink down and fold your arms on the counter as Sam sits beside you.

His sweet smile doesn’t cease. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you respond sheepishly. You take a third sip before speaking again. “So no one, huh?”

Sam shakes his head. “Thought I maybe had a chance with her,” he jokes.

You find the elderly lady from earlier matched with the elderly man. He leans on his cane with one hand and his other hand snakes around his date’s arm, hooking it with his.

Maybe speed dates work after all.

“Who’d you match with?” He asks curiously. You hand him your sheet. “Isaac? How did that happen? Wasn’t he just glaring at you the whole date?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You laugh, placing the paper back on counter.

Wait a second. Sam was watching you?

You try not to look too much into it.

He reaches for his earlobe, lightly tugging at it. “There was something I wanted to tell you before our date ended.”

Oh, god. Is he going to admit how uncomfortable you make him? Is he ending your friendship right now? Yeah, you added some distance between the two of you, but in your defense, you had no intentions of actually ending your relationship.

He speaks a little louder. “Last year, you told me you liked me. Romantically.”

Fuck, you despise the recap.

“And I told you I didn’t feel the same way.”

You clasp your hand around your glass, however Sam stops you, hand on yours.

“Let me finish. Please.”

You dubiously comply, releasing your hand from the cup and nod, letting him continue with whatever gut-wrenching news is going to wreck you for the next few months.

Your head faces his direction, but you stare off at nothing in particular.

He continues. “I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t feel the same way. But as time passed, the more we got to know each other and the more things in my love life started to unravel, I started to fall in love.”

You furrow your brows, meeting your eyes with his.

“With you,” he adds. “And I understand if you don’t feel the same way anymore. But I just…wanted to tell you how I felt.”

What the hell is happening? This is a prank, right?

You take a look behind you, wondering if perhaps there was someone beside or behind you who he was confessing his feelings to instead.

Nope, just you. You’re barely tipsy, so there’s no way you’re misunderstanding him.

You remain quiet, not quite sure what to say. The expression on your face worries him and he calls your name.

You softly shake your head. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to internally freak out. He glances at your drink, wondering if he could ask for a gulp.

“Uh…” Sam tugs at his earlobe again and chuckles nervously. “I like you?”

Maybe two sips, he thinks. Three? No, no, that’s irresponsible, he decides.

“Can I have a glass of water please?” He raises his palm at the bartender, politely ordering to fill the silence.

You grab his wrist and lower his hand on the counter, sliding your hand over his, adding, “Make that two,” to his order, because there is absolutely no way you’re getting drunk after what he just told you.

Sam looks away from the bartender and he takes notice of your hands. His ears warm up.

“Definitely wanna be sober for this,” you tell him quietly, and the edges of his lips curve upward. Hesitantly, he entwines his fingers through yours like they belong there.

“Two waters.” The bartender drops off your drinks, glancing at your hands. She raises her brows before leaving you alone.

Sam uncombs his fingers from yours, getting up from his chair. He moves closer to you and spins you by the backrest of your chair, so your body faces him. Then he cups your face. “I don’t know if they allow PDA here, but may I kiss you?”

You gently hold on to his wrists. “They host speed dates every week. I’m sure one kiss is fine.”

He giggles, moving his face closer to yours, murmuring, “One kiss?”

You flicker your gaze between his eyes and mouth. “Or two.” You shrug. “But yes. You may.”

Sam licks his lips before sinking them into yours, and his eyes and yours instinctively shut. You inhale deeply through your nose, breathing in the person you didn’t know would expect to eventually reciprocate your feelings.

His lips are so soft, pillowy against your own. He massages his lips on yours, enveloping himself deeper against you by tilting his head. You feel lightheaded—a delightful combination of his kissing skills and the faded work of the alcohol you ingested earlier.

Your daydreams do not serve the real thing.

You’re the first to pull away, catching your breath. “Seriously though, how didn’t you match with anybody?”

Sam smiles proudly and pecks your lips. “I asked one of the event-coordinators not to score my sheet. Told her I changed my mind.”

You stand, removing his hands from your face without letting go. “Good.”

From a distance, Colin and Isaac sit at a table, gazing at the other couple like before.

Isaac holds his plastic cup out, smirking. “Too easy, man.”

Colin clinks his cup against Isaac’s. “Too easy.”

#sam obisanya x reader #sam obisanya x you #colin hughes #isaac mcadoo #afc richmond #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #SAM OBISANYA STANS RISE #ted lasso fanfic #fluff

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sillygooseassociation · 2 years

Text

Sweater Lovin'

Request: I have thought of a request for you! Matching "Ugly" Christmas sweaters with Ted -@believemetheodore 💕💕💕 Ps happy holidays!

Description: You and Ted decide that AFC Richmond's holiday ugly sweater party is the perfect time to not only tell the team about your relationship, but tell the world as well.

Warning: mentions of ted's big dick lol

Pairing: Ted Lasso x reader

Word Count: 3.4k words

A/N: i did it! i got another holiday fic out before Christmas was over! Well, technically Christmas is over where I am (it's 1am), but it's not over for all of the world yet, so I'm considering that a win. 4 more holiday fics to go, two for jason and two for ted (one for each containing smut 👀) and then we'll be back to our regularly scheduled program. happy holidays, please enjoy! oh also, all of the sweaters are linked in the fic! i really hope you like all of the sweaters, i worked very hard to find ones i thought were great for each character specifically.

A chill runs through your body as you brought your hand down from knocking on Ted’s door, the Richmond puffer wrapped around your body clearly not doing enough to keep you warm. As you attempted to warm your hands by blowing on them while rubbing them together, Ted opened the door, a bright smile on his face, “Hey there, honey!” The mustached man pulled you into a sweet kiss, his hands resting on your biceps before he pulls away, “Let me put on my sweater and I’ll be ready to go!”

The man skirted away in his collared white button-up, heading back to his room as you walk around the living room, taking in the boxes scattered around the room. Even though Ted wasn’t the one moving, you were joining him in his flat, he was quick to offer to donate some of his things, wanting to make sure there was space for your things, “It was my place first darling, but it wasn’t really home until you came along, so I don’t want it to feel like it’s anymore mine than it is yours”. Your entire apartment resembled his living room, though all of your belongings were packed as opposed to only some of his things. As you looked around the room, coming up with some ideas for which decorations and photos would go where, Ted enters the room, dressed in his sweater, “Ready, sweetheart?”

You turn to him with a sweet smile, nodding as you both journey to the door, Ted taking his puffer off the hook and incidentally matching you. After locking up the flat, you and Ted begin the trip to Nelson Road, your fingertips brushing each other every so often as you walk, both of you having to work hard to not lace your fingers together. “You think they’ll be surprised?” Ted chuckles at your question, not at all annoyed despite you asking this question god knows how many times over the past week. “Well, Beard and Keeley know, so we know there will be no shock there. Roy seems to know everything, and even if he was surprised, it’s not like we’d know.” You giggle at that, Roy is a close friend to both of you and even if you can read him better than when you first met him, the man didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve by any means.

Ted glances at you, a soft smile on his face as you laugh, his pupils practically forming hearts as he looks at you. The two of you crossed the street, switching from the park to a sidewalk bordering the street, Ted subtly switching to your left side, acting as a buffer in between you and the street, before he continues, “Boss signed off on our HR paperwork and Higgins processed it so obviously they know. Now, the boys? I’m not sure. As much as they tease me whenever they catch me lookin’ at you, I don’t know if they actually think I have it in me to win you over.” A boisterous laugh leaves your mouth as you lightly slap Ted’s arm, “You did not do any winning over, you know that.”

He mirrors your laugh, throwing his arm across your shoulders, feeling safe enough to do so with the sunlight subtly disappearing and a barren block of the street, “I’m not sure about that honey, I did manage to convince you to move in with me after only eight months. And we both know how out of my league you are.” You jokingly roll your eyes at his comment, shoving him off of you, your action met with his beautiful laugh, “We both know that no convincing happened, Teddy. I practically begged you to let me move in as soon as possible when you asked me.”

You place your left hand on his forearm to stop him, turning him to face you as you glance around, making sure the coast is clear before looking back at him. “And, I am not out of your league in any way, my love. I mean just look at you,” Ted blushes as you run your fingers through the graying stubble along his jaw. “I’m with the most gorgeous man alive. Not to mention he has a huge fucking di…” “Whoa whoa whoa,” Ted’s face quickly turns red, stepping closer to you and covering your mouth with his hand, “Let’s not do that here, yeah?” Your eyes twinkle at him as you run the tip of your tongue along one of the lines in his palm, a choice that Ted groans at, “Darlin’, we are not skipping this party, so you’re gonna need to stop this before we have a problem downstairs.”

A chuckle comes from your lips as you back away, continuing your journey down the sidewalk, Ted quickly falling in step with you. “Putting all that aside until later tonight, we’re both lucky, okay?” A smile rests on Ted’s face as the two of you arrive at Nelson Road, heading to the back door, “Agree to agree, honey.” Though outside the thick-walled building, you swear that you can hear the loud music and cheers of the team from here. Ted opens the door for you, the break in the fortress’s protection confirming that you were in fact hearing the noise of some of your favorite people.

Rather than entering through locker room doors in the hallway, you and Ted enter his office first, dropping off your puffers before joining the party, seeming to be the last to arrive. The room erupts in cheers when they see the both of you, excited with your presence and seemingly not paying attention to your sweaters, “There you are, the best part of the Greyhounds’ management team! Oh, and the gaffer is here too!” The boys howl in laughter at Isaac’s rib at Ted, the team captain has changed out of his traditional secret Santa uniform and instead now wears a black sweater with the words “Big Gift Energy”.

The two of you laugh at his joke as well, though you know Ted is in agreement with the team’s leader while you are adamant Ted is the best part of the entire beloved team. Sam comes over with two beers, passing one to each of you, a bright smile on his face as he greets you, “Hey, nice sweater there, Sam!” The player thanks his coach, straightening out his sweater that shows an elf and Santa dancing before examining each of your sweaters, most likely preparing to return the compliment. Sam’s smile somehow becomes even brighter, looking up at both of you before tossing you a wink, “I like your sweaters too, nice choice, Coach Lasso.”

You laugh lightly at Sam’s comment as he walks to join his teammates, you imagine spreading the news or sending people in your direction. Ted leans down, his hot breath meeting your ear, sending a chill down your spine, “He’s right you know, I made a great choice.” Before you can respond, Ted is walking around, his voice loud and jolly, apt for the season as he greets the people you both have come to consider family. You hear a gasp that you recognize as Colin’s, turning to see Sam talking to the man dressed in a red sweater with the iconic “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal” line embroidered across it.

Though before you can respond to his reaction, you are pulled into Keeley’s arms, “Babes, this is great! I’m so glad we found these sweaters, this was the best way for you to tell them!” You chuckle at your best friend, she already knew about your relationship with Ted and yet it seems like she may be the most excited about the news. Pulling away from each other, you take in her outfit, though you helped her find it online, the model-turned-PR manager dressed in knee-high white boots and a short sweater dress with sequin lights across it. Even though Keeley knew about your relationship, you imagine she is this excited since she can now talk about it with Roy, who you now realize is standing with her.

Looking up to greet Roy, possibly the loudest laugh you’ve ever had comes from you, you’re not even quick enough to soften it by covering your mouth. Behind Keeley, Roy stands with a small, proud smirk on his face, dressed in his normal black jeans and a black sweater, though his sweater is covered in pictures of faces, well, one face, specifically, the face of Jamie Tartt. You struggle to hold yourself up as laughter combs through your body, barely noticing when a familiar hand is placed on your lower back, “What’s up with you, darl…” Before Ted can finish his question, he notices Roy’s attire, stifling his own laughter as he raises his eyebrow at the man, “Uh, whatcha got on there, coach?” Roy looks down as though he has no idea why Ted would be asking such a question, looking back up at the now public couple, “The invite said ugly.”

Another roar of laughter racks through your body, Ted practically having to hold you up as he moves his hand to your hip. Your boyfriend, though incredibly entertained by Roy’s take on the party instructions, attempts to lightheartedly reprimand him, “Now Roy, does that seem like the best way to improve your relationship with Jamie?” Before Roy has a chance to give Ted an answer sure to be riddled with expletives, Jamie joins the conversation as he slings his arm around Roy’s shoulder, “Don’t worry coach, he’s just doin’ this cause ‘e’s jealous of mah sexy face.” You snort at Jamie’s response as well as his sweater, a winking Santa face placed in between the phrase, “Ask your mom if I’m real”, Roy growls at the younger man, “You have five seconds to remove your arm from me, Tartt.”

Keeley leads the two bickering men away, smiling at you and mouthing “congratulations” to Ted, to which he mouths “thank you” back, excited beyond words that he was standing here not only with you, but with you. You wipe away your tears, your laughter dying down as Ted moves to stand in front of you, “I swear, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.” Ted chuckles, more at you than what Roy is wearing, “Yeah, I can see that, sweetheart.” You look around the room, happy to see everyone having a good time before turning back to Ted, the man offering you a cider as he moves to take your beer. He was fucking perfect. You hadn’t even asked him, you hadn’t even had the chance to make a comment about being handed a drink you didn’t like, yet Ted made sure to grab you your favorite drink to replace the beer.

You smile at the gesture, taking the cider from Ted and giving him your beer, both of you opening the drinks and taking a sip. You just stare at him, in awe of what you have, before his hand comes towards your face, wiping off a drop of cider that gathered on the corner of your mouth. He brings his hand to his mouth, sucking the drop off his digit as you just watch him, “I love you, Teddy.” He smiles brightly at you, “I love you too, hon.” Before you have the chance to make a comment on wanting him to do something else with his thumb later, Rebecca and Higgins join you, Ted moving to stand next to you so that the two can stand across from you. “Well, your shoulders seem much lighter now that this is out in the open,” Rebecca smiles sweetly while Higgins nods in agreement with her comment.

You open her mouth to thank her but stop yourself, distracted by Leslie’s sweater, an option that you and Ted both quirk your eyebrows at. Of course, the two of you recognized the characters, Henry loved playing the game with Ted over FaceTime, then adding you to the mix after meeting virtually. Ted chuckles at Higgins' pink sweater, as he smoothly slips his free hand into the back pocket of your jeans, certainly excited to be able to touch you in public after eight months in secret, “Hey, Leslie, buddy, why are you wearing an Among Us sweater?” A light seems to go off in Higgins’ head, pointing to Ted as his face lights up, “Among Us! That’s what it is! Rebecca asked me and I just couldn’t remember.” He seems pleased with himself before seeing your still confused faces, “Oh, yes, well I told my boys about the party over breakfast a couple of weeks ago and said I couldn’t find a sweater to wear. They said they had it covered and then gave this to me this morning, I have no idea what sus…mas means though.”

Higgins shakes away his confusion as he is called away by one of the players, leaving you, Ted, and Rebecca to laugh at your lovable, but sometimes clueless, friend. “Boss, wow, I…love your sweater,” you snort back a laugh at Ted’s compliment as Rebecca dramatically rolls her eyes, “Oh please, Lasso, please save your American niceties tonight. This was out of my choosing, it is all the fault of Keeley and your girlfriend, her girl-next-door aura is truly just an act.” You jokingly scoff at your friend, “Rebecca, just admit it, you bet that you could beat me at trivia at our girl’s night and you lost, simple as that. It’s not my fault that no one can beat me.”

Ted points at you as he nods, a knowing look on his face, “Yeah, that one I can attest to. No one gets one over on Y/N in pub trivia, Beard and I learned that the hard way.” In the corner of the room, you see Beard relaxing in his chair that he pulled out of the office, his feet propped up on a bench as he reads Little Women, a Christmas classic. Without looking up from his book, Beard shouts in agreement with his best friend, “Beat our asses.” You turn back to Rebecca with an innocent smile and a shrug as she groans, looking down at her red sweater with a wine glass in the middle, encircled by the words “All I want for Christmas is you”, though the word ‘you’ is crossed out and replaced with the word ‘wine’.

Rebecca bitterly mutters under her breath before you all laugh at the situation, your shared friend complimenting your’s and Ted’s sweaters before, ironically, going to refill her glass of white wine. Alone again, you turn your head to look at Ted, incredibly aware of the placement of his hand as he takes a drink of his beer, “You having fun with your hand back there, Coach Lasso?” A small smirk appears on Ted’s face, side-eyeing you before taking a quick swig of his beer, “Just enjoying the perks, my love.” You chuckle at him before looking back at Beard, surprised by his sweater choice, the words “Die Hard is my favorite Christmas movie” printed across his chest. You look at Ted, who is already looking at you, which brings a light blush to your cheeks, “Is Die Hard really Beard’s favorite Christmas movie?” Ted shakes his head, smiling at your question, “No, his favorite is The Holiday, he loves a classic Nancy Meyers. He just wears that sweater to start a debate.”

You chuckle, not at all surprised that Beard would do that, taking a sip of your cider before turning to see Keeley approaching you with a bright smile, “There’s England’s new favorite power couple!” Both of you laugh at her greeting, Ted taking his hand out of your pocket only to move it to your hip, pulling you into his side. You wrap your arm around his waist, cuddling into his side, “Hey Keels, what’s up?” The look in her eyes tells you she’s up to something, though you have no idea what it could be, “The fans love keeping up with the team, you both know this. So I’m posting photos on the team’s Instagram stories of the party and all the sweaters.” You nod along, suspecting that you know where she’s going with this, but you still want her to ask, “Okay, and…?” Keeley rolls her eyes, after two years of friendship, she knows that you’re making her ask just to be annoying, “Would you be okay with me posting you two in your sweaters?”

Even though you and Ted discussed things like this when deciding to tell the team about your relationship, you looked to him for confirmation. The two of you decided to be completely in the open when you told the players, you would be free to walk to work holding hands instead of walking with Beard in between the two of you as a buffer. This didn’t mean you would be doing any interviews any time soon about the romance between Richmond’s gaffer and physical therapist, but you wouldn’t hide your relationship either. Ted gave you a nod with a small smile, a smile you returned before turning back to Keeley, “Of course, Keeley. Just make sure to tag me so I can put it on my story.” Your friend squealed in excitement as Ted squeezes your hip lightly, knowing just how many times you tearfully complained to him that you couldn’t just post about him on social media like “any normal person”, as you would say.

Keeley pulls out her phone as Ted takes your cider can from you, placing them on the bench behind you. Running your fingers through your hair, you turn to Ted as you run your tongue over the front of your teeth just in case of runaway lipstick, “Do I look okay?” Ted smiles softly at you, leaning in to kiss between your eyebrows, “Perfect, as always, baby.” You send him a smile before the two of you turn to Keeley who is already snapping pictures, though she defends herself before you can complain, “Don’t worry, those are just for me! Not social media!”

You jokingly roll your eyes before Ted moves to stand behind you, resting his jaw on the side of your head, making sure to stand far enough to the side that his sweater is still visible. Leaning back in his embrace, you smile brightly at the camera as you place your hands over his. The phone flashes, Keeley sending you both a thanks before running off. Both of you chuckle at her and you then turn in Ted’s arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with the hair on the nape of his neck while he tightens his arms around your waist.

“Have I told you that I love you lately?” You look to the sky and hum as you jokingly think, Ted chuckling lowly at your face, “I don’t know, I think you need to, just to be safe, you know?” Ted nods, leaning close enough for you to share the same air, the end of his mustache hairs tickling your upper lip, “I love you, Y/N.” You smile brightly, scratching at the base of his head with your fingernails, “And I love you, Ted.”

The two of you meet in a kiss, his scruff (that you begged him to make part of his style at least every so often) brushing against your palm as you move to hold his face in between your hands. The various voices of the room become loud cheers of excitement and a couple ‘get a room’s, the both of you pulling away as Ted releases you to swat away at the boys. A vibration from your phone leads to you pulling it out of your pocket, opening up the Instagram notification, and smiling at what you see. You hold your thumb on the screen to pause the story, enjoying your’s and Ted’s first picture as an official-to-the-world couple. The green of his sweater and the red of yours balance well, emphasizing the holiday season and the reason for your party.

You select the button to repost on your story, Ted’s arms snaking around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. He watches over your shoulder as you add text to the photo, using the red from your sweater to write “Happy Holidays” and the green from his sweater to finish with “from mine to yours”. You rest your head against his as you smile at the photo, Ted’s chest dressed with two honeypots and the words “Oh Honey” in between while your sweater shows two reindeer with the phrase “Oh Deer!” Ted kisses the side of your head as he squeezes his arms just slightly around your waist, “Merry Christmas, honey.” You press post, sharing your love with the world, “Merry Christmas, dear.”

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