#sam obisanya x rebecca welton

[belmottetower]

Prompt: SamBecca, AU where Sam accepts Akufo’s offer

Casablanca was supposed to be a fresh start. A chance for him to be the star of a team that’s been built around him. For him to be closer to his home and his family. A chance for him to forget about Rebecca.

But things don’t quite go that way. He’s not the first player to have been signed. Edwin has managed to coax Hakimi back home from Paris, and Sam’s barely been in Casablanca a week before Edwin flies off again.  This time to try and get Franck Kessié to leave Barcelona and join his team.

Those are two pretty big names, and it leaves Sam doubting his importance to the general success of the team. And he’s lonely too. Sure, Casablanca is technically closer to Nigeria than London, but it’s still almost a five hour flight and he can’t just hop on a plane every night to see his parents. He’s sure once the team is properly up and running he’ll make friends with them all, he’s a pretty likeable guy, but until then he misses Richmond, misses Jamie and Dani and Isaac, misses Roy and Moe.

And then there’s Rebecca. If he thought distance between them would change the way he feels about her then he thought wrong. When they’d finally found out who the other was, the time they’d spent together had been wonderful. The sex, yes, he’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge how fantastic that was, but more than that he just misses talking to her.

For weeks, when she was just still the mystery person on the other end of the phone, she had filled his brain. They’d spent so much time talking - sharing what they loved, what made them laugh, what they were afraid of. And that hadn’t changed when they’d started seeing each other properly.  In between the sex and meals and films they watched together in Rebecca’s terraced house off Richmond Green their conversation didn’t stop. Sam had been worried it would, that finding out who they were would make things more awkward, less easy between them, but it hadn’t.

And Sam misses that, misses that connection and that feeling that there’s someone out there that knows him as well as he knows himself, someone that he knows that well too.

It’s that loneliness that he blames when, maybe a month after he gets to Casablanca he sends the message. Edwin had stopped by earlier that afternoon to give him an update on the progress and he’d seemed colder, more distant than when he’d come to London to woo Sam away. Edwin had not stayed long and in desperation, lying awake in bed that night, Sam had  sent three short words to Rebecca.

I miss you

He’d regretted it the second he’d sent it, but it couldn’t be undone. Groaning he’d tossed the phone onto the bedside table and rolled over, burying his head in his pillow. Sleep finally found him, and when he woke up the next morning and checked his phone he clicked onto the new messages notification with no small amount of trepidation.

I miss you too

What if I fly out on Friday? Visit you for the weekend. We could just talk?

Sam’s reply is instantaneous. 

I would like that very much. Things here are not how I thought they would be. I think maybe I have  made a mistake. Her reply comes just as quickly.

We can figure it out this weekend. Together.

Sam smiles down at the phone. He likes that word, coming from her. Together. Whatever happens, it will be easier if he has her to help figure it out.

[trentcrimmisgay]

i ran out of screenshots so i will now be using my own text messages w ted posts (i miss them). this one is all about loooove baby. romcommunism !!!(part six. more posts)

[elloras]

[smoshyourheadin]

Hello!! I’d like to request Rebecca Welton x reader. Basically reader is just SUPER oblivious, like Rebecca’s trying everything. Giving flowers, taking reader on dates that reader thinks are just friendly, even the whole team and everyone knows except reader

Happy ending ofc! But maybe Rebecca gets annoyed with reader & thinks reader doesn’t like her in that way and readers super confused and shows up to her house or smth idk and then boom whole confession.

This was really long and all over the place I’m sorry😓

properly this time

pairing: rebecca welton x f! reader

a/n: STOP I ADORE THIS REQUEST and also first ted lasso req yay!! also also i’m SO sorry for the lack of posting!! i’ve been kinda burnt out as of recent BUT hopefully i should be back on a regular-ish basis soon :-) ily all 🫶🫶

rebecca welton had never been one to shy away from challenges. as the owner of afc richmond, she tackled everything from skeptical board members to spirited fans. but there was one challenge that had her completely stumped: you.

you, with your bright smile and genuine kindness, had unknowingly captured rebecca's heart. she had tried everything to show her feelings, but you remained blissfully oblivious.

it started with flowers. rebecca sent you an elegant bouquet of your favorite flowers, along with a card that read, "thinking of you. - rebecca." you thanked her with a smile, saying how thoughtful she was and how much you loved having fresh flowers in your office. she hoped you might pick up on the hint, but you seemed to take it as a friendly gesture.

next, she invited you out for dinner. a candle-lit table at one of the finest restaurants in town, where the two of you shared an exquisite meal and deep conversation. as rebecca looked into your eyes, she felt sure that this would be the moment you realized her intentions. but when you hugged her goodbye and thanked her for the "great friendly evening," she knew her subtle hints were not getting through.

the team started to notice too. keeley pulled her aside one day and asked, "so, any progress with you-know-who?" to which rebecca sighed, shaking her head. even the players were catching on, often giving you knowing looks when you two were together. but you remained completely unaware of the undercurrent of affection in her gestures.

one day, after yet another failed attempt at getting through to you, rebecca finally reached her breaking point. she invited you to her house for dinner, hoping that a more intimate setting would help you understand her feelings. but when you arrived, you greeted her with the same cheerful smile, completely missing the nervous tension in her eyes.

as the evening progressed, she grew more frustrated. you chatted happily about your day, blissfully unaware of the turmoil she was experiencing. finally, rebecca couldn't take it anymore.

"do you like me?" she blurted out, interrupting your story about a funny incident at training with dani.

you blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. "of course, i do. you're one of my best friends."

"no," rebecca said, her voice shaking slightly. "i mean, do you like me more than that? romantically?"

the room fell silent as you processed her words. realization dawned on your face, and you felt a rush of emotions. how had you missed all the signs? the flowers, the dinners, the lingering touches - it all made sense now.

"oh my god, rebecca," you said, standing up and moving closer to her. "i had no idea. i'm so sorry i was so clueless."

rebecca looked at you, hope and vulnerability in her eyes. "so, what do you think? do you feel the same way?"

you reached out and took her hands in yours. "i do. i really do. i just didn't realize... i didn't see it."

rebecca let out a relieved laugh, pulling you into a tight hug. "you have no idea how happy that makes me," she whispered into your hair.

you pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. "can we start over? properly this time?"

rebecca smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "i’d like that very much."

from that moment on, there was no more confusion. you and rebecca were finally on the same page, ready to embark on a new chapter together, hand in hand.

[ham0705]

domestic tedtrent doodle(as always!!! and i start worrying if everyone’s getting tired of it🤦) and new sticker designs i finished today!!

[bbymunsonx]

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.

[finneysvan]

AHH IM SO NOT NORMAL ABT THEM

[hazieash]

My friends were right— Ted Lasso is such a wholesome and funny show

[rosie-tyler]

Top 10 Ted Lasso episodes according To IMDb

[alissa3000]

The character development of Jamie Tartt will always impress me like he is so well written, the difference between s1 and s3 Jamie is so crazy

[rqgnarok]

music to my eyes - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 4,266

warnings: spoilers for the season 3 finale of ted lasso, jamie being a lil self deprecating. reader uses female pronouns.

summary: jamie has a crush on the band’s bassist. 

author’s note at the end!

Jamie’s so, so late.

Roy’s gonna have his balls. It’s the first training for the Queen’s Cup final against Tottenham– their first one without Ted, a little something before the freaking Champion’s League starts next year– and Jamie’s having the worst morning of his life.

He woke up late for his 4 am training that ran long, traffic was absolute shit and now he’s sprinting– not running, cause he’s not allowed to after he and Colin almost ran over the Prince of Denmark while racing each other to the locker room, a story for another day– down the hallway with Roy Kent’s fury just waiting to find its rightful owner. 

He didn’t even have time to comb his hair today. It still looks amazing, but it’s the routine that matters. For his mental health or whatever. 

Maybe that’s why he feels so jittery and doesn’t look where he’s going as he makes his way to the locker room. Jamie’s got his bag clutched to his chest and his headphones hanging around his neck, his jacket halfway on before he gave up and left it trailing down his side like a sad blanket. 

He’s cursing whatever Gods control alarm clocks and traffic and hairbrushes when he knocks onto someone. It’s so forceful it sends them both to the ground with a grunt and a little ah! of surprise. Jamie tries not to grow annoyed and fails. He considers laying on the ground and becoming one with the carpet so he doesn’t face Roy’s justified punishment and sighs out his nose, pushing himself to a sitting position.

“–so sorry,” and it’s a woman, Jamie just knocked out a woman in his rush to work. What’s next? Is he gonna hit a cat with his car? Maybe spit on a kid’s face? She keeps babbling apologies, unaware of Jamie’s foul mood. “–supposed to be at her office but there’s just– there are so many hallways–”

“‘s alright,” he cuts her off harsher than he means to, guilt stabbing at him when she looks at him with wide, remorseful eyes. Jamie sighs, dusting off his clothes and standing, offering her a hand. “Me fault for bein’ in a rush. Should’ve seen where I was going.”

“Oh, god, you actually know where you’re going,” she says with a grimace, accepting his hand. She’s on her feet and standing too close to Jamie for a second that feels like a lifetime– almost nose-to-nose with Richmond’s greatest. Her laugh is stuttery and nervous when she steps back, barely meeting Jamie’s eye.

She’s cute. Jamie’s not planning to do anything about it, especially not with his fine for being late slowly becoming one for missing training but she is. Cute. His mouth lifts in a half smile at the thought, charmed. 

“I was looking for Rebecca Welton’s office but I only got myself lost,” she says sheepishly, putting her hair behind her ear every couple of seconds since it keeps stubbornly falling out of place. Jamie’s fingers twitch a little but no. No, absolutely not, he’s not doing this to himself, no sir. “Is there any way you can give me directions without having to go with me? I don’t want you to be late for– shit. Practice, huh?”

Jamie thinks she’s the smartest woman that’s ever walked the face of the Earth until he remembers where they are. At Richmond’s training facilities. She’s looking at a disheveled man in a sports outfit. The story kind of tells itself.

“I– yeah,” Jamie stutters a little, clearing his throat to disguise it. “There’s, um, it ain’t a problem. I can take you there if you want.”

Her entire posture screams relief as soon as he offers, and it’s enough for Jamie to make up his mind even if she hasn’t said yes yet. “Would you? They said in the group chat not to be late and, like, they weren’t specific about it but you just know when a message’s for you, you know. And here I am, late–”

A beat.

“–and rambling,” she smiles at him again, the sight tugging at Jamie’s chest as he stands there like an idiot, his brain rebooting whenever she does it. “Yes, please. I’d really appreciate it.”

And so Jamie asks a kitman to take his stuff to the locker room while he walks her up to Rebecca’s office. His hand hovers but doesn’t quite touch the small of her back while he blabbers his way through small talk. Nice weather, today, innit, traffic was absolute hell though. Oh, you’re not from around here, that’s nice, do you plan on going sightseeing?

He delivers her to Rebecca’s floor to a thankful, ecstatic Higgins, who welcomes her with a hearty shake of the hand and promises that she hasn’t missed anything important. She’s barely able to spare him a smile and a quick thanks before the door’s closed behind them and Jamie’s standing there on his own, smiling at nothing.

He’s still wearing a dopey grin when he finally finds himself on the field, Roy yelling at him to run laps until sundown for being late. His legs are killing him, he’s £200 poorer, and he didn’t even get the woman’s name; but nothing can drag him down from his high and make him forget how she’d squeezed his arm in gratitude, touch warm and calloused against his skin. 

The next day Rebecca’s there before practice starts, looking tall and pleased as she claps her hands and shares the big news: since the final of the Queen’s Cup is being held right here at Nelson Road, she managed to get a band to play during the halftime show. They’ll be here the entire next two weeks for rehearsals and staging, so everyone must be on their best behavior if they don’t want their name in the summer transfer market.

Jamie doesn’t connect the dots until he sees her again, this time at a local bar big enough to house less than two thousand people. Keeley hears from Roy who hears from Beard, who heard from Higgins that Rebecca said the secret band was gonna hang around the city for a couple of other smaller, quick gigs. 

Jamie manages to excuse himself from video games at Colin’s with the guys and offers himself to Keeley as a buffer between her and Roy at a bar tonight. Though, in Jamie’s very humble and very right opinion, they’re already on their way to getting back together for good.

The band’s gathered a nice crowd, the lighting low and the thrum of the music hammering on Jamie’s teeth. He’s nursing the beer Roy bought him, the man charmed enough by Keeley’s presence that he let Jamie bend his rigorous diet regime. Just for the night. 

It takes three songs for the bassist to speak up, a makeshift spotlight landing on her, sweaty and delighted at being onstage. Jamie’s blood rushes to his face and his vision blacks out for a second. 

It’s her. No longer is she lost and out of her element, shyly asking a stranger for help. Both of her feet are steady on the ground, the strap of her bass snug around her neck. Her fingers are toying with the strings even when no song’s playing, an air of rightful confidence washing over the room as it takes her in. Jamie isn’t the only one suddenly breathless.

She grins against the microphone, coy. “Thank you so much for having us, Jaded Joker. We’re Karma Police, and we hope you have as much fun hearin’ us as we do playing for you.”

They fall into another song with that quick introduction and Jamie can’t take his eyes off her, barely hearing the song as the world around him slows down. Her clothes and jewelry sway with her to the rhythm of the music, the lights shifting seamlessly into different colors making her look ethereal. 

Keeley clocks it in immediately.

“She’s good, huh?” she nods at the stage where Jamie’s stranger is moving to the beat of the bass like no one’s watching, shamelessly enjoying herself and making funny faces at her bandmates. “Fuckin’ smoking, too.”

Jamie only hums in a very Roy Kent-like way, knowing there’s no fooling Keeley fucking Jones. The last thing he needs is to give her details and have her dip a toe into Jamie’s nonexistent love life.

Of course, he doesn’t take into consideration that Roy’s a brazen gossip.

“So,” Sam elongates the word as he’s spotting Jamie on the press the next day, happy watching him grunt at the effort. “How was the band last night?”

Jamie almost drops the damned thing on his chest.

“Roy said you enjoyed it,” he continues giddily like he didn’t almost commit accidental manslaughter by catching Jamie off guard. “Especially the bassist. What was her name?”

Sam fakes confusion for less than a minute before Jamie gives, mumbling it under his breath. He’d been weak and googled Karma Police in the privacy of his car before going home, swiping through the images that popped up until he recognized her face. 

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), the article he clicked on informed him. Jamie had repeated the name under his breath just to see what it felt like on his tongue for an embarrassing amount of time. 

Thanks to Karma Police’s bassist and lyricist (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the band’s sophomore album New Perspective has found a home in people’s hearts and high on the global charts.

Keeley wasn’t kidding. She’s good. 

“Oh,” Sam realizes, some of his amusement softening into genuine interest when he watches Jamie’s face do whatever the fuck it's doing. “Oh, you like like her.”

Jamie immediately flushes under Sam’s gaze, making sure the weight is safe in its place before physically fleeing the conversation. Sam doesn’t mention it to anyone, which Jamie appreciates so badly he could cry a little, but he does find his eyes across the locker room later when Rebecca comes in, four people in tow.

“Everybody, these are the wonderful musicians I spoke to you about the other day,” she says it in a way that screams I’m a pleasant human being and embarrass me and I will end your career right where you stand all at once. “We’re on a little tour of the installations and I thought we’d all come to say hi to wrap it up.”

The boys are charming and welcome them with ease. They’re not one of the most liked teams in England despite their bad runs for nothing, but Jamie’s frozen the second he catches sight of her. She’s a step behind one of her bandmates, shaking hands and smiling politely at conversations while staying slightly in the background, the stage persona from the previous night gone like taking off a jacket. 

Jamie takes pride in the way their eyes meet and her tight expression loosens, her smile blossoming into something more genuine, less unsure.

“Hey, stranger,” she says a little awkwardly after having gathered the courage Jamie couldn’t to cross the room and say hi. It feels like they’re alone in a room full of people, and for a second Jamie thinks he sees Sam stealing a few looks, making sure he keeps the others away and distracted for a little privacy. “Did you make it to training the other day?”

“What?” Jamie blanks like an idiot, then shakes his head when he remembers how they met; both of them, late for their respective responsibilities. “Oh! Oh, yeah. I– yeah. I had to run for me life to make up for it, but I made it.”

“Good,” she smiles, shifting in her place. “I, um. I’m glad we get to play for you guys. What you’ve done this past season, getting back to the top, has been unbelievable.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he replies, awestruck, and backtracks when she looks a little apprehensive. She’s doing the hair thing again, combing it back while it stubbornly escapes its place every couple of seconds. A nervous tic, maybe. “I mean– some friends and I, we saw you last night at the Jaded Joker. If anything, it’s an honor we get you guys to play for us.”

“Oh!” she seems pleased, ducking her head at the compliment. Her shoulders loosen again, and Jamie tries not to feel like he just scored a goal against Man City. “Oh, you should’ve said hi! Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“I did,” he says, too soft, and it feels like an admission of something when her eyes search his face, for a moment landing on his mouth before putting herself back together. “Up there, it’s like– it’s like you forget everyone else. You’re made for the stage.”

If anything, (Y/N)’s delight only strengthens, tugging at the neckline of her shirt. Jamie finds himself trying to follow the trail of new skin and flushes as well when he catches himself just in time. 

“Thank you,” she matches his tone. “You’d think it’d be nervewracking but it’s… silence. In my head. Does that make sense? I feel like it doesn’t.”

“It does,” Jamie agrees, breathless. It’s exactly how he feels when he gets the ball on his feet, every anxiety and worry and part of him he doesn’t like quieting the minute he steps on a pitch. “I get the same when I play. Peace in the chaos, I guess”

(Y/N) looks at him like she’s discovering the world’s eight wonder. 

“Kids!” her bandmate breaks the moment by coming over, arm draped around (Y/N)’s shoulder. (Y/N) blinks, looking a little shell-shocked. “Sorry to interrupt this party, but rehearsal awaits.”

Disappointment claws at Jamie’s belly, but before he can let it fester the conversation continues, bubbly and loud. “Alas! We’ll be done around 5. You’re welcome to visit then. We’re going to the third floor, I think.”

(Y/N)’s only amused at her friend’s antics, even if Jamie’s back to having a knot in his throat out of nervousness alone. Jesus, what’s wrong with him? It’s like he’s eight again and crushing on the cute boy that lived in the apartment in front of the Tartt’s. 

“See you then?” (Y/N) says, hopeful, and Jamie thinks it’s only fair he’s brave as well and nods as resolutely as he can. 

“I’ll be there.”

He ends up having to ask Higgins for directions, after promising he’s not gonna stir up any trouble at least four times. It takes Roy passing by and giving a few reassuring grunts, guaranteeing Jamie’s best behavior before Higgins gives him the location. When Jamie goes to thank him, Roy only points at him menacingly, though lacking his usual frown, and says don’t fuck this up. 

Rehearsals are just wrapping up when Jamie gets there, instruments being packed and people saying goodbye to each other when he makes his way into the room. He immediately finds (Y/N) sitting on the piano playing a complicated melody.

She lights up when she sees him, the music seizing. “You made it!”

Jamie stops her from standing up, instead sitting next to her after she scoots over to give him room. “That was nice. A song of yours?”

(Y/N) shrugs. “Hopefully soon. You never know, when you’re writing. You start working on a song and it ends up being a completely different thing from when you started.”

“Sounds messy,” Jamie says, a little consternated at the thought. Fortunately, (Y/N) laughs.

“It is. Do you play?”

“Fuck no,” he says quickly, then tries to explain himself as she splutters in amused surprise. “I mean, I don’t think I can. It seems pretty complicated. I’ve always been better with me feet.”

He reaches for the keys and begins playing some nonsense, loud and offkey, knowing it’ll make her laugh again.

“No, you gotta–” she cackles, placing her hands on top of his and quieting the dissonant echo of the keys. Jamie feels the tug at his lips, insistent, automatic, the same rush of delight that courses over him whenever he’s in her presence. “Gentle. Be gentle about it, jeez.”

She lines up their hands so her fingers move his and begins playing a quiet, fun melody. Jamie’s doing shit other than staring at her face, slightly twisted in concentration as she mumbles the notes under her breath. G, G, G, F, G, B, G, G…

“I know this one,” Jamie mumbles in recognition. (Y/N) turns her head to smile at him, pleased. “‘s from Nottin Hill, innit?”

“And a million other movies,” she murmurs back, unable to break the spell that’s fallen over the room. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic.”

“‘s my favorite film,” he concedes, finding it incredibly easy to be honest when they’re sitting side by side like this, alone, their sides warm against each other. He loves his teammates, but (Y/N) didn’t know him when he was awful and arrogant, too cocky. There’s nothing she holds against him, no standard he needs to meet for her to be happy in his company. “Cried me eyes out at the end. Though I’ll deny it if you ever ask in front of anyone.”

(Y/N) laughs. “I promise I won’t. It’s a good movie. Doesn’t beat While You Were Sleeping, though.”

Jamie’s expression remains blank. (Y/N)’s face falls into disbelief, her hands tightening against his. “You’ve never watched While You Were Sleeping.”

He’s heard of it, but it’s hilarious to watch her forget herself, any sign of nervousness or polite shyness finally out the window. Jamie likes it– likes her, wants her to be comfortable with him and stop holding herself so tightly whenever she’s off the stage. 

“You poor, sheltered boy,” she exhales, aghast. “Holy fuck, I can’t believe I’m about to introduce you to the best romantic comedy ever made.”

Jamie goes to take the opening but stops himself at the last second. He knows this process; the flirting, the leaning in for just a moment so she smells his cologne then pulling away, leaving her wanting more. The asking for a date, a fancy dinner, then taking her home. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, dodging calls until she stops trying to reach him. 

He’s been doing it for years. He wants to desperately break the cycle and he wants to do it with her, but does he have it in him? Jamie’s been working on himself harder than he’s worked for anything else in his life, but what if he’s one slip away from becoming his old self? From turning out like his dad?

Sure, the old man’s changed, or– well. He’s trying to. But whether Jamie likes it or not he sees a little too much of him in himself sometimes, and he can’t do that to her. He’s known her for less than a week and he knows she deserves better. Everyone does. 

Roy told him not to fuck it up. Maybe this is what he meant. 

His expression stutters, shatters, and reestablishes itself in a matter of a moment, a blink of an eye. Jamie knocks his shoulder into hers gently, leaning back into place after a second. He teases: “And who made you the expert, eh?”

Rather than letting it drop, (Y/N) takes the bait just like Jamie knew she would. They stay there until a security guard comes to kick them out for the night, and they talk about everything and nothing. Movies, songs, bands they like, and foods they don’t. Jamie’s favorite players when he was a kid, his hero-like worship for Roy Kent, and how he’s made him a better player, a better man.

(Y/N) shares with him the first time she held a guitar in her hands, the albums she listened to when she was a kid that changed her as a person, realizing she could create magic through words and music. Her favorite cities to tour, how long she’s known her bandmates, how she’d die and kill for them if necessary.

By the time he’s walking into the pitch at Nelson Road two weeks later, the roar of the crowd around him swallowing every other sound, Jamie’s spent every free moment of his time with (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It was unavoidable, helpless as he is in his attraction to her, but Jamie doesn’t know what to do without, as Roy so carefully put it, fucking it up.

It hadn’t helped when (Y/N) snuck into the locker room to wish him luck, showing him the Richmond bracelet she was gonna wear onstage with a roll of the eyes. “Our stylist wouldn’t let me wear the jersey, but don’t you doubt for a second that I’m rooting for you, Tartt.”

Jesus Christ. Jamie had felt his cheeks warm up and dared to thank her with a loud, exaggerated kiss on the forehead that left them both grinning like idiots and Roy staring at them knowingly.

Before Jamie followed his teammates into the field, Roy had pulled him aside with a hand on his shoulder. “Tartt–”

“I know, I know,” he answered a little too self-deprecatingly. “Don’t fuck it up.”

But Roy only raised his eyebrows, realization dawning on his features. “You think I say that because I think you will?”

Jamie mumbled some not-words under his breath and Roy cursed. “Prick. I say it because you deserve good things, dickhead. And you should let them come to you when they do.”

Good things, Jamie thinks after one of his passes gives Dani the first goal of the night. The younger man jumps into his arms while hugging him tight and laughing into his ear, their teammates joining their embrace less than a second later. 

He looks towards the general area of the VIP seats where he knows (Y/N) and the rest of the band are cheering them on. He pictures her screaming at the top of her lungs, arms in the air, and being happy for him like she’s known him for all his life.

She might be the best thing. Whether he deserves her or not, Jamie wants her. Wants to be with her, watch romantic comedies until they both cry and spend his free afternoons watching her play the piano while he plays FIFA in the living room. He wants songs written about him that have him blushing whenever he hears them in public and for her to come to his games and be able to dedicate every goal to her he ever scores.

Good things. Yeah, Jamie can get down on that.

“You fucking asshole!” she jumps into his arms the second she finds him on the pitch after the game, a medal hanging from his neck and sweat sticking to his skin. (Y/N) doesn’t seem to care as she lets him lift her in the air, holding onto each other tight. “You did it! You fucking did it!”

“I missed your show,” he replies instead, only a little bummed. He’s seen her play live before but there was an itch under his skin the entire half-time, knowing how close she was and being unable to get to her. Jamie grins. “And stole it, too.”

“There he is,” she teases gleefully. “For a second there I thought you were gonna be humble about this.”

“I don’t even know what that word means,” he says cockily.

“And how’s Mr. Man of the Match gonna celebrate, huh?” she wonders, hitting him lightly on the chest now that he’s put her back on the ground. “A fancy club? Getting shitfaced with the boys? A date with your left hand?”

Jamie puts his hand on hers at the last second, stopping her from pulling away. She sways into him, all traces of joking vanishing from her expression. He forces himself to stay on her face, the urge to look away defeated by how she’s looking at him. In wonder, open, hopeful.

She deserves good things, too. Jamie is determined to be the one to give them to her. 

“I was thinking dinner?” he asks, fidgeting a little on his feet. “Maybe a movie? Thought I could see what While You Were Sleeping’s all about.”

(Y/N)’s mouth is fighting against a smile, somewhat hesitant still. Jamie doesn’t blame her, he’s been beating around this bush the entire time they’ve known each other.

“You want any company?” she wonders.

“Well, what kind of date would it be if it was just me?” he forces his features into faux confusion, watching her finally lose the battle and beam like a kid on Christmas. Her fingers twitch where he’s holding onto her hand.

“Not a great one,” she concedes, looking like all of Jamie’s dreams. “How do you feel about Mexican?”

Awful. Jamie feels awful about Mexican. He’s a white sexy boy in all the ways that matter and his taste buds punish him for eating spicy food no matter how much he likes it. But he can compromise. He’s starting to realize there’s very little he wouldn’t do for (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

“I feel fantastic about anything you like,” he answers truthfully. “I’m sure me tongue will forgive me eventually.”

(Y/N) laughs, fingers in Jamie’s hold shifting so she can hold his hand. “I think there’s a good lyric somewhere in there.”

“You plannin’ on writing me a song?”

She smirks. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t yet.”

Jamie squeezes her hand, leaning in to kiss her cheek. 

“Can’t wait to hear it, love.”

___

there’s an ache in my bones to make a series out of this fic omg

i can’t believe the show’s over (is it tho????) so here’s some jamie fluff to heal our tender, mourning hearts. as always you’re welcome to tell me what you think and chat jamie and ted lasso as much as you’d like! thank u for reading AND for all the love on my last jamie piece that you can read here!

<3

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

[softspaceboibrian]

Fell in Love with the Fire Long Ago || Jamie Tartt

Chapters: 1 - more to come

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Y/N - Social Media Manager for AFC Richmond || I used she/her pronouns, but there is no actual physical description, so the pronouns can be switched with whatever anyone wants or prefers!

Summary: When Y/N received that email, she couldn't believe it. He was coming back.

Warnings: maybe some swear words. hints and mentions of sexual acts (still SFW). S1 Jamie Tartt aka a dick. a little angsty. Sam being is lovable self.

Characters: Jamie Tartt, Sam Obisanya, Isaac McAdoo, Colin Hughes, Dani Rojas, Ted Lasso, Rebecca Welton. Some others may appear as mentions.

Wc: 3800 (this works as a pilot or a prologue, to set up the story)

A/N: this story is based on this idea I had and that a few people seemed to like. hopefully you enjoy this first chapter/prologue. and if you want to read more, feel free to leave a comment. If enough people like it, I was thinking to do a taglist, so that people can stay updated. anyways, thanks for reading &lt;;3

When you first heard the news, you couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe that they could do such a thing. Not to the team, not to you. That was the reason you were stomping up the stair, the clinking of your heels echoing against the walls, as you reached Rebecca’s office.

You didn’t knock, you didn’t wait for them to welcome you in. They knew you were coming. Especially after the email they had sent out. The email had been sent only to the “necessary” people that needed to be involved, and you, being the social media manager for the club, received it. It was probably a way for them to warn you to start preparing the content for the announcement. But you obviously didn’t take it well. They knew about your history, they knew how things had gone down. They had to be expecting you.

“How could you?” Your loud, clear voice, full of anger and disappointment filled the room.

“Good morning, Y/N!” Ted’s cheerful greeting made you want to scream. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” The sarcasm was obvious.

“How could you? After what he did to the team? After what he said about you?” Your tone was loud, so much so that you were sure people from downstairs could clearly hear every single one of your words. “How could you?” You choked on your last words, and as you finally met Rebecca’s gaze, you could feel the familiar sting of the tears that threatened to fall, spill, pour.

The woman sighed, getting up from her chair to make her way around the big desk. “Listen, love, he’s a great player. When Ted told me about their talk, I knew we had to get him back.” She explained, walking over to her. “We cannot let our feelings get in the way of the team’s success.”

You shook your head, taking a step back. “I never thought you would become this cynical.”

“I’m not cynical, just rational.”

“It’s all the same thing. He’s a prick. And pricks don’t change.” You were furious. “And it’s not just my feelings, but the team’s feelings. But you obviously don’t remember how he used to treat everyone.” You lingered on that last word, looking briefly at each of them, before turning around and making your way out of the office and down the stairs. “No one understands.” You whisper, your fists so tight you started to feel that burning sensation of your nails leaving marks on your palms.

Keeping your head low, trying to hide the tears streaming down your face, you made your way to the changing room. You knew you couldn’t say anything to any of the boys yet, but still, you needed some comfort. You needed Sam.

You quickly reached the locker room and knocked, waiting for them to give you a sign to let you know you could come in. And, as soon as you opened the door, you ran straight to Sam, immediately burying your face in his chest.

“Hey, Y/N/N. What is going on?” His thick Nigerian accent immediately bringing comfort to you. “Did something happen?” He asked as he tried to pull away slightly, trying to understand what was happening.

“Just… hug me… please.” You pled, the voice muffled by his jersey. And he did. He wrapped his arms around you, softly placing a kiss on top of your head, before laying his chin in the same spot. You’re immediately comforted by the warmth of your best friend’s embrace. However, you didn’t fail to notice how the familiar chatter of the changing room had started to slowly simmer down until it ultimately came to a halt. A sense of pain and anxiety washed over you at once, and your head started again to fill with the same questions you had asked Rebecca and Ted. Why? Why him? Why now? How could they?

But soon, your stream of thoughts was interrupted by Isaac’s voice. “Who do we have to kill?” You didn’t need to raise your head from Sam’s chest to know that the feeling was shared by most if not all the team’s players.

“No one. Yet.” You mumbled, sniffling. “It’s complicated.” You added as you finally pulled away from Sam, yet still remaining extremely close to him, as if his presence was the only thing keeping you sane and calm at that moment.

“When the moment comes, just call, okay?” You gave a quick nod to the team captain, accompanied by a shy smile. To any casual passer-by, the comment may have seemed sarcastic, the usual banter between friends that care about each other. But the team knew that that was not sarcastic at all and that Isaac would indeed, without a shadow of a doubt, kill someone for you.

You couldn’t exactly remember when, but somewhere down the line, the team had become your chosen family. However, you could clearly remember how that process had started.

You had started working for AFC Richmond around the same time that Ted and Coach Beard did. You didn’t care much for football or sports in general, but you had just recently graduated from university and had found this work through Keeley. You and her had met at your cousin’s going away party a few years before, when he had decided to move to Greece to become an archaeologist. You had immediately bonded over who can even remember what, and remained close friends ever since. So, when she heard that the position had just opened up, she immediately sent your CV to Rebecca, without warning you first. You found out about the job only when you received a call from a certain Mr Higgins, who told you that they had read your curriculum and found it really interesting. And so, you ended up moving to Richmond-upon-Thames and started working for the club.

It didn’t take you long to get to know the team and become friends with them. Obviously, you had your prejudices against footballers, who you thought were self-centred egomaniacs – and you weren’t completely wrong about that – but, to your surprise, most of them turned out to be great people. You quickly became very close with Sam; Roy tolerated you; Isaac and Colin were always kind to you. Even Jamie Tartt, the prick of the team, would usually drop his dickhead persona when he was with you. And that was how you two ended up together. For the first month or so, you would notice his constant flirting, but you never really gave it too much thought. You had read about him in the tabloids, and you knew how he was famous for having a different girl every week. You weren’t that oblivious, you knew he was fit. But, every time he would flirt with you, you would play along for a while, before brushing it off and going back to your business. I’m just his latest challenge, he will move on sooner or later, you thought. Until, roughly a month and a half after you had started working there: he started waiting for you outside the clubhouse, asking you if you needed a ride home. Which then turned into him asking you to grab a coffee with him one day before practice. Then it was dinners. Movie nights at his place. Stolen glances in the hallways of the clubhouse. Sneaking in the boot room to secretly make out. And sooner than you could realise, you were sleeping over at his place most of the time.

You asked him to keep things private for a while. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of him. You just needed to be sure about him. So, you kept sneaking around. Avoiding each other as much as possible, too worried that the team might just figure it out. Let me show you off, Jamie would whisper into your ear, in-between wet kisses, as he stood behind you in the kitchen in the morning, wrapping his arms around your waists. Let me take you out to a restaurant, on a proper date, he insisted. But you kept declining his offers. Not yet, baby, you would reply, as you slowly melted under his touch, I need a little more time, you said as you turned around in his arms. And the conversation would die there, with Jamie immediately picking you up and placing you on top of the kitchen counter, his lips trailing their way down your neck, your collarbone, your chest, down, down, until your vision turned hazy and you had to grip onto the marble countertop with all the strength you had in your body, too afraid you might fall off of it, as his lips met finally met your core.

You were able to keep your relationship private longer than you had expected. It was after almost 4 weeks that Nate eventually walked in on you two in the boot room. You weren’t doing anything too private, you were merely making out. But Nate being Nate, froze on his feet as he saw you two holding onto each other, too stunned to move. I was… I needed to… sorry… I didn’t…. As usual, he was too embarrassed to form a complete sentence, so he simply left the room. You two looked at each other and knew that it was only a matter of time before your secret would be out. And you were right. The secret didn’t last the entire day, and when it was time to go home after practice, you were met by a horde of football players, asking you when it had started, how long had that been going on, if you two were official, and so on.

Somehow, but still not completely unexpectedly, the news reached the press in less than a day. The next morning, as you lied in bed with Jamie’s head on your chest, you were woken up by the constant buzzing of your phone. Check this article from The Sun, said a message from your high school friend, with a link attached to it. Is it true? Asked your mother. Congratulations! read the message from your aunt from whom you hadn’t heard in ages. And the messages kept coming. Yes, it was true. You were now in a relationship. Yes, your boyfriend was a famous footballer. Yes, you knew about his fame. Still, you didn’t care. Because, when Jamie was with you, he wasn’t Jamie Tartt, star striker for AFC Richmond, but just Jamie. And you loved just Jamie. He was sweet, he was passionate, he was kind, he always made sure you were feeling well, he brought you flowers once a week, he left some coffee for you in the pot in the mornings, he always made sure you were sexually satisfied – something he was really proud of.

Sadly, you hadn’t realised that, with going public, also came the hate from his fans, who thought that you would be too distracting for their beloved favourite player, and from the girls, the actresses, the top models, the reality tv stars, who had hoped to one day end up with him and whose dream you had shattered overnight. You pulled through it, and that was also thanks to Jamie, who never missed the chance to remind you how much he loved you and cared for you.

However, two months after going public, things started to change. You couldn’t understand why if it was something that you had done or said, but he started to become distant, cold. He would invite you less and less over to his place, and when he did, it was mainly to have sex, to ‘release the tension from practice’. And whenever the team lost, the sex would be rough. He was always on his phone, texting, dming, emailing. A part of you knew it was girls he was talking to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to confront him about it, so you just said nothing and held on. He soon stopped asking you how you were, telling you how much he loved you. You tried asking him what was going on, but he would always deny everything, saying that you were imagining things, that you were just paranoid, and that everything was fine. Fine. Oh, how you came to hate that word. You asked him how he was. Fine. You asked him if he wanted to spend the night together. Fine. You asked him if he wanted to drive to the clubhouse together. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. You hated fine. In Jamie’s language, fine meant if you really have to, or I would rather you left me alone, or I don’t really care. You hated it. And you hated what your relationship had become. But still, something stopped you from leaving him, maybe the hope that soon things would go back to normal, that soon he would go back to being just Jamie.

But that never happened.

And things only got worse when Ted decided to take him out during a match. You knew that Ted was doing it to teach him a lesson, and he was right to want to do so. But as you watched your boyfriend leave the pitch, you knew things would only get worse. So, you stopped constantly looking for him. You stopped texting him every day. You only met when he asked you.

It was in that period that you grew closer to Sam. You could distinctly remember the day he walked into your office to ask you for a few suggestions on how to make his Instagram page more appealing. Instead walked in on you sitting on the floor, with your back against the wall and your hands in your hair. You didn’t even have the strength to pretend things were okay, so you simply looked up, black lines scarring your cheeks, and met his eyes. “Sorry, Sam, it’s… not a great moment.” You struggled to get the words out.

But Sam didn’t say anything. Instead, he closed the door behind him, made his way across the room and took a seat on the floor next to you. “Is it Jamie?” He asked with his thick Nigerian accent that you would grow to love and even find familiar. You nodded silently. “Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head. “Do we just sit in silence?” A nod. A beat. Then your head slowly fell to the side, until it found its resting place on his shoulder.

You don’t exactly know how long you stayed there, on the floor, in silence. It could have been a few minutes or entire hours. In either case, Sam stayed there, and didn’t leave your side. He never once took out his phone to check his messages, even though you could feel it buzzing in his pocket. He only changed position once, to move his arm and wrap it around your shoulders. That was the first time you had spent that much time in silence with someone without feeling the need to fill it with superficial chatter.

From that day forward, you and Sam were inseparable. There was something about him that simply brought you comfort, a comfort that not even Jamie had been able to give you. Whenever you weren’t sleeping over at Jamie’s, he would come to pick you up and drive you to work. He would drive you home in the evenings, making sure you were all the way inside your house, before sprinting off the road to go home himself. You would start having lunch together, usually joined by some of the other guys – in all of this, most of the time Jamie was nowhere to be found. And whenever your boyfriend acted like a dick with you in front of everyone, he would speak up. Are you his boyfriend now, Sammy? Jamie would mock him, using your nickname for him. I don’t think so. She’s me girl, so I’ll talk to her how I want, a’ight? He would puff out his chest, trying to look bigger and intimidating.

That evening, after practice was over, Jamie sprinted off to who knows where or to who knows who, leaving you there, alone. And, as per usual, Sam would come to the rescue, offering you a lift home.

“Why are you still with him?” Sam asked you as he stopped in front of your house. “You deserve better, not an asshole like him.”

You shook your head. “He’s not like that when it’s just the two of us.” You would always find a way to make excuses for him.

“I don’t care how he is when he’s alone with you, Y/N! If he really loves you, he should treat you well in public as well!” You had never really heard Sam raising his voice before, and it would have been a lie if you had said that you were not intimidated. But, despite everything, you could feel the care and preoccupation in his voice. “You deserve someone that truly cares for you, and that isn’t afraid to show it!” You knew he was right. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say something, to break up with him.

But you never had to.

It was maybe a week after your discussion with Sam when you showed up unannounced at his place. It was cold outside, and you were only wearing a thick jumper. You stood there, in front of his door for at least three whole minutes, before finally knocking on his door. You knocked instead of ringing the bell so that if he was already asleep, you wouldn’t wake him. But he had heard it, and less than 10 seconds later, he was opening the door.

“Y/N, what are you-” He didn’t even finish his question. He took one look at you and knew exactly what had happened. He took your hand gently in his, and immediately pulled you inside, guiding you to the living room. “Wait here a moment.” He said, making you seat on the couch, before running off in search of a blanket. “Okay, wrap yourself in this while I put the kettle on.” He opened the blanket and put it around your shoulders.

“Stay here, please.” You whispered, grabbing him by the wrist before he could move away again.

“But you’re shivering.”

“Just… please.”

As soon as he met your eyes once again, he felt his heart drop to his stomach. He had seen you in distress before, he had comforted you multiple times after your fights with Jamie. But this time he didn’t even need for you to tell him what had happened, he already knew. He took a seat next to you, fixing the blanket so that it was properly covering your entire body, before pulling you to his chest.

“He said that I was too much work.” The words left your mouth watery. “That I asked too much of him. And that, since he was going back to Man City, it was better to call it quits.” You whispered. You could feel Sam’s body tense, the air blowing through his nose. You knew he wanted to say a lot of things. He wanted to tell you that he was a dickhead, that he never realised what he had in front of him, that he had just lost the best woman he could ever find, that he was a moron, a jerk, an idiot, a fool. But he didn’t. He remained silent. And he did the best he could to comfort you. He stroke your hair and your back, he rocked you and hummed to you, until you fell asleep.

After that night, it didn’t take long for the rest of the team to find out what had happened, and how it had happened. Every single one of the boys sent you a text, saying, each in their own way, that they were sorry, that Jamie was a dick, and that they were there for you if you needed them. And you were glad to know so many people cared for you, people that up until a few months ago didn’t even know you and that you would have never expected in your life to end up being friends with. They all stopped and hugged you when they met you in the corridor for the first time after it had happened. But some of them surprised you.

You hadn’t been able to sleep for the last few nights, which was made obvious to everyone by the way you dragged your feet against the floor whenever you walked around the clubhouse, your legs too heavy for your exhausted body to properly move. You had also stopped taking care of yourself. Yes, you showered and brushed your teeth because you hated not being presentable for work. But you had stopped brushing your hair every morning and every night, like your grandmother had thought you when you were little. And you had stopped wearing make-up. Not that you would normally put on a full face every day, but you stopped using mascara because it made your eyes burn whenever you cried, and the light concealer you used under your eyes to make yourself look fresher, more awake. And now your puffy red eyes and dark circles were there, on display, for everyone to see, a reminder of how you were feeling.

That morning you had opted for a very comfortable pair of sweatpants and a warm AFC Richmond hoodie. Using supportiveness as a way to hide your depression. Smart, you thought. Sad. You were sitting in your office, alone, working on the new social media campaign, when suddenly you heard someone knock on your door. “Come in.” You said flatly. As the door opened, you looked up from your laptop, only to see Sam walk in, followed by Isaac, Colin and Dani. “How can I help you, boys?” You forced a smile on your face.

“Want to watch a movie with us tonight?” Asked Isaac, taking the lead. You looked at the quartet in front of you, unsure of what to say. “We can watch whatever sad movie you prefer, and Dani can bring some Mezcal.”

“Boys, I-” You started, but you were instantly cut off.

“Uh-uh!” The Welsh stepped forward. “We don’t want to hear any I’d rather be alone or I don’t want to be a bother bullshit, okay? We want to do this.”

“Yes, we only asked to be nice, but if you say no, we will just kidnap you and force you to do it.” Said Sam, a soft, warm smile on his face, as he leaned over your desk.

“Por favor, Y/N” Dani pled, showing you his big, brown puppy eyes.

“Fine!” You gave in. “On one condition: we order Chinese.”

They all look at each other, before bursting out laughing.

A/N: if you read all the way through, thank you ! feel free to leave a feedback/comment. i would love to know what you think about it and if you would be interested in reading more of this story. let me know if you would like to be put in a taglist for this fic! love you <3

[elloras]

Ted Lasso: The Strings That Bind Us

[blueberryflavoredfeelings]

The hour that people are least prepared to defend themselves, according to Roy Kent: 4 am

The hour in which Roy made Jamie wake up to train: 4 am

[smoshyourheadin]

Roy Kent dating an American soccer player? The guys are shocked, Ted fan girls, she comforts him when he hurts his knee. Or something similar, anything you want really. I just need more Roy Kent fics please. Thank you!!

never believed in fate

pairing: roy kent x f! reader

a/n: THIS IDEA IS SO CUTE also sorryyy i dont like using it but two uses of y/n l/n!!

rou kent wasn’t one to believe in fate. but standing on the sidelines, watching his richmond team warm up, he couldn’t help but think something had changed in the cosmos.

it all started a month ago when ted had convinced the club to host a charity match against the u.s. women’s national team. his excitement was palpable; he wouldn’t stop talking about the talent, the speed, and the sheer joy of the game these women brought.

the day of the match arrived, and the richmond team was ready to show their skills. as the players took to the field, roy’s eyes caught a wide smile and a confident stride. there you were, the american soccer sensation, y/n l/n. roy had heard the name in passing but hadn’t paid much attention until now.

“oi, kent!” jamie tartt’s voice snapped roy back to reality. “you okay, mate? you’re starin’.”

roy grunted, brushing off jamie’s remark. “just keep your head in the game, tartt.”

the match was exhilarating. you were a force to be reckoned with, weaving through defenders and scoring with ease. richmond fought hard, but the u.s. team’s chemistry was undeniable. ted was practically glowing with admiration from the sidelines, unable to contain his joy at seeing such high-caliber play.

after the game, there was a small reception for both teams. roy lingered near the edge of the crowd, nursing a drink and watching as his teammates mingled with the americans. ted was in his element, chatting animatedly with you about strategy and techniques.

“roy kent,” a voice said, pulling him from his thoughts. he turned to see you standing there, a playful smile on your face.

“y/n l/n,” he replied, nodding.

“you played a good game out there,” you said, extending a hand.

“thanks,” roy said, shaking her hand. your grip was firm, and your eyes were bright with excitement. “you too.”

you spent the next hour talking, roy finding himself more and more drawn to you. you were fierce, passionate about the game, and had a wicked sense of humor that matched his own. you exchanged numbers, and before long, you were texting daily, the conversations ranging from football to life beyond the pitch.

one evening, a few weeks later, roy found himself at a quaint london café, waiting for you. you had a break in your schedule and had flown over to visit. as you walked in, roy felt a flutter in his chest - a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

they spent the evening talking, laughing, and getting to know each other better. as they walked along the thames, roy felt a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in years.

a few days later, disaster struck during a training session. roy was showing some of the younger players a defensive move when he felt a sharp pain in his knee. he went down hard, cursing under his breath. the pain was intense, and he knew immediately it was bad.

the medical team rushed to his side, but it was you who was there first, having just arrived to surprise him. she knelt beside him, your face etched with concern.

“roy, are you okay?” you asked, voice steady despite the worry in your eyes.

“bloody knee,” he grumbled, wincing as the medics examined him.

you stayed by his side, holding his hand as they helped him off the field. ted was there too, his face a mix of worry and admiration for the way you were supporting roy.

later, in the treatment room, roy lay on the table, his knee wrapped and elevated. you sat beside him, hand never leaving his.

“you’re going to be okay,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

roy looked at her, feeling a swell of emotion. “thanks”

“you don’t have to thank me,” she replied. “i’m here for you, roy. no matter what.”

as the weeks passed, you became a constant presence in Roy’s life. you were there for his rehab sessions, cheering him on and keeping his spirits high. your unwavering support and love gave him the strength to push through the pain and frustration.

the guys were shocked at first, unable to believe that the gruff, tough-as-nails roy kent was dating the american soccer star. but as they saw the change in him - the way he smiled more, the way he seemed lighter - they couldn’t help but be happy for him.

ted, of course, was over the moon. “i always knew you had a soft spot, roy,” he said one day, clapping him on the back. “and she’s just the person to bring it out.”

roy rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at his lips. “yeah, yeah. just don’t go writing any sonnets about it, lasso.”

ted laughed. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

as the season progressed, roy’s knee healed, and he returned to the field stronger than ever. and through it all, you were there, a beacon of light in his life. you continued to navigate their demanding careers, but they always found time for each other, their bond growing deeper with each passing day.

roy kent had never believed in fate, but looking at you, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, everything had fallen into place exactly as it was meant to.

[scratchybeardsweetmouth]

Rebecca getting Ted to sing | Ted Lasso 1x07 & 2x04