#sam x jamie x dani

[theking-mustdie]

ted lasso character tropes are as follows:

jamie tartt: diva

dani rojas: himbo

trent crimm: cunt

isaac mcadoo: babygirl

sam obisanya: golden retriever

rebecca welton: mother

ted lasso: also mother somehow

colin hughes: cutie patootie

beard: freaky weirdo (/pos)

roy kent: black cat

jan maas: just dutch

keeley jones: girlboss

[caslutz]

Ted Lasso Text Posts: Part #8 (AFC Himbo’s version)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

[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.

[ham0705]

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

[nameless-jamie]

Offside Tension - Jamie Tartt x Y/N

Masterlist - Next Chapter

Chapter 2: Clash on the Pitch

The air was crisp, and the first rays of sunlight peeked over the tops of the training grounds as Y/N unlocked the door and stepped onto the pitch. It was only her second day at Richmond, and she’d made sure to arrive early, determined to hit the ground running.

The grass was still damp with morning dew, and the faint smell of freshly cut turf lingered in the air. The silence was peaceful, even calming, though her nerves hadn’t entirely settled. She jogged to the middle of the pitch, taking in its vastness. It was hers now too, in a way, though the thought was both exciting and intimidating.

The sound of a door opening behind her broke her train of thought.

“Y’know,” Coach Beard’s voice called out, “most people don’t show up this early—especially not on day two.”

She turned to see him strolling across the pitch, a steaming mug of coffee in hand and a faintly amused look on his face.

“I’m not most people,” Y/N said with a grin, trying to let her confidence outshine the lingering second-day jitters.

Beard tilted his head slightly, appraising her. “Ted mentioned you’re ambitious. That’s good. Just… don’t burn yourself out trying to impress everyone at once. It’s a long season.”

She nodded, appreciating the advice. “Thanks, Coach. For the record, I’m not trying to impress everyone. Just trying to do my job.”

Beard’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “Fair enough. Don’t let Jamie Tartt get under your skin too much today.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, though she couldn’t hide her smirk. “Why? Does he try to get under everyone’s skin?”

“Only when he’s breathing,” Beard deadpanned before walking off toward the office.

As the team trickled in, Y/N took the opportunity to explore more of the facilities. Passing the kit room, she noticed a whirlwind of motion—someone darting back and forth between racks of jerseys and shelves of gear. She knocked gently on the open door, and a young man spun around, nearly dropping a stack of neatly folded shirts.

“Oh, hi! You must be Y/N!” Will said, his grin wide and genuine.

“That’s me,” she said, stepping inside. “And you must be Will. The kit room looks incredible.”

“Thanks!” he said, practically beaming. “I try to keep it organized—you know, controlled chaos and all that.”

She laughed. “Well, it’s impressive. If I ever need anything, I’ll know who to come to.”

“Absolutely,” Will said. “Extra bibs, cones, anything. Just say the word.”

Y/N left the kit room feeling lighter, her confidence bolstered by Will’s enthusiasm. She was making her way back to the pitch when she nearly bumped into Nate, who was pacing near the office doors, muttering to himself.

“Whoa,” Y/N said, holding up her hands to steady herself.

“Oh! Sorry!” Nate said, his eyes widening. He quickly straightened his jacket, looking flustered. “I didn’t see you there.”

“All good,” Y/N said with a smile. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said quickly, though his expression betrayed his nerves. “Just… going over a few things for training. You know, trying to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Sounds like we’re in the same boat,” Y/N said, offering him a reassuring smile. “If it makes you feel better, I’m still figuring things out too.”

Nate gave her a small, grateful smile before heading off, and Y/N made her way back to the pitch, stopping briefly by her little office space shared with Roy.

“Y/N, the girl, the myth, the legend—I know it’s only your second day, but are you up for running the second half of training later?” Ted poked his head through the office door, his enthusiasm far too much for a Tuesday morning.

Y/N hesitated but felt like she had to prove herself to a group of coaches that included a former Champions League player and two Americans. “I’m up for it, I suppose,” she said, smiling, though her uncertainty was evident.

Later that day, Y/N straightened her shoulders, clutching her clipboard. Alright, she thought, if they’re testing me, I’ll pass with flying colors.

“Morning, Coach,” Sam greeted warmly as he jogged by, his easy smile offering her a thread of encouragement.

“Morning, Sam,” she replied, forcing her nerves to settle. She returned her focus to the drills she’d planned, hoping they’d strike the balance between challenging and effective.

Just as she was organizing the cones, Jamie sauntered onto the field, his pace deliberately slow, his face lit with that trademark cocky grin. He wasn’t saying anything, but the way his eyes scanned the setup made it clear he was judging her methods.

The warm-ups began smoothly enough. Y/N kept her instructions clear, her voice steady as she guided the players through each step. The drills were simple but purposeful, designed to sharpen their precision. She was just beginning to feel at ease when she heard it—a loud, exaggerated scoff from behind her.

She turned, already knowing who it was. Jamie stood with his arms folded, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Really?” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “This is what we’re doing today? My nan could do these drills, and she’s got one hip replacement and no bloody idea what football is.”

A few of the players stifled laughs, but most exchanged uncomfortable glances. Y/N raised an eyebrow, unfazed.

“You’ve got something to say, Jamie?” she asked, her tone calm but pointed.

“Yeah,” he said, stepping forward. “These drills are a waste of time. We don’t need to go back to basics. We’re not some under-12s team playing in the park, love.”

Y/N tilted her head, considering him and at the same time completely ignoring the nickname he gave her, which totally didn’t make her blush. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “It’s funny,” she said lightly. “You talk a big game, but I’ve noticed you struggling to keep up with some of the lads in these basic drills.”

The players erupted in oohs and laughter, and Jamie’s smirk faltered for a split second. He recovered quickly, though, his grin sharpening.

“Alright then,” he said, his voice full of challenge. “If you think you’re such an expert, why don’t you show me how it’s done? You’re a coach—you should know how to play, right?”

Y/N’s lips curved into a slow smile. “Is that a challenge? Because we don’t back down from them where I’m from.”

Jamie shrugged. “Call it what you want. Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are, Coach.”

The tension crackled in the air, and the players immediately began to gather around, sensing the showdown. Even Roy, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, seemed intrigued. Ted, on the other hand, looked a little unsure.

“Fine,” Y/N said, dropping her clipboard.

Ted stepped in. “I don’t want to question any good ole’ coaching methods, but are you sure about this, Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “But it seems like he needs his ass handed to him at some point, and I’m willing to do just that.”

Even Roy cracked a smile at that statement, clapping his hands twice in approval.

“Well, I like her better than all of you,” Roy said, looking pointedly at Ted and Beard. The latter just shrugged.

“Alright, it’s on, Tartt. Get your ass on the pitch,” Y/N said, which made Jamie smile—just a little.

The players hooted and hollered as the impromptu match began, forming a loose circle around the two of them. Jamie, ever the showman, played up the crowd, grinning and waving like he’d already won. Y/N, on the other hand, focused on the ball, tuning out the noise.

The first goal came quickly—hers. She weaved around Jamie with ease, her movements sharp and precise. The players cheered as she sent the ball sailing into the net, her expression calm and composed despite the thrill of victory.

“Lucky shot,” Jamie muttered, retrieving the ball.

“Sure,” she said, smirking.

The second goal was his, and he made sure to celebrate obnoxiously, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Still think I’m struggling?” he called, winking at her.

She didn’t respond, instead resetting for the next round. The third goal took longer, the two of them battling fiercely for control. Every time Jamie thought he had the upper hand, Y/N surprised him, her quick reflexes and sharp instincts keeping him on his toes.

Finally, she broke away, her eyes narrowing as she lined up her shot. The ball sailed past Jamie and into the net, and the players erupted into cheers.

“Three-two,” Y/N said, her breath coming fast but her smile triumphant.

Jamie stood there for a moment, his hands on his hips, his face a mixture of frustration and something else—something warmer. Finally, he stepped forward, extending a hand.

“Alright,” he said, his voice grudging but sincere. “You’re better than I thought.”

Y/N took his hand, her grip firm. “Told you,” she said lightly.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink around them. There was something in his gaze—something intense and electric—that made her heart skip a beat. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks and quickly let go of his hand, stepping back.

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “Glad we got that sorted.”

Jamie smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t get used to it, love.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she shot back. There was that word again—love.

As the players began to disperse, the buzz of excitement still lingering in the air, Y/N stayed behind to collect the equipment. She was just finishing up when Roy approached, his expression unreadable.

“You handled that well,” he said gruffly.

Y/N turned to him, surprised. “The match or Jamie?”

“Both,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Thanks,” Y/N replied, wiping sweat from her brow.

Roy hesitated for a moment before asking, “You ever play professionally?”

Y/N paused, her smile fading slightly. “I wanted to. But I got injured when I was a teenager. Tore my ACL. Doctors said I’d never play at that level again.”

Roy nodded, his expression softening. “That’s tough.”

If anyone understood how an injury could derail an entire career, it was him.

“It was,” Y/N admitted. “But I found other ways to stay in the game. Coaching lets me stay close to the sport, even if it’s not the same.” Her eyes were sad but also hopeful—the sport had once been a big part of her life, and she held on to it like a last resort.

Jamie, who had lingered nearby, overheard the conversation. He glanced at Y/N, his expression thoughtful. She could’ve been bigger than him if she’d played professionally, and now she was here, helping others achieve perfection in a sport they both loved. A certain respect—and a need to protect her at all costs—rose up in Jamie.

[ldrloversblog]

M/M ships: oh no… he’s a boy and… im a boy too

W/W ships:

We can never have a moment of peace

[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

[hazieash]

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

[rosie-tyler]

Top 10 Ted Lasso episodes according To IMDb

[correct-two-aces]

jamie: i think i need to be alone for a while.

jamie, later, sitting with dani and sam: thanks for being alone with me, guys.

[lokiiied]

obsessed with this shot like…not only do we have two aces boyfriendism going on the back, we also have whatever’s going on with jan and richard there (did he just boop him?) and colin acting out charades trying to make his bumbercrush laugh and isaac is probably recalling this moment when he guesses who colin thinks is the fittest on the team AND THE FOUND FAMILY OF IT ALL

[caslutz]

Ted Lasso Text Posts: Part #4

1 / 2 / 3

[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.

[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 <;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

[nameless-jamie]

Offside Tension - Jamie Tartt x Y/N

Masterlist

Chapter 10: Under the Floodlights

The flat was too quiet.

Y/N sat on the edge of her sofa, elbows on her knees, hands tangled in her hair. The television was on, some random late-night rerun humming faintly in the background, but she wasn’t watching it. The air in the flat felt stifling, as if the walls were pressing in, shrinking with every minute she spent replaying the day in her head.

The pub. Jamie. His words. His smile. That look in his eyes when he’d said, Don’t shut me out.

She groaned, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling as if it would offer her some kind of answer. But it didn’t. All she could hear was her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and all she could feel was the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her chest.

She’d spent her entire life on football pitches. The smell of fresh-cut grass, damp leather boots, the sharp whistle of a referee, the thunderous roar of a crowd—they weren’t just familiar; they were home. When her playing career had ended, it had felt like losing a piece of herself, like she’d been cast out into the world without a map.

But coaching had brought her back. It wasn’t just about strategy and drills and matchday speeches. It was about being part of something bigger than herself, about helping others find their place on the pitch—just like she had all those years ago.

And now here she was, trying to make sense of it all, trying to separate her role as a coach from the feelings she’d started to develop for Jamie.

Her eyes flicked to the duffel bag in the corner of the room, still packed from training earlier that day. Without thinking, she grabbed it, slinging it over her shoulder as she grabbed her keys. The flat felt too small, her thoughts too loud.

She needed space. She needed clarity. And there was only one place she knew she could find it.

Y/N pushed open the side door, her key clicking softly in the lock. The stadium was dark, except for the faint glow of the emergency lights lining the hallways. She walked down the familiar corridor, the soles of her sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floor.

When she stepped out onto the pitch, the floodlights flickered to life with a low hum, illuminating the empty stands and the pristine grass. It was like stepping into another world, one where time slowed down, and the weight of the world disappeared.

She dropped her bag by the sidelines and pulled out a ball, rolling it beneath her foot as she stared out at the goalposts.

This is where I belong, she murmured to herself, her voice barely audible over the soft hum of the lights.

She set the ball down and took a few steps back, her body moving on autopilot as she lined up her shot. The moment her foot connected with the ball, a rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins. The ball sailed into the net with a satisfying thud, and for the first time all day, she felt like she could breathe.

She grabbed another ball and did it again. And again. Each kick was a release, a way to channel all the frustration and confusion swirling inside her.

The stadium was eerily quiet at night. Y/N walked across the empty pitch, her footsteps muffled by the damp grass. The floodlights hummed softly above, casting long shadows that stretched across the field. She felt like she was standing in another world—one that belonged only to her, stripped of the noise and chaos that usually defined her days.

She reached the penalty spot and stared at the goal ahead. Her chest felt tight, her mind a tangled web of thoughts she couldn’t untangle. Jamie. Coaching. Jamie. Doubts. Jamie. Her career. Always Jamie.

Frustration bubbled up, and before she could think twice, she kicked one of the stray balls scattered on the pitch. It sailed into the goal with a satisfying thwack. She grabbed another ball and did it again. And again. Each kick was harder, more forceful than the last, as though she could release all the emotions clawing at her chest.

Jamie Tartt couldn’t sleep.

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the faint sound of traffic filtering in through the partially open window. His body was tired—training had been grueling—but his mind was restless, replaying every moment of the day over and over again.

Y/N.

She was all he could think about. The way she laughed, the way she challenged him, the way she looked at him like he wasn’t just a footballer, but a person with depth and worth.

And the way she’d pulled away.

It wasn’t rejection. He knew that. He could see the conflict in her eyes, feel the tension in the air whenever they were near each other. But knowing she was holding back didn’t make it any easier.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. His flat felt too quiet, too empty, too... wrong. He needed to clear his head, to do something other than lie there and drive himself mad.

Grabbing his jacket, he headed out into the night, his feet carrying him down the familiar streets. He didn’t even realize where he was going until he rounded the corner and saw the glow of the floodlights in the distance.

Y/N was mid-swing when she heard a voice behind her.

“Blimey, remind me never to get on your bad side.” Jamie's voice rang in her ear. “Didn’t know breaking and entering was part of your coaching style.”

She spun around, startled, to see Jamie standing at the edge of the pitch, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets and a cheeky grin on his face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, breathless.

“Could ask you the same thing,” he replied, his lips curving into a half-smile. “Saw the lights on and figured someone was nicking the grass. Turns out it’s just you, takin’ out your frustrations on innocent footballs.”

She shrugged, gesturing to the goalpost. “Sometimes you just need to kick a ball around.”

He smiled, but there was something softer in his eyes as he looked at her. “Mind if I join you? Again...”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Sure.”

They kicked the ball back and forth for a while, the steady rhythm of the game filling the silence. Jamie cracked a few jokes, trying to lighten the mood, but he could tell something was weighing on her.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips during their wordless interaction. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you.” He stepped closer, his gaze softening as he took her in. “You alright?”

The simple question made her throat tighten. She looked away, toeing the grass with her shoe. “I don’t know.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Not really.”

“Alright,” he said, stepping closer. “Then I’ll talk.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locked on hers. “You don’t have to say anything. But I need you to know that you’re not just a coach to me. You’re... everything.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at him.

“You make me better,” he continued, his voice steady but full of emotion. “Not just on the pitch. You make me want to be better, to do better. And I know I’m not makin’ this easy for you, but I need you to know that I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Because you’re worth it.”

Eventually, she stopped the ball beneath her foot and let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know how to do this, Jamie.”

He tilted his head, frowning slightly. “Do what?”

“This,” she said, gesturing between them. “You. Us. Coaching. Feeling…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It’s all so much.”

The rain started softly, the cool droplets kissing her skin. Jamie laughed, looking up at the sky. Their bodies were now mere centimeters from each other.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “We really do look like a rom-com right now, don’t we?”

She laughed despite herself, the sound breaking through the tension. “Yeah, we do.”

Their laughter faded, and when her eyes met his again, the air between them shifted.

“This feels familiar,” she murmured.

“Déjà vu, it's kind of our thing,” he said with a small smile. “Guess the universe is tryin’ to tell us somethin’.”

She laughed at his little banter in this serious moment. "I guess the universe wants us to finally get it right."

Her heart pounded as he stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t shut me out, Y/N.”

And this time, she didn’t.

“Jamie…”

He tilted his head, his voice a whisper. “Yeah?”

She didn’t respond with words. Instead, she closed the distance between them, her hands finding their way to his shoulders as she pulled him into a kiss. The moment their lips met, it was like the world disappeared. The rain, the floodlights, the empty stadium—it all faded into the background.

Jamie’s hands cupped her face, his touch gentle yet firm, as though he couldn’t believe this was real. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“About time, love,” he said with a grin, his voice low and warm.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Shut up, your moves were lacking too.”

"Jamie Tartt has all the moves, baby," he smirked, but it faltered. "But you had my head proper fucked. This whole unrequited love thing really messes with your head, and I just wanted to kiss you the whole time, but the moment wasn't right and—

Y/N stopped his rambling with her own. "What the hell, unrequited—wait, love? Don't tell me you fell in love with your coach, Tartt. That is totally unacceptable."

Y/N smirked, still teasing him a bit for his sudden confession after the best kiss she'd had in her life.

"Oh, come off it, babe. The coach had her eye on me since day one. Love at first fight, that's what you call that."

Y/N laughed at Jamie's cheesy wordplay. They did banter a bunch, but that was just them. "Love is the right word to describe it, Tartt."

And with that, a smile broke out on both their faces, brighter than anyone had ever seen them smile.

They stood there for a while, letting the rain wash over them, neither of them wanting to break the moment.

For the first time in weeks, everything felt right. Let’s see what the future holds for Jamie Tartt and Coach Y/L/N.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Watched three episodes of Ted Lasso (and about a thousand videos and shorts on YouTube) and I'm already obsessed with Jaime Tartt. Stay tuned for more information.