#shouting is roy's love language | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

benedictscanvas · 1 year

Note

Would love a request where something sweet has been brewing between Roy and reader since she came and sat with him in the locker room after his injury and she’s been working up the nerve to tell him her feelings but hasn’t yet and it all comes to a head when she sees him walking onto the field in his coach suit 😍 maybe she’s still been going to games in his jersey even if he isn’t playing but he didn’t know till he saw her after he coached that game

ooooh you know what i like. this is good stuff, thank you so much, i've already written this dressing room scene once so i hope this is different enough!! | 2k words, tw language, some miscommunication but it all works out

You sat up in the owner's box with Rebecca, screaming at the top of your lungs for the club you love with all your heart. Of course, you used to have a season ticket before you were head of recruitment at the club, but your seats were never quite this good. The team were never this promising, either. There were many reasons why you now loved Richmond more than ever.

One of those reasons wasn't there, however. Roy Kent, the prick, had stuck around just long enough to let you fall madly in love with him and then disappeared into thin air once he retired.

The only time you ever saw him now was on the TV, if he was on Match of the Day on a Saturday night or you'd recorded a match just to watch his punditry. He was angry and rude and refused to bash the younger players 'cause he knew what that felt like. You swooned every time you watched, so you tried not to watch very often anymore.

"He'll come back eventually," Rebecca smiled at you, seeing the telltale drop of your smile and guessing the reason for it instantly, "You know that man won't be able to stay away from you for long."

"He's been doing a great job of it so far," you muttered bitterly and Rebecca only shook her head at you fondly and returned her attention to the players lining up beside the match officials. You knew part of her statement to be true - Roy wouldn't be able to stay away from Richmond, his family, forever. But you? Maybe she had overestimated your importance.

---

"Roy?"

You knew you categorically shouldn't be here, but it just wasn't enough to stop you. Roy was in pain and nothing else mattered. When you pushed open the dressing room door tentatively, you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of him.

"Y/N?" his voice is strangled and doesn't sound like him at all. He stares at you for a few moments before he bows his head between his knees, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"So rude," you murmur, walking over to sit near him but on the floor, not wanting to crowd his space, "I'm just here, okay?"

Roy grunts. Then:

"I don't want you here."

"Okay."

He looks down at you, assessing for a few moments. You're not moving, just sitting still, staring at the door rather than him. When he buries his face in his hands rather than shouting at you to get out, you scoot closer to him, close enough to rest your head on his good knee, wrap a hand around his calf firmly.

He's shuddering a little, but there's no sound of crying. You know he's trying to hide his tears and there's no use telling him not to.

"I'm just here," you repeat, and he leans his head over, still buried in his hands, until your temples are pressed together. Like he needs the contact. Like he needs you.

---

But that was then. Now, it had been a couple of months and your one brave text to him remained unanswered. It had only been checking up on him and you should have known he wouldn’t reply to something so benign, but you figured it was worth a try. Clearly, you’d been wrong.

The match had started, despite you getting lost in distractions of your own making. You tried to get into the game, shouting for Sam and Jamie loudly at the front of the pack but to no avail. A huge cheer rang out in the crowd all of a sudden, although nothing had happened on the pitch. You glanced at Rebecca questioningly, and saw her staring open-mouthed at the tunnel, so you followed her gaze.

Your lips parted. There was a gasp lodged in your throat. Roy Kent, in all his black-suited glory, was striding down the touch line towards the coaches, where he took his rightful spot beside them to the delight of the crowd. You gripped the railing in front of you desperately as you stared at him. He was here. He was back.

Taking the cue from Rebecca, you joined in the familiar chant of his name, trying to blink back the tears in your eyes. Whether he’d talk to you or not, whether you’d misread everything between you in weeks gone by, you were overjoyed for him - he was back where he belonged.

It may have still been another draw, but it didn’t feel all that frustrating this time. You weren’t sure where to go, whether to go in search for him or wait for a better time. While sat in your car agonising over your decision, there’s a loud knock on your window and you almost hit your head on the roof as you jump, startled.

Roy hovers outside your window, looking bashful, for once. You wind the window down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, even though you know in your heart you should be saying ‘Hello’ and ‘I missed you’ and ‘I love you more than anything’.

“What does it fuckin’ look like? I’m coaching. Turns out I can be good at more than one thing.”

It was something you’d said to him when he was leaving, when he was refusing to stay and try his hand at coaching. You’d known even then that he would be perfect for the job, but that he was in his own head, getting in his own way. He insisted and you relented, but reminded him of a few of the talents he had. Told him he could be good at more than one thing. You’d no idea he had actually taken your sentiment on board at all until now.

“No, I meant-“ you sigh as you stare up at him, then unlock the door and step out the car to talk to him. It’s painful when he takes a step back to give you space, “I meant, isn’t there a Ted Talk you should be listening to right now?”

“Ted Talk? Nice one,” he says, small smile on his face, but its still tentative. It falls completely when you fold your arms and lean against the car, still staring at him, “I told him I had something to fucking do, alright? Something important.”

“Right. Which is?”

“Fuck, okay,” he swears, like he hadn’t been expecting to launch right into it, “I’m fucking sorry. And I fucking love you. Fucking want to be with you.”

Your heart is fit to burst out of your chest with each extra sentence. Still, its been months. You need more.

“You’ll need to elaborate on those. All three.”

Roy shakes his head as he stares at the ground. But when he looks back up at you, he must see the look in your eyes - the one willing him on, the one pleading with him to give you more so that you can cave.

"Fuck," he mutters again, a broken record, "Okay. I'm sorry I left without fucking saying anything. And then you texted me and I still didn't, like fucking idiot. I am a fucking idiot. I didn't know what to say or how to say what I wanted to say so I didn't say anything. Fuck, am I even saying anything right now?"

He was rambling somewhat, but there was no world in which you were going to tell him that.

"Yes. Keep going."

He huffed, but carried on regardless, hands in his pockets as he stared down at you, clearly determined to keep eye contact so you could believe every word.

"I didn't know how to talk to you when I didn't have work as an excuse. Like if I spoke to you, you'd know I was actually only talking to you because of how I fucking feel about you. Then, when I realised I wanted to coach, I also realised I should just be telling you how I feel about you anyway. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N."

You try and digest his words quickly enough, because he's practically spat them out.

"Yeah, okay. I get that. It just sucked. More than anything else, I thought we were friends."

He growls, but you get the feeling it's at himself rather than you.

"We were. We fucking are. I couldn't talk to anyone after I left. Couldn't even come back here. Just felt...god, it felt fucking shit. But I've come to terms with it now, you know, the fucking retirement. I've got a lot of apologising to do."

"This is a pretty good start. I know it must have been hard, Roy," you try to sound as sincere as you feel, "I wanted to be there for you so fucking badly. But I get it. Really."

"You do?"

"Yeah. And I'm sorry for not pushing it. A proper friend would have been banging on your door to let me in so I could fucking check on you. I gave up a bit."

He scoffed, but didn't reply. It was more true than you'd previously realised. Maybe what Roy really needed during that time, rather than a half-hearted text message was some loud and proud support. You could forgive him if he could forgive you.

"We're good," you confirm, when he still doesn't say anything. His expression is unreadable as he stares at you, hands still in his pockets but fidgeting there. Dying to break free, "That's the first one covered. Continue."

"The first one...? Oh," he says as he realises what you mean, and there are butterflies fluttering up a storm in your stomach as he takes a step forward and continues in a sinfully low tone, "I fucking love you. Like, really. I know you won't fucking believe me, because it's out of the blue or whatever, but it isn't. Tell me this hasn't been coming for the past year?"

He takes another step forward as he says it, forces you to look up at him, crowds you against the car but with enough space for an exit if you want one.

You never, ever want one.

"Yeah, maybe an 'I like you' has been coming," you say instead, because you need him to confirm it. Need him to explain exactly what he's feeling so you can see if you match up, "I love you is another level."

"Yeah, and it's our fucking level, Y/N," he says through gritted teeth, "I love you. It's so fucking easy and simple, or it would have been if I'd said it two months ago. I'll do whatever you want to make up for all that fucking lost time."

"You seem very sure I'm going to reciprocate this in some way," you say, almost teasing. You believe what he's saying. You can't come back down to earth. Reaching forward on a whim, you grab his hand in yours and tug him that final step towards you, enough that he has to rest his hands on either side of you on the car.

"You're telling me," he murmurs, leaning in so that his breath just brushes against your outer ear, "You feel absolutely fucking nothing right now? Even though we haven't talked in months...and you're wearing my name on your back?"

You felt the heat all the way down in the tips of your toes. You'd forgotten what you were wearing. Of course, you still wore your Kent shirt. It was a prized possession - he'd signed the inside label.

"You like that shit?"

"I love that shit," he groans, "Fucking hot. You're telling me it means fucking nothing?"

"No," you hiss back, satisfied in making him work for it, "I'm telling you that I fucking love you too, you idiot."

And he's kissing you before you can comprehend it. Devouring you, even. You forgot about asking him to explain number three, but it didn't really matter. Roy did plenty of elaborating in his own way for the rest of the evening.

#roy kent x reader #roy kent #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent oneshot #roy kent fluff

798 notes · View notes

danistartt · 1 year

Text

4 AM- Jamie Tartt

pairings: jamie tartt x reader, roy kent warnings: language? mentions of murder, season 3 spoilers but only lightly about: jamie's first training with roy first jamie fic!! i love him, i hope i did him some justice!!

It’s too-early AM when the doorbell rings. At first once, and then insistently until it switches to banging.

It’s angry and loud and very annoying, urging a frustrated groan from Jamie when the door’s assailant pauses. “The fuck?” he asks the pillow, the arm around your waist tightening.

“Are we going to die? Is that a thing here?” you wonder tiredly, interrupted by a yawn.

The knocking continues, worse than before.

Jamie snaps awake, throwing his legs over the bed before you can process his touch gone.

“Be right back. Might kill someone.” He throws on a shirt and goes downstairs, muttering under his breath the whole way through.

You stare up at your ceiling, craning to hear what goes on downstairs. The door creaks open, the noise finally ceasing. Sleep leadens your eyelids.

The light Jamie turned on sneaks very gently into the darkness of the room, peeks of a conversation breaking the silence. You glance at the clock, catching Jamie pointing out what you’d just noticed.

“It’s fuckin’ four AM,” you grumble, pushing your face into your pillow.

A few seconds tick by. You let a single eye out and catch a different light turn on, much brighter than the ones you have. You frown.

Jamie shuffles back upstairs, rubbing his eyes. He doesn’t head for the bed.

“Jamie?” you start. “Was it a murderer?”

“Worse,” he says. “Roy Kent.”

“What’s Roy Kent doing here at four in the morning?” you ask groggily, watching him pull on clothes in the darkness. You turn on a light.

“Arsehole said he’d train me if I meant it,” he runs a hand over his face. “And I guess I fuckin’ did.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “That’s good.”

“I guess.” He shrugs, brushing his teeth.

“I’m proud of you, Jamie,” you tell him, already half-asleep but trying to keep observing him. “You’re already great and you’ll be even greater,” you babble, honest.

He stares at you silently for a moment, only broken by Roy’s loud call to hurry up. It wakes you up with a start.

“I think you should hurry up,” you advise.

“Already done. I’ll be back soon. I hope.” He plants a kiss on your forehead, turning off your lamp. You give him a lazy peck right below his jaw.

“Good luck, Jamie.” You squeeze his fingers in yours.

Jamie rolls his eyes, hurrying downstairs again. You can hear him saying your name, and Roy curses, shouting an apology up to you.

“Tartt! It’s not a fucking beauty contest!”

“”S okay!” you yell back drowsily. “Good luck!”

“Thank you!”

Another voice shrieks for you all to shut up. “Sorry, Mrs. Hammond!” you shout, listening to the door shut carefully. “Good luck, Jamie,” you mutter to yourself, letting your eyes shut.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso season 3 #ted lasso spoilers #roy kent #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tart fic #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt reader insert

946 notes · View notes

onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 6 months

Text

Summer Sun, Something's Begun

Part of my Birthday Bash!

Request: "You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much." with Roy :)

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Roy Kent x Reader

2.1k words

Warnings: Language, Chelsea!Roy, lots of fluff and flirting

Author's Note: This takes place during Roy's time in Chelsea, so he's in his mid-20s. The reader is his manger's very off-limits daughter, early 20s. I loved writing this so much, I'm going to add more to it later- so keep an eye out! 👀

Summers were for Chelsea.

For as long as you could remember, as soon as the school year ended, your mind focused on nothing but football. Throughout your childhood, you’d join your father at the facilities, watching the team prepare for the new season. Everything about it felt magical: the green of the pitch, the bright blue skies above, the shouts and excitement from the team. You looked forward to the first day of term, when everyone spoke about their summer holidays, the places they’d visited and the friends they got together with, when you would gush about the players you watched train and the matches you attended.

Now, you packed your bags at the end of each term and came home from uni, still feeling that same flutter of joy as you thought about training. A young adult yourself now, your dad still let you loiter around the team. Pretty much since you were old enough to drive, he treated you more like an assistant, asking you to grab lunches or help answer emails. As far as summer jobs went, this one felt like a great deal to you; hang out with your dad and the squad all day and get paid in match tickets whenever you and your mates wanted.

Of course, your role at the club wasn’t the only thing that changed. As a child, the players doted on you, asking about your dog or kicking around the ball with you before hitting the showers. You were Chelsea’s little princess, running around in jean shorts and too-big t-shirts. But now? Now you were the same age as many of the players, a young woman. Sure, the older players who’d known you for years, the ones who had watched you grow up, still joked around with you and treated you like family. But the younger players, the ones who were closer to your age than your father’s, definitely saw you differently. You caught the lingering stares, the cocky grins shot in your direction when they did something impressive on the pitch, the nudges when you strolled by the weight room when you brought the coaches their lunches.

Not that a single one of them would ever do anything about it. They were young, but they weren’t stupid. You were the manager’s daughter; you were the very definition of off-limits.

Which was totally fine with you, by the way. You didn’t care much for the attention of the young footballers, no matter how fit or wealthy they were. Not when you only had eyes for one midfielder in particular.

Roy Kent. Roy freaking Kent. With those brown eyes and those little smirks and that growling voice, not to mention that gorgeous chest hair you thought about way to often to be healthy, you were positively, absolutely smitten. He was brilliant to watch on the pitch, and he was pretty clever and funny when he cared to be. While his reputation centered around his scowls and brooding air, you often found yourself falling into step with him in the halls, offering teasing remarks back and forth and eliciting light chuckles from the mouth you thought about all year long back at school.

Ever since you started university, your dad had joked about not dating footballers. And normally, you were a good kid and listened to your parents. But the sound of Roy Kent’s laughter and the sight of his bare chest in the changing room always had you wanting to ignore your dad’s advice.

Because ever since he arrived at Chelsea, summers were for Roy Kent.

This summer was no different.

After a full week of Roy catching you staring at him on the pitch and making jokes that you laughed a smidge too hard at, you discovered him on the pitch long after practice had ended for the day and most players had begun to go home. Well, maybe ‘discovered’ was the wrong word. That made it sound like a coincidence, like you hadn’t quietly slipped away from your father’s office and followed the midfielder out of the building. Like you hadn’t perched yourself in the stands, not in an obvious spot, but definitely not hiding either as you watched him absently dribble around the grass while the sun began to set. Like you hadn’t been doing this for three days in a row now.

After maybe five minutes of watching him, he finally turned his head in your direction. “Oi!” he called out. “You just going to sit there and watch?” Even from a distance you could see the smile on his face, the one he usually saved for you.

You shrugged and stood, smoothing down the dress you may or may not have chosen while thinking about what Roy would think of it. It took every ounce of self-control not to skip down the stands, across the grass, and fling yourself into his arms, the way you wished you could after Chelsea victories. Instead, you strolled casually towards him, hands innocently behind your back, until you were gazing up at those pretty brown eyes, the ones that always seemed to sparkle when he looked at you.

“Enjoy the show?” Roy razzed, quirking one of those thick eyebrows at you.

“I always enjoy watching football,” you countered. You bent down to pick up the ball and began rolling it between your hands. “Especially when I get to watch talented people play.”

Behind the teasing look on his face, you could see in his eyes that he was pleased by your indirect compliment. “You think I’m talented then?” he hummed, doing his best to maintain his indifferent manner.

You wrinkled your nose at him and tossed the ball at his chest, which he caught with a soft grunt. “Who said I was talking about you, Kent? I was just stating the fact that I like watching football.”

His face lit up at your banter, eyebrows raised and mouth agape. You never saw him make that face at work except when you joked around with each other; you wondered if he ever made that face away from the pitch, if he ever made that face at anyone else, at any other girls. “Fuck me then,” Roy laughed, holding the ball close to his chest. He dropped it to the ground with a thud and nudged it towards you with his foot. “Come on, then. Let me prove myself.”

“Me, who hasn’t played football since I was eight, versus you, a Premier League star.” You rolled your eyes and bumped the ball back to him. “Yeah, sounds real fair to me, Kent.”

This time, the surprise he wore was genuine. “You haven’t played since you were eight?” He shook his head at you. “Your dad coaches fucking Chelsea. How the fuck did you manage to not play?”

“I prefer spectating and being a fan,” you stated simply. You wrinkled your nose. “Plus, I wasn’t very good,” you admitted. “I think Dad found it all a little embarrassing. He didn’t make much of a fuss when I quit.”

Roy shook his head and took a step back, dragging the ball with him. “Well, your dad’s not here now,” he pointed out, something close to flirtation in his voice. “And I’ll try to go easy on you, princess.”

Your heart fluttered at the teasing nickname. A few of the players called you that, always playful and joking, but when Roy said it, it made you wonder how other pet names would sound coming out of that beautiful mouth of his. “Fine,” you conceded with a huff, as though you weren’t thrilled at the opportunity to be close to Roy. “But go easy on me.”

Playing football in flats and a dress was not the easiest thing in the world, you discovered. Especially not when your opponent was Chelsea’s skilled and beautiful superstar. Still, you had to admit to yourself that it was fun. It was obvious that Roy did his best to go easy on you, but it wasn’t natural for the midfielder to give anything less than one hundred percent, so even his “easy” was a challenge. But he chuckled as you ran around each other, and a couple times he even laid a hand on your waist; you wondered if he knew the effect it had on you because each time he did, you froze and he was able to steal the ball with ease.

Eventually, you managed to break away from him with the ball at your feet and happiness in your lungs. You really thought you had a chance at scoring a goal when that firm hand landed on your hips. As you tried to wriggle free, your feet tangled with his, and the two of you fell to the ground, a jumble of laughter and bodies and a football. You managed to roll onto your back, grinning at Roy as he sat up and gazed down at you.

“You do suck,” he announced with a smirk. “Better study hard at uni, princess, because even with your daddy in charge, you are never getting signed to Chelsea.”

“I think I’ll live,” you huffed back as he laid beside you. You felt keenly aware of his body next to yours, of his breathing, of how close his hand was to your own. You wondered if he could feel your heart pounding through the ground; part of you worried it would cause the earth to quake, it was beating so hard.

Roy’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Glad to be home for the summer?” he hummed, his casual tone a sharp contrast to your nerves.

You cleared your throat. “I am. It’s always nice to be back with my family. And not worry about schoolwork. Plus, I love being here.” You gestured broadly around the pitch.

“Hmm.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Roy squinting at the oranging sky. “Any big summer plans?” His voice was heavy with interest, something rare for Roy Kent. He always seemed so aloof.

“Working here,” you said with a huff. “Same as every summer.” After a moment, you realized he was waiting for you to continue talking. “What about you? Training, training, and more training?” you teased.

He sighed, a low growling sound that had the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. “’ve got a fucking photoshoot tomorrow,” he grumbled. “For fucking Nike. Some international ad campaign or some shit, I don’t fucking know.”

You were instantly reminded that Roy Kent was a professional footballer, a celebrity, a legend in the making, who already had a track record for bedding models and actresses. He was on magazine covers and advertisements. And you were… you. He wasn’t like the boys in your uni classes or the fellas in your neighborhood, earnest young men who nervously asked girls out at pubs and prayed for a ‘yes’. He was a star.

In an attempt to ease your sudden angst, you let out a light chuckle. “Nike photoshoot, huh? Wow, Kent. You’re so cool.” You turned your face towards him and stuck your tongue out playfully. “It makes me hate you so much.”

Roy shifted his head so he was looking at you. “Me? Cool?” He rolled his eyes. “I never feel fucking cool. Especially not around you.” He gazed back up at the sky. “Always feel like a clumsy little kid around you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. His voice was so sincere, not an ounce of the joking and teasing usually aimed at in your direction. And you swore his cheeks were tinted pink- and you didn’t think it was from all the running around. Although your mind was racing to a million different places at once, the only thing you could manage to murmur was, “Well, I think you’re pretty fucking cool, Kent.”

He faced you again, squinting at the setting sun that was hitting him just right. “Thanks.” After a moment, you felt his finger brush tentatively against your knuckles. “D’you think I could call you sometime? While you’re home for the summer?” He shrugged, clearly trying to appear more casual than he felt. “We could… hang out or something.”

If you thought your heart was racing before, it was nothing compared to now. You searched his eyes, looking for some sign that he was goofing around, just fucking with you, but all you could find was sunshine and anticipation. Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you nodded, turning your palm upwards so Roy could rest his hand on yours, intertwining your fingers.

“Yeah, Kent,” you finally whispered as a smile crept across your face. “You could call me sometime.”

#tally's birthday bash #request ❤️#Chelsea!Roy #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

158 notes · View notes

yelena-bellova · 1 year

Text

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: Three Characters

Plot: Y/n puts her career at risk to help defend one of the Greyhounds.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: f!reader, language

A/N: This is barely spell checked, full warning.

Quick thanks to all of you for the lovely asks and comments you’ve been dropping. I really had no expectations for this one but I’m really glad people are enjoying it. Hopefully you enjoy this one as well! 💙

——————

Jamie Tartt had a lot of regrets in his life.

He regretted how he’d treated his teammates. How he’d been a prick to good people like Ted. How he’d gone about his relationship with Keeley. His first years in the Premier League were nothing but regrets.

“Come on, Tartt!”

And inviting Y/n to train with him that one morning he’d needed to pee was up there with the worst of them.

She was jogging significantly faster than him, but she had the advantage of not having Roy Kent on a bike tied to her waist.

Y/n ran backwards, showing off purely because she could. She faced Jamie with a smirk.

“Roy,” she called, “How ‘bout subbing me in for the Arsenal match?”

“If you’re faster than him,” Roy called back, “I’ll fucking consider it.”

Jamie grimaced, pushing himself to go faster. Y/n grinned at the effort and turned back around to keep her own pace.

She’d been different since Amsterdam, Jamie had noticed. There was a new levity to her. She was more talkative, she was smiling more, and just all around seemed more…her. The little he had seen of her privately, she seemed more of that.

And while he liked that, he was fucking exhausted by her and Roy teaming up against him.

“March,” Roy shouted for Jamie to run faster. He let out a casual whistle as Richmond locals watched them pass by.

“Good news is, after this,” Y/n called from the front, “Are burpees!”

Jamie groaned under his breath. She was enjoying this way too much.

—————————

Among the many changes in Y/n since Amsterdam, she had a new weekly appointment to keep.

“So you don’t know his name,” Y/n recapped the story she’d just been told, “You didn’t sleep with him. You just danced and drank wine and he cooked for you and did your laundry and gave you a foot massage.”

Rebecca nodded, a mouth full of biscuit preventing her from doing any more than humming. They were currently seated on the couch in her office.

Y/n was floored. “Well, if that’s not a movie, I don’t know what is.”

“I’ve never experienced anything like it,” Rebecca cut a hand through the air, “It was…gezellig.”

“You’re gonna have to teach me what that means,” Y/n remarked, taking a sip of her tea, “That’s insane. And you really didn’t exchange names? Nothing?”

“Mm-mm,” Rebecca replied, “It was one of those moments in time that just…stays there. It was perfect.”

Y/n smiled, shaking her head, “Well, it sounds like this gezellig phenomenon’s got its work cut out. Needs to bring the two of you back together.”

Rebecca sighed, “I doubt it. And I think I’m okay with it. Like I said, perfect in its own time.”

“Hey,” Y/n smacked Rebecca’s arm lightly, “Maybe he’s Matchbox Man.”

Rolling her eyes, Rebecca got up to serve herself another cup of tea. “Oh, hush,” she scolded, “I should have never told you that.”

“It’s giving a skeptic a lot to believe in,” Y/n chuckled. She had never thought anything of psychics and now Rebecca was trying to convince her otherwise. “And I wouldn’t have guessed you did either.”

“I didn’t,” the blonde said as she poured, “I don’t. But all these…little things. The details. It’s bloody ridiculous, yes, but…”

“Well, I like the ending part,” Y/n said. The more she got to know her, it became quite easy to picture Rebecca as a mother. But Y/n had decided against paying her that compliment. It clearly meant a lot to her and she was still grappling with the weight of the prediction.

Rebecca collected her thoughts, coming back to the couch. “Enough about me. What’s new with you?”

“Nothing,” Y/n shrugged.

“Oh, I don’t believe that for a second,” Rebecca replied, “You’re happier, you’re relaxed…is there someone you’re not telling me about?”

“Uh, no,” Y/n laughed, shooting down the theory immediately, “Definitely not.”

“So none of the boys have tried anything?” Rebecca asked.

“No,” Y/n answered, “Blissfully. But they’re all pretty decent. I’m not too worried.”

“Oh, don’t let them hear you say that,” Rebecca muttered, “They may be gentlemen, but they’ll jump at any chance they get.”

Y/n laughed, but didn’t miss the way her boss’ eyes ever so briefly seemed to glaze over, lost in a thought.

“There something you wanna tell me?” Y/n asked.

Rebecca purposefully took a sip, forcing silence and innocently shaking her head. It was suspicious enough for Y/n to follow the money.

“They’re all perfectly lovely,” Rebecca smiled.

“Mm-hm,” Y/n smirked, not even trying to buy the denial.

“So, come on,” Rebecca changed the subject, “What is it then? What’s your secret?”

The only person Y/n had confided in about even 1% of her life’s history was Jamie, and that had only been because he understood it. She didn’t want to have to explain her revelations in Amsterdam and the complex backstory that came with them to anyone. But nearly everyone she’d encountered at Nelson Road that week had commented on her change in countenance. She hadn’t realized how obvious she’d been before.

“I think I’ve just…” Y/n sighed, “Settled in. I mean, I’m enjoying being here.”

Rebecca smiled and squeezed Y/n’s arm, “I’m glad. You’re a superb addition.”

Out of the many bosses she’d had, Y/n had never known one as kind as Rebecca. She was glad they’d started spending time together.

Y/n glanced at the clock on the wall, “Better get going.”

“What’s on the agenda today?” Rebecca asked.

“This will be my third attempt at getting footage from training for the socials,” Y/n set her empty teacup on the coffee table and rose, “When I say ‘wish me luck,’ I mean light a candle.”

“Oh no,” Rebecca replied, “What’s prevented you so far?”

Y/n wasn’t sure how to answer. The first day she and the staff photographer had come down to the pitch, the only shots they’d gotten were of various players throwing up or laying in fetal position. The second day consisted of shots where none of the boys looked like they knew what they were doing. Plus, a few action mode captures of Isaac making a corner kick, which Y/n felt needed to be kept for insurance purposes. On top of all of that, Ted had decided to start inviting fans to observe training which made things more tense, knowing that there were spectators watching every move. Y/n wasn’t sure what, or who, she’d find on the pitch that day.

“Well, you wouldn’t tell Van Gogh how to paint,” Y/n stopped at the door and faced Rebecca, “And you wouldn’t tell Ted how to coach.”

Rebecca smiled knowingly, giving Y/n a little ‘good luck’ nod before they both braved their separate days.

—————————

Y/n rounded up Gavin, one of the photographers for the club, and headed out to the pitch. Training had already begun and Ted was in the midst of explaining an exercise.

“Hey,” Y/n said softly, greeting Trent who was observing from the railing.

“Hey,” Trent replied.

Y/n took the spot beside him, the two of them had developed an easy rapport. “What do we have today?”

Trent’s mouth opened and shut, unsure of how to describe what Ted had just set up. Rather than try, he simply nodded toward the team.

Y/n took a look at the Greyhounds. They were all clumped together, as usual. What was out of the ordinary were the red strings that seemed to be connecting one player to another, stemming from their…shorts?

“Where’s the string-“ Y/n questioned aloud, before the answer struck her, “Oh.”

Trent rubbed at his lower lip, “Yeah.”

Y/n turned to Gavin, who was waiting for instructions. “You can go ahead and go back in, Gavin, we’re not getting anything today.”

Once he’d been sent off, Y/n went back to watching the team. They moved awkwardly to their positions, never straying too far from one another. When Ted blew his whistle, they became even more clunky, yet still moving with lightning quick reflexes. Driven purely by fear.

Trent and Y/n watched, both of them slightly amused. At some point, Y/n quietly pulled out her phone. It was too memorable a moment to not save for the rest of eternity.

“I may have my journalistic integrity,” Trent leaned in and whispered, pointing to Y/n’s phone, “But that is fantastic blackmail material.”

“Oh, I know,” Y/n chuckled, “Or I’ll just play it when they need to be humbled.”

Cries of pain and panic popped up on different ends of the pitch. So far, they’d avoided the ultimate injury, but it stood to wonder how long they could go before someone-

“AH!”

The pitch fell silent, everyone’s breath stuck in their chests. All eyes fell on Jamie, who didn’t dare to move, his red string missing.

Dani went to his friend, holding fast as Jamie checked to make sure…everything was intact. When he held up a hand to signal things were fine, Dani sighed.

“It’s okay! His penis is okay!”

While everyone let out a breath, Y/n snorted. Not only was it just so mind-numbingly absurd, but she’d gotten the entire thing on camera.

Ted blew his whistle, taking one step forward and tripping on a string connecting two players. Trent and Y/n both covered their faces, trying hard not to laugh.

“Okay, fellas,” Ted called after giving several apologies, “I think we’ve given this about as much of a go as anything else. Let’s take a break, untangle those knots, and we’ll get back out after.”

“So…” Y/n turned to Trent, “What do you think? Full chapter?”

Trent shrugged, “Worth a mention, at least.”

—————————

Later in the afternoon, Y/n was in her office when a Twitter alert chimed from her phone. With the Arsenal match two days away, it was likely the Greyhounds would be trending. When she picked up her mobile, she was surprised to find it was Sam who was trending, not Richmond.

Y/n opened the app to find that the tweet Sam had recently made, condemning the handling of Portsmouth Harbor’s refugee situation, had turned into an exchange. The politician he’d mentioned had snapped back and essentially told Sam to shut up and play football. She’d gone so far as to call him mediocre.

Sam. Mediocre.

It made Y/n’s blood boil. How could someone supposed to lead and guide the country stoop to so low a level? And to take it out on someone like Sam? Empathic, earnest, fucking spectacularly talented, Sam?

It wasn’t often that Y/n acted on emotion alone. All decisions in her life were carefully thought out, not a single one made without an ample amount of consideration. But when she opened up the AFC Richmond Twitter account and typed three characters, she did so purely from her heart.

The tweet read: #24

—————————

A few hours later, the headlines started to pop up.

AFC Richmond Backs Obisanya in Heated Political Exchange

Obisanya vs. Barot: Richmond Weighs In

Richmond Goes Political: Sam Obisanya’s Team Denounces Brenda Barot

Y/n had never seen something fall apart so fast. She had made a tremendous mistake.

Sat in the seats of the training pitch, the headlines bounced around her head. In a moment of pure insanity, feeling defensive of Sam, she’d managed to make football political. Not only was Sam under fire, but so was AFC Richmond as a whole. How many times had she been taught to avoid situations like this? Every boss she’d ever had had instructed her to stay neutral on anything involving politics. Never mix personal with professional. With one tweet, she’d thrown all teaching to the wayside and essentially blown her career up.

“So…”

Jamie’s voice broke her out of her spinning thoughts. He was climbing the concrete steps, hands stuck in his sweatshirt pocket.

“Van Damme spotted you filmin’ this morning,” he said, “And the lads appointed me to come and appeal to your humanity, release the video to us.”

Y/n scoffed, “Uh-huh.”

“And I’m afraid,” Jamie scrunched his face and swayed back and forth, “I can’t take no for an answer.”

“I mean, the only person this really affects is you,” Y/n extended a hand out, “Everyone else came off looking pretty damn skilled.”

Jamie scoffed, “‘Scuse you, I wouldn’t pick on you if you were injured.”

“Almost injured,” Y/n rolled her eyes thoroughly, “I have the proof.”

“Bringin’ us back to…” Jamie threw out his hand and wiggled his fingers.

Y/n gave a tight lipped smile, “Yeah, well, I’ll have to turn over all the footage anyway when I’m fired. You’ll be safe then.”

Jamie squinted, “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Have you seen the headlines?”

The joke was officially over. Jamie walked down the aisle and dropped into the seat beside Y/n. “No,” he replied, waiting until she held up her phone with an article already pulled up, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she stuffed the device back in her coat pocket.

“But…” Jamie tried to connect the dots, “Why would you get sacked for a tweet?”

“Because I got personal,” Y/n explained, her eyes never leaving the pitch. It was nearing sunset, the whole field was illuminated with a golden glow. “You post something like that on your page, not your employer’s.”

Jamie watched Y/n’s mouth move, still not quite understanding the problem. Not because he lacked the logic to figure it out, but because…was there really a problem?

“Have you seen the pictures from last season?” He asked, “Of Sam and the Dubai Air thing? Us on the pitch with tape over our kits?”

In her extensive research before she’d started, Y/n had come across shots of the team, boycotting Dubai Air. She’d also seen his press conference afterwards, accusing the Nigerian government of corruption. The boys had all stood in solidarity with him.

“Yeah.”

“Caused a fuckin’ riot,” Jamie continued, “Some people loved us, some people hated us. We’re still here.”

“‘Cause if you mess up or cause a scandal, people forgive you because you’re Jamie Tartt,” Y/n gestured to him, “You’re irreplaceable, I’m expendable. Universities crank out hundreds of me each year, ready to replace the next one who screws up.”

Any other time, Jamie wouldn’t have turned down the chance to spend time on the ‘irreplaceable’ remark. But it was clear Y/n was truly hurting. She really thought she’d ruined things.

“I just,” Y/n rested her head in her hand, “I just couldn’t stand to see that asshole attack Sam like that. He didn’t do anything. I don’t think the man’s committed one sin in his life.”

“Prick,” Jamie joked, trying to get her to smile.

“I just got angry,” Y/n continued, “And I shouldn’t have. Not like that.”

“I really don’t think it’s all that bad,” Jamie replied.

Y/n sighed, shutting her eyes as she leaned back in her seat, “We’ll see what Rebecca says.”

“You’re not goin’ anywhere,” Jamie brushed the mere idea off, “Even if she sacks you, I’d walk out with ya. See how she likes that.”

Y/n chuckled, “Yeah, right.”

“No, I’m serious,” Jamie continued, “Pack up me things, follow you out, refuse to come back till they re-hired ya.”

She shot him a quirked brow.

“Yeah, probably not,” Jamie said, finally earning a proper laugh from Y/n, “But I’d support ya silently.”

“Wow, what a pal,” Y/n remarked.

“Hey,” Jamie nudged her elbow, “You’re gonna be fine.”

Pulling one hand out of his pocket, Jamie slid his arm around the back of Y/n’s chair, offering a hug.

With another match being struck to her boundaries, Y/n leaned in and let Jamie embrace her. She settled her head against his shoulder, absorbing the warmth he radiated and letting herself be comforted…just for a moment. Even if all things fell apart, for a few seconds, everything felt okay.

Her frown returned as Jamie’s hand slid down towards her coat pocket.

“I can feel you trying to take my phone,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie replied, blindly feeling around and now slipping his other arm around Y/n, “I need that video.”

“Jamie,” Y/n grunted as she twisted to the side, holding her phone out as far as possible.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie was now fully on her and trying to pin her down, “I’m sorry.”

“Jamie!” Y/n cried, as they wrestled one another into the next seat. It was a blessing there was no one around. They were a fucking sight.

—————————

It took Y/n a good five minutes to hype herself up enough to knock on Rebecca’s door. She took a few deep breaths, hopped up and down a couple times, before rapping her knuckles on the doorframe.

“Ah,” Rebecca greeted her with a reserved smile, “I was just about to ask you to come up.”

Y/n’s nervous smile dropped, “You were?”

“Yes,” Rebecca gestured to the chair across from hers, “I wanted to speak to you about the current headlines.”

“Rebecca,” Y/n held up both hands, walking quickly across the room, “Before you say anything, let me just say this…I am so incredibly sorry for what I did. It was stupid a-and emotional of me and I had no place posting that from the club’s account. It was unprofessional of me and I absolutely understand if you’d like to call Keeley and ask her to bring in someone else.”

Rebecca let her finish, her expression unreadable as Y/n rambled. It unsettled Y/n more to not know just how much disappointment she was feeling.

“Y/n,” Rebecca raised a hand, “You’re not fired.”

Her brows shot up, “I’m not?”

“Absolutely not,” Rebecca smiled warmly, “Far from it. I wanted to commend you for what you did.”

“My tweet?” Y/n finished.

“How that woman spoke to Sam is repulsive. And there’s many more that are supporting those same thoughts. Sam doesn’t deserve that and we, as a club, stand behind him 100%. Why shouldn’t we do so publicly?”

Y/n’s heart was beginning to beat a little less out of her chest.

“You did nothing wrong,” Rebecca assured, “And don’t you dare think for a second I’d be crazy enough to let you go.”

A force of breath escaped Y/n, the air she didn’t realize she’d been holding onto. She wasn’t used to so much compassion, nor so much personalism embedded in the workplace. It had once bothered her, now it was saving her.

“Thank you,” was all she felt she could say.

“Now,” Rebecca pressed both palms to her desk, “Don’t you have more papers to be pissing off?”

Y/n laughed, turning on her heel and heading for the door. She’d have made it to the hall, if a sudden theory hadn’t railroaded through her mind.

“Oh my gosh,” she spun around, “Was it Sam?”

Rebecca, always so perfectly collected, shot a finger Y/n’s way. “Out.”

Y/n left smiling, both at the discovery and with relief that for the time being, she was safe.

—————————

The Arsenal match came around, bringing Richmond another opportunity to break their unlucky streak.

As always, Rebecca, Keeley and Y/n were in the stadium’s suite, waiting in anticipation. Lately, Y/n hadn’t seen much of Keeley, what with Jack absorbing the lion’s share of her time.

Rebecca and Keeley had filled Y/n in on the issue at hand. Jack was apparently “love bombing” her girlfriend, showering her with gifts and grand gestures. Not only was it overwhelming Keeley, but it was tipping the scales unfairly.

“That is a little…extreme,” Y/n admitted, they’d just told her about the overflowing amount of daisies Jack had filled Keeley’s office with.

“Mmm,” Rebecca nodded and swallowed her mouthful of champagne, “At the beginning, Rupert bought me so many tulips for so long, his florist was able to buy a castle.”

Keeley’s face furrowed, “What?”

“I mean, it was in Scunthorpe,” Rebecca shrugged, “But still. A castle.”

“Well, I’m taking Jack out tonight,” Keeley said, “And if she tries to pay, then I will give her-“

“You’ll give her what?” Rebecca smiled.

Keeley paused before smirking, “Just the tip.”

“Okay,” Y/n finished the last of her wine, “I support this, but I’m gonna need to be a lot less sober to hear you talk about our boss like that.”

The women burst into snorts, Keeley clutching onto Y/n’s arm.

“Hello, everyone,” Higgins approached the group with another man in tow.

“Hello, Leslie,” Rebecca greeted.

“May I present-” Higgins began to make introductions, but Rebecca was one step ahead.

“Mr. Obisanya. Rebecca Welton. Lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise,” the man said, shaking her hand, “Samuel has told me so much about you.”

Rebecca’s grin spread a little, “Has he?”

“Yes,” Mr. Obisanya’s tone became more serious, “He has.”

“Cool,” Rebecca’s shoulders jumped up.

Keeley and Y/n watched the interaction plunge right into awkwardness. If Y/n hadn’t been certain in her theory that Sam and Rebecca had once been a thing, this was a grand confirmation.

“Oh, yeah!” Keeley broke the silence, jumping up and down, “Come on, you Greyhounds! Let’s go, Richmond!”

Y/n cheered in addition, trying to make the moment any less uncomfortable.

“I’m Keeley, by the way,” she reached out and took Mr. Obisanya’s hand, “Hi.”

Y/n did the same, “Y/n.”

“Hey,” Sam’s father greeted them, but his eyes drifted back to Rebecca, “Let’s go, Greyhounds.”

As Higgins wisked Mr. Obisanya off, Keeley and Y/n tugged Rebecca along to their seats. The KJPR girls acted as a barrier, sitting on either side of her.

As the boys came out on the pitch, Y/n wondered if all the insane training methods she’d watched over the week would pay off. All the sweat, blood, tears and vomit had to be worth something.

Or nothing

The Greyhounds were slamming into one another, missing each other’s signals, and basically acting like it was their first time on a pitch. When the fifteen minute break came around, it was a relief to have a few minutes off from watching the misery.

While Rebecca and Keeley were away getting another drink, Mr. Obisanya crossed the aisle to sit beside Y/n.

“I wanted to thank you,” he leaned in to be heard over the crowd, “For what you did for my son.”

“Oh,” Y/n was a little surprised he even knew about her blunder. She hadn’t even had the opportunity to talk with Sam about it. “It was nothing. Really.”

“No,” Mr. Obisanya shook his head, “It was not nothing. There are very few willing to stand up against the type of people who attacked him. Who are willing to speak out,” he pointed a finger towards Y/n’s chest, “But you did.”

Y/n wasn’t sure she had grapsed the true weight of what she’d done until then. Sam’s father took her hand between his and squeezed, smiling so very warmly.

When the second half came around, the Greyhounds came back out with more confidence. There was no feasible way for them to beat Arsenal, but there was plenty of time left to go down swinging.

Van Damme prevented a goal and tossed the ball off to Jan, who shot it over to Dixon. Dixon passed it infield to Jamie, who immediately kicked it to Sam, who gave it to Colin. Over and over they passed to one another, beautifully.

Y/n gripped the railing, nearly out of her seat as she watched.

The ball ended back with Jamie and he passed to Isaac. Isaac got it to Dani who brought it right back to Jamie. Bumbercatch received it, sending it to Goodman, and a lightning quick Jamie was in prime position to score a goal. Instead, he faked the other team out and kicked it back to Richard, who nailed the perfect goal.

Rebecca and Keeley sat in shock, but Y/n leapt to her feet, cheering with nothing but pride.

“That was incredible,” she exclaimed, her hands pressed to her lips.

“I don’t even know what happened,” Rebecca cried, breaking into a grin.

The match ended 3-1, Asrsenal, but it didn’t feel like a total loss for Richmond. They were back. Zava-less and proud, they were back.

After overseeing interviews, Y/n hurried down to the Greyhound bus before it left. She needed to talk to-

“Y/n!”

She turned to see Sam, hastening his steps to catch up to her.

“Hey,” she waved, “Oh my gosh! You guys were amazing!”

“Thank you,” Sam smiled, “I wanted to thank you for what you did.“

“No, no, no,” she shook her head and took hold of Sam’s arms, “You spoke out. That’s what matters.”

“Just the fact that you would do that,” Sam continued, “It meant a lot. I know you probably took some heat for it.”

Y/n chuckled, “Not as much as you’d think.”

“Well, thank you,” Sam extended his arms, unsure of whether it was alright to hug but feeling all the kinship needed for one.

Y/n didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around Sam’s shoulders.

“I’ll see you Monday,” Sam said as they pulled away from one another.

“See you Monday,” Y/n patted his arm once more before heading back towards the stadium.

—————————

Jamie, already sat in the bus, watched out the tinted windows as Sam and Y/n hugged. He’d been glad when she’d come back from her meeting with Rebecca smiling, the two of them passing one another in the hall. He’d even been remorsefully happy when she waved her phone at him, a reminder that the Greyhounds would forever have to be nice to her, lest the Red String incident go public.

Jamie was happy, all around, that Y/n had settled into Richmond.

And he couldn’t figure out why he was the tiniest bit jealous that she’d come down to find Sam and not him.

——————

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

#ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #rebecca welton x reader #keeley jones x reader #heartfirst

529 notes · View notes

merrylark · 1 year

Text

Trent Crimm’s journey from flinching every time Roy yells

to ‘shouting is Roy’s love language’

is something that can actually be so personal

#ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso tv #ted lasso parallels #ted lasso #trent crimm #roy kent #dottie lasso #useless tumblr gif search function won’t find me a gif of that second moment #even though I’ve seen one and I know the maker’s username #*throws things*

677 notes · View notes

thetarttfuldickhead · 1 year

Text

Okay, okay, love that we’ve got a canonical explanation for Jamie being cuddly as fuck and for him being very full of himself! But like, without his dad’s nasty stuff getting him all twisted and mean, it’s just great confidence? “I don’t think you understand how psychologically healthy that actually is” and all that. Give this man some cuddles and compliments and he will Thrive and be the Sweetest.

#mummy georgie you raised one hell of a boy #lost his way for a little bit #due to certain dads that shall remain unnamed #but he bounced back so beautifully #and so much of that must have come from you #the sweetness that he hid for a bit but - all things considered - found quite easily again #roy please take notes #your love language might be shouting #but jamie wants cuddles and compliments #fortunately jamie will just take them if you don't dole out willingly #so it all works out #jamie tartt #georgie tartt #doubt that's her last name but we go with it for now #3x11 #ted lasso spoilers

209 notes · View notes

littleredwing89 · 1 year

Text

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 1

PRINCE OF GOTHAM

CEO!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut.

A/N: Please remember this is a revised version of “The Intern” but swapped out Roman for Jason. Some other characters are changed too, hopefully you’ll enjoy the cameos etc. I’ve tweaked parts of the story here and there so it suits better. I hope you all enjoy xoxo much love. Let me know if you want a tag list / to be on the tag list.

***

Roy lounged back in his leather office chair and smirked as Jason sauntered in without knocking. “And what do I owe this displeasure?”.

“Just wanted to see how things were going, you know, it is my company after all”, Jason glanced around the office. Roy liked to keep things minimal, although the addition of the little cactus was new. An almost feminine touch. He made a note to question him about that later. He’d never known Harper to take an interest in plants before.

As the office door closed behind him, arguing erupted outside, barely concealed by the walls. He raised his eyebrow and looked through the window seeing a short, stumpy man in a suit become red and blotchy in the face.

“I don’t know why we still pay that moron”, Roy grunted and waved his hand to the disagreement outside. The stubby man, Eric, was tugging at his tie as a more feminine voice dressed him down confidently.

“I can have HR carry out a performance review if you’d like”.

Jason glanced out between the blinds and saw you storm around one of the desks, straight into his vision, hands flying violently as you spoke. He swallowed as his eyes followed you; a tight fitting grey pencil skirt paired with a wine silk blouse. He raised an eyebrow in interest. Your hair was pinned up in a messy bun, strands falling down to frame your petite face. Lips painted a deep shape of rouge. You laughed venomously before pointing to one of the free standing boards, a colourful diagram adorning it. Eric shook his head and turned away, only infuriating you more. Jason smirked, enjoying the little show.

“She’s been here 5 minutes…down boy”, Roy chuckled and grabbed something from his printer. Scrawling his signature across the bottom.

“You say that like you'd wait even 30 seconds”, Jason scoffed, a little embarrassed and slightly impressed at how well Roy could read him.

Roy looked up from the papers and grinned, “I give at least 3 to 5 working days as a courtesy before I pounce”.

Jason felt his stomach churn at the thought. He spun around quicker than he would have liked and raised an eyebrow, “Oh...so you’ve tried then?”.

“What’s it to you if I have?”, Roy grinned, noticing Jason’s reaction.

“I want to see if she has taste”, Jason quipped and turned his attention back to the escalating discussion outside. Hoping to hide the pink tinting his cheeks. You’d now dragged the whiteboard across to Eric, jabbing at one of the PowerPoint slides before rubbing your temples in frustration.

Roy scoffed to hide the laughter before getting out of his seat strolling across to Jason to hand him the signed papers, “You know, she’s the woman that saved you 500 grand last week”.

Jason frowned upon taking the paperwork from Roy, “I don't remember hearing about it”.

The white haired man shrugged to the shouting, “Take a wild guess why, Todd”.

“He played it as his own victory?”, Jason’s gaze fell back to you. Eric was crossing over your work on the board with an ugly red marker, sneering at you. Jason felt his temper surge at the blatant disregard for your hard work and effort. His brow creased at the unfamiliar emotions swimming in the back of his mind.

Roy slapped him on the shoulder suddenly, a dark grin on his lips, “Oh! So you do have a brain”.

Jason rolled his eyes, rolling his broad shoulders, “Contrary to popular belief, yes I do”.

Roy laughed deeply as he watched you with Jason through the window, your irritation bubbling over as you repeatedly jabbed your pen to the graphs on the board, voice becoming louder with every word, “She’s a real pistol”.

“I can see”, Jason hummed appreciatively as you stalked off towards the coffee room, the skirt pulling tight against you, highlighting the curve of your ass perfectly.

Eric looked flustered as the rest of the staff in the room stared at him following the heated exchange. He shouted something to them, causing them all to bow their heads behind their computer screens. Roy grumbled something under his breath Jason couldn’t make out. Eric turned towards Roy’s office and stiffened when he saw both men watching him. Jason smirked at him, giving a subtle wave before turning to Roy, “You know what, I will send HR down this week to investigate”.

***

You checked yourself in the mirror of the elevator again, nerves making your stomach somersault. The dress had been an extravagant splurge but the moment you laid your eyes on it, you knew you had to have it. It was a floor length, backless crimson dress with a daring thigh split. You ran your hands down the front of the fabric, the satin soothing your clammy palms.

Your hair was curled loosely and draped down your bare shoulders, lips a dark red to match your dress. Briefly, you hoped, you hadn’t gone overboard with your outfit. The invitation had said ‘formal wear’. The elevator dinged and before you could think too much, the doors slid open revealing you to the party. You heard someone gasp in the distance and that’s when the entire room turned to your direction.

You were used to people staring at you in the office because of your fiery attitude but this was different. You felt your skin prickle. An odd sensation driving through your nerves. Everyone had paused to stare at you as you stepped into the room. The music faded in the back of your mind, replaced by the hammering of your heart. You straightened yourself and strode into the room with all the false confidence you could muster.

His eyes. Jason. You could feel them burning more than anyone else’s. He’d stopped mid sentence when you entered the room, cigarette left smoking in his hand. He was surrounded by his executive team, including your area manager, Mr Harper. Whilst you felt heat spreading across your cheeks, you felt somewhat pleased you’d stunned your loud mouthed CEO into silence. Roy had slapped Jason on the back, a dark smirk on his face drawing his attention away from you. He glared at Roy before taking a long drag from his cigarette, continuing with his conversation as though nothing had happened. The group of suited men dissolved into barks of laughter.

You needed a large drink. Preferably a strong one too if you wanted to last the night. You headed straight towards the bar, as fast as your towering heels would allow.

———

Jason patted one of the executives on the shoulder, making his excuses before striding across to you as you leaned against the bar, your bare back on full display. He swallowed thickly, you looked majestic under the glittering fairy lights draped around the room.

He settled next to you at the bar, clearing his throat before speaking, the deep timber of his voice rattled your core, “I think...I've seen your face before”.

You rolled your eyes at the terrible opening line before turning to face him. The black suit fitted him perfectly, showcasing his broad shoulders, his blood red tie knotted tightly against the collar of his crisp white shirt.

“Probably during one of your lonely nights over a bottle of chardonnay”, you lazily waved your hand at him.

Jason smirked at your attitude and laughed, “You think I’m chatting you up princess?”.

You pursed your lips together, nodding, “It certainly sounded that way to me and I really don’t know what else you would do after swaggering away from that crowd just to talk to lil’ old me”.

“I simply had to talk to the woman who stunned the room into silence”, his smooth voice sent shivers over your skin, oozing charm. You imagined it worked on every woman he encountered. It almost worked on you.

“Very smooth Mr Todd”, you teased and tried to wave the bartender down with no luck. You sighed and cursed under your breath.

Jason clicked his fingers, drawing the attention of the waiter immediately, “Two large glasses of Malbec please”, he winked at you when the bartender reached to the top shelf of liquor, “I know who you are”, Jason gave you a devilish smile, “You’re the 500 grand woman”.

“Y/N”, you winked and wiggled your finger at him in a joking fashion. The grin on your face widened when the wine was set down in front of you both. The rich, spicy smell drifted up your nose.

You dug your hand into your purse but Jason shook his head, “It’s on me”.

“Oh”, you clicked your tongue playfully, “You’re too kind”, you smirked at him.

Jason wouldn’t admit it, but he knew exactly who you were. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind since he laid his eyes on you last month. Your spitfire attitude had spread through the office and you’d made quite a name for yourself. Cutting impressive deals and smart talking anyone who tried to shoot you down. The only thing Jason had lacked was an opportunity to talk to you.

He held up his glass of whiskey and looked down at you, his dark eyes sweeping over your face, “A toast”, he leaned down towards you, his hot breath fanned across your cheek, “To Y/N”, his voice dipped lower, a gravelly rasp, “The most beautiful, enticing woman in the room”.

“You forgot to add smart”, your voice sounded more breathy than you intended, giving Jason an idea of the effect he was having over you.

He winked, “The most beautiful, enticing, smart mouthed woman in the room”.

“To me”.

You clinked your glass with his before bringing it to your lips, taking a long sip. The alcohol burnt your throat in the best way, the deep red of your lipstick staining the rim of the glass. Jason couldn’t help but stare at the smudge, wondering if it would stain as nicely on his skin.

Downing the drink in one, Jason placed the glass on the bar, the bartender rushed over quickly, leaving the bottle of red wine next to Jason before scurrying off. Your tongue darting across your lips, savouring the taste of the luxurious drink.

Jason watched you closely, you felt alive under his burning stare, “I hope you’re enjoying working for The Iceberg Lounge”.

“Of course, Sir”.

He swallowed the growl threatening to escape his lips. The way you said it. The way your lips wrapped around the word Sir, how easily it rolled off your tongue. He took a deep breath. You riled him up with little to no effort.

You glanced around the gala, almost everyone from The Iceberg had turned up. Hundreds of people were braying in the room. Dancing, drinking, laughing and screeching. The music thudded in the background, the bass thrumming through your body. You had to hand it to Jason, he certainly knew how to host a company party. Well a man in charge of a chain of bars should really.

Jason gripped the bottle of wine swiftly, “It's getting rather lively in here princess, fancy a drink and a smoke on the balcony?”.

You nodded, grabbing your clutch from the bar. You sashayed through the crowd easily, Jason following close behind you. Slinking through the throes of people, you smirked to yourself. You were playing with fire but, you had to admit, you liked the heat that came with it.

———

When you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night breeze whipped around your body, nipping the bare skin on show. You shuddered slightly, looking up at the night sky. You were high enough that you could finally see the stars. They twinkled innocently, making you smile to yourself.

Jason placed the bottle of red on a nearby table, looking across at you. You looked even more stunning under the midnight stars. He coughed deeply, working his way across to the railing you were leaning against, “I’m surprised that you came alone, I find it hard to believe you struggled to get a date”.

You turned to him, your chandelier earrings dangling in the breeze, they captured the starlight and flickered elegantly, “I like coming to these things alone”, you mused, a coy smirk on your painted lips, “I like to see who else has come alone”.

“Oh”, he inched closer, the soft brush of his suit jacket against your bare arm made you flush, “So you’re on the lookout?”.

“Maybe”, your fingers wrapped around the metal bar and you looked over the edge. The bustle of Gotham City never ceased to amaze you, even at this height. And there you were, gazing at it with its unofficial Prince standing next to you.

Jason grinned, letting a cool finger stroke down your upper arm, “I might be able to help with that”.

You smirked, looking up catching his heated stare, “Are you going to introduce me to one of your rich friends?”.

“Trust me princess, they’re not your type”, he scoffed, his eyes tracing down the neckline of your dress, mapping every inch of your tantalising skin. He noticed a faint sparkle of glitter on your skin, along with a subtle scent of vanilla invading his senses.

Moving away from the balcony edge, you stepped into his space, fingers grasping the end of his tie, playing with it gently, “And what is my type?”.

Jason felt an unmatched desire burning in his gut when your hands toyed with his tie. He took a deep breath before cornering you into the balcony railing. His eyes were hooded with lust, “I know exactly what it is”.

The bitter metal pressed into your lower back and you bit back the moan creeping up your throat, desperate to escape. You snaked your hand up his solid chest and straightened out his shirt collar, “Well don't keep me in suspense, Sir”.

It was taking all of his self restraint not to bend you over the balcony and rail you from behind, especially when you kept calling him Sir. His hands gripped the balcony bar behind you, knuckles white from the force. Jason smirked, his voice dropping several octaves, “I can show you instead princess”.

The heat from his body was addictive and you leaned into it without thinking, breath catching in your throat. His aftershave was intoxicating and you felt your mind spinning. Jason pulled back suddenly and offered you his hand.

You slipped your hand into his and bit your plump bottom lip, “People are going to see us leaving together”.

“So?”, Jason shrugged, “Then they know we're going to have some fun, aren't we princess?”.

You shivered, letting his words drip over you. Oh the night was yet to begin and your heart was thrumming with excitement. You secured your fingers through his and started to pull him back inside so you could both leave.

“Of course Sir”.

The second you were back inside, Jason’s free hand wound around your waist, guiding you towards the elevators. He leaned down, hot breath fanning down your sensitive neck, “Yours or mine?”.

You pressed the down button on the lift pad a little more enthusiastically than you would have liked. You felt him smirk behind you, fingers digging into your flesh.

“Mine”, you whispered before slipping into the cart when the doors sprung open.

———

The taxi ride back to your apartment was filled with subtle touches and increasing tension. You’d expected Jason to pounce on you the second you slid into the backseat but he didn’t, simply keeping one arm around your shoulder, the other resting on your exposed knee drawing feather light circles.

“Keep the change”, Jason muttered, shoving a wad of cash through the divider before helping you out of the car.

His hand pressed into your lower back, rough fingers scraping against your soft skin. You shuddered, excited to feel his touch exploring the rest of your body. You led him through the marble floored lobby and up a flight of stairs, stopping outside of your door to retrieve your keys from your clutch.

His lips pressed into the junction of your neck, tongue lapping over your skin which flushed rapidly under his touch, “Hurry up princess”. You felt Jason’s hand stroke up the front of your dress, palming your breast greedily before pinching your nipple.

You gasped at the rush of sensations, almost dropping your keys. The overload of his touches made you shudder and your eyes close, head dipping forward.

“Unless you want me to fuck you out here for everyone to see, I suggest you get that door open”, he growled, lips teasing the shell of your ear. His cock was straining against his suit trousers as he brushed it against your ass, groaning quietly.

Steadying your hands and your frayed mind, you slotted the key into your door, opening it as quickly as possible. Before you had any time to think, Jason crushed you against it, slamming it shut, his lips plastered to yours in a frenzied heat.

You moaned, the noise swallowed by his mouth as his tongue glided along yours. He could still taste the wine on your lips, mingling with your own sweet flavour. You dropped your bag and ran your hands up his chest, reaching his tie. Tugging it hard, you loosened it, enough to free him of it and start unbuttoning his shirt.

Jason smirked and sunk his teeth into your bottom lip, enjoying the gasp of pleasure you released. You looked into his darkened gaze, giving him a sweet innocent smile before pushing him back against the hallway wall. His eyebrows lifted in surprise but he allowed you control, stroking the pads of his fingers up and down your spine.

With the last button popped open, your nails dragged down to his belt, unfastening it slowly, licking your lips.

“I bet this is what you thought about didn’t you?”, you teased, unzipping his trousers and pushing them down, slowly, “Me on my knees for you, swallowing your thick cock”.

You palmed him through his boxers, watching his face twist with held back desire. Your lips curved and you dropped to your knees, eye level with his hard shaft.

Jason groaned quietly, fingers tangling in your hair, gripping tighter when your lips ghosted over the outline of his throbbing cock.

“Princess”, he warned huskily, voice laced heavy with lust.

The stings of pain as he pulled your hair shot down to your core, lighting up all of your nerves. You mewled and mouthed his tip, “I thought about it too…Sir”.

His hips rutted towards your face at your words and you grinned. You pulled his boxers down slowly, watching as his cock sprung free, slapping against his rippled abs. Your mouth watered at the sight, aching for him to sink into both your throat and pussy.

You nipped along his thick, muscled thighs, your lipstick smearing as you neared his pulsing length. He tensed with each bite and growled loudly, cock twitching with excitement.

“Princess if you keep-”, the words died in his throat when the wet heat of your mouth encased his cock in one swift motion. His head flung back, eyes scrunched shut at the feeling.

You purred around his shaft, tongue fluttering along the underside, tracing the vein there. Your hands stroked up and down his thighs as you worked your lips around him. Bobbing your head back and forth.

Each time you whined around him, the vibrations buzzed up his spine, sending his mind into a delirious haze of pleasure.

“Fuck!”, he grunted and fisted his hands into your hair, thrusting forward into your hot mouth.

The head of his cock nudged the back of your throat and you gagged around his cock, whimpering with desire. He caught his breath and looked down at you, eyes black with passion.

“Your lips look perfect wrapped around my big cock”, he smirked and thrust harder into your mouth, the wet, sinful sounds echoing in the hallway of your apartment.

Your pussy was soaked and each time you shuffled, the lace of your thong rubbed against your clit. The sensation made your skin flush but it wasn’t enough. You needed him.

Jason sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you swallow his cock. Your once perfect lipstick was smudged all over your mouth. Some stained his length. He groaned as you pulled back, tracing your tongue over the slit of his tip, hands kneading his inner thighs perfectly.

“Sir-please…”, your voice was raw as you spoke, wide eyes searching his, “I want you”.

He let his thumb run over your bottom lip, enjoying the way your lips wrapped around it without second thought, sucking softly. Jason dipped it down your chin before hooking it underneath, “Come here”.

You stood slowly, adjusting the strap of your dress which had fallen down your arm. Jason bracketed your hips and lifted you easily, letting your toned legs wrap around his waist. His lips moulded to yours, kissing you deeply. He could faintly taste himself on your tongue, the bitter arousal sparking through his body.

———

He carried you with ease through your apartment, occasionally banging into things along the way.

“Second d-door”, you moaned loudly when he bit your shoulder, “on the-the right”.

When you finally made it into your bedroom, after several stops along the way with Jason shoving you into the nearest wall, he dropped you down onto the bed.

You inched up the bedding slowly, watching him with hooded eyes as he stripped off the rest of his clothes. You made no show of hiding how much you admired his finely sculpted body. You licked your lips as his muscles flexed when he knelt onto the bed, grabbing one of your ankles.

“You’re wearing too many clothes”, he complained as his fingers travelled up your bare leg before finally reaching the hem of the dress.

“What are you going to do-”, the tear of fabric was loud in the room, Jason’s face was knitted with desire.

“Jason!!”, you scolded loudly as he continued to rip the flimsy material off your body, leaving you bare beneath him in a skimpy lace thong. You watched as he threw the offending material to the floor, his predatory gaze turning back to you.

“Get on your knees”, he commanded, ignoring your protests about your once beautiful dress, “Now”.

You wanted to argue, but the twisting coil in the pit of your stomach made you comply readily. You saw his pleased smirk before you rested your head against your forearms, pressing your ass and core to him.

He whistled appreciatively, slapping his hand over one of your cheeks. You moaned wantonly, muffling your cries into the flesh of your arm.

“Don’t you dare”, he growled and spanked you harder, your skin becoming hot and prickly, “I want to hear every sound you make”.

The thong you had on framed your ass perfectly, barely covering your glistening pussy. He smoothed two fingers through your silken core, sinking them into you slowly. Jason grunted when your walls tried to pull him further.

He removed his hand and spread your wetness along the back of your thigh, pushing your thong to the side. You whined in protest at the loss of sensation and pushed back. Jason gripped your hips tightly, halting your movement, “Tell me what you want princess”.

Heat crept over your flushed skin as he teased you, the tip of his cock sweeping through your sopping folds. You ignored his question and circled your hips, mewling his name.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back forcefully, teeth grazing the sensitive spot on your neck, “I said, tell me what you want”.

“Your cock”, your moans were depraved as you felt the overload of euphoria thrumming through your veins, “I want you to fuck me”.

Jason kissed the spot behind your ear, sucking a mark there before muttering, “Where are your manners princess?”.

You dug your nails into the sheets below in frustration before panting desperately, “Please Sir, please fuck me”.

He chuckled darkly behind you, tugging your hair again, before sinking his cock into your pussy fully. You cried out at the delicious sting as he stretched your walls with his thick girth.

Jason gave you no time to adjust before slamming his hips back into yours harshly, keeping your hair wound around his fist as he thrust into you.

The air was filled with the sounds of your debauched moans and his skin slapping into yours. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your first orgasm hit you without any warning.

Jason cursed behind you as your velvet walls spasmed around his cock, pulling him deeper. His thrusts became shallow as he drove harder into you, working you through your climax.

Changing the angle of his thrusts, the head of his shaft slammed against your g spot repeatedly as he ploughed faster into your pussy. You sobbed his name into the bed sheets, gripping them tightly. You were certain your nails were going to rip through the fabric.

“That’s it princess”, he coaxed, tugging your hair back, “I know you’ve got another one for me”. He snaked his hand around your front, rubbing over your clit furiously.

“Jason!”, you cried his name loudly, vision going blank as he fucked you into another powerful climax. You felt his cock throbbing inside you as he fell into his own release, emptying himself in your tight core.

“Fuck!”, he rasped, releasing your hair and holding onto your hips as his thrusts slowed down to a complete still.

Pulling out of you, he groaned under his breath as he saw some of his seed drip down your folds. You collapsed down onto the bed, flat on your front, fighting to catch your breath. Jason dropped down next to you, relaxing on his back, his own chest heaving with deep pants.

You hadn’t been fucked like that in a long time. If ever. With the last of your energy, you rolled onto your side, a sly grin on your face, “Got time for another?”. Your fingers stroked down the grooves of his abs, following the dark trail of hair.

Jason grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, nipping at the pulse on your wrist, “Definitely”.

He pulled you on top of him, his hands moving up to cup your breasts as your lips danced together again, drinking in each other. You knew he would only be here for the night but, you’d be damned if you weren’t going to make the most of it.

***

#jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #ceo!jason todd x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood smut #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd x reader insert #red hood x reader insert

713 notes · View notes

lokiiied · 1 year

Text

“shouting is roy’s love language” so true trent crimm, i know what you are bestie

#trent crimm #roy kent #jamie tartt #roy x jamie #ted lasso #ted lasso 3x11

336 notes · View notes

babytarttdoodoo · 1 year

Note

hi! prompt for Roy and Jamie (as a ship or platonic is up to you!) if it interests you, could I request Roy getting protective over somebody hitting on and making Jamie uncomfortable at a bar?

I’m finding that Roy is a lot of fun to write. The man has presence. (There a LOT of *fruity* language in this one.)

Written as early relationship Roy/Jamie. Thank you for the prompt and hope you enjoy!

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

—

“Excuse me!”

Jamie turned around at the shout and grip on his arm, half a smile on his face from laughing with the bartender as he ordered.

A young woman was grinning at him excitedly, bouncing a little when his attention focused on her. She fluffed her hair with the hand that wasn’t squeezing his bicep.

“Alright, darling?” Jamie gave her a quick once over, expecting a request for a selfie if she happened to be into football.

“Are you Jamie? From Lust Conquers All?”

Ah.

He chuckled a bit and nodded, giving her his best photoshoot smile. You have to be nice to the fans, after all.

“Yep, guilty!”

“I fucking knew it!” she crowed, pressing in closer. Jamie felt the edge of the bar dig into his back. “I told my friends it was you!”

“Oh, you out with your mates, then?” Jamie glanced behind her, trying to spot a group that might be waiting to pull her back away. No one stood out and she ignored his question completely.

“It was a total fix, you getting voted off! You were well more fit than Danthony. He barely got his kit off.”

Right. Okay, then.

“Nah, he were a nice enough lad, actually.” Jamie told her, keeping it friendly and gently trying to pull his arm away. “Listen, d’you want a photo or…?”

“Don’t you think I look like Amy?”

“Eh…” She did, a bit, if Jamie really thought about it. It might have just been the blonde hair and hoop earrings, though. And that didn’t detract from it being a fucking weird question.

“Need a tray for your drinks, mate?” Jamie turned back to the bartender at the (very welcome) interruption and felt the woman’s hand shift from his arm to his chest with the movement.

He grit his teeth and gave the guy setting out his round a tight smile and nod as her polished fingernails scraped the skin exposed by his mostly open shirt.

“Shit, you didn’t let yourself go after the show, did you?” she asked, staring at his bared muscles and seemingly oblivious to any concept of personal space. “Buy me a drink?”

“Oh, er, no thanks.”

“Come off it.” She pouted at him and squeezed in closer, standing practically between his legs. “You can’t tell me I’m not your type.”

Jamie swallowed hard, glancing around now for his own friends. But the team were sequestered away in the VIP section, waiting on him returning with their orders.

“Look, sweetheart, I’m sure you’re lovely, but I’m currently spoken for.”

“Didn’t stop you on the show.”

“Fucking hell.” Jamie had to laugh. This whole thing was ridiculous. Even at the height of his prickiest moments, he’d known when to take a hint - apparently that memo was not universally received.

There was no room to move away from her, either. The club was heaving with people enjoying their Friday night and the crowd around the bar penned him in on all sides. A jostle from the group behind them had the woman pressed right up against his front.

She grinned, taking his incredulity and the sudden contact as a good sign.

“Oi, Tartt.” Oh shit.

The movement in the crowd had not, apparently, been caused by inebriated partiers trying to get closer to the bar. Rather, it had been Roy Fucking Kent pushing his way through to find out what was taking so long.

If panic at the thought of potentially causing a scene had been playing at the edges of Jamie’s mind, the idea of Roy seeing some random woman plastered all over him in a dark club dialled it up to a full-blown catastrophe.

This Thing™ between them was still fresh and new (and a bit lovely). He wasn’t sure it could weather presumed infidelity and a tabloid shitshow just yet.

Roy was frowning, no surprises there. His dark eyes went from Jamie’s face, to the new attachment on his chest, and back again. “Who the fuck is this?”

She bristled at the dismissive tone. “Who are you? His dad?”

Jamie winced. Ouch.

And the thing was, he wasn’t scared of Roy’s reaction. He hadn’t been properly scared of Roy for years. But, objectively, he knew that the man before him cut a pretty intimidating figure when he wanted to.

Dressed all in black under the strobing lights of a nightclub, he looked like a solid shadow with anger issues. Crossing his arms and raising his voice to be heard was all it took for a good metre radius to clear out around him, defying the laws of both physics and London nightlife.

Jamie was suddenly struck by the memory of Roy striding into a club, headbutting Colin, and giving them all a telling off. He’d been scary in that moment, and Jamie knew he’d had to admit to himself that night that his Kent crush was not as dead and buried as he’d hoped.

“Get the fuck off of him, you nutty arsemonger.”

Between her shock at the colourful insult and the extra room to manoeuvre, Jamie managed to extricate himself without much further fuss and snatched up the ready tray of drinks to use as a barrier.

“You can’t talk to me like that!” she seethed, cheeks flushed and hands gone to fists at her sides, her grip on Jamie forgotten.

“I can do a hell of a lot worse,” Roy growled. “Bugger off, before I call security.”

Sensing defeat, and perhaps the phone cameras no doubt being whipped out around them, the woman gave Jamie one last leering, disappointed look before stalking off in the opposite direction of Roy.

Jamie slumped in relief until he caught his (boyfriend?)’s gaze. Roy’s face was unreadable. He just stared at Jamie for a moment longer, then turned away.

“Come on, then. Been waiting fucking ages.”

Suddenly unsure if he’d been right to dismiss fear so quickly, Jamie followed along behind him, focusing on not spilling anything while his mind whirred incessantly.

They rounded the curtain that separated the VIP room from the rest of the venue and a cheer went up at the sight of a fresh round. Jamie set his burden down quickly, accepting the thanks of his teammates while constantly glancing over to the corner where Roy had settled to brood.

Grabbing their drinks, he made his way over and cautiously sat beside him.

“... Roy?”

“Are you alright?” Well, that wasn’t what Jamie had expected. Especially since the words sounded like they’d been dragged from Roy’s throat by force. “Be fucking honest.”

“Erm, yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thanks.” Jamie licked his lips nervously. “Why?”

Roy shut his eyes tight and sighed heavily. “Jesus Christ. Because you just had some tart’s hands all over you and she clearly wouldn’t take ‘no’ for a fucking answer.”

“Oh.” Jamie shrugged and looked down at his glass, tapping his thumbnails against the rim. “Used to it, ain’t I? Are you alright? Cause, being honest, I don’t know if you’re angry at me or not and it’s kind of freaking me out.”

His fidgeting stilled when Roy’s hand found his knee and squeezed.

“I’m not angry at you, Jamie.”

At the much softer tone, Jamie risked looking at him again and found Roy watching him with a pinched expression.

“I am wondering why you didn’t just tell her to piss off sooner.”

“It weren’t like I encouraged her!” Jamie protested.

“I’m not saying you did. Believe it or not, I have had my share of mental fans having a grope over the years.” Jamie fought down a flush of outrage and jealousy at that. “You don’t have to be fucking nice to them, though. You, fuck, you shouldn’t be ‘used to it’.”

Unable to resist, Jamie leaned in and kissed away Roy’s scowl.

“You’re sweet.” he murmured, smiling at the gruff protest he got in response. “No, you are. Deal with it.”

With a sigh, he leaned into Roy’s side and organised his thoughts.

“After I did that reality show, most of my brand deals and that just… went away.” He felt Roy shift beside him but the grip on his knee stayed steady, so much nicer than the hand on him earlier had been. “I got trashed online for acting like a prick and no one wanted to touch me. Not even City. Fuck, I had to beg Ted for another chance here.”

Roy knew most of this, of course. He even had a clearer idea now of why exactly Jamie had risked his football career for Lust Conquers All.

“I just. Everything’s better now. Life is fucking mint. But I know that all it takes is one shitty tweet about me being an arsehole or a dodgy video taken out of context and, boom. It’s viral and I’m untouchable again.”

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” The quiet exhalation made Jamie huff a laugh. Roy took a swig of his beer before speaking again. “First of all, we’re not going to let anything like that happen. And by ‘we’ I mean that entire gaggle of idiots, plus me, plus Keeley and Beard and Rebecca and Higgins and, fuck, even Nate these days.

“Someone says shit about you, all of Richmond will be up in arms to fight them about it, alright?”

He waited for Jamie to nod in acknowledgement before continuing,

“And second - I never had to deal with all this shit. The worst I’ve had is the press camped outside my house after some messy breakup or fight on the pitch. I don’t know how you lads do it with all the tweeting and posting and blogging you’re supposed to keep up with. It’s fucking exhausting just hearing about it.”

(Jamie very maturely refrained from making the obvious jokes about how ancient Roy sounded.)

“So if me doing shit like that -” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the bar. “Ever makes things worse for you, then I’m fucking sorry and you need to tell me.”

That was… genuinely very touching. Jamie snuggled in closer, throat tight.

“And finally,” Roy went on, pressing a kiss to head on his shoulder. “Your consent fucking matters, Jamie. If someone makes you uncomfortable, be as much of a prick as you like and damn the consequences.”

Jamie laughed again and shifted away to grin properly at Roy. “Is that you giving me blanket permission, coach?”

In response, Roy just gave him the middle finger, face hilariously deadpan. It really shouldn’t have made Jamie melt like it did.

He leaned in again, feeling safe in the relative privacy of their booth, and kissed Roy slow and deep. They were both breathing hard when he broke away and smirked.

“Maybe next time we go out, I’ll get to be the one prying some MILF off of you. Then you’ll find out exactly how much of a prick I can be.”

#this got serious sorry #my fic #fic prompts #jamie tartt #roy kent #ted lasso

190 notes · View notes

issdisgrace · 9 months

Text

MY 2023 RECAP THING

Hello everyone, I've come to you all to look back at some of my posts from this year. I will go over which fics and/or headcanons currently have the most upvotes by the month that I posted them in. I will also be sharing some fics/headcanons I think deserve more love and fics/headcanons of my mine are my personal favorites. Then I will shout out a couple of people before giving my final thoughts. Hope you all enjoy this and have a good new year.

Starting in January, I posted 3 fics and 3 headcanons. But there can only be top three and those are 141 & Los Vaqueros getting saved after shit fell on them winning with 1061 upvotes, Lingerie cod men would wear on their honeymoon with 951 upvotes, and Racoon look alike with 639 upvotes.

Now on to Febuary. I posted 6 fics and 4 headcanons. And the top three are Cod men with a s/o that age regresses with 576 upvotes, For your fucking information with 552 upvotes, and Good boy at 503 upvotes.

Next up is March. I posted 2 fics and 2 headcanons in this month. The top three being 141 meeting Price's heavily tattooed & piericed s/o with 844 upvotes. Young dumb and in love with 372 upvotes, and Jason Vorhees with a tall dom s/o with 304 upvotes.

In April I only posted 1 fic and 1 headcanon. Meaning there is only top two those being 141 & Los Vaqueros reactions to you giving them a random gift with 872 upvotes and Rock and roll legend with 706 upvotes.

Similair to May I only posted 1 headcanon in May. So we only have a top one which is Diego Hargreeves NSFW headcanons with 124 upvotes.

Then in June I posted 3 fics and 1 headcanon. And our top three are Bite with 835 upvotes, Sexy army uniform with 555 upvotes, and Laundry day at 305 upvotes.

Next in the month of July, I posted 1 fic and 3 headcanons. The top three being Fucking Wesker, Leo, and Carlos in their office at 211 upvotes, Sleep aid with 76 upvotes, and Lingerie I think Jamie Tartt would wear at 20 upvotes.

Now in August I posted 1 fic and 4 headcanons. But our top three are Random SFW & NSFW Slasher hcs with 509 upvotes, 4 times Mr. Handsy struck with 303 upvotes, and 141 & Los Vaqueros with a chubby bf with 223 upvotes.

Then in September I posted 3 fics and 1 headcanon. But out of these 4 the top three are 141's Hitman "friend" with 330 upvotes, 141 with a s/o that smokes Mary Jane with 324 upvotes, and After a long day with 113 upvotes.

Next in October I posted 7 fics and 5 headcanons. However the top three are, Slashers with a s/o that uses humor to cope with 273 upvotes, Stress relief with 262 upvotes, and You sure about this with 250 upvotes.

Now coming close to the end of the year in November I posted 4 fics and 8 headcanons. The top three out of these being, Cod men with a s/o that is a good cook with 578 upvotes, The bar with 323 upvotes, and The lovey couple with 76 upvotes.

But now last but not least in December I posted 4 fics and 4 headcanons. But our top three are Love languages Matt Murdock and Frank Castle like giving and receiving with 127 upvotes, The start of Billy and his metal head bf relationship with 116, and Ghost comforting his trans bf with 109 upvotes.

I posted a total of 35 fics and 37 headcanonst this year which is crazy now to put in perspective. Thank you guys for all the love and support that kept me going and posting.

Here's some fics and headcanons I think deserve more love; Lingeire I think Kayce, Jamie, and Rip would wear, MJF with a non binary s/o, Lingerie I think Darby Allin, Jon Moxley, and The Young Bucks would wear, Jey Uso kinks, Being enemies to lovers with Carmy Berzatto, Lingerie I think Roy Kent would wear,

Now we are onto my favorite fics and headcanons that I wrote this year.

For fics I would have to say my favorites are Good boy, You sure about this, Alleyway blowjob, Duality, and Stress Relief.

And for my favorite headcanons I have to say 141 & Los Vaqueros reactions to you giving them a random gift, Random SFW & NSFW Slasher hcs, 4 times Mr Handsy struck, and Matt and Nick Jackson age regressing hcs.

We are now at shoutout portion and almost at the very end of this recap thing of mine. It is now time to give roses to some very lovely people that I can’t recommend enough. So starting off I want to shoutout some of my mutals, @yourfaveprettyboy, @marksbear, @b0g-b0y, @guardkeywolf, @electricsunshine, @yanderestarangel, @miguel-owhora, @bonesnmore, @gazmialmagemela and @transi1vanianhunger. And I also want to shoutout @rodolfoparras, @lieutnt, and @gatorbites-imagines. Please go check all these guys out and show them tons of love and support as they all deserve it. Also please be respectful and follow their blog rules.

Now we are at the bottom of this recap thing. I can’t say thank you enough to all you guys for continuing to read and interact with my work. I appreciate all of you and like I have said in the past when I started writing here on tumblr I never thought I would get this far and look now I have a over 2,000 followers and a whole slew of mutuals. So from the bottom of my heart thank you guys. I hope you will all join me in 2024.

72 notes · View notes