#jamie tartt reader insert
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Gentleman- Jamie Tartt
pairings: jamie tartt x reader, richmond team
warnings: language. i think i read this one too many times.
about: request! secret dating because reader works for Richmond (as like pr or physio or something) but when they win a match one day Jamie is so overcome with joy he just has to kiss her
“Don’t you think someone is bound to get worried you’re coming in here every day?” you wonder, pinching away individual blades of grass stuck among the fuzzy dandelions of Jamie’s socks.
“Nah,” he says, watching your careful attention from his place on the pillow. He’s feeling bad about putting his muddy shoes over your clean lap, but you haven’t complained once, only appreciating the easy access to touch him. “They don’t know I come up here.”
You look perplexed. “Where do they think you go?”
Jamie shrugs. “The loo?”
“The one not in the locker room? Six times a day for ten minutes?”
“I keep myself hydrated,” he tells you, lifting up his water bottle to wag it at you. “Y’know, to keep up appearances.”
You chuckle, pushing the web of your thumb around his ankle and trying to touch your pointer. Your phone blinks up at you, the time precarious. Your hand slackens. “You need to get back soon.”
Jamie gets that sticky feeling he does whenever he has to leave something, gross and pleading at the pit of his stomach, his every cell calling out for him to use his time better. He wants to touch you like you’re touching him. He shifts onto his elbows and stares at you. “I can be a little late.”
You frown at the idea, your hands still and warm on his calves. “No, Jamie.”
“Yes, Jamie,” he murmurs, his arms making quick succession in tugging you to him. He’s strong, he’s always been strong, but you don’t tend to notice until he’s pulling you out from beneath his legs and hugging you in a single movement.
You don’t want to encourage him but you want even less to not make your delight shown at being pressed against his chest.
The minute changes. Your care for it begins to dwindle.
“Jamie!” you squeal, not moving.
He says your name in the same tone, as condescending as he used to be but sweetened by the kiss he presses against your hair. “C’mon, love,” he encourages, a horrid influence working.
“No,” you insist weakly. “Ted’s waiting for you. The team’s waiting for you.”
“But I’ve been waitin’ for this all day,” he complains pointedly. “Maybe I should trip o’er the ball or somethin’. Make a nice excuse to spend hours here with ya.”
“Jamie Tartt? Not believable.”
He makes a pleased noise, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You’re right.”
Another minute. Ted’s brown eyes bore into your subconscious.
Painfully, you peel yourself off of Jamie, slotting his thighs between your own. You watch his pupils dilate from above him.
“No,” you start, gently holding his face in your hands in a plea and causing the opposite effect you’d meant to. “No time. Later.”
He grasps your coat tightly.
“I promise. Just go to practice.” You spy the time and scramble off of him. “Now.”
He groans, catching your wrist when you hurry to collect the loose strands of his hair. He holds up a hand, pinky finger outstretched, and stares in question.
You roll your eyes but hook your own through his, a grin making its way to his face. “Y’know these’re binding, right?” he asks pragmatically.
You’d taught him that. The prick. “Yes,” you say exasperatedly, trying to pull him off the couch.
“‘M goin’,” he mutters, letting you. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”
“No you will not,” you gasp. “They’re going to think you have a bladder infection.”
“I’ll make somethin’ up,” he shrugs, looking around. He picks up your keys off your desk and wags them. “Maybe you dropped your keys when you were headin’ in.”
“Jamie,” you warn. “You can’t leave the team so much because, beside the fact that they’ll notice something is up, you actually like being with them and—”
“I like you better. A lot prettier.” He closes his fingers around the keys.
You inch closer slowly, but he’s undeterred and blows you a kiss, leaving your office with only muddy tracks left in his place before you can catch up. “Do not come by in half an hour!”
He listens to you. Kind of.
You see him a few hours later, a cocky glaze on his features, keys clicking against one another. “Hey, doc, I think ya dropped somethin’.”
You snatch them from him. “What a gentleman.”
“Right? Had to fight for it, too. Coach must really like returning keys.”
“How’d you get him to give them up?”
“I jus’ left,” he shrugs.
You gape at him. “What?”
“I told ‘im I found your keys, he said he’d give ‘em to you after practice. I said you might need ‘em now and then I just went inside ‘fore he could call Will over. I should actually be gettin’ back now, our screaming break’s probably over.” He slinks over to you and kisses your forehead, smelling like grass and sweat and lavender detergent.
“What?” you echo.
“I’ll see you later. Can you pick up some food before you get home? Kent don’t really like it when I leave the screamin’. Says it’s most effective on me.”
He smiles at you, waves, and leaves you perplexed.
You put down what he stole from you and notice vibrant pink peeking beneath metal, a green stem’s end through the ring. When you pull it out, you recognize it as one of the flowers that keep growing at the far right edge of the field. You melt into your seat, pouting at the crumpled petals.
-
“So, what’s the verdict, Doc?” Ted asks when you come out of your room, dipping a finger behind your right glove.
“He’ll be okay. He can play this week’s game as long as he doesn’t put too much pressure on his foot. I told him to ice it periodically for two days and then just make sure it isn’t swelling.”
“No permanent damage, then?”
You laugh. “No permanent damage.”
Sam pushes your door open, leaning on a crutch.
“How you feelin’, champ?” Ted asks.
Sam shrugs. “I’ve been better. At least Doctor Y/n gave me the all clear for this week.” He looks pointedly at you, as if Ted might need confirmation from you.
“Under what conditions?” you pry.
“Rest, ice, compress, and elevate,” he lists off his fingers.
“The most important for you, Mr. Obisanya, being…”
“Not being on it for two days,” he answers, ever the great student.
“I wish all my patients listened as well as you do,” you commend, letting him go with a smile.
Ted watches him go, turning back to you with a cheery expression. “Well, thank you, Doc.”
“It’s what I’m here for.” You toy with your gloves, listening to the team erupt in noise once Sam assumedly gets back.
“And also to bring a smile to all our faces. Not to say that’s a purpose. Just a nice bonus.”
You laugh. “Thank you, Ted. Is there anything else you need from me?”
He shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. Just wanted to ask if you were interested in goin’ out with the team and I tonight.”
“Where are you going?”
“Oh, just the Crown and Anchor. We haven’t officially asked ‘em yet, but one thing that doesn’t change no matter where we are is that athletes always appreciate a good drink with good company.”
“Very true,” you murmur, contemplating. You hadn’t gone out with the boys in a while and you were beginning to miss their antics. You could sit around the house for the evening, or you could spend that same evening a little drunk with your friends. “You know what? Sure. I’d love to.”
“Alrighty then!” Ted cheers, pleasantly genuine in the way no one else is. “I’ll let ‘em know. We’ll see ya later, Doc!”
“You too, Ted!” you call after him, slumping into your chair once you’re alone. Your phone vibrates from the table, lighting up with a picture of Jamie that he’d insisted you set as his profile picture. “Hello?”
“Coach says yer coming with us tonight?”
You stare at your door. “He just left. How could he have possibly already told you that?”
“Team groupchat. He was very insistent about it an' m'honestly not that upset about it anymore.”
You laugh. “I am going. Are you?”
“Course. D’you want me to pick you up?”
“How do we explain that?”
“I’m a gentleman?”
“To this degree? Do you think they’d believe that?”
“I’ll go before. Help ya pick out your clothes, put ‘em on?”
“You’ll see me when I get there.”
“C’mon, love. I want to be the first.”
“You always are!”
“Do you really wanna risk that streak?”
“Yes.” Other voices begin to filter in, still far away but getting closer. “I’ll see you there, Jamie. I love you.”
Jamie pauses, a soft shuffling noise preceding what is clearly Jamie’s palm curving around his phone’s speaker. “I love ya, too,” he whispers. You hang up, leaning into your seat. Your phone zzpts in your hand.
send a picture. Three dots, blinking in and out. please.
Humming, you debate it before: i’ll think about it.
-
Jamie, of course, is the first to see you.
He looks for you in every creak of the pub door, slyly craning his neck to check for the color of your hair or the burgundy coat you tend to wear on these outings. When he finally catches sight of you, he looks away, satisfied to have been the owner of the first glance.
The others spot you quickly, raising their beers in your direction. Zoereaux puts your drink in your hand, cold bubbles splashing the curve of your thumb.
You thank him, kissing his cheek in greeting as the others crowd you. “Maybe I should be worried you all know my order.”
“Absolutely not,” Ted chimes in from your other side. “Knowledge is love.” He hugs you too. “Glad you could make it, Doc.”
You push yourself onto a seat next to Jan Maas, tipping your glass at him. “You look nice,” he says.
“Thank you,” you respond. “You too.”
“Doc?” Isaac asks.
“You can call me by my name, Isaac.”
He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Nah. Feels weird now.”
“Alright. What’s up?”
“My sister says thank you for the advice. Her leg’s all better now and she told me to invite you over for dinner.”
“She doesn’t have to do that.”
“She insists.”
“You should just accept,” Colin says. “She makes a good Shepherd’s pie and won’t give up.”
Isaac nods, jutting a finger in his direction.
“Of course, then. Can’t wait.”
The conversation continues, and you indulge a glance at Jamie to find him looking back at you, an inquisitive pull to his brows. Your eyebrows jump, trying to ask a question with only your features.
You pull your phone from your pocket and begin typing out a message for him when the topic somehow heads back to you.
“Hey, d’you end up going on that date?” Bumberbatch asks suddenly.
You blink. Jamie turns to him curiously. “What?”
“With the prick. You know. Coiffed hair, All puffed up.”
“Um.” You try very hard to not look at Jamie, who’s surely staring at you with wide, amused eyes. “Yes. Yes I did.”
“How’d it go?” Isaac urges. Your mouth is open with no certain words to comfort.
“Yeah. How’d the date with the prick go?” Jamie pipes up, sliced brow up. He’s awful. Truly, truly awful and he knows it.
You force a smile at him. “Not as bad as I thought.” The team mumbles in satisfaction but Jamie doesn’t give.
“Not as bad, huh?” Jamie repeats, lips thinning in thought. “I dunno.” He does a little shake of his head and licks his lips, meeting your eyes again. “Maybe it went a little better than that?”
You clear your throat, heat rising to your face though you try desperately to keep it down.
Colin raises a brow. “Why would you say that?”
Jamie shrugs, unfairly unphased. “Just askin’.”
The attention moves off of you. You glare at him.
He smiles and, in the wake of a controversial argument between cartoons, winks at you. Your legs go weak.
-
You’re supposed to sit with the coaches during matches. Keeley had been upset at first and Rebecca sorry, offering a replacement medical professional for a game if you were so inclined to observe a game from the box seats, but you’d refused. Your place, although precarious with flying balls and the grandest source of stress, is kind to you.
You sit behind Ted during matches. The back of his head is surprisingly comforting in the tensest points of a match, and you find you can catch the preliminary movements of his fingers when you’re nearby.
There isn’t much contorting you have to do to sprint into the field if you’re needed, and the seat itself isn’t too bad when you’re not. Also, you have a great view.
You’re close enough to feel the strength with which the players kick the ball, you’re part of the very exclusive audience to the coaches’ hope, and when he gets close enough, Jamie can hear your cheers for him very clearly.
You’re completely sure he can hear you now, shouting at the top of your lungs up front with the coaches, fists tight enough to shake. He speeds up with renewed energy, the ball a blur between fast legs and fake passes. You grasp Roy’s arm with everything in you and let your eyes move to the timer. Less than fifteen seconds to go and a tie glares in blocky red numbers.
Your fingers spark with something hot, curling tighter around Roy’s wrist when the ball is passed to Jamie.
The time goes by too slowly and the ball flies too fast, a defender slamming to the ground with his hands up as Jamie’s kick sends the ball into the net. The clock ticks for the last time. The arena erupts in sound and a combination of red and blue.
You scream, finally letting go of Roy to drag your hands to your face. Isaac and Dani embrace on the field, most of the others running toward Jamie but Jamie is sprinting toward you.
You realize too late what’s going on, too proud of Jamie, too dizzy on adrenaline and excitement to realize what’s about to happen and why it shouldn’t.
He comes up to you beaming, picking you up easily and spinning you around. You respond immediately, palms against his warm cheeks, lips pressing repeatedly against his forehead and then finally his lips. “You did so good,” you praise, hoping he can hear you even through the overwhelming noise. “I’m so proud of you.”
He grins, finally catching your lips and lowering you to the floor. It takes only two seconds for what happened to settle in. You can see it on his face, the exhilaration contorting into recognition. He finally looks away from you and gulps.
The stadium is still loud, but most of the team is looking at you, caught in differing positions of celebration. Ted stares at the both of you, jaw dropped.
“What do we do?” he whispers to you. “Do you think they’ll believe it if we say it was an accident?”
“No,” you respond just as quietly. “No, I don’t think so.”
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt#jamie tartt reader insert#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt fluff#jamie tartt fic#jamie tartt fanfic#jamie tartt secret relationship#jamie tartt x reader fluff#secret relationship#jamie tartt x reader secret relationship#ted lasso#ted lasso fanfiction#jan maas#richmond team x reader
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i can see you - jamie tartt
fandom: ted lasso
wc: 6,082
warnings: SMUT, both implications and the actual act. no use of pronouns but reader is described with female anatomy.
summary: you and jamie have been watching each other for ages, trying not to feel the pull between you. a moment in the hallway changes everything.
author’s note at the end <3
masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi
Jamie comes back to Richmond one cold, quiet morning.
Quiet, because his teammates refuse to talk to him even after he’s at the receiving end of the harshest glares Jamie’s ever seen. They prickle his skin and make him feel too small in his own body, but he juts his chin up and trots around the field following Ted’s instructions.
“He’s the worst,” Sam tells you one morning after the facts. You bought an extra coffee on your way in because Sam had spent the entire week clenching his teeth so tightly you could see it in his jaw. It had only taken you one nudge and he spilled his feelings out like a dam breaking. “He just makes me feel awful about myself. And even if he’s apologized, that doesn’t mean he’s changed. I know Ted believes in second chances and I do, too, but that man is incapable of improving. The only person he’s ever cared about is himself.”
You’re inclined to believe him just because of how dejected he sounds. So when Jamie Tartt comes by the PR office later looking for Keeley and finds you instead, the annoyance that overtakes his features only cements your bad image of him.
“Keeley ain’t in?”
“Just missed her,” you say, short and clipped, head bent to focus on your work. “She’s out for lunch, Roy’ll probably bring her back in an hour.”
Silence meets your words, and you look up to see him looking at you, seemingly lost in thought. “Is… there anything else I can help you with?”
He snaps out of it, eyes a little wide and mouth struggling to find the right words. He’s pretty, you allow yourself the thought before immediately filing it away from your mind. He’s an asshole, your brain supplies, and yeah, that’s much better.
“Sorry,” he says in that awful accent of his that’s in no way endearing. Not even a little bit. It doesn’t help that he looks actually apologetic, unsure, tugging at his shirt nervously. “We, um, haven’t met, have we? ‘m Jamie.”
“I know,” you say, not exactly kindly, but the whole world knows who he is. You’d have to be living in outer space to not be aware of Jamie Tartt’s existence. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Jamie’s tentative smile turns bitter and he tucks his head down, embarrassed. “Ah. ‘Course. Yeah, no, I’m. ‘m sure you have.”
He sounds just like Sam had when telling you about Jamie’s torment and it tugs at your heart despite how you don’t want it to.
“Anyways, just,” he shrugs, trying to give you a sunny grin and failing only slightly. You almost respect his efforts. “Know you’ve been here a while and all but, uh. Welcome, anyways. Richmond’s a nice place to be.”
You sigh.
“You, too,” you say when he’s already at the door, surprising both of you with your sudden considerate candor. You shrug a little. “What you’re doing can’t be easy. It takes a lot of guts to come back here. I hope it’s worth it.”
“So do I,” he says before giving you one last smile, albeit a bit more genuine, and leaving your office.
After that, you’re both extremely aware of each other. It’s like the universe has decided to make sure you’re always in close vicinity, bumping each other in the hallways, arriving and leaving work at the same time, being paired up by Keeley for ad campaigns and photoshoots. You have the suspicion that Keeley’s been doing it on purpose– a good boss but a nosy friend, nevertheless, but it’s proven incorrect when she assures you don’t have to work with Jamie if you don’t want to.
“I know how he can be,” she says, eyes kind and hands on your shoulders, shaking you a little. “If he makes you uncomfortable in any way just say the word and I’ll take care of it, babes. I know how to handle him anyways.”
But you’re a grown woman. You can handle an asshole at the workplace, even if it comes in the beautiful package that is Jamie Tartt.
You can’t say you haven’t noticed him; his plump lips and smart mouth, defined arms covered in tattoos, hands that look like they know their way around the in-between of someone’s legs. You’re angry at him by your connection to the other boys but you’re not blind– and Jamie is a sight to behold.
He seems to know it, too, smirking at you whenever he catches your eye. He brushes by you in the hallway and you get a whiff of his cologne, sometimes a steady hand around your elbow when your steps stumble.
He murmurs a quiet alright, love? and you both move on with your day, your skin a little too warm and the imprints of his fingers tattooed on your skin until you get home.
You pay him back for those moments at random times. Once, during a photoshoot, you make a noise of frustration when the photographer insists that Jamie poses a certain way, dressed in his uniform as if he were about to jump into the pitch but looking a little too put together.
“It doesn’t feel genuine,” you explain, but you only receive blank, annoyed looks in response, so you take matters into your own hands and walk into the set, placing yourself in front of Jamie.
“Just-” you sigh, frustrated, and reach towards him before hesitating. He’s sitting down for the photo, and the sight of him looking up at you, his body between your legs does something you can’t bear to think about in a workplace environment. “May I?”
Jamie stutters, suddenly nervous. “I- sure. Go ‘head.”
You take off his hairband with a swift motion and tangle your fingers in his hair, messing it up. It’s soft and runs like water between your fingers, the smell of some fancy conditioner and hair product hitting your nose.
You dig your nails into his scalp a little too roughly, and before the apology sitting on your tongue can be said, Jamie’s shiver overtakes his body, a muffled sound being bitten back for you not to hear it, but you hear it anyways.
It makes you stop, just for a second, and your eyes meet. There’s something different in Jamie’s, greyish green darkening like you’re looking into the eye of the storm. The air is suddenly thick with tension, your hands still in his hair, his own twitching in his lap as if wanting to reach for–
Behind you, the photographer asks, “Are you done?”
You gulp and look away from Jamie, voice incredibly steady despite how dry your throat feels. “Almost.”
You hand him the hairband back and your fingers brush when he goes to take it. He exhales a gust of air, slowly, as if trying to avoid any suspicion of how badly the little touch is affecting him.
When it’s back on, you reach again to pull loose some strands of hair and your other hand holds him by the chin, keeping him still.
“There,” you say after a couple of moments or after an eternity. You let go of him and the room comes back into focus.
Jamie blinks as if he’d been having trouble thinking past the touch of your hands on him, oddly intimate. You move out of the way so the photographer can squint at whatever you did with his hair. “You see what I mean?”
The rest of the photoshoot is uneventful, but it becomes quite clear that whatever things you do to get into Jamie’s head work as efficiently to get into yours.
The team begins warming up to him after the whole Dubai Air debacle, and something inside of you unclenches in relief when you see Jamie sharing beer and laughter with the boys in the locker room after Sam’s press conference.
It feels like permission. The guilt you feel whenever you stare at Jamie a little too long suddenly dissipates, and you dare to bite your lip when he catches your eye across the room. His stare slips to your mouth before refocusing on his conversation, and the way he tugs at his collar and his cheeks flush makes you feel victorious despite the team’s loss tonight.
Later at Keeley’s, Roy nurses a beer while splayed out on the couch and asks you about Jamie. “Please tell me he’s done something stupid so I can punch him in the dick next time I see him.”
“You need an excuse for that?” you raise your eyebrows in question.
Roy grunts, but there’s hidden glee in his expression as he concedes your point. “Fair enough. He’s given you any trouble?”
“Nothing worth mentioning, I guess,” you shrug, but you make the mistake of hesitating before answering and Roy perks up like a dog who’s caught an intruder.
“Spill,” he orders, but you’ve been friends with both him and Keeley long enough to know rolling your eyes when he gets all manly is an appropriate response. “Come on, out with it. What he’d do?”
“Nothing!” you exclaim, throwing a pillow at him. He catches it swiftly, which annoys you a little. “Relax, old man. If he ever pulls a little too hard on my pigtails you’ll be the first to know.”
Roy grunts again, not satisfied but done pushing for the night.
The real trouble begins at Christmas, hours after the boys exchange gifts and most of the staff is sent home. You’re on your way out, coat on and Uber on the way when you run, once again, into Jamie in the hall, almost knocking both of you to the ground. He has to quickly hold onto your waist, your hands on his chest, to stop it.
“You scared the hell out of me,” you chastise him, both hating and loving the way he smirks at your breathlessness. “I thought you all troublemakers were gone already. You’ve got the rest of the day off, what are you still doing here?”
“Can’t go back to Manchester with a game tomorrow here, can I?” his hands tighten around your waist for a delicious, stretched-out moment before he lets you go. Jamie covers his flush coughing behind his hand as your own slip from his chest. “You lot just got me back after all. Can’t leave you hangin’ without your best player.”
“Ha, ha,” you laugh sarcastically, knowing he’s mostly kidding about that. “Still, I thought you’d be the first one home. Some Louis Vuitton slippers and Gucci robe on, expensive rum…”
“Oh, know me so well, do you,” he teases, poking at your bag. “What about you? You’re on your way out?”
“Uber’s almost here,” you show him your screen so he can see that your ride’s less than five minutes away. “Are you coming around to Higgin’s later?”
Jamie shrugs. “Don’t know if I’m invited.”
“Of course, you’re invited, Tartt. Everyone is.”
“Don’t know if I’m welcome, then,” he corrects.
“Everyone is,” you say again, firm but a little bit gentler than before. “Honestly, you’re lucky you look the way you do, ‘cause you’re a little bit thick.”
Jamie brightens like a kid on, well, Christmas. “You think I’m hot?”
“Of course, that’s what you take from that,” you roll your eyes. “I gotta go, but I better see you there later.”
You point menacingly at him but he only steps forward until your finger’s touching his chest, towering over you with a smirk that screams trouble. “To give you your gift, you mean?”
“You did not get me something,” you say, as sure about it as you are that the sky is blue and dirt is brown. “Not when you dropped the ball with your Secret Santa earlier today.”
“Maybe I like you better,” he suggests, voice low and rich. The sound makes a knot of heat tighten in your belly. “Than I like them, you’ve ever thought about that?”
You remember what Sam told you when Jamie first came back, how he was incapable of thinking about anyone other than himself. The Mancunian had proved that statement to be incorrect a handful of times already, and you’ve been flirting with him long enough to know you’re attracted to him, but you don’t expect any kind of emotional reciprocation from him. Sure, you’re friendly, maybe you’ll call him your friend at one point, but that’s as far as it usually gets with someone like Jamie.
You didn’t even get him a present. That’s how close you two are.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” you relent. You really should be going, but a part of you needs to entertain this conversation for some reason. It’s not always that you get to talk to Jamie without anyone else present. “What could you have possibly gotten me that you couldn’t give your Secret Santa?”
You barely see the face he makes before you’re being kissed within an inch of your life. Right there in the hallway of AFC Richmond’s training headquarters, Jamie Tartt holds your face in his hands as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, warm and wet and relentless.
You open yourself up to him without thinking it through, your phone lost somewhere in the mess of limbs as you latch onto his shirt, desperate for balance.
The kiss is toe-curling hot, your arms wrapping around Jamie’s neck while his own flail a delicious path through your back, hands going under your coat so you feel his skin hot against your sweater.
He ends up with his arm tight around your waist and a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close. Your mouths slide against each other, warm breaths trapped between your lips as the desperation for more grows and grows and grows and–
Jamie draws back and leans his forehead against yours only to kiss you again, softer and lingering while you’re still catching your breath, then one last kiss for good measure before finally drawing back. Like it happens around Jamie, the world you’d forgotten had existed outside the two of you comes back with rushing clarity, the hallway still miraculously empty.
“Somethin’ like that,” he says, and it takes you a moment to remember what you were talking about before this. Christmas, parties, gifts…
Jamie takes one last look at your face like he’s trying to commit you to memory while you’re all flushed and breathless before he lets you go, walking away into the locker room. “Merry Christmas, love.”
You stay there for a while after he goes, your fingers inevitably going to your kiss-bruised lips, brain still struggling to catch up to the moment.
Jamie kissed you. You kissed him back. You kissed each other like you weren’t at work and where anyone could walk by and see you.
Your phone buzzes in your hand. Your Uber’s outside and waiting.
You end up missing Higgin’s later that afternoon, unsure if Jamie would actually go after you bugged him about it and are terrified that he might.
You’re not avoiding him. For fuck’s sake, you’re a little too old for high school-level social skills, but you’re not sure your heart could take it if you see him so soon after your kiss, acting like nothing happened.
Or worse, making sure to sit next to you during dinner just so he could put his hand on your thigh and make you sweat while everyone’s watching, unaware of the change that’s just transpired in your relationship.
By the next day, you’ve decided to keep things professional, and it helps that Jamie doesn’t really bring it up. You see him before the game in the locker room when you go record some stories for the Instagram page, and he says hello as casually as the rest of the boys.
You exhale a breath you didn’t know were holding and wish them all the best for the game, though if it’s relief or disappointment that washes over you, you’re not sure.
Life moves on. You continue to work together, not sans stolen glances and running into each other in the hallway. It’s different now, because you both know the other remembers that Christmas kiss and accidentally touching when passing each other by makes your breath hitch and Jamie’s face flush.
The energy you had building up between you is charged with something dangerous now, and unless you dare to talk about it it’ll only build up into something you eventually won’t be able to ignore.
But fuck, do you think about it. About the way Jamie’s hands held you, how they kept you in your place and how they would pin you down if you ever were to end up in bed together, his hips driving home while his mouth brushed the shell of your ear, his voice low and accent thick with the heat of the moment.
Fuck. Fuck, you’re so fucking gone for him.
It’s also different because Roy comes back, and it’s like he just knows there’s something about Jamie that you’re not telling him.
“What the fuck was that?”
“What?” you question, trying not to sound too defensive.
“What was that… look?” he splutters. Never once in your life have you seen Roy Kent fucking splutter like he couldn’t get a grip on a situation.
“What look?” maybe you can gaslight your way out of this one, you hope, because Jamie had been less than subtle when coming up to you both in the parking lot and talking about needing your help for a sponsored post he was supposed to make.
He got real close, so near you could smell the mix of cologne, sweat, and plain Jamie that rested on his skin. While showing you his phone put a hand on the small of your back, fingers spread open and hot like a brand.
It’d stolen your breath for a second, a hitch in an exhale that had caught both Jamie’s and Roy’s attention. You eyed Jamie warningly but he only smirked, completely aware of what he was doing. You said something about tagging the sponsor and then he was gone, brilliant smile and thanks on his lips as he waved you goodbye.
“That look, all cheeky and shit,” Roy points at where Jamie used to be and looks around for witnesses. You roll your eyes so hard it makes your head hurt a little. “Like he knows something I don’t, as if there’s anything in his brain other than elevator music.”
And of course, he tells Keeley about it, which earns you an interrogation as soon as you come down to the office.
“Thought he didn’t have access to his account,” Keeley frowns. “Didn’t you change his password after the Oreo Incident?”
“God, don’t even think about the Oreo Incident while near me,” you rub at your temples to try to diminish the migraine building up at the mere thought of it.
Now you gotta worry about Roy becoming a buffer between you and Keeley not buying your usual excuses. With them and the rest of the team and staff in the mix, you don’t stand a chance to get near Jamie.
You start surviving on fantasies alone that grow and spiral into unrealistic, too-hot scenarios.
Jamie, his shorts around his ankles and you on your knees in an empty locker room, his hands on your hair as he pants please, love, so fuckin’–
You on the desk and Jamie with his head between your legs, late into the night after everyone’s gone home and it’s you and him in your office as you moan fuck, Jamie, that’s– yeah, that’s good–
A night in a hotel room after some away game, Jamie letting you ride the leftover energy out of him. Thassit, angel, put your back into it, yeah? Be good for me.
It’s too much and it’s not enough.
Jamie throws himself into his training, trailing after Roy’s approval and eager to improve in every way he can, both as a person and a player. It’s nice to see him so dedicated, you think, remembering the traces of cockiness when you two first met in your office.
They’re still there somewhere, and you see them shine when, for some reason, all the coaching staff– Ted included– give Jamie the bird mid-game. You’re sitting on the V.I.P. box next to Keeley when his monster of a goal goes through, screaming your lungs out and hugging everyone within six feet of you.
You’re too far away from the field to see clearly, but you can imagine Jamie with striking clarity: cocky expression and tongue out, arms crossed before the rest of the boys jump with glee to embrace and congratulate him.
The locker room is a mess of sweat and laughter when you go down there, Keeley making a beeline for Roy and Rebbecca going straight to Ted. It leaves you with a bunch of overexcited men hugging you and handing you drinks in celebration.
“No stories for the ‘gram today,” you promise when Zorreaux and Dani begin posing, making faces, and showing off muscles to you. You can’t help but laugh, Sam’s arm around you. “I’m off duty tonight, boys. On a fan capacity only.”
“Are we allowed to date fans?” Jan Maas asks, half joke half genuine question. The boys make ooooh noises of interest.
You laugh again, not taking it seriously, but Keeley suddenly pipes up from her spot on Roy’s lap. “Please don’t! It’s a PR nightmare.”
Roy adds helpfully. “I’ll punch you in the dick.”
The conversation shifts to other topics but you search the room to find Jamie already looking at you, eyes dark and jaw tight. It’s barely a moment of eye contact, insignificant to anyone else in the room, but it’s enough to make your insides flutter. Meet me outside.
Thank God everyone’s too distracted celebrating when you sneak out of the locker room about half an hour later. You find Jamie already there, waiting for you at the end of it. He brightens when he sees you, shutting his phone and putting it in his back pocket.
It’s a little overwhelming, having Jamie Tartt’s full attention on you. As if it’s not exactly what you’ve been pining after for months.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Man of the Match?”
“Me?” he wonders faux incredulously while leaning casually against the wall, a dramatic hand to his chest. You walk till you’re right in front of him. “I work here, love. Or are you forgetting my heroic play out there already?”
You scoff. “We work here, dumbass, and how can I forget? It’s all everyone’s talking about. What are you doing away from your victory parade?”
“Same thing you are. Taking a breather,” he shrugs, giving you a slow once over, taking you in head to toe. You’re wearing a Richmond jersey and some loose jeans, nothing to write home about, but Jamie seems to like it. His tongue wets his lips before he focuses on your face again, charming. “Lots of people in there, yeah? Needed a minute.”
You raise your eyebrows, amused and unconvinced. “I can leave you alone if you want.”
Jamie abandons his spot against the wall and goes to you, slow and careful like a hunter stalking its prey. He says, voice a low, rough murmur, “Didn’t I already tell ya I like you better? You can stay as long as you want, love.”
Your entire body heats up at the callback to last December, the reminder of how easily Jamie snuck into your personal space and stole your breath with a heart-stopping kiss in this very same hallway.
“I‘m not gonna lie, this seems a little orchestrated, Tartt.”
He smiles, indulgent. “Oh?”
“Sending me looks, getting me all alone…” you take a step closer so you’re poorly hidden behind the water cooler. If someone were to walk out of the locker room, they’d have to walk this way and take a turn to see you standing so close to each other.
“You were the one who followed me out,” he reminds you, tilting his head and raising his brows. He’s so expressive and you can’t take it, want to put your mouth to every inch of his face until he’s saying nothing but your name. “Who’s the real mastermind here, ey?”
“Don’t even,” you warn, unable to bite back an upward tilt of the lips. “I know how you get in hallways, mister. I haven’t forgotten, yet.”
“Haven’t forgotten you kissed me back, either,” he adds and dares to place a not-quite kiss on the corner of your mouth, a barely-there brush of the lips. “Couldn’t let go of me, could you?”
“Yeah, well, you leave a lot to the imagination,” you can’t help but complain, the little touch not enough to satiate the hunger you’ve been cultivating since that moment. You grab onto his shirt with a strength you didn’t know you possessed. “I gotta brush up against you just to see if you’ll do something about it and you never do.”
Jamie laughs, rich and warm.
“You think I don’t see ya?” he wonders, fingers brushing against your knuckles before his hands travel slowly up your arms, touch agonizingly warm. Your breath hitches, and it only makes him bolder. “When you pass me by right here in the hallway, touchin’ me ‘on accident’? Leavin’ me wantin’ more?”
“Do you?” you wonder, voice low, facade cracking as your eyes fall to his mouth for a second, stare hungry. “Want more?”
“How could I not?” he admits. You’re looking at him like you want to take a bite out of him, and the adrenaline of that goal is finally wearing off to find more unreleased energy behind it, a tension that’s been strung tight long before he stole a kiss from you. “Fucking Christ, angel, you’re…”
“What?” you wonder when he trails off. Your hands brush against the hem of his shirt and Jamie feels your touch even through his clothing. “What about me?”
You make him feel like he’s on fire, right here in the hallway where anyone, anyone, could see you. “You drive me fucking crazy.”
You smirk, pleased.
“What would you do, huh? If I touched you right now?”
Jamie breathes out his nose harshly. “Fuck.”
“What if I told you-” you begin, slow and tortuous. “That I haven’t stopped thinking about you here? Against the wall where anyone could walk by? What if I wanted you so badly that I didn’t care if they did?”
Jamie follows the bridge of your nose and the shape of your eyebrows with his eyes, the bite of your lip calling to him like a brightly lit bullseye.
He thinks fuck it. Fuck it, fuck restraint, fuck stringing this out any longer. He’s a winner tonight, in more ways than one.
Who knows who leans in first? All you know is that you both meet in the middle, clashing like two waves hitting each other, his mouth frantic and eager on yours. He has one hand at the small of your back, pulling you to him, and another one on your collarbone edging dangerously to wrap around your throat, fingers drumming against tender skin.
You’re touching him everywhere you can reach, feeling so untethered to the rest of the world that your knees buckle, helping him keep you right where he wants you. Whatever remaining bravado you had left vanishes when he has you like this, and you’re desperately trying to keep him close by clutching at the back of his shirt, tanging your fingers into his hair, and raking your nails against his clothed torso.
You can’t make up your goddamned mind. You want all of him, putty in your hands, all the time.
You hear a couple of voices, laughing and joking, leaving the locker room and becoming louder by the second. You separate, mouths bruised and tender to the touch. Jamie offers you his hand, smile glinting dangerously. “You trust me?”
You scoff, taking it and intertwining your fingers. “Against my better fucking judgment.”
He pulls you towards the closest exit and you let yourself be led, anything other than your phone forgotten in your office.
In the blink of an eye, he’s got you in his car, his hand on your thigh edging closer and closer and closer to where you want it. You’re sure he misses one or three stop signs and runs a red light, but the streets are almost deserted at this hour and your skin is warm, only getting warmer even with the AC at full blast.
When you get to his place it’s like you never stopped, and despite your urgency for him to have you right there in the middle of the training facilities, you love the way he pins you against the wall of his home, picture frames rattling with the force of it. His hands bruise your hips and he lifts your jersey up to your chest so his mouth can travel a path of bare skin down your torso, wet and open-mouthed.
He looks up to you when he reaches the waist of your pants, kneeling in front of you, a question melted in the sheer want of the green of his eyes.
He’s asking for permission, you realize.
Something sweet momentarily replaces the urgency you have for him, and you have to drag him back up for another kiss. He makes a questioning noise when you pull him towards you but melts against you when his lips touch yours. It’s a tender thing, an answer, one last quiet moment before you both sink into the chaos.
“Lemme see you,” Jamie kneels back between your legs, this time cleverly undoing your pants and leaving you in nothing but your underwear while you struggle out of your shirt and leave it forgotten on the floor.
His fingers brush over the wet spot between your legs and you gasp, insides clenching in response to his touch. He sounds gutted when he says, “God, look at you. Haven’t even touched you, yet, fuck.”
He tucks his face between your legs and runs his tongue over your clothed clit, the sensation of the wet fabric against his tongue driving him crazy.
He’s painfully hard against his boxers. Jamie’s been waiting for this too long– there’s no way he’s lasting as long as he wants to, but he can focus on you for the time being. It’s not a difficult task, your body’s trembling with the force of your arousal and begging him to do something.
It calls to him, muting the rest of the world around him.
“Are you ever gonna, or should I get things going on my own?”
He smirks against your thighs, biting playfully at the skin there before going alright, alright when you pull at his hair, though it only makes his dick twitch in his pants.
He feels more than he sees your shiver when he finally gets your underwear out of the way, and he wastes no time before hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder before diving in, eating you out with the energy of a man starved.
You hadn’t even made it past the living room.
“Fuck,” you moan, hips thrusting forward and your hand tightening against his hair, the other one searching and failing to find balance against the wall you’re leaning against.
You want to close your eyes as the waves of pleasure wash over you, your muscles taunt with how Jamie’s expertly driving you closer and closer to your orgasm, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. “Fuck, Jamie, that’s good. You’re so good at that, oh–”
You see how his body takes in the praise and feel it against your center when he moans into you, tongue cleverly touching all the right places. Jamie closes his eyes, thoroughly enjoying the experience.
He suddenly draws back, earning a noise of displeasure from you only to be rendered back into a moaning mess when his hands replace his mouth. He looks up at you like he’s staring at a deity.
“What d’ya want?” he asks as he slides two fingers through your folds, his other hand keeping your hips pinned to the wall as you try to buckle into his touch, whimpers echoing through Jamie’s home. “Huh, love? Have I left you speechless already?”
“You said I left you thinkin’ about it,” he recalls, too coherent for someone as terribly horny as he is. But Jamie needs to know, he wants you to crave him as desperately as he does you. “Back in the hall, that’s what you said. Whad’ya want, love? Where do ya want me?”
“Here,” you pant, eyes closed and face tilted upwards as you try to move your hips, chasing ecstasy. Jamie’s fingers are slowing down, probably to make you focus and only driving you further insane. “Anywhere, everywhere. Fuck, Jamie, I want all of it, all of you, please–”
“Greedy,” he singsongs, but any amusement is ripped from his throat with a moan when you pull at his hair again, walnut mist locks like silk between your fingers. He quickens the pace, unable to deny you. “Fuck, greedy thing, aren’t you? Wasn’t enough to stare me down and to steal a kiss, ya want all of it.”
You sigh, muscles clenching. “Yes, yes, yes, yes…”
“Then take it,” he gives you all you want on a silver platter, right there for you to take. “All you need, angel, ‘s all yours, ‘m all yours–”
With both his fingers and mouth back at work, you’re a lost cause, reaching your high and letting it wash over all your limbs like TV static before you become boneless against the wall.
Jamie kisses your knee before moving your leg from his shoulder and setting it gently on the ground, back on his feet just in time to kiss you soundly.
He’s practically holding you up, your arms limply hanging around his neck and your legs made of jelly after the strength of your orgasm. It’s like you let go of all the tension that started building up the second Jamie walked into your office that cold November morning and there’s nothing left holding you up other than his hold on you.
Except Jamie’s hips push into yours and you feel the length of him pressed against you. It’s a reminder that no matter how badly he seemed to enjoy eating you out he hasn’t been able to find his own release. Yet.
You smirk lazily, finding the strength from God knows where to cup him in your hand, watching his expressive face contort in desperate pleasure. “What about you, Jay? What do you want?”
Jamie is unable to do anything other than babble nonsense as you move past his shorts and boxers to take him in your hand, slow and tight. He gives out a little cry when you strengthen your grip, exhaling as he rests his head on your shoulder.
He never does answer you, and Jamie comes like that in your arms, quick and easy. He’s kissing your shoulder, your neck, the hinge of your jaw before finding your mouth and slipping his tongue past your lips, languid and easy.
“You getting tired on me, angel?” he wonders, massaging the skin of the back of your neck to gain your attention. You turn your head, following his motions. His eyes haven’t lost their dark edge. His mouth is red and calling for you to worsen the damage. “Cause the night’s young, you know. Bed’s comfortable, too. If I’m good against a wall, wait ‘til I get you in me bedroom.”
“You’re an idiot,” you say, but you feel a flutter of interest between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m attracted to you.”
He steals another kiss just for that, giddy with victory, though you don’t know how long you’re gonna get away with calling it stealing when you keep giving yourself to him without a second thought.
“Is that a yes?”
You pretend to ponder on it. “Well. You haven’t fucked me, yet. There’s still room for improvement.”
Jamie shivers. He can’t resist the challenge and you know it. Whether you’re on the other side of the room or in his arms, he’s never getting enough of you and you love it.
“Oh, angel,” he cups your face, already on his way to seal his lips onto yours. “You’ve no idea.”
___
IT’S HERE IT’S HERE IT’S HERE
i’m so afraid of not living up to the expectations of the song but i couldn’t get this idea out of my head!!! thank you if you got this far into the read and i appreciate any comment of support and feedback!
i’m hoping to put out two or three more fics this summer before school starts, after that my schedule might not allow me to post that often but i’m not gonna leave you guys hanging, don’t worry!
<3
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taglist: @dunster @daisy-crybaby @talksoprettyjjx @loveslide @ccomandercody @marrianena-library @shakespeareanwannabe @ajkdjdnkekemfxj @higherthanheroes @jamietarttdodo @lightninginab0ttle @seacactusplant @sokkigarden @kti2004 @mrfitzsimmons @guccilongboard @jellycolors @littlemisssunshine192 @uniiversed @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @royskents @youbelongwithflo @curlypeter @alipap3 @feelinthesefics
#jamie tartt#jamie tartt x reader#ted lasso#fanfiction#leo writes#ted lasso imagine#reader insert#phil dunster#sam obisanya#toheeb jimoh#roy kent#brett goldstein#keeley jones#juno temple#can't believe i forgot to add tags lmao so stupid
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Take Care: Masterpost
Fic Masterpost | AO3
When your masters placement gets screwed, you end up at the only place available: AFC Richmond.
The only downside— you know fuck all about football.
Or: you mistake Roy Kent as the caretaker on the first day, and you and Roy haven’t stopped thinking about each other since.
Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | More to come...
Listen to the Take Care playlist!
Send an ask/message to be added to the taglist!
#roy kent x reader#roy kent x you#ted lasso#ted lasso ff#lightyaers#ao3#wattpad#brett goldstein#jamie tartt#fanfiction#ff#fluff and angst#enemies to friends to lovers#archive of our own#x reader#reader insert#writeblr#take care fic
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It’s a Date (Jamie Tartt x reader)
Summary: you asked Jamie for one small favour. Who knew that it was going to end with this?
“I don’t know about this Jamie…”
“Look I said I got ya, ok?”
“Yes but-“
“Then what’s to worry about?”
“What if someone see us.”
“Sees us,” Jamie gives you an incredulous looks, “That’s what you’re fucking worried about.”
“Yeah.”
“Thought it would be more about falling over and hurting yourself.”
“No. Just, won’t you be embarrassed being seen with me.”
“No.”
“Really?”
“’course. Now are you going to let me fucking help you or not?”
You bit your lip as you looked nervously at the bike. Jamie gave you can encouraging smile as he held the handle bars and gestured towards it.
“Trust me?”
“Yeah,” you said at last, “I do.”
“Then get on. Not gonna let anything happen, ok.”
“Ok.”
In all honesty, you were surprised about how good of a teach Jamie actually was. You were expecting him to be kind of, well, arrogant about the whole thing. Have an ‘I can do this so why can’t you, it’s easy’ attitude.
“Y’know,” you said after you fell over for what felt like the hundredth time, “Despite me being shit, you’re not a shit teacher.”
“Nah,” Jamie held out his hand, “You’re not that shit. Roy was worse.”
“You taught Roy Kent?” you said as you grasped his hand, “How are you still alive?”
“Just used my natural charm.”
You raised your eyebrows at him as Jamie pulled you to your feet. You felt your cheeks get hot at the contact. You had forgotten just how strong Jamie actually was as he pulled you up and against him. Your eyes locked with his and something unreadable passed across them. You quickly let go of his hand and grabbed the bike again.
“Let’s have another go,” you said as you looked at the ground, “Think I’m getting the hang of this.”
You put your foot on the pedal and pushed down, still distracted by the memory of Jamie’s hand in yours. You hadn’t realised how distracted you actually were until you felt yourself tilting to the side again.
“Woah! Watch it!”
And then Jamie’s hands were on your hips. Warm and steady and making your cheeks heat up even more. He walked behind you, fingers trailing behind you, as he kept you steady. He leant closer and said,
“You alright there?”
“Yep.”
Your voice was strained and behind you Jamie frowned. He knew that if you were really uncomfortable with him then you’d let him know. However, he secretly enjoyed being this close to you.
“Definitely think I’m a worse student than Roy.” you said
“Nah.”
“Really.”
“Wouldn’t lie to ya,” Jamie said, “you’re also better company than that old man.”
“Roy is pretty good company.”
“You get along with everyone. That’s part of your charm.”
“Aww, didn’t know you felt that way about me.”
Jamie coughed awkwardly, glad that you couldn’t see his face.
“Let’s just give this enough go.” He said and without warning gave you a push
You let out a yelp of shock and pushed down on the pedals. To your surprised, instead of falling over you actually managed to ride it. You looked over at Jamie in a mixture shock and joy. Jamie’s face seemed to be the same as yours as he grinned at you. You rode the bike in a wobbly line as you circled shakily around him. You dismounted shakily and you stumbled towards him. Jamie held out his hands to steady you as you said,
“Did you see that?”
“Sure did.”
“Thank you!”
To Jamie’s surprise you flung your arms around him. He was used to getting hugs from his team mates but with you it was different. You were… you were mates. Well, slightly more than that but he wasn’t quite brave enough to take that next step. What if you didn’t feel the same way? What if he humiliated himself and lost a mate?
However, with your body pressed against his maybe he could image that you felt the same. Slowly, and slightly unsurely, he raised his arms and returned the hug. You smiled and rested your head against Jamie’s chest and his grip tightened instinctively. Fuck, he never wanted to let you go.
It was then that Jamie noticed that the two of you were unfortunately not alone. Standing at the edge of the green was Coach Beard and Ted. Ted was grinning at the two of you while Beard gave a nod of approval.
Fuck.
He was never going to live this down.
Ted gave Jamie a thumbs up and Jamie just rolled his eyes and flipped them two of them off. He was thankful that you back at facing them. Beard shook his affectionately while Ted gave Jamie a disapproving look. It was at this moment you looked up at him. For a second Jamie was concerned that you had somehow spotted Ted and Beard and would chose to hang out with them. Instead you said,
“Venchi is opening soon. Why don’t I treat you as a thank you?”
“Now then,” Jamie’s smirk return and for a second the grip around your waist tightened, “How can I a refuse an offer like that?”
“Great!”
You broke free from his grip and Jamie couldn’t help but miss the loss of your warmth. However, that was quickly replaced by you linking your arm with his.
“It’s a date?”
He could hear the question in your voice and Jamie quickly glanced down at you. You had a nervous look on your face similar to the one Jamie had on earlier.
“Yeah,” Jamie coughed and said, “It’s a fucking date.”
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Rose-Coloured Boy. - Jamie Tartt x F!reader
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
MASTERLIST
Chapter I: Reeling Through the Midnight Streets
Plot: Jamie Tartt and Y/N have been best friends since primary school. The pair had fallen out once graduation hit, both of them going their separate ways; Jamie finally kicking off (pun intended) his football career, and Y/N finally walking through the doors of her cinematographer career. One day, they cross paths in the corridors of Nelson Road, Y/N getting the assignment to make a mini docuseries of one of the football clubs in England, hers being AFC Richmond.
Set during season 2 and onward.
warnings: swearing, mentions of food and alcohol
word count: 3,7k
an: HELLOOOOOO!!! im excited to write this, I'm so late to the Ted Lasso wagon, but here I am. I got the idea for this story when I was sat on my couch looking through Pinterest and then I made a board for it. This has also taken me a few days to crank out because I've second guessed the plot a couple of times but anyway, I'm watching Cody and Noel's Love Island series and its reminding me of that one episode in season 2. LMAO, enjoy <3!!!!
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
Breathing in deeply, you closed your notebook. Looking up at your professor, you gently rapped your manicured nails upon your desk and eagerly waited to see which football club you were going to be assigned to. The hope in your chest wanted to get your hometown's very own club, having a plausible excuse to visit your home, without your parents getting under your skin..
"Y/N L/N," Professor Loughty called out your name, you quickly stood from your desk and grabbed your belongings. "Yes, sir?" you asked, an eager glimmer in your eyes. "you're gonna be in charge of AFC Richmond, I've emailed Miss Welton and have gotten the approval for you to leave right after I dismiss you, there should be a cab right outside for you. you're going to have to find which one is yours."
With a solemn nod, you breathed in, "is there any way that I could have Manchester City, perchance?" all Professor Loughty replied with a shake of his head, "sorry, Miss L/N, all final decisions have been made."
"Alright, thank you, professor." you nodded again.
"You are dismissed."
Making your way out of the classroom, you sighed disappointedly. All you really wanted was to spend time with your sister, Libby. Your built-in best friend, the person who you call often to just ramble, vent, or see how life on the other side is.
A chime of your phone pulled you out of your thoughts.
any updates?
Libby. So much for getting pulled out of your thoughts.
yeah, got Richmond :/ BUT I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll visit soon.
:( okayyy I love youu
"Y/N!" pocketing your phone, your attention was now averted from your patronising thoughts to that of your best friend. "Bee! Hey." you smiled and waited for your friend to fully approach you.
"Who'd ya end up gettin'?" the Irish girl asked in her usual chipper tone.
"Richmond, I wanted Man City."
She scrunched her nose. "Mmm, ain't that the team with that American coach?" Bee added with a raise of her eyebrows.
"Think so, so I guess it's not all bad.. could be interesting.." You spoke with a shrug which only earned you a light chuckle from the brunette. "Well, I'd certainly hope so. you have to be around him and the team for how long?"
"'Til the end of the semester."
Bee nodded at your reply. "sounds miserable."
"Oh, piss off. Don't you have to write an album by the end of the semester?" you clapped back, causing Bee to only snicker with a shrug.
"Yeah, but that's easy."
"Right, as if you haven't been in a song writing block for the past month or so." freezing in her place, Bee shook her head and glared playfully at the other.
"Exactly. Anyway, I've gotta get going, gotta get my essentials." you said to Bee, embracing her in a hug. "See y'tomorrow?"
The taller girl nodded and walked away with a wave. "See ya, nugget."
You shook her head, that nickname was never going to go away. Walking your merry way over to the line of cabs, you nervously talked to the first cabbie. "Um, which one is the one for Y/N L/N?" you asked and gripped your books close as if they were some sort of security blanket. The man behind the wheel grunted and pointed to the one behind him.
"Should be that one down there, yeah." he replied and basically shooed the girl away. with a breath, you found the cab you were supposedly assigned and sat in the backseat.
"Was ordered to head to your place, where to miss?" The driver asked with a kind smile in which you replied with your address.
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
Unlocking your door quickly, you ran into your living room and grabbed your bag full of all the necessities you needed for the months ahead of you; camera, clip in microphones, etcetera. Richmond was only 30 minutes away, which, in hindsight, was better than having to travel four hours per weekend.
With no second thought, you grabbed your water bottle and slung your bag over your shoulder. Taking one last look around, you let out a satisfied huff and headed back outside to the car.
"Alright, Miss L/N, we're headed to Richmond. s'about a 30 minute drive from here." the cabbie, who you learned that his name was Franklin, 'frank for short,' is what he told you, said. He was a nice old man, probably in his early sixties. He was good at keeping up the small talk, asking you about what it is that you’re going to be doing with Richmond. Telling you that before he was a cab driver he was a guitarist in a band, a small one at that. You both bonded over music, You telling him that your best friend is a singer and that sometimes Bee'll get you together to mess around because you have been playing the guitar since you were little but never really pursued anything musically because it wasn't of interest.
Eventually Frank had pulled into Nelson Road, the drive seemed a lot faster than it really was because of how easy it was to talk.
"Thank you, Frank. I'll see you at 5, right?" You asked and the older man nodded. "Have a good rest of your day." You saluted him and walked up to the doors of the stadium. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you entered the building.
Absentmindedly walking down the corridors, you looked around at the walls and folded your arms across your chest looking at the trophy wall; all the history and old photos of Richmond littered within it.
"Excuse me?" a voice spoke from behind you, startling you slightly. You were met with a grin from a lanky looking boy. "Are you lost?" he asked and you only shrugged.
"Guess you could say that." you chuckled awkwardly and lifted your shoulders. "Um, I'm looking for Miss Welton's office. Got lost in thought though."
"Ohhhh, are you Y/N L/N?" the boy asked with a head tilt. In which you responded with a nod. "I can show ya where to go, follow me." he moved slightly before the other nodded and followed behind him.
"Are you the.." you started, "kit... man?" knitting your eyebrows together and stuffing your hands into your jacket's pockets.
"Yeah, I am." he nodded and grinned and stopped at the door to Rebecca's office. "Well, this is it. I'm Will by the way." he said and stuck out his hand for you to shake. You took his hand thankfully.
"Thank you, Will. It was nice to meet you. I'll see you around, yeah?" You waved him goodbye and gently knocked on the slightly open door.
"Come in," a voice shouted, the nerves finally kicking in. Pushing the door open, you were greeted with a warm smile from probably the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. "Hello."
"Errr, hi." you awkwardly smiled, "I'm--"
"Y/N, I've been expecting you." Miss Welton cut the other off, that smile that she held never fading. "Come, sit." she gestured to the chair opposite from her desk. You nodded and set your bag on the floor.
"Okay, um, hi." an awkward smile wavered over the girl's features. Rebecca leaned into her desk, automatically drawn to the way you were acting; that shell she knew she needed to crack.
"Promise I don't bite." the blonde jested which caused you to somewhat get comfortable. "Anyway, we're excited to have you. the boys have been raving about having a cinematographer here to film their every move."
"Thank you for the opportunity, Miss Welton."
"Call me Rebecca."
"Okay.. thank you for the opportunity, Rebecca." you corrected yourself which earned an approving nod and smile from the other. "I'll be here every other day after the school day, during the weekends, and during every game. Even travelling ones, I got the okay from my professors when we learned that this assignment existed."
Rebecca nodded, knowing said information but not wanting to interrupt the girl. "You don't have to start right away, if you want I can introduce you to the boys and everyone else."
With a nod, you pushed herself up off the chair and reached for your bag. "you can leave that in here, we’ll be coming back in here to discuss everything needed.”
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
"This is where the boys have physio, you shouldn't have to come here." The pair chuckled and then Rebecca stopped by a blue door where chatter could be heard inside. "and this is the kit room, where the boys change and where the coaches offices are."
“It smells like sweaty ass in here, just warning you.” the blonde jested, causing you to scrunch her nose. "Shall we?" she asked and you nodded. With a gentle knock on the door Rebecca peeked in. "Everyone decent?" she asked, to which all the boys replied in unison with a 'yes'. smiling contently, the taller lady pushed the door open and pushed you in front of her.
"OI." she announced, "everyone this is, Y/N L/N, our cinematographer from the University of London." everyone cheered happily, most just yelling what sounded like mixes of 'LETS GOOOO', 'FUCK YEAH', and 'WICKED'.
At the sound of a familiar name being called, Jamie looked up and went wide eyed. Holy fuck.
Quickly standing up from where he was sitting, you both made eye contact. Brows knitted together, your eyes looked above his head, the words, ‘TARTT’ in big bold letters made you realise that your suspicions were correct. “No way, Jamie?” you asked and breathed out.
The entirety of the room suddenly went quiet, or so it seemed. You apprehensively walked toward him, Rebecca watching you with a look of confusion. Maybe you were just a fan that he’s seen from time to time? No, that wasn’t the case and she knew it the moment you guys both stared at each other with some form of intensity from you and an apologetic look from him. You looked like you wanted to walk over to him and smack him across his face and he looked like he wanted to wrap his arms around you and tell you how sorry he was.
“I–” Jamie started and made his way closer to you, you dryly chuckled.
“No, I just got here, we can talk later.”
He nodded at your cross response and backed away. You introduced yourself and learned everyone’s names, the coaches were in their office in some sort of meeting and Rebecca told you that you’d be able to meet them later.
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
Back up in Rebecca’s office, you both went over how you were planning on filming. Going over recording some of the boys separately in their element, interviews, etcetera. You also learned that Rebecca was really easy to talk to, like a best friend.
“Alright, Y/N, I must ask,” Rebecca started, handing you a cup of tea. “Back in the locker room, what was that with you and Jamie?” taking the cup and bringing it to your lips, you sighed.
“We go way back, we met back in primary school and we were attached at the hip up until high school. There were moments when our close friends suspected we were a couple.” You trailed off, “but once we graduated everything just kind of.. Fell off, we both went our separate ways. I tried to get back into contact with him but he would say that he was busy or he’d just flat out ignore me.” you looked over at Rebecca to see her eyebrows raised.
“Sorry, that’s kinda personal innit? Haven’t known each other much.” you said and she just shrugged.
“It’s alright, we’re gonna be getting rather close these next few months, it's a good start for now.” she responded to you, the worry that was on your face was slowly replaced by a warm smile.
“Guess you’re right.”
“‘Course I am, Y/N. ‘Course I am.”
You chuckled and shook your head, taking another sip of your tea. “On another note, I’m quite excited for all of this. Richmond is already so .. nice. I felt welcome the moment I walked in.”
“It does that to you, wait until you meet Ted though, you’ll feel even more welcome.”
As if on cue, there was a gentle knock on the door followed by a man with a moustache walking inside with a beaming grin, “well, howdy y’all.” he greeted. You smiled up at him and stood from your seat, placing your halfway finished mug down on the coffee table.
“Y/N, this is Ted.” Rebecca said. You stuck your hand out for him to shake.
“Nice to meet you, Ted.” You said and he only beamed at you.
“Welcome to the family, Y/N/N.” he replied, your eyes went wide at the sudden nickname. “Its okay if I call you that right? Only seems right with your name.” He chuckled and you nodded.
“Only if I get to call you ‘Teddy’ or somethin’. What's Ted short for anyway?” You asked him, the shift in your demeanour from earlier was like you’ve been here for weeks. “Theodore.” Rebecca chimed in and you grinned over at her and crossed your arms over your torso. “Hmm, then ‘Theo’ will have to do.”
Ted, or Theo smiled from ear to ear. “Glad to hear it, I’ll see y’around.”
You waved the man goodbye and sighed happily. Rebecca stood up from her spot on the sofa and brushed her dress out. “Alright, so, now that we’ve gone over everything, is there anything that you need before you head out for the rest of the day?” she asked you and you shook your head to look down at your watch.
“Nah, I think I’m good.” You said and walked over to where your bag was. “Didn’t even need this today, came over prepared.” chuckling lightly, you leaned down to pick it up.
“Thank you again for being so warm and welcome,” you looked at Rebecca and held your hand out for her to shake it. She took your hand happily, “I’ll see you next week then, to start your work process?” she asked you and you nodded.
“Mhm, yep, and I’ll have everything we went over.” you smiled at her and then bid her farewell.
Walking out of her office and down the stairs you were met with a waiting Jamie, his phone in his hands in a way to distract him. When he heard your footsteps hitting the stairs, he pocketed his device and looked up at you.
“You waited for me.” you said with a raised brow and he nodded.
“Yeah..” he started and you stood in front of him. “I just wanted to .. dunno, apologise?”
“For what? Leaving me alone to think you forgot about me for six years? D’you think I’m just gonna walk right into your arms and accept your apology?” you spat and he took it in. you looked like a wounded puppy and he just wanted to fling forward and hold you. To tell you that everything was gonna be alright and that he wouldn’t dream of doing that to you again.
“Right, right. Yeah, m’sorry ‘bout that.” he looked down at his trainers and nervously gripped his body bag’s strap. “D’ya think we could.. Dunno, go for a walk and talk ‘bout it all?” he asked you, a plea in his eyes.
“I can’t. I have to go back to London, my cabbie is waiting for me.” you replied and rocked on your heels.
“What about when you come back?”
“Dunno, I don’t think I wanna hear some bullshit excuse as to why you left me in the dust.”
“Please, Y/N.” he pleaded, “we don’t even have to talk for long. If you decide that you don’t want anything to do with me or listen then you can walk away.”
You sighed in defeat, “fine.”
He nodded, trying to hide the victorious smile on his lips but failing.
“Wipe that smug grin off your ugly mug before I do it for you.”
“Aye aye.” Jamie responded, that was the Y/N he knew all those years back, and you walked away with a sigh and a shake of your head.
God this was so fucking weird.
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
Once the next week rolled around, you told Bee how you bumped into Jamie, whom you might’ve told her about once or twice.. Or a few times whilst drunk. Telling her stories about how you were, “sooooooo mad at him for ghosting me like that. I loved him ssooooo much and he goes and does that.”
At 10am, Frank pulled into the car park of Nelson Road and you bid him farewell when gathering your belongings. You walked inside, instantly greeted with that family-like haze. A smile wafted on your features, nodding in acknowledgement at whomever passed by.
“Good morning, Y/N/N!” Ted said when you walked by him on your way up to Rebecca’s office. “Mornin, Theo.” you smiled at him and gave him a high five.
The rest of the morning went pretty well – You and blondie, new nickname (Ted approved), going over what you guys went over on your first day, you setting up everything you needed, using one of the meeting rooms as a place to have special interviews for the boys when the time came and making a makeshift desk of one of the tables for when you needed to edit or when you when you weren’t filming.
When lunch time approached, Rebecca asked if you wanted to join her, but you told her that you wanted to make sure that everything was working properly because once everyone was back from the lunch break you were going to record the first of many parts of the boys’ training. She gave you a thumbs up and you were on your merry way to set up a camera outside.
“Headed outside?” a familiar Mancunian accent asked you, you stopped in your tracks and turned toward the voice.
“Mhm, yep.” You said, your change in demeanour going from steadfast wanting to get the hell out.
“Need help?” he asked you, a pleading look in his eyes. You looked down at the gadgets you had in your hands. Setting said things up on your own would not be easy, especially when you don’t have a whole crew to help you with lighting and every other necessity that came with filming.
With a defeated sigh, there was really no point in doing it on your own when the other offered help, you looked at him. “That would.. Be nice,” you started, trailing off, “but aren’t you supposed to be at lunch with the guys or somethin’? Don’t wanna be a bother or anythin’, I’m sure I can manage on my own.”
“Nah, s’no problem. Promise.” he placed his hand on his chest, “Not really hungry anyhow.” he nodded and stepped in front of you to open the door out to the pitch.
“Thanks.” You said and smiled at him thankfully. He nodded and you looked around.
“Hmm, hey, Jamie?” you asked, and he turned to you with his eyebrows up. “Where d’ya reckon would be the best spot to film?”
He pointed to a spot beside where he said that Ted and Beard usually stand and watch, “You can practically see everything from here, but you might have to change directions of the camera every now and then.”
You shrugged and leaned down to unpack your best camera for the outdoors, “that’s fine, its my job anyway.” you set up your tripod and turned your camera on. Looking into the lens, you adjusted the lighting.
“So, Y/N..” Jamie said and stood in front of your camera with some sort of lopsided grin, “D’ya think we could do that talk right now?”
You looked up and huffed, “dunno, are you gonna get out of my way?” he shrugged and moved from the focus. “What is there to really talk about anyway? You ghosted me for years. You didn’t even wish me a happy birthday, or send christmas cards.” With one final twist of your lens you stepped away and looked at Jamie who scratched his neck.
“Yeah, don’t really have an excuse for that. Other than being a professional footballer ‘n all.”
“Yeah, but you still could’ve said something, that's not really a valid excuse.” you replied and gave him a stern look. “Remember what I said about bullshit excuses, Tartt?”
“Wait, no,” he looked at you with a panicked look. “There's really nothin’ that excuses me actions, but please know that I am sorry. I haven’t forgotten about you all these years, y’know.”
“Then why the fuck did you stay silent for so many years? I gave up trying to reach out to you after my twenty - first birthday. Tried seein’ if you wanted to come celebrate and maybe catch up and you NEVER responded.” you placed your hands on your hips and you could see the guilt written all over his face.
“Yeah.” you responded, “but I’m an adult and I ended up forgiving and forgetting until the universe decided to have us cross paths again.” you half jested, Jamie’s lips curling upward just a tinge. “How about I make you a deal?”
He quirked his brows up and you responded with a sigh. “I will forgive you.” you said and watched as his face changed from curious to excited. “If,” you paused, only egging him on, “you promise that it won't happen again, even after this project is done and over with.”
Looking at him expectedly, the brunet stepped forward and engulfed you in a bone crushing hug, the only kind he’d give you after something good happened or after you had a meltdown in front of him. “Cross me heart, Y/N.”
You smiled against his shoulder and hugged him back briefly, only to pull away and stick out your pinky. “Pinky promise me, James.” you said, the full name throwing him off slightly. He intertwined your fingers and you both leaned down to press kisses to your thumbs, sealing the deal.
“Pinky promise.”
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
Alright, STINKIES!!!!!! Let me know if you wanna be on the tag list n stuff!! I'll try to get a few more chapters out this week! They'll probably be a bit shorter, some fillers, some not, etcetera!! ANYWAY!! Thank you for reading <3
#jamie tartt#afc richmond#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt x y/n#ted lasso#rebecca welton#roy kent#Colin hughes#reader insert#female reader#richmond
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To Love and Be Loved in Return - Chapter Two
Roy Kent x Reader
Read chapter 1 here
Description: The awkwardness from yesterday still lingers between you and Roy. Jamie, Rebecca and Keeley all try to make you feel better in their own ways.
Word Count: ~1.4k
• • •
Chapter 2 - Pep Talk
Coming into work Friday morning is a monumental task in and of itself. You spent most of the night before overthinking every moment with Roy that day.
You had spiraled through every possible analysis of your conversation, but as of this morning you’ve stopped worrying as much about that interaction and more about how any interaction you have today will go. He was still acting awkward about it at the end of the day, so he probably won’t be much better today.
Either way, you have work to get done before your lunch “meeting” with Rebecca and Keeley at noon. This “meeting” had become somewhat of a weekly routine for the three of you. It didn’t take long after you were hired for you to become fast friends with Rebecca, and Keeley was pretty much fast friends with everyone she’s ever met.
You watch the time tick by as you finish up your reports and interview prep for Roy. You consider just emailing them to him to avoid any awkwardness, but you know that he always works better with hard copies to review and mark up as needed. As much as seeing him today has made you nervous, you couldn’t let your feelings for Roy get in the way of doing your job well.
With this new found resolve and the best poker face you are capable of, you head downstairs and through the mostly empty locker room. You find yourself stopped at the door to the office, skimming over the report in your hands, anxiously looking for any errors or really any excuse to run back upstairs and redo it all. Maybe you could push off seeing him again until Monday.
“He’s not that scary,” Jamie chimes in behind you.
You tilt your head to look at him and raise a brow in question. He continues “Roy, ya know, he’s all grumpy with the scary eyebrows” he tries to mimic Roy’s face “and well just his general vibe, I suppose.” He trails off at the end of the last sentence.
You look at him, dumbfounded. “Was that supposed to reassure me?”
“Oh, uh, no. What I was tryin’ to say was that he’s just grumpy but he’s not really that mean. He likes ya well enough, so just go in there. Stop worryin’ so much.”
If only mean was what worried you about Roy, but of course you couldn’t say that to Jamie. The moment that man figured out how you felt about a certain coach, the entire team would know within minutes.
“Thank you Jamie. I appreciate the pep talk,” and it was true. You did appreciate the pep talk even if it was terribly misguided. Though it may be for the best that your coworkers don't all know how you really feel about your boss, and if Jamie knew, he'd give it away before long.
With a deep breath you open the door to the office with a smile plastered across your face.
Coach Beard was the first to acknowledge you. He offered a friendly smile and polite nod which you returned with a small wave. Walking past him, you stood by Roy’s desk and held the papers out to him. “Overview is on top, followed by the analytical reports, then the raw data and the last page is talking points for any press interviews.”
“Oh, I didn’t need this until Monday. You didn’t have to get it done so fast.”
“I like to stay on top of things, coach.”
“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite assistant?”
“I’m your only assistant.” Conversation is flowing naturally between you and much of the tension from yesterday seems to have dissipated.
“Makes it easy to rank then, but I really do appreciate you getting this done y/n”
“That’s what I’m here for.” There’s a moment of comfortable silence that you relish in before turning to leave.
“Wait,” you stop in your tracks, “Do you want to go grab lunch?” He stands up and gathers his things. “It’s about that time anyway.”
“Can’t today, I’m sorry. I’ve got lunch plans with Rebecca and Keeley today.”
“Fuck, right, I forgot all about that.” he waves you off “No worries, go have fun, do “girl talk” or whatever. Let me know how it goes.”
“Of course.” You pause before adding, “Maybe we can figure out lunch together on Monday?” He nods in response and your phone buzzes in your hand. “And that would be Rebecca, see you later!”
You rush out the door before he has a moment to respond.
You arrive at the restaurant with Rebecca first. Keeley texted that she’s running a few minutes late.
You had told Rebecca about your feelings for Roy a couple weeks back and you needed to get the past couple days off your chest as he had consumed most of your waking thoughts for the past 24 hours.
“So, Roy asked me to be his plus one for the gala next weekend.”
“Oh?” Rebecca looked hopeful albeit rather confused, “And why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”
“Well, when he slipped up and referred to me as his date, he panicked at the idea and made it beyond clear he isn’t into me. Of course I knew he didn’t like me, I mean he’s Roy fucking Kent, he dates gorgeous models, not regular office workers, but it still hurt that i didn’t get the chance to ask him out before getting brutally rejected.”
“That’s stupid.”
“What?”
“Roy would be fucking lucky to have you. Just because he’s too stupid to see it, doesn’t make you worth less just because you aren't some model.”
“It just sucks. I can’t stand being alone with him. I think I’m falling in love and he will never see me as more than just an assistant.”
“Who are we talking about?” Keeley walks up in time to hear your last remark. You were waiting to tell her until you were finally ready to deal with her teasing. She had moved on and you knew she would have no problem with you liking Roy, but she would be almost relentlessly supportive, which might just be worse.
At the same time you say “No one.” and Rebecca says “Roy”
“Ooh, falling for the boss?” Keeley adds as she sits next to you.
The waiter comes by and takes your food order. After he leaves your table Rebecca fills Keeley in on the situation. When she finishes you add, “So I’m falling for a guy who finds the idea of even a single date with me so repulsive he panicked at the suggestion.”
“I don’t think that’s it, babes. Roy is always a little panicked, he just usually gets mad about it instead. If he’s willing to show that he’s worried, then he’s dropping that facade a bit. I say you should ask him out.”
“And get turned down again?”
“I don’t know about that y/n. He seemed pretty nervous when he texted me about taking you out dress shopping.”
At that moment, the waiter brings your food, putting an end to that conversation before you got the chance to ask Keeley what she meant by that.
She asks the waiter to bring you a round of drinks. After the waiter leaves you lightly elbow Keeley. “I’ve got to go back to work after this. I can’t be drinking.”
Rebecca scoffs “Well, I’m your boss and I say you need a drink. I’m giving you the rest of the day off.”
Keeley adds, “It’s not like you’d get much done anyways. You’ll be too busy daydreaming about a certain coach.
“Fuck off” you laugh. You don’t really mean it and you all know it. You pull out your phone to text Roy.
Y/N: Hey, I won’t be back after lunch. Everything is caught up. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll see you on Monday!
You see the bubbles appear and disappear for a couple of minutes as you try to subtly keep an eye on your phone. Finally your torture ends as your phone vibrates in your hand.
ROY: Ok.
Those three characters should not be enough to stress you out. There’s hardly anything there to overanalyze, but that won't stop you. You take a long swig of your drink hoping that maybe the burning feeling as it slides down your throat will provide enough of a distraction.
• • •
Read Chapter 3
Series Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten @taytaylala12 @siriuslyreads
Let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you want to be added to the taglist for this series. 🖤
#reader insert#roy kent x reader#roy kent/reader#roy kent#ted lasso fic#ted lasso fanfic#idiots in love#x reader#workplace romance#jamie tartt#keeley jones#rebecca welton#tw drinking#to love and be loved in return
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Everlasting Friends (Part 5)
Jamie Tartt x f/Reader
Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.
Warnings: Some swearing.
Gifs and photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @jamietartt9 2nd gif @gay-bucky-barnes
Main Masterlist ♡ Jamie Tartt Masterlist ♡ Everlasting Friends Masterlist
Summary: f/Reader & Jamie were best friends growing up & fell in love, but one day, the Reader was gone.
YN'S POV:
I walked back into the restaurant, completely zoning the fuck out as I walked passed everyone.
I couldn't help but replay what Jamie said to me only a few moments ago. Jamie's hand felt heavy in mine as we walked back to our seats.
He once again pulled my seat out for me, and I gave him a tight-lipped smile, afraid if I said I said anything, I would break down and ruin the night for everyone.
As Ted stood to give another toast, my mind wondered to what happened before sweet Higgins interrupted us.
"I love you."
When I turned around to face him when he first said it, I didn't believe I heard him correctly, but when he repeated himself, I just knew he was telling the truth.
He sounded just like how he did all those years ago when he first said it to me. I shoved his shoulder, thinking he was joking, but when he repeated it, I knew he wasn't joking.
All the emotions that I held on for years seem to be crashing down all around me at this very moment.
I still love Jamie, but I don't know if I could deal with having cameras shoved in my face day in and day out.
What if the story about me losing our child got brought up by the paparazzi?
My thoughts were running wild, but they instantly calmed when I felt a hand on my knee.
I didn't notice I was bouncing it up and down, but I heard Jamie whisper, "Relax, GG."
I could have melted at him, calling me GG. It stands for gorgeous girl. He didn't say it very often. Only when I am nervous or upset about something.
I instantly relaxed, grabbing his hand in my mine, lacing my fingers through his, coming to terms with the fact that this was really happening after all these years.
Ted finished his speech, and I leaned over to Jamie, knowing that many eyes were on us. "I love you too, Jamie."
I didn't have a chance to pull my head back before he gripped my chin and gave me a gentle kiss.
The room was quiet, and then the whole room seemed to go crazy, making so much noise that the restaurant staff that were nowhere near the room came rushing out to see what the hell was going on.
None of us realised that one of the staff members took a photo of Jamie and I.
JAMIE TARTT'S POV:
The moment she said she loved me, I knew I just had to kiss her, and I didn't care at that moment.
For the rest of the night, I kissed her and kept her close to me. Even when I dropped her off at her place, wanting so desperately to go inside, but I didn't push it.
Part 4 ♤ Part 6 is coming soon
"I'll meet you after your practice tomorrow. I have work." She said to me. She works at a hair salon.
She went to walk inside her place, when I pulled her back into arms and kissed her with all the passion I had.
I didn't care that her neighbours were most likely spying on us if any of them were up. We finally broke apart when the two of us breathing heavy.
"Goodnight, YN." I softy said.
"Goodnight, Jamie."
◆
I was running late the next morning, didn't even have time to look at my phone as I needed to get to practice.
I walked into the locker room, and all of the guys were there. They stopped talking once I was in the room, and looked at me.
I was about to ask them what the hell they were looking at, when they all crowded around me, asking me questions.
"OI! Back the fuck off and get outside." Saved by the sound of Roy's voice.
"Roy," I started to say.
"Same as you Tartt, shut up and get out there."
◆
We practiced until it was time for a break.
I finally looked at my phone and answered YN's texts.
Then I saw my notifications that I have set up whenever I am mentioned on any forms of social media, were going crazy.
I opened the first link.
JAMIE TARTT & A NEW MYSTERY WOMEN, and it was a photo of the two of us in the restaurant from last night.
Link after link was articles wondering who this mystery woman was. I am hoping they haven't figured out her name yet.
JAMIE TARTT RECONNECTS WITH PREVIOUS LOVE.
This one went on to mention her full name, her parents, and siblings. It even mentioned where she is working.
I didn't hear my name being called, but I felt the hand on my shoulder shaking me slightly. I looked up to see that it was Sam and Roy was beside him.
"Keeley has been calling me. It is YN." I stood when Roy said that.
"What is going on?"
"Reporters are at her job. Her boss put her in the backroom, but the reporters won't leave her alone."
"I have to get to her." I started to walk away from them.
"Call 999, and have the police meet us there." Roy said as he went to tell Ted what was going on. It was near the end of practice anyway.
"I'll call the police, you call YN." Sam said.
I dialled YN's number, waiting for her to pick up. On the forth ring, she finally did.
"YN, you okay, love?"
"Jamie, they came out of nowhere. They won't leave. Angela has already called the police but they haven't come yet."
"I am coming. Do not leave that building. They will follow you in your car."
"I won't, Jamie."
I didn't even change out of my practice kit. Roy, Sam, and a few others came along, knowing how the paparazzi and reporters could be.
I wasn't expecting to see so many of them, blocking the street, trying to get the first glimpse of her.
"Fuck." Roy sighed.
Fuck is right.
#reader imagine#female reader#reader insert#ted lasso imagine#ted lasso fanfic#ted lasso fic#ted lasso#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt fanfic#jamie tartt series#jamie tartt
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I NEED FANFIC ABOUT TED LASSO AND JAMIE AND ROY KENT
HELP ME PLEASE
#ted lasso#ted lasso fanfic#ted lasso fanfiction#ted lasso reader insert#ted lasso imagine#ted lasso x reader#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt x reader#roy kent#roy kent fanfic#roy kent x reader
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Hiiii to anyone who still follows this blog!
Life has been crazy the last few years and while I barely have time for myself some days, I miss being more active with my writing. It’s a cathartic release and I’m in need of it lmao
So! If anyone is interested, please feel free to request. I’m open to a multitude of fandoms!
Hope to hear from some of you soon! ❤️
#bucky barnes x reader#marc spector x reader#roy kent x reader#jamie tartt x reader#loki x reader#Mark Trent x reader#billy hargrove x reader insert#steve harrington x reader#the boys x reader#derek shepherd x reader#and so much more that I can’t think of lmaoo#mark sloan x reader
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Drabble Night
Hi friends! I'm happy y'all are enjoying Long Time Coming! I'm loving writing it! I'm not up to much tonight so I thought I would do some drabbles!
Here's a prompt list, send me an ask with a number and I'll write something up!
Prompts from @creativepromptsforwriting
“This didn’t work out as I had intended.”
“Urgh. Definitely not.”
“I will prove you wrong. Just watch.”
“Let’s kiss and see where it takes us.”
“Idiots. They are all idiots.”
“If I have to tell you again, I won’t be this nice.”
“Well, this went horribly wrong…”
“How do you become accidently married?”
“I hate us sometimes.”
“Why are you wearing my skirt?”
“It’s impossible to get rid of me.”
“Sometimes, I don’t know why I put up with you.”
“This is stupid. And kind of fun.”
“Please tell me, this is not why you woke me up.”
“I may have lost it.”
“You and me - movie night.”
Let’s grab the food and get out of here.“
"High heels do look good on you.”
“Roadtrip!”
“I prefer not to be disturbed.”
“We should have been in bed 3 hours ago.”
“This is a stupid excuse.”
“Why won’t you let me braid your hair?”
“Are you awake or asleep?”
“I can’t smile at you, I’m mad.”
“Well, it’s never too late.”
“Oh, look! My will to live… it’s gone.”
“Just five more minutes.”
“Where did you get the flowers from?”
“Alright, let’s make a deal.”
“You’re so easily distracted.”
“Cooking is an art form.”
“Are you a witch?”
“Thanks for nothing, I guess.”
“This is so stupid.”
“You can’t handle my beauty.”
“Is that my shirt?”
“This doesn’t smell like roses.”
“Who do we have here?”
“I’m annoyed, to say it mildly.”
“Not sure what you mean.”
“Smells suspicious.”
“Tomorrow will be better.”
“I don’t know how I feel about this.”
“Lies. Just lies.”
“Could you spare some change?”
“Well, we can’t fix it now.”
“I’m not touching that!”
“You’re not getting sea sick, are you?”
“It’s not what you think it is.”
“Did you eavesdrop?
"I can’t believe we’re friends sometimes.”
“How was I supposed to know?”
“This fits perfectly.”
“Stay there. I’m on my way.”
“Let’s get some ice cream.”
“The world is not ready for us.”
“What kind of sick dream is this?”
“You’re a legend, man!”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Does this make sense to you?”
“I’m just so tired.”
“Do I really want to know?��
“The government doesn’t want you to know about this.”
“I volunteer myself to go last.”
“Your handwriting is atrocious.”
“This whole thing is a mess.”
“We were never prepared for this.”
“Things are worse than I thought.”
“Not our brightest idea.”
“Did you see that?”
“How did you get it destroyed like that?”
“Bye, bye, you won’t be missed.”
“This is a nightmare.”
“I have secrets you don’t know about.”
#jamie tartt#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt x y/n#ted lasso#ted lasso show#hopefulromances#drabbles#reader insert#fluff
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Homesick- Jamie Tartt
pairings: jamie tartt x reader, roy kent, ted lasso
warnings: none. ithink other than language
about: request!! jamie tartt is homesick
Jamie has rarely been hesitant to leave for a game.
But there’s something sick at the pit of his stomach when he has to say goodbye to you today, even when you assure him that it’s for so, so little time that it won’t matter. That he won’t miss you with all the excitement of a match. You set your palms against his cheeks and urge his attention to you, tired determination widening your droopy eyes when you tell him that you’re proud of him, sadness angling your features as you apologize for not being able to be there in person to cheer him on.
He smiles and thinks that he believes you.
There’s a painful tug at his heart when he has to leave for real this time, treasuring the warm line your marriage finger grazes along the lobe of his ear. He kisses you, opening his eyes too soon when he pulls away and catching a glimpse of you at your sweetest: still half-submerged in his affection, face softer than he’s seen it.
You are raw in the morning, still a little rumpled from your bed and an inch away from sleep. You got up early for him today. Let your forehead bounce against the passenger window so you could say your farewells face-to-face. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a person care about him like that. Sacrifice even the little things with great pleasure because it’s him.
“You guys’re gonna do great,” you murmur, arms tight around his neck. You squeeze once more before pulling back, giving him a happy, sleepy smile that he takes with him. “I’ll have a celebration ready when you lot get back.”
“Can’t wait,” he tells you with a cheeky wink, watching the amusement in your eyes wake a little bit more.
“Roy’s giving me the stink eye.”
“That’s just how he looks, babe,” he defends. “‘Nd if he’s lookin’ at anyone, it’s me.”
“No,” you say. “He likes you now, Jamie.” The way you say his name is so lovely. All curved and soft and smooth with love. You stifle a yawn and pull him in again. “I’ll see you soon. Behave, okay? I promise I’ll be watching the game on the telly.”
“I always do,” he defends.
“Roy’ll tell me,” you remind playfully. “I think he might write complaints down when you get a little too cocky.”
“I promise,” he gives in.
“You’re going to do amazing,” you tell him again, fully believing it.
“You know it.” He pecks the skin below your eye, finally walking toward the bus.
Roy grunts at you in greeting once Jamie’s gone inside, arms crossed in front of his chest. Ted yells a hello. Beard nods. You wave, continuing to stand in the parking lot until the bus is gone.
-
Jamie worries he’s ill an hour before the game.
You’re busy with the seminar you couldn’t miss and he doesn’t want to tell anybody, but he doesn’t have to with the team he has.
“Jamie, wanna come on over and have a chat?” Ted asks him, smiling.
Jamie shrugs, feeling like lead weighs him down when he stands.
Ted leads him into a hallway and rocks on his heels expectantly. “Y’wanna tell me what’s wrong, or do you want me to guess?”
Jamie scrubs a rough hand down his face. “I dunno, coach.” Ted furrows his brows. “I’ve never…” He sighs frustratedly. “I dunno what it is.”
“Do you not feel well?”
“I feel off.” Jamie shrugs, frustrated. “Like I forgot to do something. I’m all tingly and shit.”
Ted hums. “You a little homesick? I felt a helluva lot like that the first few months I came here. Still feel it when I get into a car on the wrong side.”
“I’ve never missed it before. What’s there to miss? I’ve a bed at me hotel. I like leavin’ and seein’ all the sights.”
Ted scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you don’t miss your house, Jamie.”
Jamie shakes his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, coach, what?”
“Home ain’t always a building, Jamie,” Ted explains, squeezing his shoulder before heading back inside the locker room.
Jamie stands, perplexed. “The fuck?”
“He’s fucking sayin’ you miss Y/N,” Roy barks out of nowhere. “You’ve never been at a game away from her. You miss her,” he explains. “It happens.”
“Why didn’t he just say that, then?” Jamie complains.
“Substance. Too obvious,” Roy shrugs. “Call her. Stop being fuckin’ ‘tingly,’ Tartt.”
Jamie is left alone once again, processing.
Ted called him homesick, which Jamie opposes. He couldn’t care less about the place where he lived. Everything in it was chosen by another person years ago, and the space is bland otherwise, with only one framed picture of the both of you hanging up on the living room wall.
Still, he damn well yearned to be back among his stupid, minimalistic furniture and monochromatic aesthetic. Why?
Roy said it was you and Jamie is inclined to agree. When he pictures his living room with his dumb couch, you’re laying on it. Your trinkets and colorful items allay impersonal corners. You’re making a wonderful mess in his kitchen. You’re softening clinical sheet edges. You’re the only warm thing that decorates his walls.
He misses you. He’s homesick for you.
He hates it when Roy is right (but he’s getting used to it), especially when it’s concerning something Jamie didn’t expect, something unfamiliar.
His phone pings, lighting up with your contact picture and a text message asking how he is.
He’s never had a home to miss, he thinks. He’s a little happy to have one. He’s elated it’s you.
#jamie tartt#ted lasso#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt x you#jaime tartt#jamie tartt fluff#jamie tartt reader insert#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt request#jamie tartt fic#jamie tartt fanfic#jamie tartt imagine
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Hi! I saw you're taking some requests, and I was wondering if you could write something about Jamie Tartt dating a cat person. Love your writing 🌟🌟
tysm for requesting! fem!reader
"He's staring at me."
"I promise you he's not."
"I think he's planning to kill me," Jamie mutters, thoroughly engaged in a staring contest with your cat in the dark of your bedroom. You push your face into the pillow and pray the universe for mercy.
"He's not that smart, baby," your cat- with brown and black fur and a collar around his neck that you put there when you adopted him almost five years ago- meows at the nickname at the same time Jamie turns his head to look at you, and just like that they're glaring at each other once more. You sigh, giving up on sleep for the time being and sitting up. "I told you, we can put his bed out in the hallway while you guys get used to each other. I really don't mind."
You try to shrug it off as unimportant, but an uncomfortable feeling presses against your chest. You really, really like Jamie and want him to stay over more often, but it's like whenever he steps into your apartment he becomes hypervigilant of Bandit.
Not that he likes him much better either. Mostly you think it's because he can sense Jamie's apprehension, but also how much you like him, so he compromises with watching him eerily from a distance.
You've offered a varying amount of solutions, but just like those other times, Jamie shakes his head, adamant and with a determined glint in his eye. "Nah, no way. 'm not letting you move your life around for little ol' me, angel. I just... wish he'd liked me a little, at least."
You can't help but smile, warmed at the sentiment. Jamie; big football star, flashy Jamie turned out to be sweet and quite shy when away from the cameras, soft around the edges despite the many things in his life that could've shaped him to be rough and mean.
You like him so, so much.
"He's just protective," you reach and scratch Bandit behind one of his ears, gratified when he purrs and settles by your side and, by consequence, Jamie's. Despite your boyfriend's current doubts, you're extremely content here, in bed with your two boys tucked in close. "Another thing you have in common, actually."
"Yeah? What's the first, then?"
"You both like me very, very much," you say lowly, meeting him halfway for a kiss. Jamie hums in content, smiling against your mouth, reaching to hold your jaw. He tastes like toothpaste.
The next morning you blearily wake to go to the bathroom and brush your teeth. Still half asleep you start the motions for your cup of coffee and the kettle for Jamie's tea, and when you walk back into the bedroom you find him awake as well with Bandit sitting on his chest, nosing at his face.
"Hi," Jamie says, unaware of your presence, his voice the softest you've ever heard. You mourn having left your phone by your bedside, you don't think you can sneak into the room for it and take a picture without breaking Jamie's bubble. "Hello, good sir. You're missing your mama? Where'd she go?"
He tentatively reaches behind his ears to scratch him just like he's watched you do countless times, and the expression on his face when Bandit purrs is similar to that after a win in terms of accomplishment. Your smile is about to break your face.
"You don't have to protect her, you know," he keeps on murmuring, accent thick and voice deep from sleep. "Not from me. We're gonna be spendin' a lot of time together now. I won't step on your toes if you don't step on mine, yeah?"
Bandit, as if he understands, raises a paw. Jamie reaches out and shakes it formally, as if sealing a deal.
"Glad we had this talk, Mr. Bandit."
#gave the cat a name because why not!#i have interacted w cats like.... five times in my lifetime btw#hope this was okay!!#jamie tartt x reader#ted lasso#jamie tartt#ted lasso fanfic#phil dunster#reader insert#female reader#leo writes
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Take Care: Chapter One
Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List
Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.
Word Count: 13k+
Chapter One
“Thank you so much for accepting me,” you said, stepping into Shannon Hart’s office, Head of Applications at Richmond university. “I’ve been so looking forward to finally getting into publishing and writing.”
Shannon gestured for you to sit opposite her. You dropped yourself down into the swivel chair facing her desk, as she cleared her throat and adjusted her sleeves. You stared at her thoughtfully, taking in the slight twitch of her brow and the vein popping out on her forehead.
“Are you okay, Shannon?” You frowned.
She intertwined her fingers and placed them on the desktop before her. “We’ve asked you here today to let you know, with great regret, that your placement at Pluto Press has been… mixed up.”
“Mixed up?”
“Royally.” Shannon stared you down.
“Royally how?” You leaned forward, all decorum going out the window immediately.
“Our paperwork was sorted wrong. It’s an internal admin error, one that’s– frankly– deeply embarrassing–”
“Just tell me what the deal is, okay, Shannon?” you said, trying not to yell at her to just say it.
Shannon cleared her throat again. “You weren’t the name that we sent to the Pluto Press administration. Which means… well, it means–”
You smacked your hand upon her desk, making her flinch. “I mean this in the nicest way, but for the love of God, spit it out.”
“Your placement at Pluto Press was filled by someone else.”
You squinted at her. “Someone else?”
“Yes.”
“But, I can still get a spot, right?” you asked.
“Regrettably not.”
“Not?”
Shannon nodded. “Not.”
You toyed between the urge to scream at the ceiling, or round-house kick the woman sat in front of you. Both seemed appealing, both seemed necessary, but instead you did nothing. You sat like a rock before her, ignoring the upbeat dump-dump of your heart beneath your ribcage. You weren’t an angry person, no, but this was the closest you’d been to booking into a rage room.
“So… you’re saying, I won’t be an intern at Pluto Press starting next week?” you said, trying to comprehend it fully yourself.
“Correct.” Shannon stayed frozen.
“So…” You leant forward, fully, leaning down on your arms and looking Shannon directly in the face. She gulped anxiously, with nerves, and for good reason. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Shannon?”
“Ah, well.” Shannon squeaked out. Sweat dotted her brow and as quickly leaned back in her chair. “This is what I wanted to discuss. Your options.”
“My options,” you repeated.
“Of which there are a few. One, you could defer the year and be ensured a space on this masters next year, with your original placement at Pluto Press–”
“Fuck no,” you said immediately. “Listen, Shannon. I’ve put off this masters for four fucking years. I’m not waiting another year. I mean, I’ve already moved to Richmond. I’ve taken out my student loans. So, abso-fucking-lutely not.”
Shannon’s eyebrow twitched intensely. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” she whispered. “So, your second option.”
“How many options are there?”
“...Two.”
“So, this is my final option?”
“If you don’t wish to drop out completely, yes.” Shannon was a stone-cold fox, you could tell. As much as her eyebrow twitched and her brow glistened, she was certainly blunt and to the point. It was something you could admire, despite the want to storm out of her office.
“So, my final option is?”
Shannon leaned forward again, strongly. “There is one other placement available for this course. They’re new, and we were originally going to try them out with a student who wished to be a sports journalist, but…”
“But?”
“He changed his mind about the course and went into the fried chicken industry, instead.” You squinted at her quizzically. Shannon’s face stayed as still as a gargoyle. “It’s a social placement. You do Instagram uploads, copywriting, player profiles and articles, things like that.”
“Player profiles? For what?”
“Football.”
“Football?”
“AFC Richmond, to be exact.”
The day had gone from bad to worse within a matter of seconds. Not only had you been wrongfully pushed out of your publishing placement, but now your only option was to work for a fucking football team. Football had been something that went over your head from the start. If it wasn’t the fact that boys from the school football team, when you were twelve, laughed at you incessantly, then it was the visuals of grown men clutching their knees and whining on a pitch that made you hate it completely. Football was not your thing. Football wouldn’t allow you to publish your first novel.
You widened your eyes. “A fucking football team?”
Shannon winced, and it was like a layer shed off her in an instant. “Can I be utterly transparent with you?”
“Please.”
“I know it’s shit,” she said bluntly. You let out a huff in agreement. “But, you still have the opportunity to network. Big name footballers have connections, as does Rebecca Welton, the club owner. You’ll still have all the access to publishing opportunities that you’d get through Pluto Press, just… in a slightly unorthodox way. Your coursework will be slightly changed, and the term structures will be different to match up with the league, but.” Shannon shrugged. “This is still something worth doing. You can write on the side, too. And who doesn’t want to be around some attractive footballers?”
“Me,” you said plainly.
“Scratch that last part, then,” Shannon replied. For the first time since entering her office, she attempted to smile at you. It was almost frightening to look at.
So, it was fuck all. You had no choice. You’d moved into your flat two days before, a tube ride away from Pluto Press, and coincidentally a walk away from the Dogtrack. There was no way you were backing out now, not when you’d been deferring your application for years. This was a time where you had inspiration, motivation, and wanted to succeed. You had to strike while the iron was hot, even if that meant dealing with footballers, of all fucking people.
As much as you’d batted away Shannon’s comment about them, you had already heard of a few players that Richmond. Jamie Tartt was well-known, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought he was fit when you’d seen him on his girlfriends’ socials a while back. They were a different breed, though, so entirely excluded from the world that you existed in; far away from the stoicism of footballers and their swinging dicks that fell into one too many vaginas. You didn’t want to be another working woman in the background, especially in an industry that you knew fuck all about. But– this was the best option. It still got you the same opportunities, still gave you the time to write and work on your own novel.
You inhaled sharply and sighed deeply. Shannon stayed put, eyeing you up as she pursed her lips.
“Fine,” you said. “I’ll do it.”
You had less than a week to prepare. Not in terms of your masters or education, but mentally. You were thrusting yourself into the proverbial belly of the beast, a football club full of men who, most likely, smelled really fucking bad. You made a list in your head– Febreeze was right at the top. It wasn’t just about the uncertainty and horror of it all, it was also something that transcended that. What if they didn’t like you? What if this entire experiment went drastically wrong? You knew fuck all about football, and would be surrounded by those whose literal entire lives revolved around the sport.
You felt like an imposter more than anything. More than the rage of the fuck up. More than the fear of things going wrong with your degree. You were an imposter, entering into a world that wasn’t your own, being handed opportunities that others would die for.
That’s all that went through your head as you stood outside AFC Richmond, just off Nelson Road. It looked like a typical football ground from the outside– a green and vibrant field directly to the right, where someone on an industrial mower was cutting the grass. The car park was full of expensive vehicles; Lambos, Jags, Martins. As you focused your breathing, a hulking pitch black Jeep came careening around the corner. You flinched as the driver parked it in one of the top spots, next to a bright green monstrosity, so low to the ground that your knees felt weak just looking at it.
The driver side door of the Jeep burst open, and a man, dressed exactly like his fucking car, jumped out. His jeans were black, his t-shirt black, his leather jacket– black. Atop his head sat a close cut mop of black hair, and his beard was trimmed to absolute perfection, almost to the point of robotism. It was, you guessed it, black.
You stared at him with a mixture of confusion and utter amazement. Was this the Grim Reaper, come to take you away for your sins and tell you your life was all but over? He looked back at you with an indifferent sort of stare, one that penetrated deep into your chest and made you want to violently throw up, or run away immediately.
As he approached the double doored entrance, his back to you, he stopped suddenly. He turned around slowly and laid his dark eyes upon you. “You a fan?” he asked.
“What?” you stuttered out, taken aback by the deepness of his voice. There was a scratch to it, one that resembled a growl. Was this man actually real? He came across as some kind of mythical creature that represented a bad omen, or someone gruff enough to mend the goalposts with his bare hands.
“Meet and greets only happen after games,” he continued. Your face soured with amusement.
“I’m not here for a bloody meet and greet,” you let out. “Do I look like a football fan?” you added quickly, suddenly afraid that you looked like the kind of person to wait outside football stadiums, just to see players.
He shrugged. “I don’t fucking know.”
You took a step forward. “I’m here to see Rebecca Welton, actually. I just…” You glanced around the car park, trying to find the right words to say that you’d been afraid to go inside. “I just didn’t know whether to wait outside or not.”
He followed your eye movements, looking around at the cars alongside you. “Well, she doesn’t seem to have an office in the car park, does she,” he stated. You let out a small huff, embarrassed.
“No, I guess not.” You looked into his eyes, tracing the outline of his stoic face. He was sort of… soft around the edges. If that was even possible. “Do you know where her office is?”
“Do I look like a fucking tour guide?” he said bluntly, and you flinched backwards. Your expression dropped, replaced with something other than the tinge of softness you had before. This guy was an arsehole. An utter arsehole, wearing leather and too tight jeans. When it rained, you bet droplets trickled off him in grey washes, picking up the black dye off his stupid fucking clothes.
“Well,” you said, regarding him. “No, not a tour guide. Maybe the caretaker?”
He raised his brows. “The fucking caretaker?”
“Yeah.” You squinted at him. “I can picture you mowing some grass, fixing some posts, DIY and all that.”
He shuffled on his spot. “Who the fuck are you?”
You crossed your arms. “Someone who’s trying to find Rebecca Welton’s office. And you are?”
“Not the fucking caretaker,” he said, before he turned on his heels and headed to the door.
“Hey, wait!” you yelled. “Hold on!” You rushed towards the door, flashing him a vaguely apologetic stare, but you didn’t dare say one outloud. He didn’t deserve one.
He peered down at you, letting out a literal growl. You backed up slightly, looking at him in absolute awe. “Did you just growl at me?”
“I growl at everyone,” he said.
“Has anyone ever told you that’s a bit weird?”
“All the time. I don’t fucking care,” he said bluntly.
You shrugged. “Fair enough.”
A moment of awkwardly comfortable silence followed. He continued to peer down at you, flicking his eyes across your own, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate you. It didn’t work, not after you’d got under his skin by mistaking him for the caretaker. You raised your brows at him silently, pleading with him to just fucking tell you where to go. You understood that they probably didn’t have many mid-twenties girls around the club, but the least he could do was help, just this once.
He rolled his eyes quickly. “All the way down the corridor, up the stairs. Her office is right there.”
He pulled open the door, reluctantly standing to the side for you to go first. You smiled. “Thank you!” you exclaimed. You rushed inside, fast-walking down the corridor until you found the set of steps up to Rebecca’s office.
He stayed back, peering at you as you went on your way. Before he turned to head down the stairs, he found himself subtly smiling at the scene that played out priorly. You had guts, that’s what he gauged. You had guts and you weren’t afraid to use them.
Rebecca Welton was the most intimidating, yet beautiful, woman you’d ever laid eyes upon. As you sat opposite her in her office, cup of tea in her grasp and hand moving through the air as she talked, you couldn’t take your eyes off the alarming look on her face. She was glowing, talking smartly and confidently, while you all but cowered before her like another male suitor.
“Did you catch any of that?” she asked abruptly, bringing you back into the room. You’d heard nothing, not when you’d been looking at the almost perfect way her face moved when she spoke.
You widened your eyes. “Yes. All of it. In perfect detail.”
“Great.” She stood up quickly, downing the remaining contents of her teacup. “I’ll introduce you to the team. Come on,” she said, rounding her desk.
You scrambled up from your seat and followed her immediately. Her shoes clicked upon the floor dramatically, as you made your way down the stairs and back through the corridor you came from. She took you down another set of stairs to the lower portion of the stadium. You passed multiple offices, and a gym, before she whisked you past a few back rooms.
“Locker room here.” She pointed to her left as you passed. You stuck your head around the corner quickly, taking in a wave of red and blue. “Manager’s office,” she added from a bit further up. “Beyond that is the kit room, and physio on the right.” Rebecca stopped in the corridor suddenly, making you gasp. She let out a breath, before turning on her heels and heading back down the way you both came.
You followed her without question, clutching onto your tote bag for dear life as she whisked you through the grounds. Her legs were too long to keep up with fully, so you were forced to partially jog behind her every few seconds.
“Um, Rebecca?” you asked.
“Hmm.”
“Do I get an office space?”
She stopped again, next to the gym. “Of course,” she said, peering down at you. “It’s there.” She pointed to the right, further away from the gym. A small room is all you saw, devoid of windows, with nothing more than a desk sat in the partial darkness. “I’m sure you can make it… homely.”
“Yes,” you said, smiling up at her from fear. Now wasn’t the time to be criticising your workplace amenities. Maybe when you’d paid your dues, or done a good job, could you ask for something more.
Besides, Rebecca seemed incredibly eager to be done with this tour. She hadn’t exactly been enthralled at your arrival, nor did she seem keen to talk to you for longer than she had to. You’d heard things about her before– a cheating husband, enough money to buy a skyscraper in Dubai, probably. You did your best to keep up with her, avoiding personal questions and trying to retain everything she told you.
The two of you turned the corner, headed for a long corridor, with daylight streaming in at the end. This was obviously the tunnel where players entered onto the pitch. You’d never stepped foot in a stadium of any kind, let alone been on the under-layers like the players themselves. As the both of you made your way to the doors, you imagined what it would be like for them– anticipation, nerves. You’d be shitting yourself, probably.
“I’ll take you to the team, now,” Rebecca explained. “Do you like football?”
“No,” you said immediately. From the look on her face, she wasn’t mad. Maybe this was as good a time as any to explain that you knew fuck all about all this, and actually didn’t want it.
Rebecca peered back at you. “Not at all?”
You sighed. “I know nothing about football, if I’m being honest. I’m a writer, not a sportswoman. I don’t care for sweaty men, or their reasons for fighting one another on a field. I’ll do my job, that I can assure you Ms. Welton, but I won’t deny that I couldn’t give a shit about this game.”
Rebecca slowed her speed, letting you catch up with her. Her quizzical expression quickly turned into a triumphant smile. “Fantastic,” she said. She was being genuine, and you had no idea why. “Well, come on!” she exclaimed, as the two of you burst through the double doors and onto the pitch.
The players bundled up and down the pitch with speed, kicking about a ball as they were split into two teams. You watched them for a few moments, following their movements as they scrambled up and down, kicking the ball between them, until someone finally went for a shot– he got it, but no one seemed happy about it. That was number nine, Jamie Tartt.
“I was wide open!” number twenty-four exclaimed.
“Well, so was I. So, I went for it. Sue me,” Tartt replied, in his staunch Mancunian accent. He stuck out his tongue like a schoolboy as he walked away, leaving number twenty-four with a sour expression on his face. He was comforted by a few others, telling him to brush it off.
You and Rebecca approached the coaches. “Coach Lasso,” Rebecca began, prompting the men to turn around. “This here is our new placement from Richmond university. The one I told you about last week.”
A man with the largest moustache you’d ever seen regarded you. “Oh, yes! I remember now. Welcome!” he said happily, shaking your hand abruptly. You shuffled your falling tote bag back onto your arm, smiling at him awkwardly as he kept shaking your hand.
“Great to be here,” you muttered.
“Call me Ted. You and I are both newbies, you know. Same as Coach here,” Ted said, gesturing to a man beside him. He wore mirrored glasses and crossed his arms intimidatingly. He said nothing, only sent you a nod in hello. “So, what brought you to us, huh? Got a love for football? Got a burning Tobey Maguire for the beautiful game?”
Tobey Maguire?
You looked to the other coach for help. “Burning desire,” he said bluntly.
“I’m trying out my own version of Cockney rhyming slang. Tobey Maguire, desire. Sylvester Stallone, the phone. So far it’s all actors, but we’re getting somewhere.” Ted peered down at you with a cartoonish smile. He was like no one you’d ever met before, someone so overly happy that you could hardly believe it.
“You’re doing… great,” you let out, from lack of what else to say. “But, well– I don’t know a lot about football, but–”
“You and me both, sister,” Ted interrupted.
You laughed awkwardly. “But, I’m happy to be here, and excited for the next year.” A lie, but one that needed to be said. You weren’t here to fuck up this club, or get overly buddy-buddy with its players. You were going to do your job, get your degree and use it afterwards. That was the goal, but during that, you had no Tobey Maguire to upset the team or the management.
Ted and his second in command, Coach Beard, turned around to the pitch. You stood next to Rebecca, who stood next to them, looking out at the players like they were being judged for the next season of So, you think you can dance?
Ted blew on his whistle shrilly. “Gather around, boys!” he yelled. The men obeyed, halting play as they all gathered before their new coaches, with some of them looking more than exhausted.
You couldn’t imagine the physical damage all of them went through, or how fit they had to actually be. You could hardly reach a level six in your bleep test at school, let alone be able to sprint up and down a pitch for two forty-five minute halves.
“Where’s Roy?” Ted asked, prompting one player to appear through the hubbub. When you met his eye, you almost choked on air. It was the guy, the not caretaker. The one that growled at you not an hour ago. “Ah, there he is. Listen up fellas! This little lady here is the placement from Richmond college–”
“Uni!” one of the players yelled.
Ted shot him a wide-eyed look. “God, you call college something different, too? Anyway, yes. Richmond uni. She’ll be doing a few things around here for us. Not PR, but keeping up with player profiles on the website, small updates, and all that jazz about the season coming up, maybe an article or two.”
As Ted spoke, you forced yourself to look anywhere but at number six– Roy Kent. He was staring you down like you’d done something ungodly, like you’d burned down his house or kicked his dog. His stance was one that you’d never seen either, like he was constantly on high alert and ready to strike a punch if needed.
“This here is Roy Kent, the captain of the team.” Ted gestured to Roy. He growled at you. You frowned at him. “You’ll be working with Roy for the next week on player profiles–”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Roy stepped forward. I’ve told you all before, I don’t get involved in PR or website shit,” Roy spoke up. “Get one of the other lads to do it.”
“It’s just for the time being, Roy. Just until she gets acquainted with the grounds.” Ted tried. “As much as I’m happy not to have you in front of a camera– believe me, that’s up to you– as a captain, and as your coach, I’m asking you to do this for the newest member of the Richmond family. Okay?”
You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All you wanted was to start and not stop for a year, so time could go faster. All you wanted was twenty pairs of eyes to stop looking you up and down like something shiny and brand-new.
Roy’s fists balled tightly, until his knuckles went white. “Fine.”
You let out a long breath. “Great,” you muttered. Roy’s eyes found your face, and you looked at him with no effort to be nice. You and he both knew that this was going to be long and annoying. It was better to get it out in the first place than to keep it all in for a year.
After meeting the team, you headed to your shoebox of an office. You had the day to set it up and make your own, before things kicked off. Ted and Beard were still running coaching for the rest of the day, so you were effectively on the lower floor by yourself. You set up your office, popped down your laptop and made a new folder in your documents. You went through your upcoming assignments, and started planning for what you could do. Rebecca gave you the various passwords for the social accounts, which you started filing through to get a sense of what they posted.
It was all the type of shit that your mum would like on Facebook. Brilliant.
If this was what you had to do to get to where you wanted, then so be it. It would all be worth it when you had connections and a network around you. That was the goal.
You opened your ongoing novel on your computer and scanned the pages. This was the endgame; to get the baby published. It was fiction, not once mentioning any sport, but it was all you wanted. Years of delay had led you here, so you had to embrace it while you had the chance to. Downtime was something that you’d have an abundance of, which was another perk, you supposed.
By four in the afternoon, the players tickled back inside. They passed your office with subtle curiosity, peering around the corner as you sat at your desk, filing through emails and starting on a subtle plan for your first assignment, due in at the end of the week. As soon as you’d got the courage up to grab Roy for a quick chat, you could get started.
When the players began filing out of the locker room to head home, you packed up your own belongings. You passed a few of them in the corridor, smiling sweetly and saying subtle hellos as you made your way through, until you almost slammed into one of them.
“Oof!” you exclaimed before him; it was number twenty-four, the one you’d seen before on the pitch.
Gently, he held you steady by your shoulders to stop you falling. “My apologies,” he said kindly.
“Don’t worry. I’m still getting used to this place.”
“It can be a lot to begin with, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it very soon,” he reassured you. You smiled up at him, before he stuck out his hand. “I’m Sam Obisanya. It’s nice to meet you properly.”
You took his hand. “You too. I’m excited to get to know you all.”
“Well, if you want, come and join us later this week. It’s Isaac’s birthday, so we’re all going out to celebrate.”
“Oh,” you said bashfully. “I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude.”
“It’s fine, bruv,” another player turned the corner from the locker room. Isaac McAdoo. “Come along. The more the merrier, you get me.”
Player Colin Hughes appeared in the doorway after him. “Definitely. Come and join in on the fun.”
“Especially before the season starts next weekend,” Isaac added. “Gotta get our freak on while we still can.”
McAdoo and Hughes left together, and you got the sense that they were two players who had a long history of friendship. You turned back to Sam and shot him a smile. “Count me in, then,” you said.
“Brilliant. I’ll put it in our group chat,” Sam said sweetly, before he made his leave.
You turned to the locker room, pleasantly surprised at how that had all gone. If all of the guys were like that, then you’d have no issue with them whatsoever. But, then came Roy. You entered the locker room hesitantly, scooting out of the way as other players said their goodbyes for the day. To the right was the manager’s office, where Ted and Beard still sat at their desks. Directly opposite the door, however, was exactly who you wanted.
You approached Roy, as he pulled on a pair of shoes, and cleared your throat. He looked up at you slowly, resting a hand on his thigh as he lazily skittered his eyes across you.
“So, you’re definitely not the caretaker,” you said, in an attempt to diffuse the tension.
“The last lawn I mowed was my grandad’s when I was nine,” he replied bluntly.
“Noted. I can put that in your player profile, if you wanted.” Sarcasm fell from your mouth, but you got the sense that Roy didn’t appreciate it. He growled, going back to doing up his laces. “I just wanted to talk to you about that, actually. About what Ted said.”
“If you think I’m going to gab with you about the team for the next week then you’re a lot dumber than I gave you credit for in the car park,” he said plainly.
You waved at him in dismissal quickly. “No, no, that’s what I meant. I really don’t need you to do that,” you said transparently. Roy looked up at you with interest, waiting for you to continue. You let out a sigh. “I’m not going to pretend that all this is a dream come true for me, the same way that you won’t pretend it’s something you give a fuck about helping me with. I can go around the players on my own, don’t worry.”
Roy finished tying his laces, before he stood. He towered over you, but the intimidation he’d displayed priorly was starting to wear off. You got a sense that he was just like this, all of the time. You’d read a few articles about him earlier, about his start at Sunderland and his triumphant years at Chelsea, before he moved to AFC Richmond. Roy Kent seemed like a player entrenched with respect. He was one of the greats, that’s what every article had said. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were intrigued to see it all for yourself.
“Fair enough,” he finally agreed.
You let out an innate sigh of relief. “Great. Thank you,” you said, before you turned and headed for the door. Before you left, however, you stopped abruptly. The locker room was empty now, bar the coaches in the other office. It was just the two of you, and you had a nagging feeling within your gut. “You can tell, can’t you?” you asked.
You turned back to Roy. “Tell what?” he replied.
“That I don’t want to be here.”
“You were stood outside the building this morning like you were walking to your fucking death,” he said. “Of course, I could fucking tell.”
“Just double checking,” you muttered, subtly embarrassed.
“Why are you here then? If you don’t want to be,” he asked, grabbing his bag from the bench. He stood to full height again and took a few steps toward you. It was only then that you realised he was assuming for you to both walk out the building together.
You stepped out of the locker room, falling into step next to Roy in the corridor. “The university fucked up. This was the only placement they had left,” you admitted.
“That’s fucking shit.” Roy’s candour was something you were growing to appreciate, almost. “So, you don’t like football?”
“I don’t know a single thing about it, besides it being people kicking a ball on a field.”
Roy let out a long, low whistle. “Fucking hell. No wonder you didn’t want to come inside.”
As the two of you emerged into the car park, you felt lighter than you had all day. Roy headed to his Jeep, and you stayed a few paces back. “It’s not… ideal.”
“That’s an overly nice way to put it,” he said, looking back at you. “And it’s a fucking lie. Why are you doing this to yourself?”
You shrugged. “I want to publish my book. This is a way to make it happen.”
“Fair enough,” Roy said, jumping into his Jeep. He rolled the window down and switched on the engine. “Just don’t fucking include me in it, alright?”
You scoffed. “You think I want to write about you? Don’t flatter yourself, Captain.”
Roy winced. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered, before he put his car in gear and sped out of the car park. He left you without a second glance, turning onto the street and careening down the road as fast as he could, just to get away from you.
You found yourself walking home with a strange sense of peace. Yes, the situation wasn’t in your favour. Yes, you’d already fucked up and called the team captain the caretaker before you’d even stepped foot in the club, but things didn’t feel bad. The boys were nice, the coaches were welcoming, and even Rebecca Welton didn’t give a shit that you knew nothing. Things were slotting into place faster than you expected, but you were happy about it. As you made your way through Richmond, back to your flat, you realised that you didn’t feel awful. You felt almost happy, content, ready to take on the remainder of your first week and bosh out your first piece of coursework.
You spent the evening on Google, looking up the history of the Dogtrack, of AFC Richmond, of their star players. You learned that Jamie Tartt was on loan from Manchester City for a season, which made things all the more interesting when it came to his sportsmanship with the rest of the current team. You watched old game highlights, not understanding a single thing they were doing on screen. You gave up after a few hours of them kicking a ball around, too tired from the prior stress of last week to stay awake any longer.
The next morning, you got to work. You made an announcement to the locker room, while the guys pulled on their shin pads and football boots. “Over the next few days, I kindly ask that you all fill in a small worksheet for me. A bit about your backgrounds, your current positions, your birthdays, even. It’s for the updated player profiles on the website, and I’m on a deadline, so please do this as soon as you can!” you explained.
Sam was the first to hand his in, doing it almost immediately after you made your announcement. He dropped it into the small basket on your desk before he headed out to training, shooting you and a small smile as he left you at your desk. Soon after, McAdoo, Hughes, Bumbercatch and Zoreaux followed suit. You had enough information to start.
By the end of the day, you had almost half of the profiles written. You’d expected the workload to be more, or something intensely focused on football plays, but this was piss. You’d definitely be done by the Sunday deadline, just a few days away.
As the days flew by, you got better at approaching players on their own. You made yourself known and didn’t pester (unless they needed it), just reminded them of the task at hand. Isaac's birthday celebrations loomed ever closer, which meant the guys were in a boisterous and excitable mood for the final half of the week. They would play games in the locker room after training, laugh in the gym during work out hours, and pass by your office, waving at you with chuckles on their lips.
By Thursday, you’d cornered Jamie after training.
“Come on, man. It’s not hard to do. I just need it done by tomorrow, so I can write them all up for Sunday, is all,” you pleaded with him.
He took off his football shirt swiftly, making you roll your eyes. “I don’t have the time this evening. Got a prior arrangement, you get me.”
“I really don’t care about your prior arrangement, Jamie. I need this done. It’ll take you two fucking minutes, literally.”
“Sorry, love,” he said, and the patronising tone in his voice was one that you couldn’t stand. You were older than him by a few years, yet he was acting so inherently high and mighty. “I can’t change what evening I get waxed or the lady gets upset.”
“Waxed?” You grimaced.
Suddenly, a shrill high-pitched voice rounded the corner into the locker room. “Alright, boys!” it yelled, and when you turned around, you almost collapsed to the floor. Keeley fucking Jones stood in the middle of the locker room, beaming at all the boys with a genuine smile, and wearing an outfit that you’d never think would work on paper, but it absolutely worked in practice; on her.
You froze where you were, as she peered around the room and met Jamie’s face. “Ready to go, babe?” she asked, before she caught your eye. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders in greeting. “Who’s this?”
Jamie shrugged on a new shirt, packing some of his belongings. “New social person, or somethin’.”
“Social placement,” you corrected him, looking only at Keeley. “Sorry to stare, it’s just… you’re Keeley Jones, aren’t you?”
“The one and only!” she exclaimed. “You’re a newbie, are you? Welcome to Richmond.” She leant towards you warmly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder in greeting. “Now, I’ve gotta get this one here to his waxing appointment.”
“Oh, sure,” you muttered, peering back at Jamie and trying not to imagine exactly what needed waxing. It was almost traumatising. “Before you go, take this, though,” you added, before you handed her one of your worksheets to her. “I really need him to fill this out by tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry,” Keeley said, folding it neatly and putting it in her bag. “I’ll make sure he gets it done.” She winked at you, making you blush.
The final lads trickled out of the locker rooms, while you reminded each of them to get the worksheet done. A few picked up a new copy, others nodded at you in agreement, but Roy Kent– he didn’t so much as growl as he passed you for the door.
You followed him immediately, rushing down the hallway to meet him.
“Are you giving me the silent treatment or something?” you asked. He growled in response. You scoffed. “You definitely are.”
“Excuse me if I’m not used to nagging uni students getting on my back,” he replied.
“It’s been years since I stopped being a uni student, Roy. I’m in bed by ten thirty every night, I’ll have you know.”
“A boring, nagging uni student, then.”
“Ouch,” you muttered, feeling a slight sting, but you weren’t going to let him phase you. “Have you done the worksheet yet?” you asked. He let out another growl, to which you peered up at him with a blunt expression. “Please, just get it done by tomorrow.”
“Only if you piss off and leave me alone.”
You stopped in the hallway abruptly. “Done and done,” you said from behind him. He kept walking towards the car park, looking back when he realised you weren’t doing it just for show.
You walked back down the hallway, the way you came, as you went for a different exit. Roy stopped walking without your knowledge, furrowing his brows at you as you turned a corner and disappeared. He readjusted his grip on his gym bag, sighing out of his nose.
“Fucks sake,” he whispered harshly, before he entered the car park, door slamming behind him with an echo.
You woke in the morning feeling anxious. It wasn’t just because today would be the first time you socialised with the lads outside the club, but today was the last, easy day that you had to get the remaining worksheets. Your deadline was in two days, and you wouldn’t see the players after today for the entire weekend. It was crunch time, and as much as you wanted Roy and Jamie to be easy and mouldable, you expected the absolute opposite.
Your anxiety dimmed when you arrived in the morning to a full tray of completed worksheets in your office. All but one had been filled out and left for you– and by no surprise, Roy Kent was the last.
“Fucks sake,” you muttered under your breath. You hoisted yourself from your chair and made your way out the office, headed for the locker room. There was a certain confidence in your walk, reserved only for when you were at the end of your tether.
Roy was a grown man. Was he really incapable of filling out a simple worksheet? It drove you insane that he was one of those people who intentionally didn’t do something, even when he’d been explicitly asked to multiple times. Like a child who did the opposite of what their parents said, or when your mum tells you to do something that you were planning on doing yourself, but now don’t want to because she asked you herself.
As you approached the locker room, you let out a whining “Roy!” loud enough that everyone could hear you. You turned into the room, flickering your eyes across the players.
Roy wasn’t there. “Where the fuck is he?” you asked Isaac.
Isaac shrugged. “Think he’s already out on the pitch.”
You made your way out to the pitch, filling the hallways with the same whine that you’d released previously. If this was what it resorted to, then so be it. If you had to make Roy hate you even more just to do this damn worksheet, then you’d fucking do it.
Ted turned to you as you stormed onto the pitch. “Howdy!” he exclaimed. “Jeesh, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? I did that once, too, when I first moved here and slept on the opposite side of the bed. It was crazy, like the universe was all mixed up and upside down. I almost threw up.”
“Where the hell is Roy?” you asked, ignoring him as you looked out to the pitch. The boys were milled around, waiting for the others to come out so they could start warming up properly.
“Well, he’s right–” Ted began, pointing out to the field. He shimmied his finger around, like a cat obsessed with a laser pointer, before he dropped his hand in defeat. “He was right there before.”
“He’s avoiding me,” you let out with a scoff. “This is fucking unbelievable. He’s a literal child.”
“Hey now,” Ted said. “When I see him, I’ll send him to your office, okay?”
You nodded, pissed off beyond comprehension. “Okay.”
The day went by too quickly, but you managed to get all the other profiles written. Not once did Roy come to your office, and when the guys came back in at the end of training, he was nowhere to be seen. You approached Colin, who said that he’d been right behind him, last he’d seen. That was the same as Sam, as Isaac, as the rest.
Roy Kent’s back up career should have been a magician’s glamorous fucking assistant with how much he’d been able to disappear without a fucking trace.
“That’s it. I’m going to kill him,” you said, leaned against the locker room frame as the guys got themselves ready for the evening.
Sam turned to you reassuringly. “He might come tonight, who knows?”
“I can give you his number, if you want?” Isaac suggested. “Can track him down and make him pay, and that.”
You smiled. “Please do. I don’t care if I have to call him twelve times, I’ll fucking do it.”
“Why do you need it done so badly anyway?” Jamie chimed in, shaking out his football shirt.
You copied Roy’s number into your phone from Isaac’s, sighing as you looked back to the room. The boys stared at you expectantly. “You guys know how this placement is for my masters degree, right? Which means I have certain assignments and coursework to get done. This is my first one, and I need all the players to participate, or it’ll be a big, fat fail.”
“Oh shit,” Isaac said. “So, you get graded for this?” You nodded sullenly. Isaac puffed out his chest abruptly. “Listen here, boys! Any of you see Roy, you get him to fill out this fucking sheet, kapeesh?”
You smiled, feeling bashful. “Thanks, Isaac.”
“No problem, girl. Now, turn that frown upside down. We’re getting drunk tonight!”
The locker room erupted into cheers. Jamie sprayed far too much Lynx in the air, and Colin almost cracked his head open as he jumped up and down on a bench, but even you couldn’t deny the atmosphere was electric. They were all good in their own ways, just some were a lot harder to let their walls down.
As the guys filed out of the room, you peered over at Roy’s cubby. Gently, you walked over and placed an unfilled sheet on his shelf. You stuck a small post-it to the paper– do this for me and i’ll never come to you for anything else.
You left the locker room in silence, trying not to worry too much about having incomplete work for your deadline. You had Roy’s number now, anyway, so even if it was something small over text you were certain you could get something. A crumb, maybe. You didn’t panic, not yet. Panicking would be for the Saturday scaries, and the remainder of your Sunday. Panicking wasn’t for now, as you followed the boys out to the car park and piled into the front seat of Sam’s car. A convoy of you left for Isaac’s house, before you all hit up the club later in the evening.
By the time the sun had set, your legs were jelloid from dancing, and your abs were coming in from laughing. You’d gabbed with Keeley for hours at the house, and were still gabbing now on the way to the club.
“What is it with Roy? I just don’t get it,” you asked.
“What, you mean his rugged good looks, or the fact he’s emotionally constipated to the max?” Keeley replied, and you let out a scoff.
“Definitely emotional constipation. He’s not that hot,” you let out. Keeley’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh, please. I know you don’t like him, but you have to admit that he’s gorgeous.”
“I won’t admit that, because all he’s been to me is ugly.” You stuck out your chin stubbornly.
Keeley smiled deviously. “Call him.”
“Absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head. “Hard pass.”
“Just call him. As soon as you get him on the phone, he can’t avoid you. And if he does, he’s a real arsehole. This is for your degree, for fucks sake.”
“I don’t think he knows that,” you said timidly.
“Then tell him! Yell it at him! Get him to do it.” She urged you, and you had no choice.
As the guys strolled forward towards the club, you and Keeley found yourself leant against a wall in a quiet corner. You found Roy’s number in your phone and dialled before you could chicken out. You tried not to vomit when it rang, and with each dial sound you were close to calling it a day.
After five or so rings, he actually picked up. “Who the fuck is it?” he asked, his voice gravelly over the line.
“Roy!” you and Keeley let out in sync, both equally surprised that he’d actually answered.
“Yeah. Who the hell is this?”
“Roy.” You took over, letting out a shaking breath. “It’s–”
He sighed, cutting you off. “I know who it is, now. I swear to God, if you’re asking me about that fucking sheet again, I’ll blow my top.”
All of your fear dissipated. It turned into immediate rage. “Oh, you fucking arse, Roy Kent,” you let out harshly. “I asked you to do this one thing, something that’s important, and you chose to avoid me all day instead.”
“I wasn’t avoiding you!” he yelled back. “I was busy, and I didn’t need you breathing down my fucking neck even more!”
“Oh, fuck you!” you screamed. “Just fucking get it done– please!”
“Why do you even fucking need it?” he asked, booming his voice over the line. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to control yourself.
“I need it for my d–”
“Know what, I don’t actually care,” he cut you off. “I don’t fucking get involved in club PR shit.”
“This isn’t just for the club, Roy–” you pleaded angrily, but he wouldn’t listen.
“The other guys do, but I don’t. I don’t want the fucking marketing collaborations, the articles, the profiles, whatever the fuck else your job actually is. I’m too old to fucking deal with this shit.”
“Are you fucking serious?” you exploded. “Do you hear yourself right now? You’re a professional footballer, Roy. This is part of the fucking job!”
“Good-fucking-bye,” he said.
“Hey, wa–!” you yelled, but the line went dead before you could get another word in. You called back, but the line went to voicemail immediately. You assumed he’d blocked your number. “I’m going to– I’m going to fucking–”
“Use your words, babe,” Keeley said, trying to calm you down. Soon, though, your anger turned to tears. Your eyes started watering, and you sniffed back snot. Keeley quickly wrapped her arms around you. “Hey now, hey, come on,” she crooned sweetly. “It’ll be okay.”
“My first assignment and I’ve already fucked up. It’ll be docked at 40% for being incomplete,” you explained. Keeley pulled back, looking at you softly.
“I’m sorry, babe. Can you tell them he was being an arse?”
“I don’t know. They might not believe me.”
“It’s Roy Kent. Everyone knows he’s a prick.” Keeley gently brushed a few strands of hair behind your ears. “Come on. Let’s have some fun and try to forget about this tonight, okay?”
“Okay.” You sniffed, breathing out to try and expel the anxiety from your stomach. “I need a drink,” you said.
Keeley twisted her arm in yours. The two of you walked down the street together, with Keeley cracking jokes to cheer you up. “I think you need more than one drink, to be honest,” she whittled on, and you allowed yourself to relax. Just for the evening, just for then.
When you got home, you sent Roy a drunk text. It was short and to the point, and when you woke up, you didn’t have a reply. You weren’t expecting one, not after that phone call. You read over the text, over and over, imagining what Roy must feel like.
This was for my degree, my first assignment is due on Sunday. It’ll be incomplete without you.
You didn’t even know if he’d read it, but you were past the point of trying. You’d done all you could, and still he’d denied you. This was on him, not you.
Roy spent his Friday evening in anguish. Sat at his dining table with a beer, he got out a crumpled version of your worksheet from his gym bag. He looked over the questions he’d already answered– his birthday, his prior positions through the years, but the one question that made him want to rage was still unanswered: What do you want from your career in the future?
The future for Roy was different to that of McAdoo, and Tartt, and Obisanya. Roy Kent’s future was up and coming, and he knew it wouldn’t involve running around a pitch anymore. Seeing that question hadn’t just made him upset, it had ruined his entire week. So, he’d avoided you like the plague, he’d spent every night doing the same thing; trying to fucking answer it and getting nowhere.
So, he’d decided to say fuck it, and not do it at all. After he’d hung up on you that night, his anger at you quickly turned to guilt. On Monday, he’d apologise and hand it in, just without that question answered. But for now, he wanted to sit in silence, read the latest Dan Brown novel he had, and drink beer until he fell asleep on the sofa.
Roy turned off his phone for the rest of the weekend.
You slept with yours the entire weekend, but still got no reply from Roy. You wanted to scream at him, tell him that he was an entitled arse, but you knew it’d be useless. Roy Kent obviously didn’t give a shit about you, so why would he care about your insults? You spent your Sunday compiling the profiles that you had already, putting them together to make something coherent. On the front page, you had to specify that one player had not completed the task, which would be your downfall. When you submitted your assignment, you slammed your laptop shut and immediately went to bed. You didn’t want to stay up thinking about it, or think about the email that you’d have in your inbox tomorrow, saying how it would be docked at 40% for being incomplete.
You slept like shit, but still you rose on Monday morning. The walk to Nelson Road was particularly bleak, with black clouds bustling over Richmond and rain on the forecast for the next few days. The atmosphere at the stadium was tense, too, what with the first game of the season being that weekend. The boys were all conserving their energy, all working hard. When you arrived at your office, you flicked on the light– a crumpled worksheet lay on your desk.
The name at the top– Roy Kent.
He’d done the majority, but crossed out the final question. You wondered if he’d done that as an apology, or as an attempt to piss you off further. You’d texted him about your deadline, told him that it was on Sunday. Had he not even opened your message? You picked up his sheet and read it through, trying to keep at bay the anger that you felt in your chest. Maybe he hadn’t meant it to be, but this was cruel. He’d given you enough to make a decent profile, but a day late. It came across like he was laughing in your face.
Quickly, before you lost your nerve, you picked up the worksheet and booked it to the locker room. You stormed down the corridor, turning into the room strongly. You didn’t look at anyone else, just eyes forward, and latched upon the number six at the top of Roy’s blue cubby opposite the door. The boys stopped talking, going utterly silent at your arrival.
Roy turned to you, shooting you a quizzical look. He peered down at the worksheet in your hands, then back up at your blunt and glassy-eyed expression.
“What?” he asked plainly.
You responded by thrusting the worksheet into his chest. He grabbed hold of it, not expecting an altercation this early in the morning. You stepped back, exhaling from your nose, looking at him with such disappointment, before you left them to it.
Roy looked at the worksheet in his hands, utterly confused as to why you gave it back after trying so hard to get it in the first place. He glanced around the room, taking in the pursed lip expressions of his teammates.
“What the fuck just happened?” he asked them, booming.
“Her deadline was yesterday, bruv,” Isaac said. Tension descended over the room.
“Deadline for what?” Roy asked.
“Her degree, Roy. This was her first assignment,” Sam added.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?” Roy said, furrowing his brows.
“She tried to tell you, man,” Colin joined in. “On the phone with Keeley.”
“And in a text.” Jamie pointed to Colin, before looking at Roy. “Keeley told me that she sent you a message that evening, explaining why she needed it.”
“Got docked at 40%, innit,” Isaac added, pulling up his socks.
Roy’s eyes found a spot on the wall and zoned out in realisation. He’d turned his phone off all weekend. “Fuuuuuuuck,” he breathed out.
As much as Roy wanted to be left alone, he wasn’t cruel. If he’d known it was for your degree, he would have grown the fuck up and handed it in sooner. Now, as you sat at your desk and read over the reply from your professor, probably over and over again, he felt awful. It’d only been a week, and he knew you didn’t even want to be doing this specific placement. He felt like an arsehole, a real, fucking arsehole.
At training, he could hardly focus. The thought of you, sat at your desk, pissed off, upset, writing another Instagram caption or article that you couldn’t give a shit about, made him angry at himself. Roy had never gone to uni, or done a masters. From the age of nine, he’d been destined to be a professional footballer. He’d got lucky, alongside working hard for the entirety of his career. He knew you also worked hard, just from the fact you put yourself in a shit position to get what you wanted. That took guts, even Roy could admit that.
When he missed another assist during training, his third miss for the day, he stomped his feet on the pitch and let out a loud, “Fuck this!”
Roy pulled off his bib, throwing it at Nate, the kit man, before he stormed off the pitch. His boots clattered against the concrete floor as he skidded his way through the stadium, all the way to your office. He didn’t knock, but instead bombarded his way inside.
You let out a small gasp at his arrival, but stayed sat down, glued to your spot.
“Why didn’t you fucking tell me it was for your degree?” he boomed. “I would have fucking handed it over sooner if you had.”
“Why would that make any difference?” you said, keeping your voice steady.
“Because it’s not just for the club, it’s for something you’re working towards.”
“So, you’re saying, if it was only for the club and not myself too, you wouldn’t have done it at all?”
“Fuck no. I don’t do PR shit,” he said bluntly.
“Even if it was my job to do it? Even though it was something you had a responsibility to contribute towards?” you said, raising your brows at him. “That’s no fucking better, Roy.”
“I just–” he stuttered. “I didn’t mean to fuck this up for you, that’s what I mean.”
“It is what it is.” You shuffled some papers on your desk, rearranging your notebooks just to keep yourself busy.
“Isaac told me you’d get a bad mark,” Roy said.
“Isaac is right,” you confirmed.
“Well, now I feel like an arsehole.” Roy breathed in deeply, and exhaled sharply.
“You were an arsehole, Roy,” you said immediately, strongly. “But, it’s done now. This was the only assignment I had that included the whole team, anyway. So, from now on, I’ll be sure to stay far far away from you.”
Roy short-circuited for a moment. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, he balled his fists, he shuffled on the spot. He looked like a robot that had lemonade poured on his circuit. His jaw clenched, and you watched in awe at the sheer skill he used to tense his body in such a way.
“Roy?” you asked, concerned.
“Fucks sake!” he exploded, before he left your office immediately. You got up from your desk and zoomed to the door, watching him walk away from the field and to the locker room instead, muttering to himself all the same.
You didn’t see him for the remainder of the day. You bumped into Ted on your way out the stadium, to which he shot you a perked brow look. You let out a long sigh, followed by a slightly awkward chuckle.
“Well, what a day,” you said.
“You could say that again,” he agreed. “The first match is on the horizon, and our captain walked out mid practice session.”
You winced. “Sorry about that,” you apologised.
“Oh, please, it’s not your fault,” Ted reassured you. “Gotta say, it’s not the first time a player has abandoned us halfway through the day, but at least it was today instead of on Saturday.”
“Wait” You stopped in the corridor, right before the doors to the car park. “He didn’t come back afterwards?”
Ted squinted at you. “You didn’t know? He flew off into the wind like one of the Wicked Witch of the East’s monkey henchmen. One second he was yelling obscenities on the pitch, and the next he’d driven off in his Jeep.”
You let out a stuttered breath, trying to compute Ted’s words. Roy had vanished after storming into your office, and no one knew where the fuck he’d disappeared to. It didn’t make sense, and you didn’t think this ordeal would mean that much to him in the aftermath. You weren’t trying to beat him up after what he’d done, as much as it had hurt you and pissed you off about your mark. This was odd, though, and incredibly out of character for Richmond’s captain.
“Weird,” you let out.
“Really weird,” Ted repeated. “But, who are we to question a football star?”
You squinted at him. “Isn’t that your job?”
Ted shrugged. ��Hell if I know.”
You walked home, stunned into silence, trying to figure out what was actually going through Roy’s skull. You were half-tempted to text him, but you still didn’t know if he’d blocked you or not. You almost wanted to reassure him that it was fine, even though he was the one that fucked up your assignment. It was odd how that worked, wasn’t it? How those who had been done wrong felt the need to check in after the wrongdoer realised their actions. You had no reason to tell Roy it was fine, but you still wanted to. If his outburst had told you anything, it was that he felt bad about it all. That was good, you supposed. That meant he wasn’t as emotionally constipated as you’d thought.
Roy ignored you for the next three days. It was blindingly obvious to everyone at the club, even including Rebecca, who you met with for lunch on Thursday in her office.
“I think he feels bad,” you explained.
“I suspect he does. That’s no reason to be behaving like a child.” She ate a mouthful of salad.
“I suppose not… but other than that, it’s all going very well!”
Her face soured. “Oh?”
“I’ve given the Instagram captions a revamp, and I’m in the process of updating the website, too. I had this idea to do articles about the employees and why they wanted to get involved with AFC Richmond, and their passions outside of work, too–”
“That all sounds very interesting,” Rebecca cut you off. “But, unfortunately, I have a meeting to attend.”
“Oh,” you said, as she stood up. You followed suit, picking up your salad and juggling the rest of your lunch in your arms. “Well, this was really nice!” you said, as she started herding you out of her office. “Maybe we should do this again–?”
“Maybe,” Rebecca said. “Bye bye, now!”
You stood outside her closed door. It almost touched your nose from where she’d slammed it, your arms full of your belongings. You let out a sigh, and headed back down the stairs to your office sullenly. You found that what you missed the most out of everything– not the sunlight, or the decor– was having a woman work friend. You felt almost isolated being one of the only women who worked in the building. It was lonely sometimes.
You shuffled your belongings back into your bag on the walk down. You passed the gym as you approached your office and took a peek through the window. On the treadmill, facing the corridor by your office, was Roy. He read a book as he did an incline walk, reading the words thoughtfully, before he turned the page.
Suddenly, he looked up and caught your eye. You flinched, but stayed frozen in your spot. Roy’s face flattened into an unreadable expression. You gulped away the shock, and instead raised your hand and waved at him awkwardly.
Without warning, Roy fell off the treadmill. You gasped immediately, letting out a “Roy?!” as you dropped your bag to the floor and made your way to the gym.
You careened through the door and peered at the floor. Roy was there, crumpled, book thrown under a weight bench on the other side of the gym. “Are you alright?” you asked quickly, offering him your hand.
The other boys stopped what they were doing to witness the scene. Not one of them helped Roy up themselves, but instead waited for you to rush to his aid. It was beyond odd. Roy couldn’t even meet your eye, let alone take your hand.
You frowned at him, hurt. “Roy,” you tried again. “You know you can look at me, right?”
“I’m fine,” he croaked, and forced himself to look up and meet your gaze. “Just tripped.” Knees clicking, he got himself up off the floor. That’s when he caught your eye properly, frowning sullenly. You’d never seen him don such an expression, let alone this close.
You stepped back a little, confused as hell. You looked around the room at the others, their silence descending upon the entire stadium floor, not just the gym. They were all acting strange, making you feel like you were on the outside of an inside joke that they all knew well.
You scoffed, annoyed, as you reversed towards the door. “Okay,” you let out. “You’re all acting so fucking strange this week.” You reached the door frame, and went to leave, but stopped. You looked back at them all, before your gaze landed on Roy strongly. “I don’t like it.”
You left, walked back to your office, and shut the door with a bang.
Roy turned to the guys in the gym, still catching his breath from before. The guys looked at him like he was wounded, almost, and not just from the abrupt fall. Roy breathed out deeply, taking in their pitying faces.
“Stop fucking looking at me, alright!” he burst.
“Sorry, Roy,” Isaac said first, followed by some mutters from the others.
“I’m not some fucking baby bird that’s fallen out a fucking tree, alright?”
“Then why are you acting like one?” Jamie said suddenly. He sauntered forwards, and the rest of the team held their breath. “What, am I wrong? You haven’t said two words to her in days, not since you went AWOL on us earlier this week.” There were nods of agreement, some shrugs of confusion. “Where did you even go, like? You just took off.”
The yeah’s of agreement are what made Roy lose it. Everyone wanted to know where he’d gone, why he’d left, but he hadn’t been able to get it out since he’d done it on Monday.
“I went to her fucking uni!” he bellowed over their mutterings. “I went to her uni and spoke with her fucking lecturer, and said how much of a fucking arse I was.” The room went utterly silent. Roy looked to the floor. “That’s why I haven’t said a fucking word, because I don’t know if I made it better, or if I fucked it up even more.”
Roy balled his fists. He’d been feeling ashamed since Monday, more than he’d expected to feel. Guilt was his least favourite thing to feel, even though he often faked being unbothered.
Colin took an abrupt step forward, snapping the tension. “That’s fucking badass.”
Roy sent a confused arch of his brow at the Welshman. “Really?”
“Hell yeah, that’s badass. That’s a proper grand gesture, boyo. One that shows how bad you truly feel about it all,” Colin reassured him. The lads nodded in approval, sealing the deal that Roy had done the right thing. “She doesn’t know?”
Roy shook his head. “She hasn’t said anything. I don’t know if anything’s come of it.”
“Tell her tomorrow,” Sam spoke up. “Tell her tomorrow and I assure you, she will be okay about it all. I do not get the sense that she holds a grudge, you know? She is a kind person.” More hums of agreement filtered around the room. “Also, you cannot do it today. Not after that display on the treadmill,” Sam added, wincing.
“True,” Roy agreed reluctantly.
Isaac approached his captain then, placing a huge but reassuring hand on his shoulder. “She’ll forgive you, bruv. I’m sure of it.”
Roy nodded. “Thanks, Isaac.”
You locked yourself in your office for the remainder of the day. It was too odd out there, both on Roy’s and the guys’ part. You had no idea what had them acting so off-puttingly, but you wanted no fucking part of it. You dived into work, completing a plan for a new article on the website, before writing your novel for the rest of the day. Shannon Hart had been right– you had so much spare time to write that you already felt like an author already. You were on the clock while tapping away, getting paid for writing your book already, it seemed.
Near the end of the day, an email was pinged into your inbox from your lecturer. You had the jitters every time you received an email from him now, after reading what he had to say about your incomplete first assignment. You’d come to accept the 40% outcome over the past few days, but it still stung. You didn’t want to be considered a failure in your course, especially when you’d only just started.
You opened it up nervously, skimming the contents quickly until you realised it was nothing bad– in fact, it was something very good. “Shut the fuck up…” you let out, trailing off as you read it properly.
An impromptu visitor graced the halls of the Richmond university faculty building on Monday in the form of Mr. Roy Kent, number six and Captain at AFC Richmond. He had a lot to say about you, and about your recent assignment, most notably that he’d ‘massively fucked up’ and was a ‘gigantic arsehole’.
He explained everything about why you submitted your work incomplete, and assured us you were not to blame. I’ve taken this into consideration, and have remarked your work today on my own time. When before you were capped at 40/100, I have remarked your work at 87/100; a grade A1.
Congratulations. You must be doing something right for those footballers.
“Shut the fuck up!” you screeched, jumping up from your desk at lightspeed.
You could hardly believe it. This was what Roy had done on Monday, after he’d left training for the day? He’d gone and knocked on the door of your fucking lecturer, not leaving until they understood that he’d messed up the assignment for you. This was immense, and not at all what you’d been expecting. That explained Roy’s aversion to you over the past few days, and the abrupt fall in the gym today.
You let out a shocked cackle. It reverberated around the walls of your square office, bouncing back into your ears and only making you laugh more. This was hilarious– a footballer such as Roy Kent taking it upon himself to do something so rash was incredibly comical. But, it also warmed your heart. He’d felt so bad that he’d taken matters into his own hands.
This was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you, if you thought about it too hard. This was a grand gesture, a proper apology, if you’d ever seen one. It made you smile like the fucking sun in the sky.
Roy left the stadium after everyone else, taking extra care after his fall in the gym. He’d scraped his knee up pretty bad, and even gone to the resident first aider for a knee brace to make sure he was fine before the first match of the season that Saturday. He made his way out, entering into the car park. He was expecting his lone Jeep to be there, but was surprised to find you leaning against the hood. Your arms were crossed, bag on your shoulder, as you looked out at the setting sun over the green grass of the Dogtrack. He slowed to a stroll, tightening his grip on the straps of his gym bag. You turned your gaze and met his eye, shooting him a knowing look.
“Working overtime?” you asked. It was a redundant question. You had a look in your eye that Roy could sense from a mile off– you knew.
“Just making up for lost time at the start of the week,” he replied, coming to stand opposite you.
You stood up straight, and peered up at him. “Ah, yes. I heard you disappeared on Monday.”
“Did you now?” he said. “Who said that?”
You shrugged, stalling to get the point. You were enjoying the silent amusement between you. Both of you knew what was up, but you had to admit you liked the subtle tension. “Just Ted.”
“Oh,” Roy said, his tone the slightest bit sunken.
“And my lecturer, actually,” you said finally. “He emailed me an hour ago to tell me that you popped in for a visit the other day.”
“Really?” Roy faked confusion.
“Mhm.” You tried not to laugh. “He remarked my assignment. I got an A.”
Just like that, all the stress and tension in Roy’s chest dissipated. It flew into the sky and was caught by the breeze instantly. You smiled at him knowingly, regarding him thoughtfully. He shuffled on his spot awkwardly, looking out towards the setting sun on the horizon, over the pitch.
“That’s great,” he let out genuinely.
You stepped forward. “You didn’t have to do that, Roy.”
He snapped his stare on you. “Yes, I fucking did. I was an arsehole.”
You shrugged, scuffing the ground with your shoe. “You were an arsehole, yeah. But arsehole’s don’t go to my fucking uni and ask my lecturer to remark an assignment.” You scoffed.
“It was the least I could do,” he said, and there was a softness in his tone that you didn’t think he’d been capable of. Roy Kent left you with more question marks the more you spoke to him, but you liked a mystery.
“Well, thank you,” you said, peering up at him sweetly. There was a section of yourself that was different, softer, sweeter, reserved only for those rare moments where people fully exposed themselves to you. Their true intention, their true selves. This was one of those moments. “Really. Thank you, Roy.”
He nodded at you, not knowing what to add. The sun cast an orange glow over the car park, reflecting off his Jeep vibrantly. It looked like the car itself was bright orange, so different from the black paint that stuck out like a sore thumb, usually. His car was so big and bulking, the same as the man that stood before you. But you knew that wasn’t all he was, not after what he’d done for you.
“Heading home?” he asked, changing the subject.
You nodded. “I’m exhausted.”
He scoffed. “You and me both.”
“How are you feeling about Saturday? The Arsenal game?”
Roy shook his head. “Let’s not even go there today,” he said, and you immediately backed off. You knew it was a lot of the team, having both a new management team, in the form of Ted and Beard, on top of someone new skulking around the building– you.
“It’ll be the first football game I’ve ever gone to, you know?” you added.
Roy perked his brow at you. “You really know fuck all about football, don’t you?”
You scoffed abruptly. “Fuck all indeed.”
The smallest smile graced Roy’s face, and you found yourself savouring it. You didn’t want to jinx it, but after almost two weeks of headbutting, you wanted to believe it was over. Perhaps, you and Roy would coexist happily now. Without the meanness, or the miscommunication, or all of the inbetween. In terms of the team, you’d done well with the crew and the boys, bar Roy and Rebecca, but things were looking up.
You felt content again, like you could actually do this after all.
“Need a ride?” Roy asked suddenly.
“Oh,” you let out, looking back at his Jeep. The orange was fading from its reflection. “Sure, I could use a lift.”
“Hop in,” Roy said, as he made his way around to the driver’s side.
He shoved his bag into the backseat, as you opened the passenger side door and jumped in. You slammed it behind you, getting comfortable, as Roy jumped into the driver’s seat next to you. There was a comfortable silence that settled over the car, as the two of you buckled yourselves in. Roy turned on the engine, and the radio turned on harshly, blasting you with an 80s song far too loudly.
You both flinched back, wincing, and Roy clicked a button quickly, turning off the sound. “Fucking hell,” he said. “I think Heart are trying to deafen us.”
You let out a chuckle. “I’ll listen to 80s music over the charts any day.”
Roy perked his brows at you, putting the car in reverse. “Good on you.” He reversed out of the car park and turned onto the main road.
You didn’t talk much, just small talk here and there. It felt oddly intimate being driven home by Roy Kent, but you tried not to let it rattle you. Acquaintanceships always started off patchy, with neither wanting to step over a line, until something resembling friendship ended up shining through. You told yourself that, maybe, a few months down the line, it would be normal for you to catch a lift home with Roy in the week.
You directed him to your street, pointing at your door with a smile. Roy pulled up to the curb, cutting off his engine as you unbuckled your seatbelt. You weren’t expecting him to fully kill the engine, but you didn’t pay it any mind. You jumped out of the car onto the road and rushed onto the pavement, peering up into his, now open, window.
“Thanks for the ride,” you said with a smile.
“It’s fine. I live just around the corner, actually.”
“Don’t tell me you live in one of those big fuck off houses down the street,” you said, pointing down the end of your road. To the left beyond was an array of giant houses, all with blossom trees outside and large gates guarding them. They were gorgeous, huge and expensive.
Roy squinted at you. “I’m a professional footballer. Of course, I fucking do.”
You huffed in amusement. You were about to say I can’t wait to see it in person one day, but stopped yourself short. Was that a weird thing to say, even to a colleague? You bit on your tongue instead and stepped back towards the steps that lead to your door. There was something unsaid in the air, mostly from Roy. You got the sense he wanted to say something more, as his fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel.
Instead, you sighed. “See you tomorrow,” you settled on.
Roy inhaled deeply, and raised his hand in goodbye. “See you.”
His window ascended and he started the engine again. He sped off down the road, before he took an abrupt left at the end and disappeared from view. You let yourself into your building and stepped into the hallway. You sighed once more, contentedly, before you closed the door on another interesting day at AFC Richmond.
CHAPTER TWO
#roy kent x reader#roy kent x you#roy kent#ted lasso#brett goldstein#ff#fanfiction#x reader#reader insert#enemies to friends to lovers#angst and fluff#lightyaers#ao3#wattpad#archive of our own#writeblr#jamie tartt
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gold rush - jamie tartt x reader
jamie tartt x gn!reader
summary: reader is the head physical therapist for AFC Richmond and ever since Jamie returned to the team and has proven himself a better man, you can’t help but harbor feelings for the pro footballer. Takes place during s3ep11. Based off these specific lyrics from the song ‘gold rush’ by Taylor Swift.
word count: 2.9k
Warnings: language - it’s jamie tartt, of course there’s language; declarations of undying love and a first kiss. :)
A/N: I used to write imagines back in like 2012 about One Direction so at least this is somewhat of a step up for me. But my first tumblr imagine so hopefully it’s not complete trash lol.
Part Two: this love is ours
But I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush
I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush
I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch
Everybody wants you
Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you
You were kidding yourself.
Jamie Tartt, the star of the team, the integral cog in Richmond’s new Total Football machine, the absolute adorable human – that’s who you were in love with? It was almost laughable. If you had told yourself two years ago that Jamie Tartt would be the object of your affection, you wouldn’t have believed a word of it. He had changed. He had changed immensely.
It was…embarrassing in a way. You weren’t embarrassed of him, but more of how you reacted when he was around. And fortunately (or quite unfortunately), he was around quite a bit. As the head physical therapist for the team, you saw most of the players quite often for some reason or another.
Of course, you had no problem interacting with others for their physical care. Sam Obisanya had somehow garnered an elbow injury from playing football as a kid and it had decided to continue to bother him throughout his adulthood. He’d usually stop everyday just to chat, if not work through some stretches for his arm. Jan Maas had a tendency to go down too hard on his left knee when running, so you saw him at least twice a week to lead him through some exercises. Dani Rojas, the sweet sweet man he was, would stop by your office every single morning just to say hello and to make sure his arch support inserts in his boots were fitting right. Colin and Isaac both seemed to suffer from the same achilles tendon strains but on opposite legs. You had no problem assessing their physical needs. You went on with your day like nothing happened.
But Jamie…he was a different story. Just making eye contact when he walked into your office made your cheeks go warm. And having to move his ankle around when you were assessing range of movement? Your entire face and neck would go pink. And that smile…that smile had you giggling and kicking your feet for the rest of the afternoon.
The sass was another issue entirely. Boy, did that man have a MOUTH on him.
When you’d first started at Richmond with Ted and Beard, who’d brought you with them from the States, Jamie was an asswipe. Sometimes he’d barely acknowledge your presence when coming to get treatment. Other times he’d just sit in silence, his eyes following your every movement. At least twice he’d come in for medical help and he’d tried flirting with you. Back then, you’d had no interest in him at all.
It was when he returned that it was clear something in him had changed. You’d observed his new restraint he showed at training and on the field during matches. He was considerate of his teammates, passing them the ball more frequently and encouraging them on and off the field. Keeley had even said she hadn’t seen him with a new girl on his arm for a long while.
But ever since his return, he’d become more and more friendly with you. You’d grown to trust him completely. He was a true friend. Not only that, but the banter you two had was unmatched.
“Do you like the new tat?” he’d asked one day as you wrapped his ankle.
“What is it supposed to be?” you’d chuckled.
He looked almost offended. “It’s a rocketship.”
You’d stood, wrap in hand, attempting to hold back a laugh.
He sighed. “Alright, go ahead. Tell me what you really think.”
“Jamie…it…it looks like…like a dick.”
“It does not look like a dick!”
“Yes it really does.”
“You’ve got vision problems.”
“No I don’t. You’ve got some issues if you think that’s a rocketship.”
“Well so do you if you think it looks like a fuckin’ dick!”
You finally let out the laughter you’d been holding in. You had scurried to the door, thrown it open, and yelled out. “Jamie Tartt had his own dick tattooed to his forearm!”
He’d immediately jumped off the medical table and wrapped his arms around you, attempting to pull you away from the open door. You’d held on to the frame, still laughing and yelling as he did so.
“Jamie has a dick tattoo! Jamie has a dick tattoo!”
He was laughing the whole time, screaming, “no I haven’t!” over you, trying to drown out your yells.
You’d found yourself falling. His eyes would gleam and twinkle in this way that was almost comforting. You’d have done anything to see the light in his eyes again after he’d left your office. It was almost intoxicating, but in a way that felt like home. And while your real home in the States was far away, the closer you’d grown to Jamie, the less you missed it.
It was terrifying. You knew what it would mean if you said something to him; or even admitted it to yourself, frankly.
Jamie was a very well-known figure in the UK. He was a top footballer on a premier team that was making a huge comeback that season. He’d been on a popular reality dating television show (which, sure, he made an ass of himself on but it’s in the past) which had spread his name and face across screens that may not have tuned into the matches before. It obviously didn’t help that he was, in your opinion, one of the handsomest men you’d ever seen.
And others clearly agreed with you. The amount of thirst tweets you’d seen online about him was quite overwhelming. So many people wanted to be the one for Jamie. To hold him, love him, do things to him that you’d never heard of before reading that tweet. They found his tendency to be a prick on the field very hot. And he kept it up, that’s for sure.
Not only that, he was splashed all over the tabloid headlines when Lust Conquers All was airing. Since then, he was a frequent face on front pages of any and all gossip websites. If you were official with him, the amount of hate you’d get, grainy and unflattering pictures online, and generally mean tweets from people who found Jamie hot would be like a tsunami and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about that. Granted, he’d actually have to agree to go out with you first and that seemed so impossible…
Despite his public persona, you knew his heart. And what a wonderful heart it was. He was kind, thoughtful, and empathetic. He was considerate and made sure to take care of others before himself. He was a firework in a dim sky.
And you hated him. You hated him for making you want to be with him. Everything he did sent a shock of love and loathing down every single vertebrae in your spine. It almost hurt.
It wasn’t until the team’s fated match against Manchester City in Manchester did you see a problem. And that problem was himself. Clearly he was not himself. The thought of his father showing up at the match was weighing heavily on his mind. His self-esteem was at an all-time low and the thought of facing his old team and their incredibly intense fanbase didn’t help, either.
You’d sat next to Roy with Keely on his other side during the showing of You’ve Got Mail. You could see just from Jamie’s body language that he wasn’t himself.
You’d sighed as Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan confessed their undying love to each other on the big projection screen. Everyone around you had shed at least one tear, including Roy, but something in you felt numb to it. You had been too busy focusing on the rigid back-of-the-head of Jamie in the front row.
You’d watched in dismay as Jamie snuck out of the room, his hood pulled up over his head. You, Roy, and Keely had followed him all the way to mom’s house. You’d sat and had a delicious cookie made by Simon, his stepfather, and then toured his old childhood bedroom.
You sat on the small twin-sized bed, taking in everything around you. Jamie was the same now as he was as a kid – living and breathing football. The posters on the wall were mainly of famous footballers, including Roy, who had cursed at the sight of his old Chelsea portrait. Even Keeley had gasped when she saw the picture of herself topless with two footballs in front of her chest next to it.
Roy and Keeley flopped down next to you on the bed. They chatted for a moment as you stared off into space.
Everything you had been harboring for Jamie – every single emotion – seemed to hit you all at once. The situation at hand forced it all to the surface.
You loved Jamie Tartt.
It brought tears to your eyes. You sniffled, quickly wiping a hand to your cheek.
“What’s wrong, babes?” Keeley asked worriedly, putting a hand on your shoulder.
You shook your head. Like she’d believe that for a second.
“Come on, out with it,” Roy demanded. “You’ve been almost as fucking miserable as Jamie this past week.”
You inhaled sharply, winding your fingers together awkwardly. Your voice was soft, trembling. “I’m in love with Jamie.”
Keeley smiled at you, then shared a knowing look with Roy.
“We know,” she replied gently.
Your eyes widened, meeting her gaze. “You do?”
“Halle-fucking-lujah,” sighed Roy. “Finally.”
“What do you mean, ‘finally?’” you retorted.
“It’s not like it’s been a fucking secret,” Roy grunted. “It’s clear you love the little prick.”
“He doesn’t…he doesn’t love me back, does he?” It was almost like you had dared yourself to even ask. What if he didn’t? What kind of hurt would that be?
You had expected Keeley to hug you sympathetically or even sigh, but instead…she giggled. “Not to break my promise or anything.” She shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, he loves you, too.”
You shook your head in disbelief. “Okay, don’t be mean. You don’t need to make things up just to keep me from feeling rejected, Keeley.”
“She wouldn���t tell you that if it wasn’t fucking true,” said Roy. “And I know we came here for Jamie to speak with his mum, but you’d hate yourself if you didn’t fucking say something to him.”
Your eyebrows shot up. “Now?”
“Now.”
Keeley agreed. “Yep, I think it’s gotta be tonight, babes. It’s perfect timing. His mum will help him feel better and you both admitting you’re in love?” She squealed and jumped up. “It’s gotta be now!”
“But he’s my best friend,” you replied quietly. “I don’t want it to ruin things.”
“It won’t ruin anything,” Roy shook his head. “If it’s meant to be…it’s fucking meant to be. Not that it’s any of my business.”
“He’s had a crush since he got back to Richmond,” Keeley added. “I know it will work out. Trust us. He’s become a new person and he’s the exact right person for you. You’re perfect for each other. I’m going to be that friend and pressure you to do this.”
You stood, if not somewhat shakily, and nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
“You got this!” Keeley called after you as you exited Jamie’s childhood bedroom.
You made your way down the small hallway and the narrow staircase, the air lingering with the scent of fresh baked goods as you descended. You could hear hushed voices coming from the living room. You tried to take soft steps as you approached the door.
“I don’t know, Mum. The best thing to ever happen to me?”
“It sounds like you’re in love.”
“But I’m scared.”
Your breath caught in your throat as you listened.
“Love isn’t supposed to be a walk in the park, Jamie. It can be scary. To put yourself out there on the line. To be vulnerable. To risk getting your heart ripped out and thrown in the rubbish.”
“I’m risking my best friend.”
“But will you regret it if you don’t?”
There was a beat of silence.
“I would die unhappy if I couldn’t tell them how I feel.”
Your feet moved before your brain could catch up. And then you saw him from right inside the doorway. His eyes. The gleaming. The twinkling. The feeling of comfortability. Of home.
He stood without taking his eyes off yours. There was a slight smile playing around his mouth. His hands went into their usual position, clasped and pulling on the bottom hem of his sweatshirt.
Georgie also stood, but she grinned and quickly moved out of the room, saying to her son on the way out, “it’s worth it, love.”
All you could do in the moment was stand there, cheeks going pink under his gaze.
“Erm…did you see me old bedroom?” he said sheepishly, breaking eye contact for a moment.
The start of this conversation somehow seemed to bring you back to the realm of the living. You chuckled. “Yes, I was a massive fan of the old Roy Kent poster you had up. And you know, all the small pictures of butts with thongs and such.”
It was his turn to go red. “Yeah, well, what can I say? Teenage boy hormones.”
“I don’t think it’s just teenage boy hormones, Jamie. That’s just you liking butts.”
You both shared another laugh before it went quiet again.
Now was your chance. Keeley and Roy had said Jamie was at least interested in you, so you needed to say something.
“Um…so, I…I was, uh, talking to Keeley and Roy upstairs,” you began, taking a couple steps toward him.
“Is that what you were doing? Talking? I’d have thought you might be having a threesome.”
You laughed again as he smirked proudly at his comment. But his smile faltered as you seemed to go back to a state of self-conscious anxiety. Jamie’s heartbeat sped up. Usually you would’ve come back with another witty comment.
“What were ya talkin’ about?” he wondered seriously.
“I was just telling them about this…guy I’m interested in.”
The warmth in Jamie’s eyes slowly seemed to be dying like embers of a fire slowly burning down.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. And I was telling them a little about him.”
Jamie nodded, eyes cast down at the floor. He feigned interest. “And what’s he like, then?”
You remembered what Georgie had just told Jamie moments before. Love is scary, but it’s worth the risk.
You took another step closer to him, feeling more confident now. “He’s really sweet. He’s considerate and thoughtful and is willing to learn and grow.”
Jamie nodded again, still half-heartedly listening.
“And he’s funny and makes the best jokes. He can laugh at himself and how dumb he used to be. Although I’d laugh at myself too if I were that much of a prick once. Even turned a whole plan around at Amsterdam once, the idiot.”
His eyes were now back on yours, mouth slightly open in disbelief. The grin seemed to spread over his lips as you continued talking.
“And he’s generous and willing to take care of others despite his own needs. He puts on quite the show at his job though. Oh my god, he can be a bit of a show off, but he’s actively working on it. He always seems to get this like weird ankle injury every once in a while, too. And don’t get me started on his dumb ass tattoos. There’s this one that he says is a rocketship but I SWEAR it’s a penis and –”
“I love you.”
Your words are put on halt by the admittance that Jamie has just put out into the world forever.
He repeated himself with confidence. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Your declaration comes not a second after he’s spoken. And everything seems to spill out at once. “For months now. I’ve tried to hold it in, but I can’t any longer. You make me nervous, Jamie Tartt. You make me blush just by walking into the fucking room. I couldn’t stand touching you because it made my stupid fingers turn red. Your smile alone could light a thousand candles at once. Your laugh could be a grammy-award winning song. Everybody wants you, but you…you are my everything.”
All he says is your name. And then he closes the gap between you two.
His hands go to your waist, his lips find yours. Your arms wind around his neck, hands finding the base of his hairline, weaving your fingers through the strands. There is no space left between your bodies.
Your mouths move in sync, slowly and softly, with a passion you’d never experienced before.
His hand moves from your waist to cup your cheek, turning his head slightly to deepen the kiss. His other hand grasps the fabric of your t-shirt, clinging to you incessantly.
When you pull away for a second, he whispers your name in a way that sends starlight cascading through your very bones.
“Jamie,” you whisper, “you’re my best friend and I love you and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
He smiles. “I think your timing is perfect. Just like you.”
You move to press your lips to his again when Simon calls out from the kitchen.
“Anybody want pie?”
Georgie makes a reappearance in the doorway. She shrieks in delight. “See, love? I told you! What did I tell you?”
She wrestles you away from Jamie and gives you the biggest and tightest hug of your life.
“Mum, you’re gonna squish ‘em!” Jamie protests good-naturedly, pulling back on your shoulder. He slings an arm around your waist, keeping you close.
You knew Jamie would be okay at tomorrow’s match even if his dad did show up.
You loved each other. And that was all he needed.
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt#ted lasso#jamie tartt fanfiction#ted lasso fanfiction#fanfiction#imagine#jamie tartt x gn!reader#gn!reader#gold rush#taylor swift lyrics
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Prompt Fill Guide & Request Info
(Prompts: CLOSED)
As a general rule, I will write pretty much anything. A few exceptions and things to bear in mind when submitting a prompt:
I am well over 18. It’s safe to ask for NSFW.
Jamie Tartt occupies about 89% of my brain right now but you can definitely ask for fic about different characters and non-Jamie ships.
If you do not specify a romantic relationship between characters, I will lean towards platonic and/or canon-typical interactions.
I do prefer post-canon or canon-adjacent snapshots. (It’s just easier for me to keep things in-character.) However, I will consider AU requests if I think I can do an okay job with them.
Reader-insert is fine, but I have very little experience writing it.
I will not write anything shipping real actors, rather than characters. Not my thing.
Keep in mind that these prompts are intended for short, quick to write fics. It’s not fair to demand multiple chapters or a full series rewrite.
It may take a while to see your prompt filled. I am an adult with two jobs and numerous responsibilities. I am very tired and doing my best.
Please don’t be nervous to ask if you’re unsure - if something isn’t in my wheelhouse, I will just say so! Also remember this is a sideblog so I cannot interact with replies on posts etc. However, come scream at me in my ask box about headcanons or extra details any time.
List of pending requests under the cut - please check if your idea has already been submitted.
Pending Requests
Roy standing up for AFC Richmond players.
Roy/Jamie/Keeley run into Richard/Jan on a date. No one expected this.
(NSFW) Roy/Jamie/Keeley’s first time together.
Jamie reconnects with his father post-S3 and hides it when things turn bad.
Jamie’s sleep schedule is suffering and the team starts to notice.
Jamie wasn’t faking being hurt in S1 - he just didn’t want anyone to know why.
S1 Jamie is exposed as a mummy’s boy when the team meets Georgie.
Jamie has a medical emergency on the AFC Richmond bus.
Cartrick caves to Rupert’s demand in the 3x12 West Ham match.
James Tartt Snr swings first in the Wembley locker room.
Jamie is hospitalised during the off-season and fails to tell anyone.
Jamie’s birthdays at AFC Richmond.
Police cars are waiting outside when Roy arrives at Jamie’s house for training.
S1 Jamie is significantly more uncomfortable at the idea of being auctioned off.
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Rose-Coloured Boy Index
— Jamie Tartt x F!Reader
Plot: Jamie Tartt and Y/N have been best friends since primary school. The pair had fallen out once graduation hit, both of them going their separate ways; Jamie finally kicking off (pun intended) his football career, and Y/N finally walking through the doors of her cinematographer career. One day, they cross paths in the corridors of Nelson Road, Y/N getting the assignment to make a mini docuseries of one of the football clubs in England, hers being AFC Richmond.
Overall warnings: mentions of food, alcohol, depression and anxiety, past abuse and trauma, trauma bonding, mentions of smut, panic attacks, angst, fluff, cussing LOTS of it, family issues, projecting
CHAPTERS:
Chapter I: Reeling in the Midnight Streets
Chapter II: Lovely to Sit Between Comfort and Chaos
Chapter III: Turn Tonight, Firelight (coming soon)
Chapter IV: So Long, Daisy May (coming soon)
Chapter V: Every Corner of This House is Haunted (coming soon)
Chapter VI: Fever in a Shock Wave (coming soon)
Chapter VII: The Stars in Your Eyes (coming soon)
Chapter VIII: Death for Your Secrets (coming soon)
Chapter IX: Dance in the Kitchen, Chase Me Down the Hallway (coming soon)
Chapter X: Do You Think it Means Something? (coming soon)
MORE COMING SOON!!
MISCELLANEOUS:
playlist
pinterest board : includes visuals and an idea for cast members (original characters that come up within the book and the cannon characters within the Ted Lasso universe)
#jamie tartt#afc richmond#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt x y/n#ted lasso#rebecca welton#roy kent#Colin hughes#reader insert#female reader#richmond#Spotify
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