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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 2 months

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TEMPORARY THINGS, chapter 3

Your first few weeks on set go by in a blur of learning the ropes. You follow Briony around a lot and listen to her use words you’ve never heard, like striking and dolly grip. You learn the difference between a first assistant camera and second, though it doesn’t seem to make much sense when Maggie points around nonchalantly and gets interrupted by a joke coming from the walkie-talkie on her hip.

It was going well! Aside from whatever whirring now thumps in your chest when Brett comes up beside you. You’re still in good impression mode for another, like, 3 weeks.

“Hi,” he says, a smile and nod when you look up to see him. “Hopefully you’re liking this lot so far?”

“So far,” you nod, appreciative of his inquiry. “But I also heard it takes a few weeks for you all to turn into divas.”

He pulls a hand to his chest in mock offense. The jacket he’s wearing belongs to his character, but the color suits him well. “I usually wait until at least halfway through!”

“Hellooo,” Maggie sidles up and smiles at both of you. Jason’s right behind her and when the four of you stand in a make-shift circle, you’re acutely aware of the way Jason angles himself toward you.

“We’ve got a lot to get through today--wanted to have you hear all of this as well,” Jason says this to you in particular before Maggie launches into some sort of schedule. She’s listing numbers and tasks and referencing scenes by shorthand lingo that only makes half sense.

It’s weird, you realize, that while you’re here on set and working alongside them, your job is different in almost every way: it’s focused entirely on him. Which is maybe a bad thing, seeing as your stomach still does this little flip when you notice the dimple on his cheek that you remember from Day 1.

Lucky for you, though, most of your time on set is spent in Jason’s office. Scheduling his travel and handling his emails and pulling the strings behind the scenes so his actual job here was easier. You’re in constant contact with his manager, his nanny, even sometimes seeing messages from his ex or his friends come through before you pass them right up the ladder.

Briony pops in and out, often passing messages from Jason to you and then in return. She was the coffee kid, still young enough to be excited by that type of task and good enough to never mess up an order.

Poppy hurries by and after you commit the entire shooting schedule of the day to memory, you return to Jason’s office to actually get your work done. Today, primarily, was to be spent going through emails and calendars, plugging in meetings and finalizing his schedule for the next two weeks before filming really picked up.

But there’s a knock on the door that grabs your attention before your inbox is even open. Brendan’s there, a binder in hand and a hesitant smile when you both realize you’ve never been alone in a room together.

“Hi,” he says a bit awkwardly. “Y’know where Jason is?”

“He was with Paul and Jenna near Rebecca’s office,” you hoped you were getting the names right, blending real people with characters in the same way that didn’t trip up the rest of them. “Anything I can help with?”

He holds your gaze for a second, almost skeptical, but then decides he’ll at least give it a shot.

“I’m looking for a list of scenes we’re shooting today. Not the actual schedule that got sent out but the list of ones Jason wants to do if we can move more quickly than everyone thinks we can.”

You stand from your spot on the couch and nod thoughtfully, walking towards his desk as your eyes start to scan the piles of paper. You’ve learned his system bit by bit: the pile on the left is Lasso-related but not urgent. The pile on the right is more personal, with a higher level of urgency. Work-related urgent things get put on top of his laptop, or, if he seems to think it’s really important, sometimes he takes a picture of it and emails it to himself.

As of now you find it mostly adorable that a guy in his mid-forties is sending himself emails with picture attachments so he doesn’t forget stuff. You’ll have to give him a crash course in the reminders app at some point.

You locate the piece of paper you saw him scribbling on yesterday, the red ink of the pen he clips into his pocket smudged in the corner. Today’s scenes are listed out in the same shorthand code you’ve heard Maggie use, Jason’s chicken scratch is in the margins in red ink.

You hold it up before you look back towards Brendan. His brows are arched when you take a step over and deliver, what you assume, is exactly what he was looking for.

He scans it. Nods.

“Three extra scenes sounds ambitious to me,” you try to crack a joke, feeling weird about the fact that you’ve yet to bond with Brendan.

“You can read his handwriting?” He looks up at you again, more quickly this time, surprise on his face when you nod.

“Yes--yeah,” you stammer like this is an embarrassing admission. “Should I not be able to?”

“Jessie always complained,” he shrugs, eyes back down to the piece of paper you’d handed over.

“It’s messy as shit but I figured if I can’t read his handwriting then we’re all fucked.”

The corner of Brendan’s mouth flicks into a smile, a tiny laugh before he salutes you in farewell and his footsteps fade down the hallway.

April 2022

The end of March sputtered more rain onto the London streets than you’d ever seen in Los Angeles. Maggie promised it wouldn’t be like this the whole time, but now, on the third rainy Friday in a row, you were beginning to think your friend was a liar.

“It’s bad luck,” Jason comments as he looks out the window into his backyard, “not bad weather.”

Thunder booms overhead and the British Airways website logo keeps flickering on the page, please be patient while we locate your booking!

“You’re beginning to sound like a London apologist,” you look up at him from your laptop screen, eyebrows arched to challenge his statement. The backyard gets lit up again, the line of trees overhead is visible in the flash of lightning that cracks open the sky.

He smirks at your retort, “forgive me for not wanting you to hate the place you agreed to move.”

His hands are in his pockets but he moves to sit on the couch across from you. You showed up 20-minutes ago, laptop in tow after he heard you mention something on set about your travel plans to Amsterdam.

“London could have been on fire and I would still have come,” you think aloud as the page blinks back to life. “Okay, here,” you sit up. “Booking 1430-3925-098, business class to Schiphol.”

“Cancel it.”

“You’re sure?” You look up at him now, finger hovering over the trackpad.

“Positive,” he stands and nods. “Red or white?”

“Hmm?”

You click the button, Yes, I’m Sure!, but then notice he’s waiting for you to reply.

“Wine,” he laughs. “Red or white?”

You pause, is this a test? Is having a glass of wine with him on a Friday night in his living room crossing a line? No, you decide when he holds your gaze for a moment. If it wasn’t crossing a line with Kyle or Reese or any other boss you’ve had, it’s not crossing a line with him.

And besides, he’s not your boss, technically.

“Red.”

He smiles at your answer and makes his way towards the kitchen. “So why would a fiery London not be a deterrent?”

You set your laptop on the coffee table, a few steps over to stand in the doorway as he pursues his wine rack.

“Sorry?” You’re confused now, still watching when he scans the label of a bottle before he sets it on the Island.

It was a long week. You’d been on set every morning at 6:30am. Most days you left work around 4 or 5, and Jason was good about making sure you took lunch breaks and had enough coffee and knew all the good places to hide for five minutes of quiet when the set got too crowded.

“You said London could have been on fire and you would have moved here still,” he reminds you, his eyes watching for your reaction as you lean against the door frame.

You nod slowly and let your eyes flutter shut in embarrassment. What’s the most professional way to say: I got dumped and fired in the span of two weeks and my life felt like a living hell, so surely London ablaze would be manageable?

You decide there isn’t one, so you bend the truth as he searches for a wine opener. “I was in desperate need of a change of scenery.”

“Christmas in LA does suck,” he nods.

“Luckily I didn’t have to withstand that torture,” you walk over to the drawer on his right, the one that Jessie’s binder said had miscellaneous kitchen tools and utensils. You open it and pull out an opener and hand it over. “I was in New York for the holidays, left LA right after Thanksgiving.”

He opens the bottle and nods sympathetically. “Something about December in LA always feels…depressing.”

“Yeah,” you let out a breath at that word, one that circled and swirled in your brain for days and weeks before you figured out what the fuck you were going to do. Your parents were worried and your sister was three-seconds and a text message away from booking a flight out there to beat the shit of your ex, as she so kindly offered.

He pours the first glass, stealing a peek in your direction when he thinks you aren’t looking. You are.

“So--yeah, Los Angeles, change of scenery, back to New York. Now London.” He pours his own and then brings them both over, clinks his wine glass against yours before you both take a quiet sip in the kitchen. “What on earth made you take this job?”

You smirk, sure you can’t say what pops into your mind: a new city, a penchant for spontaneity after a crisis, the chance to work for your friend’s hot boss…

“Oh god,” he laughs, taking in your expression when your cheeks flush. “Did someone make you come here? Have you been kidnapped? Forced against your will?”

“No,” you roll your eyes at his playfulness and laugh. “I just--I really needed a job and a fresh start, I guess.”

He nods in understanding, takes another sip in the quiet. “Yeah, I get that.”

You’re not sure why it suddenly comes out, honest, blunt, a thud on the fancy tile of his kitchen.

“My boyfriend and I broke up--we lived together--then my job kind of exploded, well, Kyle’s life did too, so, Maggie took pity, I guess, when she realized my life was a shit show.”

He’s a little caught off guard by your confession, his eyebrows are slightly lifted and you can’t read: is it curiosity or concern? Like, did I hire a psychopath concern.

But that must not be it, because when you take a loud slurp of wine to drown out the awkward silence, he swallows and nods.

“Just because it feels like a shit show doesn’t mean it is,” he offers, a small smile before he continues. “My fiancé of a decade left me for someone 15 years younger a few years ago and then decided to give a fuck ton of interviews about it,” he smirks. “So--I get the whole shit show feeling.”

Your lips pull into a smile at his show of humanity, but then he gestures for you to follow him back to the living room. You’d known about his failed relationship, saw headlines and heard murmurs but didn’t pay much mind. You didn’t think in a few years time you’d be drinking wine on his couch on a rainy Friday.

“And now you’re single?” He asks over his shoulder, more of a follow up on your recent disclosure than the flirtation you wish it was. He sits down and you watch the way his knees knock together in khakis.

“First time in 6 years,” you say over the rim of your glass, returning to your spot on the sofa.

He’s watching you, like you’re throwing him off somehow or he’s intrigued. You realize you like it.

And then you remember why you’re here, tonight, in the first place: Amsterdam. The location shoot for the temp gig. Your temp gig job. Your job, him sitting across the room from you as not the man who writes your checks but still the one who generates them. Your laptop on the coffee table pulls you back to reality. You should probably not flirt with him.

“It’s canceled,” you nod towards the computer and then lift your Apple Watch as proof. “Confirmation email came through a few minutes ago.”

He shakes his head but smiles. “I can’t believe you thought I’d make you fly business class if I’m on a jet!”

You remember Maggie’s words from January, facetime a thousand miles away. Something along the lines of he’s amazing, Y/N, he’s so chill!

“You’d be really disappointed to hear what it’s like to work for Tom Cruise, then.”

He laughs, shifts on the couch and takes another sip. “I think it’s really shitty when people treat their EAs like regular assistants,” he shrugs. “Here’s this person who manages your whole life…arguably that means you’re more competent than I am,” he thinks aloud, a playful glance in your direction. A compliment? Maybe. Flirting? You hope.

Is that shitty? Is that weird and inappropriate or—worst of all—are you fully delusional?

“I’m going to pocket that for future reference,” you admit with a smirk.

He sips his wine and smiles, eyes you seriously from behind the glasses he puts on at the end of the day. “Just…know from here on out that you can book yourself as nice of a hotel room as you want, you know, within reason.”

You let your eyes bug out of your head. “Reason, like, the Presidential Suite at a Ritz Carlton, or?”

“Jesus,” a short laugh escapes, a comedic hint of suspicion is his eyes after he checks a text on his phone. “Maggie wasn’t kidding when she said you’ve been primarily A-list.”

“I would never,” you call back, a quick confession to make sure he knows you’re not that type of…employee? Temp? Whatever.

“Great, but still--we’re there for work, but you deserve to enjoy Amsterdam,” he gestures toward your laptop, like the British Airways website itself was a symbol of the upcoming business trip.

Maggie’s been excited for weeks. She babbled about it in the car on the way from Heathrow and Poppy’s been shouting out nightclubs and restaurants and places she wants to go most mornings in the makeup trailer.

You’ve never been to Amsterdam, but you’re excited nonetheless for a chance to see a new city in a new country. The last time you and Maggie were in Europe together was on your study abroad trip when you were both 21. Now it’s ten years later.

She bounces in one April morning to Poppy’s trailer while you’re sipping a hot coffee. One from the catering table because the one you sipped on your way here wasn’t enough.

“You’re exactly who I wanted to see,” her face lights up when she spots you in a chair beside Juno.

“Good morning,” you coo, grateful that Poppy’s trailer has become a bit of reprieve for you. You were right, a few weeks ago when you went out for your first Friday in London: Maggie and Poppy are tight, Juno and Briony and Hannah and the rest of the make up crew seem to be their own little friend group within the larger cast and crew. Ladies who stuck together.

Luckily, you were beginning to feel like a part of it.

“I’m thinking pubs and clubs,” she dumps a tote bag on the counter, contents spill out but Poppy doesn’t seem to mind.

“What?”

“We need to start planning for Amsterdam, babe.”

“It’s a work trip, babe,” you remind her with narrowed eyes, a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else was aware of Maggie’s scheming.

“Work trip, hah!” Juno pipes up from her chair. She’s got curlers in, eyes still sleepy since the sun’s just made it above the horizon. “Someone tell Y/N about Lasso work trips.”

“Work trips,” Poppy turns to see you--she’s getting a palette ready for Juno, all of her brushes and tubes of lip gloss are organized sociopathically by color, size, and brand. “Are only half work.”

A woman after your own heart, though the results of your organizing episodes usually only last a few weeks.

“Half work? How does that…work?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to get mascara swiped on your lashes before your eyes are fully open.

“We shoot long days and we’re busy,” Maggie nods honestly, she’s strapping her walkie-talkie onto her waist, snaking the wire of her headset up and behind her ear. “But when work is over, it’s playtime.”

You watch your oldest friend closely. “Sounds oddly sexual,” you comment around another slurp of coffee.

“It can be sexual if you want it to be,” Maggie wiggles her eyebrows now. “If you’re feeling up for getting down and dirty!”

Oh boy. You blink at her a few times, memories of your last trip to Europe come flooding back. Maggie writing your number on the bathroom stall of a club in Rome, encouragement at every hour of the day to get loose and get laid. Unfortunately for you, this trip might be oddly reminiscent.

“Yeah?” This pique’s Juno’s interest. “Someone in need of a little hanky-panky?”

They all giggle, you choke down more coffee but wipe your mouth when there’s a knock on the door. It opens, the whole trailer goes quiet when Jason’s on the other side.

“Morning,” he nods, a few steps in before he slinks down to the chair next to Poppy with an amused smile. “You know the gossip’s good when it goes completely silent.”

“Not gossip,” Maggie locks eyes with you in the mirror and smirks. “Just some chatter about Y/N’s lack of a love life,” she smiles, an apologetic but excited one.

“I work more than I sleep,” you defend loud enough for the whole trailer to hear—-all six of you in there.

True. Until, about, six months ago.

“Lack?” Jason’s eyebrows are arched in the mirror.

You hope Maggie doesn’t see the way your cheeks flush, a moment where his eyes find yours in the reflection above Poppy’s drawers and drawers of makeup. You wish you could vanish into thin air.

How—in only a few weeks—does it feel like you and Jason are in on your own little secret?

“This is only my second cup of coffee so why don’t we talk about Maggie’s childhood obsession with webkinz?” You propose, a loud slurp and a ghoulish look in her direction to show her you mean business.

You had just as many years of ammunition as she did. If embarrassing each other was the goal, you could at least play the game.

“Weren’t you a bit old for that, babe?” Poppy asks with a teasing smile, fingers focused on the curlers in Juno’s hair.

“I didn’t give a shit that I was 16 and still into it,” Maggie defends, a dismissive eye roll when she picks up her phone from the counter. “The heart wants what it wants.”

A dodged bullet, for sure. You’re able to excuse yourself shortly thereafter to make sure Jason’s got what he needs for the day. Briony did the check of his office, grabbed breakfast and delivered a bagel to the makeup trailer. Which means you’re free to move about in search of the people you need today.

Joan from the location department, Tom from Post-Production—Maggie said he’d be easy to find because he always wears hats but is impeccably bald.

You get the write-up you need from Joan and that’s when Briony falls into step beside you. She shows you the way down the maze of halls and through the lot to an office where Tom sits at a desk. Once you’ve got what you need from him (a firm answer to a question of Jason’s he’s been dodging all week), Briony sits with you on the sidelines of a scene in the locker room.

Jason, Phil, Brendan, and Brett are shooting, the set’s loud before someone calls for quiet.

Briony silently breaks her granola bar in half and offers you some, Greg--who works in sound--offers you both a warning glare: I better not hear rubbish.

So you munch quietly side by side, feeling somewhat mesmerized by the way that when the camera’s rolling, Jason and his scene partners feel like the only people in the room. The scripted jokes they’re cracking are so good, it makes you regret never finishing season 1.

You don’t remember finding him nearly as attractive back then as you do now, sitting behind the cameras and the boom, a walkie-talkie on your own hip and a pit in your stomach when you realize this isn’t even a thought you should be having.

But you can’t help that warmth pools in your belly when he rolls up his sleeves or laughs from across the room. Okay, so, maybe this isn’t just jet lag.

CUT!--the room buzzes back into motion, Maggie’s zipping around the set and shouts to Greg, can we start again at line 47? Poppy goes to powder Brendan’s forehead, Briony’s on her feet and then the whole thing starts again.

That happens another three times before there’s actually a break. Props weren’t delivered on time and so a different scene is getting staged but it doesn’t mean much to you. You’ve checked your own inbox eight times today and Jason’s twelve.

But today was quiet. Showing up and making a stellar impression in the first few weeks was definitely a good thing, but had you been…too productive? Had you accidentally fucked yourself over because now you’re sitting here looking like a moron because you didn’t have something to do?

You booked a zoo tour for him and his kids next month, finalized the rest of his schedule for this week, arranged his travel to see friends in Spain later this summer. You’d organized his home office last week, updated his business accounts spreadsheet and even managed to book him an appointment with an eye doctor after he told you it’d been three years (ridiculous).

Jason walks up and says something to Greg, who’s pretending to give Briony shit about the granola bar. Briony’s smiling up at him like he’s just told her Christmas is coming early.

“Hey,” you greet Jason with a smile, hand him his cell phone that’s been tucked into the bum bag around your shoulders.

“I saw the tickets to the zoo at Battersea Park--thanks for putting that together.”

You nod, glad you were able to come up with something he could do with his kids next weekend when they’d be in town. An advertisement on the tube is what led you to buying three tickets on a whim, just in case.

You smile and look to your left, for some reason nervous that someone will see how awkward you’re being and misread it. It doesn’t matter, though, because he reaches forward and his hand’s on your elbow in a way that makes your face feel warm.

“I mean it,” he says, a nod to himself and to you, one that lets you know he’s touched by the gesture.

“Yes, yeah, sure,” you nod like an idiot, immediately embarrassed by the way his touch leaves your mouth unable to form consonants or vowels.

“Jason, go talk to Mark about camera angles,” Maggie appears and slaps him on the shoulder, a smile on her face when she playfully barks the order.

Phil’s hand is outstretched suddenly, a reminder that time on set moved faster than anywhere else. “Y/N, could you take a picture of me in this for my mum?”

You accept the phone and snap a photo, Maggie’s answering a text and then gets tugged away by a PA.

You turn to face Jason when Phil walks away, you’re ready for a request or a task or anything. But he just holds your gaze for a second, a pleased smirk spreads across his face.

“Anything I can get you?”

He shrugs, “I’m good.”

It dawns on you, right then, that he walked over here to talk to you. Well, maybe not you. Maybe you were just in his way. Maybe he was looking for someone else but he saw you and it reminded him to say thanks.

But either way, right now it’s just you and Jason standing here and it feels good to think that maybe he just likes being around you. Maybe the smirk on his face is because he sees the way your brain is short-circuiting. Luckily, he pulls you out of your crisis.

“Can you come to my trailer later, around 3? Before I have to help them shoot at Keeley’s office later? I can text you.”

You’re nodding and agreeing to it as you visualize your own calendar in your head. You’re supposed to get off at 4pm today, an evening to yourself and the idea of a glass of wine on the couch sounds especially nice now that you’ve realized your social skills are such shit.

“Perfect, great,” he says. “Apparently I have to go talk to Mark.”

You nod, he nods, and then he turns to leave you by the huddle of sound guys handling wires and knobs. You meet him in his trailer and handle the emails and errands he needs, grab a tea on the way home and you’re in the door at 4:49pm--and that’s with afternoon traffic.

London’s been sunny this week, you had wine with Maggie and Brett and Phil one night and you didn’t feel new. You felt normal.

Winter was fading into spring over the last ten days, it was starting to feel like you were your own little piece in the big puzzle you got thrown into. Brendan knew he could always count on you to laugh at his jokes--especially and specifically when they were aimed at Jason. Brett knows your childhood nickname and threatens to tell Phil every time you get dangerously close to calling him out for flirting with Maggie.

You don’t always feel like a transplant anymore, you feel like someone who’s starting to have a place. A tiny one, maybe off in the corner, but still, a place.

And when you left Jason’s trailer that afternoon, you thought it’d be the last time you saw him.

So, naturally, your eyes go wide when you find him beneath the light of your front door this evening. You’re in a sweatshirt and bike shorts, completely unprepared for company.

“Hi!” he says quickly, almost like he’s startled by the opening of the door, like he didn’t know if you’d be home or expected someone else on the other side of the knob. There’s a smile on his face that mirrors yours almost immediately. “Hey, sorry—to just show up here, like this.”

“How do you know where I live?” You narrow your eyes, a teasing but confident tone. All that does is give him a cheerful smugness that you regret immediately, one that makes his eyes scan your face before he shrugs.

“I know I’m not your boss, but I’m, like, not not your boss at the same time.”

You hold back a laugh and watch him, “what a blurred and confusing boundary…”

He smiles, “Which, all I mean by that is that Maggie sent the listing to me when she found it, I’ve actually known where you live since before you lived here,” he admits casually.

“Got it,” you step aside and he comes in, shuts the door behind himself before he meets your eyes again.

“How are you?” You ask, intrigued by his surprise visit but also not wanting to scare him off. You like the way he’s looking at you, your heart does a flip at the thought that he wants to be around you. Just like earlier today. Fuck.

“I’m good,” he says, you walk towards the kitchen and wave a bottle of wine in the air and he nods. “I got stuck late at work, I was walking and it started to rain.”

“You live like, two minutes from here…” you’re smiling despite the challenging statement, you grab a glass from an overhead cabinet.

He shrugs when he slinks into a barstool at your counter, apparently unfazed by your accusation when he comes off it easily: “yeah, I just wanted to say hi.”

You reach for a glass in the cupboard overhead and tease him over your shoulder. “Curious to see how Maggie allocated the living stipend?”

He sits up straighter now and plays into the bit, pushing his lips out in thought when he looks around your open concept kitchen and living room. “That and…”

He looks around the room again, his words hang in the air as he buys time. But his hair’s a mess and his watch isn’t on--so you know something’s up.

It clicks. He’s got something on his mind or something and he’s…trying to talk about it? To you?

Men! Sheesh. You try to relax your forehead as you pour him a glass so your confusion and shock isn’t misread as displeasure. Realistically, you’re touched he feels comfortable enough and the thumping in your chest is a dead giveaway if he can hear it when you deliver the wine.

“Shit day?” You ask, watching as his fingers wrap around the step. He takes a sip and shrugs.

“Yeah, shit day…shit month, shit year.”

You giggle into your own glass, take your first sip before nodding. “I know the feeling.”

“No, I shouldn’t--” he pauses and stumbles for a second, “I don’t mean to complain or sound like a dick.”

You shrug and offer a smirk. “You’re not a dick if you have a human emotion.”

He nods, watches the wine in his glass as a smirk crawls onto his face. He looks up at you. “My ex could argue that statement for two hours.”

“Could she?” You smile, nodding when you tell him: “I’m a pretty patient person.”

“Are you?”

“I am,” you laugh, “I like to think so.”

He lets out a tiny laugh at your comment, quiet for a second before he lets out an exhale. “I’m just stressed, really. Being showrunner this season is harder than I thought and it’s not even hard, it’s just more than I’m used to.”

You nod immediately. That makes sense and you see the fatigue on his face. You’d heard Maggie talk about it before: long hours, late nights, location shoots, freezing days, rewrites and props changes. TV wasn’t easy and you were already aware of that, only a few weeks in.

“I get that—but I think it’s normal to notice the learning curve when you’re doing something new.”

He nods, accepts it and holds his breath for a second. “Yeah, that’s…a good way to say it.”

He smiles at you softly, eyes coming up to meet yours quickly before he shrugs. “I know I’ll survive, it’s just—been a rough go of it, lately.”

“So what’s your release?” You ask.

His brows furrow together and the crease in his forehead lights something up inside you.

He says it like this hasn’t occurred to him at all. “My release?”

“How are you dealing with your stress?”

The confusion on his face turns into amusement when the corner of his mouth twitches toward your ceiling.

“So, nothing?”

He laughs. “I hadn’t thought about—doing anything, really.”

“Men,” you roll your eyes, moving towards the couch with your wine in hand. “The wine’s a nice place to start, but certainly not enough.”

He makes a face for a second, like he’s judging himself or imagining the terrible things you must think about him now that you’ve heard his feelings, but he stands to follow and listens intently when you almost open up.

“When my boyfriend dumped me and Kyle let me go, I stayed in bed for a good…two weeks,” you admit, a grimace on your face because you know it makes you sound like a loser. “But then my sister suggested I go to a rage room and it was amazing.”

“A rage room?” He laughs. “One of those places where you just break shit?”

“Smashing a TV to pieces is surprisingly therapeutic,” you tell him seriously.

He thinks on it for a second, nodding like he’s giving it real thought when he plucks at his lower lip. You can see the smirk he’s fighting, a sip of wine when your eyes dare him to say whatever he’s thinking.

“You don’t have to tell me--”

“But,” you say at the same time as he says it. A flash of embarrassment on his face when you raise your brows, reading him like a book, just spit it out.

“Why’d you get fired?”

Right. You knew it would come up at some point and even if Jason wasn’t really your boss, he definitely had the right to be curious.

“I only ask because I read her reference letter--she loves you.”

“She does love me,” you nod. “But she was having family issues and I wanted a raise and then I found out that her daughter was sleeping with my boyfriend.”

His lips form an ‘o’ involuntarily, the response you got from most people when they hear how the dominoes all fell at the same time.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “Fired might be a strong word, but, certainly how it felt.”

“Well, her loss,” he nods confidently. “I’ve seen the way you organized my desk drawers and it’s either witchcraft or psychoticism and I’m okay with either if it’s always this easy to find shit.”

“I’ll keep it up then,” you smile and take another sip.

“Sorry to just…show up, by the way,” he looks down at his own glass in hand, “and drink your wine.”

You had been looking forward to a shower and a night of watching trashy reality TV (though now you’d sworn off all of the Real Housewives). Other than that, your night was likely to consist of facetiming your mom and plucking your eyebrows.

Jason sitting at your counter with a smirk on his face didn’t bother you at all, but you certainly couldn’t tell him you were flattered that he came here.

You nodded to let him know it was no nuisance. “I’m always up for a glass of wine and talking you off the ledge.”

“That shouldn’t be part of your job description, though.”

“Do you know how many times I listened to Kyle complain about her friends or had to send gift baskets to them after fights?”

“I’m guessing a lot?”

“You venting about work stress is a walk in the park,” you reassure.

“Well, I’m glad,” he says solemnly, a moment when he holds your eyes and you feel your cheeks get warm.

You clear your throat, don’t be stupid, and force out a joke to act like whatever moment this was wasn’t problematic or weird or worse, enticing.

“So unless you have a daughter that will sleep with my boyfriend, we’re probably good.”

“My daughter’s seven,” a beat when he shrugs a single shoulder. “And you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You take a loud slurp from your wine--partly for comedic effect and party out of your own awkwardness--and smirk over the rim to match his. “Right.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: WOW! HI! It's been a hot minute. I'm so glad to be posting this chappie and so appreciative of everyone's patience as my life evolves and writing has taken up a smaller portion of my time. I would love love love to hear what you think of this chapter and the story so far, I've been writing a lot the last few days as feb turns into march and I'm excited to share more!!!!

taglist: @babysugar02 @daydreamgoddess14 @endlessblasphemy @hart-kinsella @shanefilan @bookoffracturedghosts @cavillsim @the-fanfic-fangirl @tegan8314

#tt #temporary things #idkthisisjustforfanfic #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis imagine #jason sudeikis fan fic #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis snl

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sillygooseassociation · 1 year

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Death by Gray Sweats

Brainstorm w/ @tedllasso: you need to write something where ted walks around the house in sweatpants and making reader extremely thirsty and she just can't thinking about anything else but to take all of THAT in her mouth.

Description: You just can't resist Ted in his gray sweats, but can anyone really?

Warning : oral (m receiving)

Pairing: Ted Lasso x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: shout out to Lilli for inspiring this fic and then making the sexy gifs used above.

You sit on the couch, scrolling through your phone when you hear the click of the front door lock, looking up with a smile as your husband enters the house, “Welcome home, Teddy.” Ted meets your eyes, a bright smile on his face when he sees you, “Well hey there, honey! Did ya have a good day?” Nodding, you put your phone away and curl up under your blanket, “It was good! Pretty busy though so I was thinking that we have a chill night? I have the takeout menus and television remote ready to go. What do you think?”

Ted comes up behind you, leaning down to place a kiss on your head, “Sounds perfect, darling, just let me go get in my comfy clothes.” As Ted walks to your shared room, you cue up Netflix on the tv, going to the rom-com section so you to can make a decision for the night. You look at the takeout menus for a couple of minutes, choosing some options from different places so you are prepared no matter what restaurant Ted chooses.

Hearing Ted’s footsteps approach, you place the menus down on your lap and turn to give him a smile, your breath hitching when you see him. That stupid evil man. With his hair loose and a tendril falling in front of his face, Ted joins you on the couch dressed in a University of Kansas tee and his gray sweatpants. Those fucking sweatpants.

Even after three years together, those sweats still had an effect on you, an effect that Ted knew and was either choosing to ignore in order to torture you or he hadn’t thought about it when changing. ‘Well beautiful, I’m feeling Chinese tonight, what’d you think about that?” You just nod in response, still staring at Ted who gives you a confused look before picking the menus up from his lap and pulling out his phone.

The first time you slept over after getting together, he wore his blue and green flannel pajama pants, and, of course, you loved them. If someone didn’t love them, you would swear they had no eyes. The flannel bottoms were great and you requested he wears them every Christmas. The first time he slept at your place though? He brought over those god-forsaken sweatpants. Having already slept together, you knew how, ahem, gifted he was, yet it felt like those sweats accentuated his size even more.

As Ted calls up the restaurant, you can’t help but let your eyes lock in on Ted’s bulge. You’re thankful that Ted knows your normal order for this place because you don’t know if you have it in you to talk right now, more important things are at hand. Things like the way Ted’s pants showed both the impressive girth and length of his member or how the sweats sat just perfectly on his hips that when he stretched his arms up while letting out a yawn, you saw his tummy that you love so much. Turning to throw a wink your way as he finishes up the order, Ted is incredibly confused when he notices you staring off into space. Yet somehow, the man doesn’t notice the place at which you are staring.

Hanging up the phone, Ted sets the menus on the shelf by your television before making his way over to you. He stands in front of you, putting his crotch right in front of your face, god, is he stupid or just plain evil? He places a finger under your chin and makes you look at him “What’s going on with you, honey? You haven’t said anything in almost 10 minutes. Cat got your tongue?” You practically whimper at his choice of words, a cat had not gotten your tongue but you surely wish your tongue was somewhere else right now.

You shake your head, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to relieve some pressure, “N-no, I’m fine Teddy. Just distracted.” Ted nows slowly, sitting down next to you, and places an arm around you, pulling you into his side as he begins to trace circles into your covered hip. “Ah, what’s got you all distracted now?” You love Ted, you love this man with all your heart, you have a ring on your finger to prove that, yet you still didn’t know how he couldn’t understand how much he turns you on just by existing. “Well, did you happen to think about the consequences of your decisions when you chose what pants to put on?”

Ted looks down, letting out a small chuckle as he realizes what you are referring to, “No, I didn’t think about my consequences because yes, I know you like these, but they surely aren’t enough to have you all in a fizzy like this.” You take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to portray to Ted the effect his gray sweatpants have on you. You turn to him, holding direct eye contact with him, “Ted, the minute you walked out in those, I wanted to be on your cock while you fuck my mouth.”

The soft circles on your hips slow to a stop, Ted’s eyes widening as his mouth opens slightly and his cheeks redden, “R-really?” You nod enthusiastically, “Teddy, I can see your tip through your pants and all I want is to lick it until you cum down my throat.” Ted clears his throat, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall, “The delivery person will be here in twenty minutes.”

Smiling wickedly, you lean forward to share a steamy kiss before tossing your leg over Ted’s lap, now straddling him. You return to kissing him as you grind down on his lap, pleased to feel that he was already semi-hard though not completely surprised, that man never failed to tell you how hot he found his wife. Ted whines as you pull back from the kiss, sliding off his legs and down onto the ground in front of him. Kneeling in between his legs, you reach up to untie the strings of his sweats with one hand as you palm him with your other hand. Tossing his head back, Ted lets out a low groan as he claws at the blanket next to him, then hissing when you pull down his pants just enough for his cock to spring up, his sensitive tip being exposed to the crisp air.

You lean forward and lick a thick stripe up the side of his erect member, eliciting a guttural moan from deep in Ted’s soul, “O-oh god, Y/N.” You loved giving Ted a blow job, any kind of sex with him was amazing but he just completely let himself go when you went down on him. It was like you were seeing a part of your husband that he kept hidden, he would let his walls down when he was in your mouth. You lick up from the base of his cock to his tip, pulling it into your mouth and sucking strongly before releasing him and licking down the other side of his member to the base.

Moving your head down a little, you nose his cock to the side in order to gain access to his balls, covering them in kitten licks as Ted thrusts his hips up. Giggling at his eagerness, you pull away from his balls, instead taking him in your mouth and going all the way until his tip hits the back of your throat. Ted moans, thrusting into your mouth to create movement before stopping himself. He always does this, no matter how many times he’s in your mouth, he hesitates to create the pace, not wanting to go too fast for you.

You take his hand and place it on the back of your head, looking up at him through your eyelashes to tell him that it's okay. The sight of him in your mouth as you look at him with doe eyes absolutely breaks him, causing him to pull your hair into his grip and begin to pull your head back and forth. You open your jaw as much as you can and relax your body, letting Ted truly dictate your pace as your body is just along for the ride. You hollow your cheeks as much as you can before moving your hand to fondle his balls, rolling each one back and forth in his hand as the other grips his clothed thigh tightly.

“Oh honey, I-I’m gonna…” Trailing off before he can finish his sentence, Ted moans loudly as you tighten your lips around his cock, leading to him unleashing ropes of cum down your throat. You pull yourself off of him as his member softens, wiping away a drop of cum that landed on the corner of your mouth with your thumb before putting the digit in your mouth, whining at the taste. Ted pants loudly as he stares at you, pulling you onto his lap and then kissing you deeply, holding your face in between his hands. He moves his attention down, sucking a mark into the base of your neck, his mind set on repaying the favor, “Golly darlin’, I really should wear these more often.”

#jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis fanfiction #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fic #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso x reader smut #ted lasso smut

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believesthings · 1 year

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It Dies With You // Jason Sudeikis x Famous Reader

A/N: I wouldn’t call this a sequel necessarily, but in my mind this story exists in the same universe as “the inspiration invitation”. Although, you do not by any means have to read that story first. Secondly, I feel a little weird about this one since I believe it is the first thing I've written that explicitly mentions Olivia and the fallout of their relationship. This is purely a work of fiction and I mean no ill will towards any real life people mentioned below.

Summary: Sensing your boyfriend’s frustration about recent headlines involving his past relationship, you encourage him to process those feelings by putting them into song.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

You can hear the clicking of laptop keys and a drink thudding the top of the kitchen counter. You peak your head around the corner, seeing Jason in front of his computer. The light of the laptop screen highlights his face. If you look close enough, you can see the furrow of his brow. He’s agitated and you suspect you know why.

“Jas, honey? You alright?” You shuffle over to him bringing your hand up to the nape of his neck, massaging the muscle underneath. He sighs, looking down and running his hands over his face. He removes his hat, sitting it down on the kitchen counter and looks back up at you. “Yeah, it’s just… you know.” His hands shoot out towards the laptop screen, vaguely motioning towards the words illuminated there. He looks back up at you and you take a moment to take in his features. He seems tired. Hopefully, there should be a break in your schedules coming up soon. The both of you could use a day of serious rest.

Glancing at the computer screen in front of you, your suspicions are confirmed. Headlines about Jason’s failure to pay child support and bleeding his ex dry with legal fees causes you to release a sigh of your own. You hate that Jason is having to deal with this.

“Oh, hon. I’m so sorry.” You move your hand up and gently run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. He leans over and kisses the inside of your wrist before shutting his laptop screen closed. He stands and grabs your hand walking you both over to couch. You settle in, resting your feet in his lap and he run his hands over your legs.

“I’m just…. I don’t know what to do. I can’t seem to win.”

You don’t say anything. You reach your hand out to squeeze his arm to signal that you’re there, you’re listening but you leave the space for him to talk.

“I don’t even care about the romantic aspect of it anymore, obviously.” He says gesturing to you, implying that he has since moved on. “But she is still the mother of my children, you know? I have to see her and interact with her for the sake of the kids, one of which has her exact fucking face and it’s hard not to see her when I look at him.”

“I just… I thought we had an agreement. I thought it was understood that the kids came first. They are the top priority. Regardless of where she and I were at in our lives, we never wanted to compromise the relationship with the kids. I will never understand how she can joke and laugh with me on Sunday at our son’s soccer game and then file shit like this in the court system on Monday and then look me in the eyes the next weekend like it didn’t happen.”

“The kids are getting older. What if they end up seeing this stuff online one day? I.. I don’t want them to think I’m a bad father. I don’t want them to think I don’t care.”

You sit up quickly. “No, Jason. I’m going to cut you off right there. You are not a bad father. You have to know that. They know that. I’m sure they do. Its evident in everything you do. Besides, all that really matters is how you treat them. What they will remember above everything else is how you make them feel.”

He sighs again, squeezing your hand. “I know. I just.. I hate this.”

You take a minute to look at him, an idea swirling in your mind. “Come with me.” You say. He looks at you, clearly a bit puzzled but follows nonetheless.

You lead him into the bedroom, digging through one your bedside drawers and pulling out a leather bound notepad. Turning back to survey Jason, your eyes travel down to his jeans setting your sights on the two red pens tucked into his pockets. Perfect.

Gliding towards him, you pick out one of the red pens and hold the notebook and pen out to him to take.

Giving you a quizzical look, he says, “what’s this?”

“I think you need to write.”

He scrunches his nose at you, “like a diary?”

Shaking your head at him, you continue, “No. like a song.”

He stares at you for a moment, not seeming to understand you. “I think you’ve forgotten that I am not the songwriter in this relationship sweetheart.”

“Oh, now I don’t know about that. I saw that video you made with Charlie Puth. There’s untapped potential in there, Sudeikis. I can tell.”

“Yes, a video I believe has been marked private. For good reason.”

You lead him to the bed, laying the journal face open on your lap. “Look, in all seriousness, I really think it might help. Part of the magic of songwriting is taking all of that shit that is ruminating in your brain and getting it out.”

He runs his hands over his chin looking down at you, “yeah but with songwriting you have to like make shit rhyme.”

“So? Fuck that. You don’t have to make it rhyme if you don’t want to. It’s your words. Plus, you’re really gonna look me in the eyes and tell me that you can’t come up with a rhyme, Mr. improv comedy?”

“…fair enough.”

You grab his hands, playing with his finger tips. “If you truly don’t wanna do it - forget I even said anything. But I think getting all those feelings out on paper, expressing it, helps you let go of it. It’s a way to take those thoughts that creep around in the corners of your mind and finally put them to rest. You write it and it no longer has to belong to your mind alone. You finally get to put a bookend to it and create space for something else. You don’t have to do anything with it. You don’t even have to share it with me if you aren’t comfortable. I’m not asking you dissect your creative integrity. I’m just asking you to get in front of a page and write. It doesn’t have to be poetic. Fuck that. Just write what you feel. If you don’t get it out, once you die this idea dies with you. Get in front of the page and get it out, if for no other reason than to make your mind a clearer place to live in.”

It was a much longer speech than you were planning on giving, but you really wanted to try to get your point across to him.

“I get you. It’s a little bit of a morbid way of looking at it - with the whole dying thing, but I get you. “

He grabs the notebook and pen from the bed, twirling the red pen between his fingers.

“I’ll tell you what. I’m going to go into the kitchen, tidy some stuff up. You take some time and space and see if anything comes to you that you’d like to write down. If you want to talk, you know you’ve always got my ear.”

He peers down at you again, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “Ok. Thank you.”

You head into the kitchen and start tidying up. You and Jason decided that you wanted to make cookies earlier that day and there was a surprising amount of clutter left over from the whole affair. You can hear Jason mumbling in the other room but true to your word, you leave him be. He emerges a couple hours later, coming up to hug you from behind while you are wiping down the kitchen counter. He places a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. “Thank you.” He murmurs.

“Of course. Everything okay?” You look up at him when you ask. His eyes always give him away.

“Yeah. You were right, of course.” He smiles at you.

He pauses for a minute before asking, “could you.. take a look at it?”

“You’re sure? I wasn’t joking when I said I don’t have to read it if you’re not comfortable.”

“I know but I am. Comfortable, I mean. I know you. I trust you. Plus, if anyone knows songwriting it’s the woman who has one 6 Grammy awards.”

“5 actually, if I win this year, it’ll be 6.” You smirk, correcting him.

He rolls his eyes at you. “Well, you’re gonna win. Come on now. I’m being optimistic about your chances by rounding up.”

“Come on, dork.”

You finish up in the kitchen, leading Jason back to the bedroom. You see the notebook open on the bed. You point towards it, looking at Jason and he gives you a curt nod. “I’m just gonna pop in the bathroom and get ready for bed while you look that over, honey.”

He leans in and gives you a kiss and he’s off, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You’re sure that it is partially true that he’s getting ready for bed. But you’re also sure that even though he was comfortable with you reading what he’s written, he didn’t want to be in the room while you did so. You didn’t blame him. You knew from your own personal experience how vulnerable an activity it could be.

Honestly, you were glad he did because looking down at his scrawl on the page below, he clearly didn’t hold back.

It’s funny how a memory turns into a bad dream

When running wild turns volatile

It’s not funny how it changes

Ended up like strangers

And we burned down our paper house

There were other words and phrases scribbled out throughout the page. Ideas written in margins and then crossed through upon reflection. You were only able to make out one phrase clearly: who taught you wonder, learning, and love were supposed to be easy?

It didn’t really fit, so you understand why he scratched through it but you liked it. You made a mental note of it. If Jason was okay with it, perhaps you would use it in a project of your own.

Another paragraph caught your attention.

They say it’s better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all

That could be a load of shit

But I just need to tell you all

Some mistakes get made

That’s alright, that’s okay

You can think that you’re in love

When you’re really just engaged

Some mistakes get made

That’s alright, that’s okay

In the end it’s better for me

That’s the moral of the story

The bathroom door opens and you look up to see Jason leaning against the doorway.

“It’s good.” You tell him.

“Yeah? Like 5 Grammy awards good?”

“Eh, 5 might be overselling it. Maybe more like 3 nominations, 2 wins kind of good.” You joke back at him.

“Well in that case…” he trails off while walking over to the shelf by your side of the bed, plucking two of your awards and bringing them over to his bedside table. “I’ll go ahead and accept my accolades now.”

You go over to the shelf, examining the remaining awards. “Well it looks like you nicked the album of the year award and you’ve only written one track. So, it sounds to me like you have some more work to do before you go accepting anything, mister.”

“…maybe I’ll do that.”

“Yeah?”

He nods at you. “I’m not saying I wanna switch careers or anything, I’ll leave that to the professional in this relationship, but it felt good. You always seem to know what I need - you’re so busy being you, you don’t even realize how amazing you are.”

He pulls you into bed with him and begins kissing your neck.

“Aren’t you gonna thank me properly? You know…The Roy Kent method?”

His beard is scratching against your skin and you hear him chuckle near your ear. “Ah- yes. I’m familiar.”

He kisses down your body. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”

#jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis x reader #jason sudeikis rpf #jason sudeikis fluff #jason sudeikis fanfiction #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fic #jason sudeikis blurb #jason sudeikis imagine #fluff #rpf #x reader

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thisismysecondrodeo · 11 months

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This Means the World to Me (Jason Sudeikis x Author!Reader, 25K) You're an author of a hit book and your agent surprises you by asking you what celebrity you'd love to come to your book signing. Jason Sudeikis surprises you by actually showing up. But is it just a nice celebrity doing a nice thing or is it something more?

Untitled (Jason Sudeikis x Nanny!Reader AU, 1K) Jason is recently divorced and you interview to be his nanny, but for some reason that Jason is happy to explain, you don't get the job. One-shot.

Touch Me (Jason Sudeikis x HandKink!Reader lol, 3K, EXPLICIT) Jason finds out that your favorite thing about him is his hands, and he's definitely down to explore that.

The Devil Himself (Jason Sudeikis x Reader, SNL Devil Roleplay, 3K EXPLICIT) From a Tumblr Request: Reader has a thing for Jason's SNL Weekend Update Devil character and he comes back from the afterparty all dressed up.

Sick Suds (Jason Sudeikis x Reader, Sick fic, 1K) From a Tumblr Request: Can you do a fic where Jason is sick and you have to take care of him.

Make Me Sweat (Jason Sudeikis x SoftDom!Reader, 3K, EXPLICIT) Jason comes home from a work trip and even though you two missed each other, you decide to make him work for it.

Twitter Famous (Jason Sudeikis x Celebrity!Reader, 23K) Your PR manager always warned you to be careful with social media but it was your favorite way to interact with fans. So when someone asks you who your celebrity crush is well…things get a little out of hand.

Back to the Masterlist ->

#writing #fanfiction #fanfiction masterlist #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fanfiction #jason sudeikis x reader

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daydreamgoddess14 · 10 months

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Landslide pt. 2

MASTERLIST here

Chapter 1 here

Summary: Jason approaches a singer/songwriter about a request for Ted Lasso Season 3.

Jason Sudeikis/Reader Insert (OFC, no use of y,n/l,n)

Rating: General for now... we'll see how it goes 🤭

Disclaimer: I absolutely own none of these songs, I also don’t want to diminish Sam Ryder’s contribution in creating Fought and Lost. This is all completely fictional. I also know nothing about the music industry so this is drowning in artistic license!

Playlist Link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1crFZfdqL1fspNXb80u5sK?si=e90f5f8f357b4647

It leans very Swift heavy but also has songs that I feel fit the main character and her style. I've never created a playlist for a fic before but it seemed appropriate given the main character's profession.

Songs used in Chapter 2:

Lover of the Light - Mumford and Sons (https://open.spotify.com/track/2rjOBgZ6vmRhzf4AbQbbvZ?si=3cdfe7ca63294533)

I Will Wait - Mumford and Sons (cover by Matt Johnson & Amber Leigh Irish: https://open.spotify.com/track/6pZ37H5lrW2v26D9Sbx6Yo?si=0fb2b5b84b0a4c92)

Chapter 2

The blue carpet was packed full of people, you weren't entirely sure where you needed to go but followed the other guests towards the doors of the auditorium, it was one of those situations where your fame came in useful, crowds parted and support staff were always happy to make sure you were going in the right direction.

"Why do you always look like a deer in the headlights at these things? You need a better poker face." A voice chastised behind you. You whipped round to see Marcus and Carey. Insanely grateful for familiar faces you hugged them both happily, over the moon to see them.

"I fucking hate these things. I always feel like an imposter."

"You sold out an arena tour in a day, what the hell are you on about?!" Carey laughed. You shrugged,

"It could all come crashing down, you never know!"

"Alright doom and gloom, here the kids wanted you to see this." Marcus handed you his phone so you could see the picture of their kids dressed up as Spiderman and Thor, wielding a ukulele and a keytar.

"Ohhhh!" You shriek, bubbling with laughter. "They are the cutest! Clearly they take after Carey." Between the two of you, Marcus paused to wave further up the carpet, your laughter had caught the attention of some photographers. You looked over to see who he was greeting and locked eyes with the man of the hour, Jason. You managed to raise a shy smile which he returned. It felt like an eternity but was probably only about 5 seconds before you were back talking to Carey as if nothing had happened. Something had definitely happened though, your skin felt tingly, you could feel the blood in your veins heating up, and your legs felt like jelly. It was like meeting at the studio again except instead of poor Tom being the gooseberry, half of Los Angeles were.

"We're doing a little set tonight." Marcus explained.

"Oh nice, I haven't heard you guys for ages." You brought yourself back down to earth.

"You could," he cooked his head with a wink, "y'know… join us?"

"No way, I'm not remotely prepared, I haven't sang live for weeks. I don't even remember half the words to your stuff!"

"Thanks mate."

"You know what I mean, It's too much pressure."

"As opposed to every other time you perform. Go onnn! It'll be fun!"

"For who?!" You try to counter, but he's winning you over. It really had been quite a few weeks since you'd last performed to an audience and you were feeling the pull. There was also that intoxicating way Jason had looked at you - the urge to do something unexpected and surprise him was pretty strong. "OK, say I said yes, who would we be pissing off - apart from my entire management team?"

"Nah, no one. No one even needs to know, we'll just tell the floor manager to get an extra mic set up and everyone else will be none the wiser. It'll be a good surprise for Tom and Jason to hear you properly live with a band." Yeah… you couldn't argue with that.

"OK, OK, let's do it." He whooped and the three of you started moving a little quicker to the doors. You passed by a handful of the cast still having photos taken, a couple of them recognised you and a buzz went up from the photography area. You hesitated before stopping for some pictures, it was a premiere after all and you had dressed up for it in a dress which was the visual representation of exuding confidence. Confidence which you were absolutely winging at the moment in an ultimate ‘fake it til you make it’ strategy.

"How come you're here tonight?" One of the photographers shouted, “What do you think of your ex’s new girl?”

"Just a fan of the show." You smiled and posed, ignoring the second question. Once inside, Carey waved you off with a grin while you went backstage with Marcus.

~~~~~~~

"So we're doing the theme song - you don't have to do that - then in between the two episodes we're doing 2 or 3 songs while everyone has a break, then I think we'll do one after the screening as well. Happy with that?" You nod, "I'll come back to watch the first episode so you come back with me just before that ends. I'll go out as planned, introduce you and you can join us. Bit of backing, bit of melody. It doesn't matter if you really have forgotten all the words." You thank him gratefully. Back with Carey, you cheer for Marcus as he performs the theme song. At the other end of the same row, you can't help but steal a glance at Jason. He looked across to you just as your attention was drawn back to the stage. You managed to sneak out just before the end of the episode to wait for Marcus to introduce you. As expected, with only a few people knowing that you were there and no one at all expecting you to join the band on stage, the screening audience went crazy when you were introduced.

"Hey everyone, thanks for letting me crash the party. Hope you're playing something I remember, Marmar." You tease lightly. He puts a hand to his heart,

"Some of you may have seen us in the early 2010s on tour with my good friend here. You might remember that she used to join us for a banging version of Lover of the Light?" He looked to you for confirmation that you remembered enough to get by, and then you brought the fucking house down. With the first couple of songs under your belt, you were much more relaxed watching the second episode. It had been such a rush performing live on a total whim, it had been years since you'd done something so reckless and unpredictable regarding your music. Your phone was already blowing up in your bag with Twitter notifications - your management team would have a field day again, you still weren't exactly in the good books. Marcus had saved your favourite of his songs for last - I Will Wait. Similarly to Lover of the Light, the pair of you used to do a storming version together many, many years ago and you loved it so much that you'd recorded an acoustic version for one of your albums and you had been known to wheel it out during live shows as well. It wasn't until you were back up on the stage though that Marcus pretty much reduced his own role to backing singer and had gently nudged you to front the band. It was a damn good job you'd known them all for the better part of 15 years. Your unrehearsed, pared down version was a winner. You kept your eyes in the general direction of Carey and didn't let them stray to the opposite end of the row until the very end when you couldn't resist stealing a look at Jason any longer. He looked happy - fortunately - really happy, and you could feel your stomach tighten at the vaguely familiar notion of genuine attraction to someone. With the impromptu mini gig over, you had a quick 5 minutes with the band before heading off with the intention of finding a bar and a very alcoholic drink prior to catching up with Jason and Tom. Dutch courage was very much on the agenda. You ordered a whiskey and watched from the bar as the cast and creative team started making their way in, stopping every few seconds to be welcomed and congratulated by guests, media and family. You'd gotten talking to a couple of the writers who'd recognised you.

"I was at your last gig in New York, it was so much fun!"

"I love shows in New York," You grinned, "I get to sleep in my own bed for a change!"

"Ugh hotel beds are a menace. I either sleep like the dead or not at all."

"Tell me about it, buses are the worst though - be so glad you don't have to sleep on a bus! I did a week of shows in the UK last year and we were so tight on time that I'd finish a gig, go to sleep on the bus and wake up in a new city. I don't even think we bothered with hotel rooms, just drove through the night." You grimaced. Your back still hadn't forgiven you for that, and your tour manager was under strict instructions to avoid that debacle for future shows.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt, congrats guys!" Jason reached in to say hello to his writing team first.

"You too boss! Have you guys met?" They gestured to you, "I had no idea Marcus was going to bring her, did you?"

"I did know. Thanks for coming." Jason finally turned to you with a smile that made you forget your own name.

"Thanks for the invite. And sorry for the surprise set. It was Marcus's idea." You looked up while the writers filtered away to see other people, leaving the two of you alone. You took a long drink, buying you time to compose yourself because holy shit he looked so good. You wondered if it would be better to hold the meeting at separate ends of the room and communicate via smoke signals to save your blushes.

"Oh no, I loved it! Instant validation for the request I sent to Tom and Marcus, as if hearing you in the studio wasn't enough. You sounded amazing." You wave the compliment away,

"I'm way under rehearsed, I'm still under strict instructions to lay low for a while so I haven't been in front of a big audience for ages."

"It didn't show, really, you were great. Better than Marcus."

"Stop, he'll never forgive me!" You nudged him, laughing.

"Can we sit?" You nod and his hand brushes the small of your back, guiding you to a booth. It’s warm through the thin fabric of your dress and you could curse when your treacherous body shivers in response.

"Congrats on tonight, it looks like it's been a huge success."

"Ahh we'll see, it's a long way to go till the end of May. How's your week been?"

"Pretty good thanks, a few meetings. Plenty of writing."

"Anything you'd like to share?" He asked curiously.

"Not just yet,” you tease lightly, “give it another day or so and maybe. Also it might be wildly different to what Tom's expecting so I don't want to get in trouble."

“You don’t strike me as a troublemaker.”

“I’m on my best behaviour. Unfortunately. One more bad headline and-” you draw your finger across your throat.

“No way? Those headlines are not your fault - you defended yourself.”

“Hmm but there are a lot of people out there who don’t believe that I’m defending myself. They believe that I’m the problem.” He looks at your hand resting on the table near his and you think he’s about to take it, but he moves his own away at the last second. “So… troublemaker, that’s me.” You smile ruefully.

“Well I think I’ll reserve judgment.” He does move his hand then, but not to take yours, instead it goes around you to rest on your hip furthest from him, the action sliding you across the seat a few inches closer to him. He holds your gaze, an unspoken request for permission/forgiveness. You can’t help but feel a little unsure, automatically defensive. You’d spent three years being belittled, gaslit, shamed and manipulated in every aspect of your personal life, and now you were trying to recover from that whilst simultaneously trying to prove that those things were really happening to you and that you’re not a cold, calculating and manipulative bitch. You had no idea who you could really trust, who was supporting you or who was in the pocket of your ex. It was draining trying to mentally vet every reaction, conversation and person before letting your guard down. Something in his warm eyes lets you think you can trust him though, so you lean into that and into his hand just a little. Your eyes flash down to his mouth and back again and you hope you were quick enough that he didn't notice because you hadn't meant to do it. Well, not exactly. Your time alone is cut short though when Tom comes over with more drinks.

"So that was unexpected." He said, handing you a glass. "Brilliant, but unexpected." Jason moves his hand from behind you to take his drink from Tom.

"Told you."

"Hush, you. Thank you, Tom. I caved to peer pressure. Marcus bullied me into it."

"I should get him a drink then." You unlock your phone and slide it across the table, the notes app open. As it passes him, Jason tries to sneak a look but Tom grabs up the phone and reads. "Keep going, you're nearly there." He advises firmly. "Though I want to hear it, I'm in meetings all day tomorrow but record a quick voice note, give me an idea of pace and melody and I’ll think on it."

"Can you send it to me too?" Jason asked.

"Nope." You reply with a smirk, for a moment he looks confused. "I don't have your number. But also, I’m not about to send you a half arsed voice note just yet." You shrug. He's about to reply when a few people start milling around looking like they need him. He excuses himself and you and Tom compare some notes on the start you’ve made to the song. He next finds you back at the same table catching up with Carey.

“-I’m just saying I would pay good money to see you recreate that Tom Holland Lip Sync Battle rain dance!” Carey giggled.

“Oh god, I’d fall over and break something! Besides, I’m not built for dancing - especially not dirty rain dancing!” You reply gleefully, the giggles getting the better of you both.

“Who’s doing dirty rain dancing?” Jason grins, handing both of you a drink, “Saw you both from the bar.”

“Ahh I’ll never convince her. Maybe Marcus will do it instead.” She takes a sip of her drink, “I’m going to be so hungover on the school run tomorrow.”

“Same.” he agrees.

“I’ll come with you, I want to see the kiddos and I’ll bring the biggest coffees I can find.”

“Thanks, love. If I’m already going to be hungover I might as well finish this drink as well! Thanks Jason, and congratulations!” As the party slows and people drift off, including Tom, you talk Carey into staying for another drink, not quite willing to leave Jason’s company just yet. He’s been sitting next to you again, not so close that it would make Carey uncomfortable or would seem rude. Close enough that when he talks with his hands they brush against your arm or hand. When they’re finally still and he puts them on the seat between you both, his fingertips can catch against yours or (very bravely) ghost over the hem of your dress. Meanwhile, you’re trying to look casual, trying to act unruffled but there’s a marching band inside your body banging your heart like a bloody big drum and it might as well be bursting out of your chest like a cartoon. When Carey gets up to track down Marcus so you can share an Uber with them, he turns on the seat to face you.

“Can I give you my number?” He asks, watching your eyes widen in surprise. “For the voice note you're going to send me,” he teases.

“I’m not sending you the bloody song over WhatsApp. Tom can show you whatever he chooses, but you’ll get nothing from me until I say so.”

“Nothing at all huh?” He moves closer on the seat. You smile shyly,

“I’d strongly advise against whatever it is you think you’d like to do right now.”

“There’s a lot that I’d like to do, you might need to be more specific?” You shake your head in exasperation.

“My life is a fucking mess.”

“So is mine.”

“So you wouldn’t want to make it worse.”

“I really think I might actually want to. Might make it better.”

“The paps are-”

“Intense, rude, intrusive?”

“My ex-”

“Is a dick.”

“Can we be serious for one minute? One minute. I don’t want you to drag you into this shitshow, my name is mud everywhere at the moment - I might as well be public enemy number one. No matter how… brief this might end up being, it’s still not fair on you, or your family, that you get associated with it all.”

“I don’t need to be, we don’t have to broadcast it.”

“I’m pretty sure they know my diary better than I do.” You counter, then pause, taking in the hat, the custom made tracksuit, the dimples. “But… I can avoid them most of the time. I try to… protect myself.”

“We could try that? Because I’d really like to kiss you before Carey gets back and you have to leave.” You can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth at that. The hint of a smile is enough for him to lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips making you hum happily. “Wanna come to a basketball game?”

“And sit about 10 seats away from you pretending I’m not checking you out?”

“Amazing coincidence, that’s exactly what I’d be doing too.”

“I’d love to. Especially the checking you out part.” You grin. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Marcus and Carey coming back for you. “Looks like my time is up.” He slips his phone out of his pocket and opens the screen before handing it to you to add your number.

~~~~~~~~

Over the next couple of days, the tabloids seemed to wake up to your arrival in L.A, though they did at least leave you alone and keep their distance. A handful of pictures cropped up on Twitter and Instagram - you holding hands with one of Marcus and Carey’s kids, giving them a piggyback after school, some of you from the Ted Lasso premiere and one of you collecting takeout the evening after the premiere. You knew there would be photographers at the basketball game you were attending so you’d planned to go with an old friend. Despite Jason being the one to ask you to go, you knew that you’d be unlikely to even be able to say more than hello to him with so many eyes around. You sat one row back from the courtside and about 10-15 seats further along the row than Jason sat with his castmates and son. He’d sent you a message before you’d even pulled up at your apartment after the premiere, you’d replied of course and the message pingpong had been pretty regular in the run up to the game. He’d seen you arrive, he’d been loitering at the edge of the court talking while the seats began to fill up. You’d smiled and held your beer up in greeting.

You look great, I’m glad you came

Thanks, you too. This doesn’t count as a first date though.

That’s fair, I’ve got to get O home after this, but we could hang out later in the week?

Sounds good, enjoy the game

After the game, someone had pushed a ball into his hands while people were milling around the court. He’d been laughing and joking with Toheeb and Kola and you’d been perfectly happy just watching him have a good time. He took his cap off and turned it around on his head so he could better line up his shot. You had been halfway through a conversation but god fucking damn your jaw near hit the floor when he bounced a little and the ball had travelled near half the length of the court and straight into the basket. Someone had been filming it and Kola had excitedly told him to tell the camera that it had been one take. By this point, you’d long given up on talking with your friend and she watched in amusement while your words had trailed off. She followed your gaze to the scenes on the court.

“That’s emmm… that’s pretty hot.”

“I’m not usually a men doing sports type of person. In that it normally doesn’t affect me in any kind of way.”

“How you feeling now?”

“Pretty fucking affected. Jesus.” You reached for your phone while the image and the thoughts were still fresh in your mind - though there was no doubt that the visual would be there for a very long time to come.

That was insane. I truly hope you know how hot that was because I… I’m speechless.

With the rest of the court clearing out, you took your empty beer glasses and took one last look at Jason. He spotted you so you gave a quick glance around for potential photographers before very obviously fanning yourself with your hand. He laughed and winked.

~~~~~~~~~

#jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis rpf #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis imagine #jason sudeikis x reader

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carmylasso · 1 year

Text

out of the woods (jason sudeikis x reader)

summary: after your boss sets you up on a date with your longest celebrity crush, you were pretty sure that was as wild as your friday was gonna get...turns out you shouldn't be tempting fate.

warnings: anxious thoughts, smutty inclinations, olivia.

a/n: so....i wrote the nanny thing? this is mostly fluffy and a lot self indulgent. obviously the kids are mentioned and will be making appearances in later parts, so if you feel uncomfortable with that, skip this one.

hope you like it! (you can totally curse me for that ending. i know)

tagging some friends without who this would never see the light of the day @calzone-d @thisismysecondrodeo @tedssweaters

statistically speaking, you shouldn't be nervous: it's not like that's the first time you step into the house – by now you could probably say where everything is stored in that kitchen, or slid a joke over the fact that he's obviously organized the living room a bit before you came over tonight – or as if the man at the stove is a stranger by any means.

however, statistically speaking, the chances of you being here tonight, just you and jason, in a date, were never that great to begin with, so...

no, scratch that. up to 6 months ago, there was simply no starting scenario that ended up here, even if alexi never missed a chance to tease you about him whenever the man was brought up. one downside of being friends your boss, you figure. as the years passed, you gave up "hiding" your stupid, incurable celebrity crush on jason sudeikis, even around her and seth. it was harmless, after all. made your face warm with embarrassment when you overheard plans that included him being made? without a fault, but it usually granted you a night off if the man was coming to the house.

til they sat you down one morning to ask if you'd be interested in meeting his kids, seth's eyes gleaming with mischief as he held his hands together in a plea for you to not forget you loved their boys, who would miss you terribly if you sacked them for a hot, newly single comedian.

the three of you were laughing when you told him to kindly fuck the hell off.

except now jason's here, close enough to touch. he's here, and this feels like a whole lot more than flirty jokes late at night, more than stolen glances after a big award ceremony, his hair a mess, clothes askew. certainly more than the almost kiss that got you here in the first place, the feeling of his hand on the side of your neck as he said if he was gonna kiss you he'd do it properly still burning your skin days later. this is real, it's deliberate.

so fuck statistics, you're a mess.

"i need to tell you something" the voice brings you back to the moment, watching as he sets down a plate full of gooey cookies right by the glass of wine he poured you earlier "i'm a fraude. i actually can't bake to save my life" his face is full of guilt as he drops down on the fluffy carpet, the fabric of his trousers raising goosebumps on the exposed skin of your thighs. "if you said you wanted dinner, that i could work with. dessert...brought out the worst in me, i'm afraid" you're trying not to laugh at the man's proneness to the dramatics when he breaks one of the warm sweets in half, practically moaning around the first bite "worth it. so fucking worth it, yn"

"what did you do? these look amazing" it's chocolate ones, big and melting, your favorite kind.

"asked otis to take a pic of the box last time you got 'em from your favorite place"

"really?"

"i'm a terrible father, i know. in my defense, i did try making a batch before i resorted to cheating with help from my child, i promise you"

"jason! you didn't need to do that. we could have gone for ice-cream or something, that'd be just fine" the thought of him trying and failing to make you your favorite food was all too endearing, sweet and amusing to the same degree.

"you're picturing it right now, aren't you? it wasn't pretty, yn. smoke detectors went off, yet the things were still raw on the inside? i mean, how?" his body turned to you, knees bumping while your eyes trailed the way his long fingers broke bits and pieces of chocolate to bring it to his mouth. "these on the other hand..." you felt caught by the grin spreading over the man's face, so you took a bite too.

"fuck me!" the words rang in your ears a second too late to be taken back. if this wasn't the only thing that made it better somedays– you foresaw a long trip to john's in the near future, always one to drown your sorrows in sweets rather than the often sour taste of alcohol – you'd be cursing the place with more fervor right now.

"see, i had a feeling ice-cream wasn't gonna get me that" you felt yourself warm up when the guy winked at you, voice dropping an octave.

"i hate you" from the way he was still staring, he didn't believe your words for a second: sometimes it was good being a terrible liar, after all. "i'll have you know that the right ice-cream could get you this"

"really? where can i find it? for future reference, i mean"

"you'll be the first to know when i have it locked in. jury's still out" you snook in a little taste from different shops every time you had his babies, but he didn't need the details. if anyone was aware of how hard some days could be, it was him. the media frenzy seemed to get worse every week, not that you were keeping track (you definitely were. it was hard not to, harder once you got to know them)

"i'll be waiting"

was it possible to go through the whole spectrum of emotions in just a few hours? it had always been a silly type of question for you. you felt everything so deeply that switching up was never that easy, but, with some comedy playing on the tv, the nerves cursing through you were far different from the ones earlier: now, sprawled out on his carpet, the knowledge that jase was pressed up close didn't freak you out, it made you relaxed, even if were painfully aware of every little touch, every accidental nudge when laughter made his body shake, head resting on a Frozen themed pillow. you were surrounded by the man: the heat from his body, his scent, the way he pulled you back every time you started to drift away a few inches

you were almost drowning in him, yet all it seemed to do was make matters worse. you should've guessed it: if not for anything else, for the way your stupid heart picked up it's pace whenever you managed to make him laugh over the time you'd known him, the way every weird little thing you learned by being around seemed important. it would never be enough, not when it came to this man, would it?

"i...think i should go" before you got sucked in any deeper.

"wha' happened?" he sat up when you did, back pressed to the couch, eyebrows scrunching together as his mind played back the last couple hours. what had he done wrong? "yn. hey, what's it? was it me? did i do something?"

"no! jason, no. it's fine. you were wonderful" this felt all too easy, was the thing. nothing happened, you hadn't even kissed yet, but here you were, all in your head, getting carried away to some point in the future where this was some sort of routine to your days. stupid. it might feel easy, but it wasn't. it wouldn't be, not out of your naive fantasies, anyway. your phone was on top of the centerpiece, your purse hanging from the coat hack down the hall. good.

"you're running off like the house's on fire, sweetheart. i can't be that good" his laugh was humorless, his eyes earnest as he moved slowly, intertwining your fingers. "i'm sorry"

that did it. the way he was so quick to apologize for something that he didn't even know what was broke you.

"is it okay if i kiss you?" it wasn't much more than a whisper, all the bravado you had melting away when he didn't look away, nodding his head.

"only if you want to" this whole exchange was just short of giving you both whiplash, yet it was better do something insane than it was to just leave. if you kissed him, you would have that. even when he inevitably decided not to see you again. you would know what it felt like. "do you?" it felt like deja vu but it wasn't, his fingers caressing your cheek, the hold steady but gentle, like he knew you needed that point of contact as you brought yourself closer.

he tasted sweet, warm, the kiss tentative, each drag of your mouths together making a shiver run down your spine. for a moment it didn't go any further, then his lips parted a bit and you pushed yourself more into his space, tongue darting out as strong hands rumpled the material of your dress while yours pulled at the hair on the back of his head

one second you were awkwardly kneeling on the floor, trying to breathe and kiss and commit every second of this to memory, the next he was pulling you into him. onto him. like he wanted this as much you did, the scruff from a couple days without shaving causing you to moan into his ear whenever jason drew back to let you breathe, his mouth never leaving you, just diving down to your neck, your collarbone, any patch of skin he could reach without having to let you go before he came back up for more.

"off!" you're sure there's an ebb to be made about all those freaking layers but the one word is all you manage as you pull on the green hoodie he chose for the night, grinning when its out of your way, his sly smile morphing into something darker as you grind yourself into the man's lap, just a bit, seeking friction. he's hard under you, tense, like's he's trying to figure out how far he can take this tonight, how far you want him to. "jas..." whatever was about to follow that whisper of his name gets cut off by the harsh sound of his doorbell.

"fuck's sake" it's a deep groan, head flexing back to look at the ceiling, nervous laugh bubbling in your throat when his hold goes stronger for a second "a fucker, whoever that is. can you please get that?"

"gotta let me up first, sir" seems like a conscious effort to ease his grip, your legs a bit wobbly when you stand up, trying to reorient yourself with arousal burning deep in your veins.

if your knees were unsteady as you walked to the door, he didn't need to know.

"is jason home?" that voice is a like a bucket of icy water over your head, eyes blinking fast at the porch light glow illuminating harsh green eyes raking through you.

olivia. olivia is here. shit.

"yeah, he's..." she pushes you out of the way then, carrying a sleeping daisy in her arms through the hall, otis holding onto the back of her coat til he spots you.

"YN!" his voice is loud and excited, body crashing into yours in a tight grasp "did you know we were coming home?"

if only it was that simple, little guy.

#jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis fic #jason sudeikis fluff #jason sudeikis rpf #jason sudeikis x reader #jason sudeikis x you #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis smut

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my-soupy-brain · 10 months

Note

Ahhh hi so i’m absolutely FERAL for your Jason x reader fics! The jealousy one you just wrote is absolutely perfect I’ve already read it 3 times!! I was wondering if you’d do a prompt where Jason and the reeder are having an argument and just when it’s building the tension switches from anger to sexual 😵 I just think that’d be such a hot smutty story, especially if they got a bit rough and he was really sweet afterwards checking to make sure she’s ok

Oooh angst and smut?! Let's see if I can do this. I love the concept, hope I can pull it off for y'all! Let's gooooo!

---

Relationship: Jason Sudeikis x reader (f)

Warning: Angst + smut ahead - oh so much smut!

---

You look at your phone again. Not even a text.

He said he'd call. He said he'd text. And here you are, waiting.

You're not a demanding woman. You played your relationship with Jason cool and casual, knowing he was busy with projects and appearances.

So when you open your computer and see photos of him flitting around parties and his arm around some unknown woman at one of the events, you clench your fists so hard they could bleed.

You're pacing your apartment when you see your phone light up.

Jason: Hey

You don't answer it. Fuck that. He can try to explain himself, but you don't want to hear it.

Jason: Hey, you there?

Ignore it again. Keep tryin' buddy.

Jason: I know you're home, sweetheart. Please text me back.

It's not an emergency, what's the rush?

Jason: Can you at least let me in?

Your eyes pop open at this one, as you walk toward the door and look through the peephole to see Jason waiting. His hair is soft and messy, no baseball cap for once. In a hoodie, as usual, and soft joggers.

You unlatch your door with a straight face, holding it open and walking away to let himself come to you.

"OK, what's this about?" he asks, a frustrated tone to his voice. "You knew I had a lot going on this week."

"All I said was to text me. Just text me! And you can't even do that. Jesus Christ, I'm not asking for you to saw off an arm," you grumble, stomping into your kitchen to put your wine glass away.

"Yeah? Well, I mean, I was busy. I'm sorry I forgot," he says, not really apologizing.

You grab your iPad and open the photo of him at a party with his arm around another woman.

"And who the fuck is this?" you ask, wanting to get to the root of what's really bothering you.

Jason shrugs. "What's that matter?"

Your mouth drops open.

"What's that matter?! Excuse me?! You don't call or even text for three days and I get to see this in the tabloids? Thanks. Thanks," you say, tossing your iPad on the couch.

"If you think I'm dumb enough to throw this away..." he starts, running a hand through his hair. "I mean...what's that say about the safety of this relationship?"

You put your finger up. "Don't even go there. Don't make me the enemy. I wasn't the one cavorting around town with my hands on another man."

Jason smirks and chuckles, and you could scream at the insincerity you're reading from him.

"What?" you ask, your eyebrows scrunched in anger.

He shakes his head again.

"That woman is my buddy's wife. I've known them since high school, and I invited them out to a party because they were in town," he says, his hands on his hips.

"And the press, being the press -- as you well know -- wants to make a show of every damn thing I do."

Your lip quivers and you sit down on the arm rest of the couch, looking down at your feet.

"You really thought I'd cheat on you?" he asks, hurt by the idea.

"No, I just... I'm just insecure, OK? I've been cheated on before. It's common for me. I just expected the worst, because of course someone as gorgeous and famous as you would get bored with me, y'know? I just...it angered me so bad to think you were out..."

Before you can finish your rant, he scoops you into his arms, his hand against your head, kissing you fiercely, making your legs weak.

He pulls back just far enough to smile.

"You're cute when you're jealous..."

You smile, with dreamy eyes, as you look into his, biting your lower lip as he gazes at you.

"And it's...well, pretty fuckin' sexy, too..."

Your lips connect again, tongues chasing each other, and in a heated frenzy, he's pulling your sleep tank top over your head, your breasts bouncing out tantalizingly in front of him, his big hand cupping them as he kisses you.

One strong arm is around your back as he walks the two of you backward to your bedroom, his lips working down your neck, nipping the skin there with his teeth and you moan and whimper.

"God, Jas," is all you can muster, feeling him lean you down on the bed, crawling over you as your legs latch around him.

"Off, off," he murmurs, tugging at your sleep shorts, his lips kissing down your chest, covering a nipple with his hot mouth.

You push your shorts down quickly, doing the same to him, shoving his joggers off his body, and encouraging him to sit up so you can strip him of his damn hoodie.

Once he's bare before you, your hands tug him back over your body, your hips seeking him, and finding him quickly -- he slides into you with no preamble. You're so wet and ready that you feel like you may fall apart.

"Mmm, I'm so sorry for getting mad," you muster, your breathing deep as his lips travel further down your body.

He chuckles against your skin before he pops back up to kiss your lips one more time.

"It's sexy that you were so jealous, oooh, if looks could kill..." he laughs, peppering your neck with kisses again.

"I just don't want to share you with anyone, I guess," you answer, arching your body against his. When you smile at him with a teasing grin, he pushes his hips into you harder.

"Yeah? You don't have to," he whispers, leaning against your ear, your legs going higher to his sides so he can push deeper inside you. "This is only for you, baby girl..."

Your hands clutch his back, the bed squeaking now as your conversation turns into moans, whimpers, breaths, and whispers of your names.

"I love you, I'm sorry, baby," you murmur against his neck as your climax reaches your spine. "Oh God, don't stop..."

He smiles against you, feeling your body quiver under his, his hand moving between your bodies, his long fingers circling your clit.

"I won't stop, I'll never stop for you," he whispers, kissing your collarbone as you come. He tilts his head up to watch your face flush and your lips part as you hit ecstasy. It drives the onslaught of his own climax, his hips studdering. He leans back into your neck to moan desperately while he fills you.

When he moves to his back, he drags you over his chest with him, his hand running indiscriminate patterns down your back and across your hips.

You're both smiling dumbly before he breaks the silence.

"Can you get jealous more often?" he asks. "I like that."

You laugh and nuzzle against his neck.

---

TA-DA! Hope this was fun. It went way longer than I expected but it was really fun to write. Thanks for the prompt, friend! I love Jason stories - he's just so hot, it can't be helped.

#jason sudeikis x reader #jason sudeikis rpf #jason sudeikis fanfic #angst and smut is a good combo

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dont-hate-relate-pls · 2 years

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[shows up like two months later] hello again!! 🫣

remember when i said i was gonna post jsuds/ted lasso stuff frequently…? yeah no i did not do that AT ALL 😭😭😭 i met jason a few times and my present for him is 99% probably at his house and i could not write about him bc he is just so NICE and my brain frazzles every time i think about him and his kind face and the fact that he Knows Of Me 😭😭😭😭😭 might post something soon tho, idk, yall deserve some promised thirst and all

#jason sudeikis #ted lasso #jason sudeikis fanfiction #jason sudeikis fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic

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calzone-d · 2 months

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hi guys! Here’s a lil blurb for ya. Love and miss you all. Less than two months to graduation!!

pairing: Jason Sudeikis x Reader

warnings: penetrative sex, reader is described as female, biting, creampie

a/n: hi guys! I’m (slowly) back. Graduation is in two months so you can expect to see looooots more of me after then. Just can’t get Jason off my mind lately. My inbox is also open! Send in requests, ideas, etc!

Read more here.

—————

You let out a low groan as you sunk down onto his cock. It was way after you’d put the kids to bed, but it happened quick enough that there wasn’t much buildup. By now, you’d gotten used to some warm up from Jason before sex.. a few fingers, his tongue, a toy.. whatever you were in the mood for.

Tonight, you had been riled up enough to just sit yourself on his cock. Jason wasn’t complaining. Hell, he was panting and letting out a choked groan himself.

“Ughh.. oh, honey..”

A soft whimper left your lips as you started to grind on him. Your clit rubbed against the coarse hair on his pubic bone and that combined with the head of his cock rubbing your g-spot had you speechless.

One of your hands gripped the headboard to use as leeway as you softly bounced on top of him.

“Shit, Y/n…”

Jason’s moans were hushed and muffled from him pressing wet kisses across your collarbones. You’d gotten used to things being hushed. From quickies in hidden closets at SNL to soft mornings where you didn’t want to wake the kids. His touch matched the softness as well, his hands skating across your back and down your hips. Not pushing you down, just reminding himself you’re there.

The two of you had gotten into a steady rhythm until the feeling of Jason’s lips around your nipple made you shoot your eyes open. A louder moan left your mouth as you looked down at him. He was gorgeous, unreal with his eyes rolled to the back of his head and hair a mess as he suckled and moaned around your nipple.

“Jase..” your voice trailed off into breathy pants. You leant back and brought a hand up to cup the bag of his head, fingers twisting through his salt and pepper strands and holding his face to your breast.

Jason’s teeth nipped at the sensitive bud before swapping over to the neglected one. The feeling had you bouncing faster, clenching harder around his cock and desperate to feel him throbbing inside of you. His moans were a constant vibration against your skin.

He pulled away only to take in a few deep breaths and praise the way you took his cock.

“Feel s’good hun.. that’s.. right there, hun..”

The desperation hidden under panting breaths was hard to hide. His lips were now smushed to your chest, eyebrows furrowed and fingernails digging into the skin of your hips while you each reached your peak.

Jason’s hands moved to grab a tight hold of your asscheeks for leverage as he pounded into you from below.

“Oh, honey.. I can’t- fuck.. m’gonna cum!”

All you could manage was a desperate “please, Jase” before he held you flush against. Every pulse of his cock inside you could be felt as he flooded your walls. It began flowing down and slowly pooled at the base of his length before he even considered pulling out of you.

Your breaths were heavy as you slumped against him, but he was there to catch you just as he always was. Jason’s gentle hands stroked over your back as he attempted to pull out of you.

“No! Just.. jus’ a little longer..” you pleaded. In the middle of the night with nothing to do, he settled back against your plush pillows and pulled the blanket over you both, still buried deep inside you.

“Jus’ need to feel me for a bit, angel?”

Your eyes grew heavy as you nodded against him. You easily relaxed against him, knowing he’d clean you up and get you settled when you were ready.

—————

Thanks for reading!

#jason sudeikis fluff #jason Sudeikis smut #jason sudeikis masterlist #jason sudeikis x reader #jason sudeikis fic #jason sudeikis fanfiction #jason sudeikis imagine #jason sudeikis one shot #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis #my brain is mush #cal makes an appearance

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 11 months

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TEMPORARY THINGS, chapter 1

March 2022

The seatbelt chime dinged, signaling your arrival at Gate 43--at least that’s the number the pilot had mumbled through his headset upon your departure for Heathrow.

Six hours overnight, not terrible overall. But the crappy neck pillow you bought back at JFK wasn’t much of a sleep aid, and neither was the weed gummy you’d popped and swallowed in the backseat of the car that arrived to whisk you to the airport.

A flight attendant reaches for your carryon overhead, you smile and trail behind others onto the jetway. Warmer than New York, you could already tell, but only by a little.

It dawns on you, as you read the overhead signs and weave through crowds of passengers, that your sleepless red-eye was likely due to the nerves that had been keeping you up all week.

Had you made a terrible mistake?

No. Probably not, right?

Carousel 21 is already littered with familiar faces when you get there--the guy from 3F that asked for headphones a whole ten seconds before take off, the woman in 5A who downed about four gin and tonics before the flight was even halfway across the Atlantic.

You find a spot to stand and try to breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Maybe it was the time change, or maybe it was the fact that both of your feet were now firmly planted on London soil, a whole 3 weeks after this idea had been broached over burrata and Barolo.

Not the amount of time you usually put into giant, possibly life-changing decisions to move to a new country and start over.

Maggie promised you’d be okay. She swore up and down and back and forth that if you’d handled this type of celebrity before, you could do it again. Hell, you’d handled bigger celebrities, so this should be a cake walk!, she said. And she was someone you could trust. She knew the ins and outs of this world and she knew you well enough to know that this type of chaos was enough to jolt some happiness back into your bitter soul.

An unforeseen break up after six years together will do that to someone.

So here you are, startled by the aggressive sound of the buzzer when the belt starts moving. 3F grabs his suitcase and makes a beeline for the door. At least you’re not the only one desperate to get out of the stuffy airport.

And that’s when you hear her yell your name--way too loud for barely 7am in Heathrow and way too loud if either of you had any hopes of blending in. Two Americans were bad enough. Two noisy Americans?

She trots over to you with excitement, her arms wrap around your neck before you can even mutter a greeting in response.

“Your mom texted my mom already and I promised photographic evidence,” she pulls away and you smile, being in Maggie’s presence is immediately calming, analgesic to the unease that set in once you reached thirty thousand feet.

You force a dramatic smile, throw up a peace sign and pose for the camera. She giggles to herself and presses send, stuffing her phone in her pocket in the exact moment that your suitcase appears from the underbelly of the airport.

“I’ve got it,” she calls again, still too loud. She runs and tugs it off with a grunt, and you laugh again, too, thankful for the distraction of your oldest friend.

Maggie’s mom and your mom went to college together. Then they married each of your dads and then the two of you came along (Maggie in ‘92 and you in ‘93) and the rest is history. Your early childhood was spent building forts in her basement and by middle school, your favorite pastime was tricking your little sister and her little brother into makeovers.

She brushes her hair out of her face, stands upright, and takes one look at you. “Okay, tell me everything.”

So you climb in the back of an Uber, Maggie nods and listens intently to details that you hadn’t shared before over facetime. Like the fight you had on your birthday last year, the way he slowly started telling you less and less about work, then friends, the way you should have seen it coming.

Maggie knew your ex, obviously. They got along overall but now she let her lip curl into an expression of disgust, her usual attempt to turn a shitty situation into something to laugh about.

“What a dumb fucking asshole, Y/N, seriously. I never liked his stupid job or that stupid name,” she turns up the theatrics, a roll of her eyes when she commits to the bit.

You smile a little, thankful for the 8 weeks that have since passed and the thousands of miles that now stood between you and him, literally. Both of those things made it easier to ignore the stinging in your eyes when his name came up.

“He’s dumb,” you agree, a swift nod before you take another glance out the window. The London suburbs turn more urban, flats and parks and people on the sidewalks when she reaches over to squeeze your knee with force.

“But now you’re single and in London and your best friend in the whole world got you an amazing temp gig,” she flattered herself and grinned, a text illuminated her screen before she opened it.

“Which, by the way, I have to be on set around 9am, so I’m dropping you off and then I have to go. But you’ll swing by? I told Jason you’d come for lunch--you know, meet everyone you need to meet.”

“Sure,” you nod, the casual mention of your new boss makes your pulse quicken slightly, you swallow and ignore it. Not your first rodeo. In fact, your lengthy resume that listed all the previous rodeos was surely part of the reason you landed this slightly nepotistic arrangement in the first place.

That and the fact that Maggie was a mid-level producer on the show, had known one of the head writers from a different project, and once upon a time dated one of Jason’s close friends.

Pair that with your life and career practically exploding when you got dumped with no notice and within only a few weeks you had a first class ticket to London. Maggie called it magic. You called it an impulsive--and possibly irrational--decision.

But whatever. You needed work and a fresh start and hanging out at your parents’ house was getting boring, anyway.

The car pulls to a stop and the driver helps you out onto the gray sidewalk. Maggie keys in for you and says she came to see the place with a friend to scope it out, you know, since she hadn’t done enough for you recently.

“Okay, so obviously I got you the best thing I could find in his price limit. This location is great. Same neighborhood as moi,” she flutters her lashes. “A nine minute walk, a four minute jog.”

“Same neighborhood as my boss?” You ask, the real reason your location matters.

It was common practice for assistants to live within a 10-minute radius of their boss. Late night snack? Scheduling emergency? Your job was to meet those needs. Your job was also to handle his schedule, and to--you know--assist in whatever way he asks.

You’d climbed the latter a bit after starting out in LA in 2012. Previous clientele included one of the Real Housewives, Reese Witherspoon, and, most recently: the famous wife of a Los Angeles Laker.

You like this job. You liked most of the people. You loved the friends you made and the places you got to travel. And since finally crossing the Executive Assistant threshold in 2019, the pay was killer, the perks were better, and no longer spent most of your time fetching coffees or doing grunt work.

“Of course,” Maggie rolls her eyes before checking a text message. “And I told him you’re the greatest EA he’ll ever have, he lives on the street behind this one, number 82. You can practically see into his house from your bedroom window.”

You shoot Maggie a glare, glance out the window when she throws a thumb in that direction and mentions his house. “Great.”

She holds your gaze for a second, like she’s reading your mind or something. “Wasn’t the whole point of you coming to London so you’d stop being depressed?”

You mock her childishly, voice high and annoying, “wasn’t the whole point--”

“Okay,” she holds up a hand. “Insensitive on my part,” she admits. “But you know I just want you to be okay?”

She watches you for a moment, her features soften and she blinks a few times, almost like she was unsure if you were broken altogether, with your life stuffed into the suitcase between you.

You force a smile and open your arms. “When shit hits the fan there’s no place I’d rather be than in a foreign country with you.”

She bounces over and hugs you again, “that’s what I thought!”

The March air is cold, the sky’s gotten gloomier with each passing hour and eventually you had to force yourself to leave the house when you tried on your third consecutive outfit. Is there a right or wrong thing to wear on the set of a TV show? You have no clue.

Maggie met you outside a giant building at 1 o’clock sharp--one on the outskirts of town with giant parking lots and film trailers. She used a keycard to swipe in and said your first stop would be the security desk to obtain your own.

Once that was handled she led you down a maze of hallways, pointing out rooms and departments and providing information you knew you’d never retain. But that was fine, because when she pushes open the door to the main sound stage, your eyes go wide.

She watches you take it in, a smile on her face. “Pretty dope, right?”

“I mean, I knew it had to be a good gig if you got you to leave LA,” you tease.

The room is buzzing with energy. People with headsets carry out missions, walkie-talkies beep and a woman with short brown hair smiles when she sees Maggie.

“Mag—Brett wanted to talk about a re-write for scene 4, he was over near catering with Brendan.”

“Do you know where Jason is?” Maggie asks the woman, not bothering to introduce the two of you yet.

“Upstairs, I think--”

“In his office,” a man clarifies when he walks by—in a rush.

You look up at Maggie, unsure what the right move is.

She looks at the woman with short brown hair and then back at you. “Brave enough to go up there alone since I’m needed for script?”

Yes, of course, fine. You nod quickly and hope Maggie can’t see the fear in your eyes. Something told you she did, but soon she bounces off with Short Brown Hair behind her.

It takes only a few seconds for you to realize that standing by the door alone looks more awkward than if you, too, move around this giant room like you knew where you were going or what you were doing. You saw another door in the corner, took off in that direction when someone else opened it and you caught a glimpse of stairs.

That was a start.

You make your way up one flight and open the door, windows in the hallway look down onto the stage, a better view of the overall set: a locker room, offices, a hallway, a tiny and fictional world with no roof that was born from someone’s imagination.

You’d watched as a proud friend, never finished the first season after a busy week and an overall disinterest in new TV shows.

A name plate on the door to your right confirms you’re getting warmer. A few dark offices, then the sound of humming pulls you down the hall to the only room with an open door.

His name on a piece of paper taped to the wall in bold font, you hold your breath for a second and knock, stepping into view when you hear his voice.

“What are your thoughts on flowers? Is that, like, too weird?” he looks up, eyebrows lifted when he realizes you’re not the person he expects.

Standing in front of him suddenly makes you nervous, mostly because you don’t have Maggie by your side to smooth over this awkward moment. You roll with it, your best at your service smile.

“Assuming you’re talking as a gift…thoughtful, somewhat overdone,” you offer an apologetic grimace, “but simple and shows you care. Who are they for?”

He smiles at your answer, leans back in his chair and nods. You were killing it, right? Assisting before a formal introduction? You’re already excited to brag about it to Maggie tonight over a glass of Merlot.

A tingle down your spine when he laughs a little. “A welcome gift, yeah…for my new assistant.”

“Oh,” you nod, a tiny smirk in surprise when you realize you know something he doesn’t. “Then I’d do tulips.”

Now he leans forward and puts his elbows on his desk. A smirk that he tries to hide when he lets his eyes settle on yours. Is he…flirting? “What makes you say that?”

You shrug casually, “they’re my favorite flowers…and I’m Y/N.”

“Fuck, hi, sorry—“ he stands from his chair quickly, awkward and embarrassed as he tries to hide his surprise with a smile and extended hand. “I’m Jason. You’re Y/N,” he nods, saying it more to himself than to you.

“I am,” you smile, watching as he rounds the corner of his desk to shake on it. “Nice to meet you--the set down there is really awesome.”

He smiles, the release of his shoulders tells you he’s glad to move past whatever just happened. His eyes follow your gesture out into the hallway and onto the stage floor. A nod, a quick glance in your direction. “Thank you, yeah—can’t believe we’re already filming again.”

“Hiiii,” Maggie’s voice sounds from the door, a cheerful grin on her face when you both turn to see her. “I see I’m not needed for an introduction,” she waves her hands around and flits her fingers in your direction.

“No, yeah, Maggie--come in,” Jason moves back to sit at his desk, which, you now realize, is just a folding chair at a folding table with a laptop. A couch along the side wall, a mini fridge in the corner and papers and red pens strewn about the table.

Got it, a makeshift office up here since he was the guy in charge. You wondered where Maggie’s main post was, and you notice that she now has a headset around her neck and a clipboard in hand.

“Jason, I’m very glad you get to meet my oldest friend, Y/N L/N,” she comes to put her arms around your neck, sloppy kisses to your hairline to show the unbreakable bond. “She’s the reason I work in this field to begin with and I expect that the two of you will be thick as thieves in no time.”

He smiles at that a little, lets his eyes meet yours briefly when Maggie reaches up to pinch your cheek. You swat her away, skin still prickling from the way he smiles at you.

Maggie was obviously comfortable with him, which you gather when she flops down on the couch and a voice comes through the headset. She pushes it into her ear to get a better listen.

“Few things for you,” Jason points in your direction and searches for something on the table. A three-ring binder after he shuffles through papers, tiny black font that reads Exec. Asst stares back at you when he hands it over.

“Jessie made this…before her maternity leave,” he informs. “Briony’s here somewhere and she’ll go through it with you, but--based on everything Maggie’s said, I’m sure you’ll jump right in.”

Right, Jessie. The woman whose job you were filling for the filming of this season due to the baby that was about to pop out of her. Briony--no idea who that was--but you make a mental note to bug Maggie for details later.

A sound buzzes from the hallway, an alarm or something of the sort. Both Maggie and Jason perk up at the sound, you recognize it as some sort of cue that the set will soon be an active filming zone. Maggie stands from her casual position and smiles, “I can bring you around downstairs and introduce you to people, since he’s about to be busy.”

“Perfect,” you nod, a quick glance at Jason to see if that kind of thing is allowed. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re looking for permission, he smiles when your eyes meet again but then reaches for his phone.

“Oh, wait--here,” he hands it over, an open new contact page on the screen. You type in your name and number and figure that this will be your main form of communication, instead of the emails with Jessie and Maggie and his manager.

You hand it back when you’re done, he glances down at the screen--was he checking to make sure you really put it in? Maggie’s nose is in her walkie-talkie again, replying to some kind of garbled request.

“She will report back when I am done with her, Sir!” Maggie salutes in jest and Jason cracks a laugh, a sliver of anxiety melting once her elbow links with yours and she tugs you out of the room.

You meet set designers and the props team and then hair and make up. You meet the Brett you’d already heard about and get an intro to Briony when she shows up with coffee around 2pm.

Maggie eventually relented to your incessant reminders: Monday was your real first day. For now you had every right to sleep and try to get your body and brain to remember they were on the same continent. Which is why, and probably the only reason why, she eventually let you dip out.

The uber ride home is longer thanks to afternoon traffic, your head is pounding and the king sized bed in your new flat is calling your name before you can even twist the knob. But your nap gets delayed by a knock on the door when you’re rummaging for a sweatshirt in your suitcase.

You pull it open, sure that whoever is on the other side has the wrong apartment or wrong person altogether. You’re way too new for visitors.

But it’s not a human, not at first. Instead, a vase of yellow tulips--and a delivery man who smiles from behind them in greeting, happy Friday!, before he leaves you to open the card taped to the side.

I heard these are overdone. Oh well. Welcome to London - JS

table of contents | talk to me

AN: Hi friends! I've been sitting on the start of this story for a few months and have been v excited to start sharing what I have so far! I do not have a post schedule for this, nor do I know how long it will be, nor is it finished at this time. As I've mentioned recently, I'm focusing a lot more on writing for FUN, so your patience and general kindness is appreciated as I share my writing for free with everyone! There also will not be a tag list for this story but it's table of contents will be pinned on my blog! My inbox is (usually) always open!

But also, I'm so fucking pumped to share this and be able to chat with all of my internet pals about our favorite middle aged man.

#tt #temporary things #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis fanfic #ted lasso

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believesthings · 1 year

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The inspiration invitation // Jason sudeikis x famous reader

As a joke, you started to separate your songs into two folders: love songs for Jason and sexy songs for Jason.

You kept it going though, cause it made you laugh.

Your label was pressuring you for just one more song to round out your new album and you’ve been struggling with it all week. They weren’t wrong. You did agree it was missing just a little something. The trouble was finding the perfect song to fill its spot.

As cliche as it sounds, this was the album that you were the most proud of. You know every artist says that about every new album they release, but it really didn’t feel like an exaggeration to you to say that this was your best.

You really pushed yourself lyrically and vocally to a space you haven’t before and you hope your fans love it as much as you.

The problem, of course, is that since you’ve pushed yourself lyrically, you have a very specific story you want to tell. Every song on the album is perfectly placed to unfold the story in the direction you want and trying to not only find a new song to fit the theme but also a perfect place to put it so it still flows is proving to be one hell of a task.

Two doors down, your boyfriend was in a similarly stressful boat. Jason has been tied to the editing chair for weeks. The first two seasons happened prior to all the awards. Now that the show had turned out to be far more successful than anyone could have predicted, the pressure was on to make a 3rd and final season that was worthy of the praise the show had received so far. Taking off his headphones and taking his hands through his hair, he determined he needed a break; as much as he instinctively wanted to keep going until something was perfect, he had to acknowledge that sometimes the best thing to do was walk away and come back with fresh eyes.

You were so focused on your own project that you barely even registered jason sitting down next to you until he start kissing your shoulder blade.

“Are those folders for me?”

“What?” You ask, not looking up from your own screen.

“I wanna see.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” You ask Jason, tearing your eyes away and finally looking at him. God he was a sight.

“I’m taking something called a break, you’re probably overdue for one yourself.” He teased you.

“I know. And I will - I promise. I’ve just found a really good groove and I didn’t want to lose it.”

He rubs circles into your thigh. “…maybe the answer is in one of those folders.”

You laugh at him. “Oh, you think so?”

He nods seriously at you, “I can help you sort through them, If you need any help.”

You grab his hand from your thigh, intertwining your fingers in his and giving a light kisses to his knuckles. “You’re really not gonna let this go are you?”

“Well, can you blame me? I see folders with my name and the words ‘sexy and love’ obviously, I’m going to be intrigued.”

You put your laptop off to the side, snuggling into Jason. “Well, you’re obviously the only man I’m writing songs about these days-“

“damn right.” Jason quips, smirking at you.

Rolling your eyes you continue, “and my manager always likes to tease me that I have two moods for you which is disgustingly in love and disgustingly horny, so - as a joke, I started separating all my songs into those two categories. I keep doing it though cause it’s fun.”

“So, what mood is winning right now?”

picking your laptop back up, you open up the folders giving a quick scan at the numbers. Jason peaks over your shoulder, surprised by how many songs there actually are. Some titles he recognizes, some he’s never seen. It’s one of those moments, that might seem small and inconsequential but it feels oddly special to him. To have someone here, in his home, that spends their time trying to put him into words. Everyone always thinks that the big PDA moments are the sweetest, but he’s discovered that a lot of those experiences are filled with belonging but not with love.

“Looks like love songs has the lead right now.”

Wiggling his eyebrows at you, he replies, “really? Well I’d be more than happy to help in the sexy department if you need some inspiration.”

“I’m supposed to be working.”

“This is work! I’m giving you inspiration to write another song for your album, so you can add a sixth Grammy to that collection in the bedroom.”

“I thought you were taking a break.” You question him.

“Oh, pretty girl, spending time with you is not work to me.” He snags your laptop out of your lap and is quickly picking you up off the couch. He gives you just enough to time to get your bearings before he’s kissing you and leading you into the bedroom.

In between kisses on your neck, he’s whispering to you, “you know, I read somewhere that you shouldn’t wait for inspiration, sometimes inspiration needs to be invited. So, what do you think? Are you up for inviting me to inspire you?”

“Of course I am Jason. Always.”

He tilts his head to the side nonchalantly. “Still doesn’t hurt to ask.”

He lays you down on the bed and your head turns over to see his own laptop sitting in the corner. Remnants of your man hard at work. Headphones, an open journal with a red pen resting on it’s open pages.

“Hey.” He says tilting your head back to look him in the eyes. “This is about you right now - my work will still be there when I’m done. If it makes you feel better, since I’m helping you, you can always help me with my work too.”

“What? Jason I don’t know anything about editing a television show!”

“So?” That’s okay. I don’t really feel like I do either most days.” He jokes.

You go quiet, reaching your fingers up and playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “If I did offer to help, does that mean that I could get a sneak peak into season 3, maybe even-“

“No. Sorry can’t do it.”

“Oh come on! Can’t you at least give me a release date?”

“Sorry, you’re just gonna have to wait like everyone else.”

“Man, what good is sleeping with the boss if it doesn’t get me anything?” You pout at him.

“Oh now that isn’t true. I think we’ve clearly established that sleeping with the boss gets you Grammy award winning songs. So, come on let’s write you another one.”

#jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis x reader #jason sudeikis rpf #fluff #jason sudeikis fluff #jason sudeikis fanfiction #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fic #rpf #jason sudeikis blurb

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thisismysecondrodeo · 1 year

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Twitter Famous (Story Page)

Mutli-chapter Jason x Celeb!Reader fic I workshopped with @carmylasso based very loosely on Phoebe Bridges and Paul Mescal lol:

Your PR manager always warned you to be careful with social media but it was your favorite way to interact with fans. So when someone asks you who your celebrity crush is well…things get a little out of hand.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: RPF, AFAB!reader, Celeb!Reader, graphic descriptions of p-in-v sex in chapter 6.5

ask me stuff! | story tag | Fic masterlist

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6 & 6.5*

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

*6.5 is 100% smut and totally skippable for any of my non-explicit friends out there! Does not affect the plot at all

EXTRA

It's literally just smut

#jstwitterfamous #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fic #jason sudeikis writing #jason sudeikis fan #jason sudeikis fan fic #jason sudeikis reader insert #jason sudeikis x yn #ted lasso #ted lasso cast #jason sudeikis x reader #jason sudeikis x you #my fanfic #rpf #jason sudeikis rpf

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ktchie · 6 months

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'Save a horse ride a cowboy'

Ted x reader

Fluff and smut

♡additional tags: smut, p in v, creampie, reader hates Halloween, Ted in a cowboy costume, a little daddy kink, She/her pronouns.

♤7.4k words

◇ she hates Halloween but maybe Ted can change that?

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Her dreaded day is fast approaching, the leaves scattered around the ground - brown and dry from the autumn.

A lone pumpkin, yellow and bright under the shying sun, glare at her from a stairwell of a random flat. Its triangle eyes, hollow from any emotion and sympathy seemingly bore into her as if telling her to submit to its command and the inevitable event that will happen 2 days from now.

She averted her eyes quickly, sweat dripped down her nape as she fasten her pace.

She hated Halloween more than any day there is, she would rather choose her family's dysfunctional Christmas dinner with 5 grown adults yelling at eachother and 3 crying children than be caught dead wearing a ridiculous costume that would tarnish her reputation and self image.

Contrary to Roy, she doesnt hate Halloween because of the loud children and their questionable attire that varies from appropriate character from a cartoon show or a superhero franchise and to some wierd and super inappropriate costume that would and will get a atleast 50 concern side eyes (like a nun smoking a tobacco or pope Francis with devil horns and blood pouring out of his mouth)

She hated Halloween because of her coworkers (mainly Rebecca, keeley and Higgins) and their insistent for her to wear a bloody costumes every damn year. Rebecca would email her and would ask her what she will be going as on the Halloween, the first few times it would only be an additional note, a passing normal interest at the month of October but as the day goes by and the 3rd week rolls around Rebecca's previous important email that is relevant to the well being of the club was replaced by a 5 to 10 sentence regarding the importance of Halloween and how essential it is, to both to yourself and to others, to wear a costume and to have fun. The email will come to her 2 times in one day, sometimes even 3 and in worst times even 5 (if Rebecca is really desperate or in a sour mood) which will automatically go into her spam folder.

And it is also widely known on Richmond that Keeley Jones goes a little unhinged whenever the month of October rolls by. Her energy seems to crank up to its highest peak when the autumn breeze finally grace her skin. So naturally, Halloween would be a BIG BIG deal for her. Massive deal. A deal the size of Asia and Europe combined. A deal that she, unfortunately, has to deal with too.

Keeley Jones, despite of having a own company of her to run, was quiet frequent on the Afc Richmond building. Always lurking on the hallway with her bright pink shoes and heart melting grin (in the normal month) however, when its October - Keleey's only destination is her own fucking office. She would burst in guns blazing and teeth bared with no knocking whatsoever and ask her (more like yelled at her) what her costume will be on Halloween, in which she would proceed to answer with 'none' which in return would make Keeley Jones fumed with anger and rant about her being no fun while calling her all kinds of creative names under the sun.

The two women was both amusing and irritating at the same time, she had to admit that their desperation to get her to celebrate the nonsense Holliday of the 31st of October was quiet funny in their own way. What is not funny however is Higgins..

Leslie Higgins, a man as gentle as a falling feather and whose laugh could light up the entire room, can actually turn into a 10feet tall demonic entity whenever he heard 'Halloween' and 'no costume' in one sentence. Maybe it has something to do with him being a father of 5 children, getting so used to dressing them up that it was downright ridiculous and criminal that she wouldn't. He would breath heavily like a bull whenever she say no and he would look at her in the eye and speak to her, though very calmly she could very well see the veins throbbing on his forehead, and would explain how important it is for her to dress up and to celebrate the day because if he wouldn't he would no longer talk to her and would rather die than be near her ever again (dramatic, but something tells her he wasn't lying)

So, in a desperate attempt to make him leave and calm down she had agreed, she told Leslie she's going to dress up and that he doesn't have to worry about anything else.

She's still deciding if she's lying or not.

She opened her front door with a sigh, the exhaustion visible on her tired eyes.

She had gone home more later than everyone else because of the heavy work load that she had let pile up over the last few weeks due to her avoidance to go to work and accidently bump into the monster trio.

She sat down on her couch before throwing her shoes somewhere in the room, groaning in pleasure as her back met the soft cushion.

The comfort of her own home enveloping her suddenly, all the tension gone from her shoulder and all the worrying thoughts of her work vanish from her head.

Then her phone rang,

"Goddammit.." she mumbled with a frown, head thrown back and eyes closed. She let it rung for a few second before reaching for it.

"Hello?" Her voice was groggy, a clear indication she was tired.

"Yellow!" Ted's voice were loud on the other side of the phone, awfully cheery despite it being late in the evening. "You takin' a nap? You sounds a lil' raspy, oh no I didnt wake ya up did i?"

A soft smile made its way on her lips, a smile only Ted could make. "Uh no, I was about to though. I just got back from work"

"You just got back?! Don't office hours end at 5?!"

"Got alot of work that held me back, I don't want to let it keep piling up on my desk like a leaning tower of Pisa"

"Darn, you must have a heck of a day" she hummed in confirmation before closing her eyes again. "Have you even had lunch yet? Ya didnt came in the locker room earlier, thought ya had lunch on your own but now I have a suspicion that you didnt eat at all"

She took her time to answer, Ted's voice bringing her comfort and making her a little drowsy. "Didnt eat lunch, im planning to order a pizza later for dinner"

"You sounds really tired, darlin' and listen, I know I ain't exactly the proper man to tell ya this but pizza ain't good for ya" Ted had replied, a hint of worry on his voice. "Pizza is a-okay once a week, but you been eatin' it nonstop these days, im gettin' a lil worried"

"Im not going to suddenly drop dead because of pizza, that will be a humiliating way to go out" she replied with a sigh, scratching her eye. "But sure whatever, ill have a cup of tea instead"

"I still can't believe y'all drink that sewer water willingly, you better eat something good with that garbage drink"

"I don't know what else to eat beside pizza if I'm being honest and I'm too fucking tired to cook anything else" she groaned and adjust herself on the coach. "I'll just have a big breakfast tomorrow"

"Are you tellin' me that tea is only thing you'll be having tonight?" he had stated, putting a harsh emphasis on the word 'tea' as if it was someone he wanted to kill.

"Am I hearin' you right, hun? Not only did you not eat lunch but you are willingly, without a gun to your pretty little head, going to drink that poop water and nothin' else?"

She laugh lightly and she desperately try to ignore the sick sick part of her brain that is telling her she looks like a giggling love sick school girl talking to her crush. "Yes Ted, im going to drink tea and only tea and head to bed. If you and a perfectly fine beverage have some beef going on, leave me out of it. I can't let you persuade me on hating our national drink and risk the Queen catching a whiff of my traitorous blood and shoot me in the head"

"She would do that?" Ted asked, genuinely afraid.

She chuckled "no, Ted. I'm fucking with you" she settled deep on the cushions, fully laying herself down.

"She'll hire a few men to raid my house and make my death look like a suicide"

"Oh well thats smart, but I prefer if you're alive and well"

She laugh a little "do you need something, Ted? Its quiet late, shouldn't you be watching some trashy reality show right now?"

"Oh it can wait, I can have coach beard summarize the love island for me tomorrow" he cheerily replied and some part of her are envious of him being so happy in such a tiring night. "I called ya because I wanna know what you'll be wearin' on Halloween night"

A glass shattered on the background and the small smile plastered on her lips fell as quickly as she can blink.

"Jesus christ, not you too" she groaned lowly, eyes closing not in exhaustion but in irritation.

"What? Just askin' cause im gosh darn curious! I asked boss what you'll be goin' as but she pulled a funny face and told me to ask you myself!"

She cursed Rebecca in her brain.

"What brought this on anyway?" She wiped her face with her hand with a sighed.

"Oh well our resident genius Nathan Shelby told me that Rebecca host the best Halloween party every year and it got me all kinds of exicted! 'Been awhile since I went to one of those, in college I always go to parties y'know? Even nonsense ones, I mostly went for the booze and the free food cause I was hella broke and I ain't got no money to even feed myself" Ted voice went down a little at the end, as if reminiscing the time where he couldn't even find a single nickle on his wallet. "So it got me thinkin' that I should really go all out this year, don't ya think so? My first party ever since I turned 30, I don't even know If I can still chug an entire jug of beer but we'll see"

"Jesus Ted, you sounds like frat boy" she grimaced lightly but a pleasant image of Ted wearing a backwards cup and a stupid grin on his baby face got her all giggly.

Maybe he'll let her do a body shot on him, lick the fucking salt on his neck and take him home to her flat the next minute.

"Oh I was a frat boy, alright! Got nothin' better to do in college than cause trouble and play football - y'know the one with a brown ball that looks like a wallnut? That football - though i didn't get to play much, coach said i was too giddy and too happy, that instead of making the other team annoyed i cheer them up, its crazy even Beardo said so. Speaking of Beard he was a beast back then! You should've seen him! You'll love him, he's always laughing and always loud, got in all kinds of bad troubles but he set himself straight in the end. I'm very proud of him"

She heard their story before from beard, or willis (he had revealed his name after weeks of nonstop questioning and obnoxious teasing) she had learned how they came to be Ted and Beard, how insufferable they were like two giggling school girls that had known eachother since birth. How beard became beard and how much an asshole (his own words, not hers) he was to Ted back then. He had told her the time he was sleeping on his couch, how his back felt funny and ache weirdly every morning, how he could map out Ted's house with his eyes closed and ears shut because of how much time he spent in there. How Henry felt so much like his kid, how he watch him grew up and how he had been there when the kid lost his first tooth or rode his own bike.

He owes Ted alot, he had told her. Said he would lay his down his life for him with no question ask and no hesitation on his mind. That Ted is kindest man he had ever met, that he see no wrong in someone even when its staring at him right in the face, even when his own friend stole the car he had been saving for since high-school and almost wreck it.

"Im sure you are, Ted" she replied, picking a piece of loose thread on her couch pillow. "I uh, I don't think I'll attend the party"

"YOU WHAT?!"

She quickly pull the phone away from her ear with a grimaced."Yeahhhh, I just don't really like partying"

"THATS A LIE! I KNOW YOU'RE LYIN' YOU KNOW WHAT? IM COMING OVER RIGHT NOW-"

"Ted im really tired-"

"And I'll make you more tired, don't you dare lock your door or I'll break it in I swear to god-"

She laughed lightly "are you actually going to come over? This is crazy Ted, and for what? Because I'm not coming to that stupid party?"

"IT AINT STUPID, YOU WATCH YOUR MOUTH!" He breathed heavily and she hear a clang of keys followed by a loud thump and a whisper of curse. "-shit, bump my darn knee on the table. This is your fault"

"Im not even there, Ted. That's all on you"

"Yeah but you got me all panicky and annoyed, im comin' over there I'm bringing my left over pasta so you could put a decent meal on your tummy"

God she's so stupidly inlove with him. "Is it your famous spaghetti that you have been bragging about these past few weeks? I heard its good, keleey said its to die for"

"Quit being sweet to me, missy. I'm still annoyed and I'm still comin' over and once I get there we're goin' to eat my pasta and talk about your bad decision okay? Like a proper talk, like a therapy session Dr. Sharon and I been doin' these past few weeks"

"Do I have to cry and tell you my childhood problems and let you figure out how it connects to my annoyance on Halloween?"

"See? Youre already pro at this, just sit pretty and wait for me"

She chuckled lightly and stretched, yawning. "Are you really going to come over?" She had asked "Cause I think I'm about to fall asleep now"

"Ya can fall asleep once I get there and after we ate my pasta, m'kay?" Ted replied followed by a front door closing and being locked.

She blink sleepy as she listen to him "alright, ill wait for you"

"Atta girl" he whispered and she tried to ignore the heat on her stomach as he did so.

Ted arrived with a loud bang, her door hitting the wall so hard she thought it would bust a hole in.

"What the hell?!" She lightly yelled before laughing, watching as Ted pant with a Tupperware of spaghetti on his left hand.

"Sorry, god, wait gotta catch my breath first" he hit his chest a couple of times and cough a little. "Okay, sorry, got excited. But I brought my spaghetti!" He raised it with a large grin, dimple and teeth out and oh she wish she could kiss him right there.

"I see that you did" she leaned on the marble bar of her kitchen as she watched him walked over to her, eyes ranking up and down.

God he looks good, how dare he?

"And I see that you're still sleepy" he grinned and put the tupper wear down beside her, looking down to meet her eyes.

"Gonna put you to bed, after our talk m'kay?"

"That a promise?" She blinked at him flirty, a sweet smirk playing on her lips.

"N-not that kind of put to bed" Ted looks panicky, flushing pink on her gaze.

"Bummer" she mumbled with a pout before straightening her posture. "Come help me with plates, let's talk while we eat yeah?"

"Y-yeah"

Okay, maybe her drowsiness is making her a little more bolder, more braver, more yearnful for what she wants. Makes her want to capture his very being on her palm and not let go until the sky fall from above.

She wouldn't flirt with him on a good day, wouldn't even smirk at him if she can help it. He's a recently divorced man who has eyes as sad as whimpering puppy, looking anything and anywhere with a kind of desperation you would only find on someone so despondent and so so alone. He wasn't available on the public market, wasn't meant to be courted when she knows his heart still depict someone's else image, she knows he loves Michelle, miss her everyday, and she knows deep on her bones she could not barge in roses in her mouth and poems on her hand and offer to take him out on a date he would never forget.

"Why is the spaghetti cold?" She asked with a frown as she took a bite, water on her side instead of wine because Ted insisted that she should drink something normal for once.

"Spgahti ish dbest win clmpd" she frowned and watched him hold a finger up before swallowing his food. "Sorry. i said spaghetti is the best when its cold"

"Well its not bad" she shrugged as she ate it. "So how's your day? Heard Roy got mad on Jaime again, per usual of course, but this time he was about to tear his throat out"

Ted nod his head "yes, yes, ill tell ya all 'bout it later but first were gotta talk about the Halloween party"

She groaned loudly, throwing her head back. "Must we do this? Really?"

"Yes, really" he wiped his mouth with a napkin before taking a sip on his water, she could not help but feel like he was about to question her every actions and decision as if she was placed under government surveillance.

"Its really not a big deal, teddy. I just don't like going to parties"

"No, no, I heard ya' goin' to bunch of parties before, specially new-year. You're lyin' to me"

Goddamit.

"Fine" she raised her hand in defense, tired. "Seems like I can't lie my way around here so ill give it to you straight.." she took a deep breath, dreading it. Ted watched her closely, brown eyes boaring into her own and if she wasn't sleepy and wasn't bothered by the topic she would mention how beautiful they are.

"I don't like dressing up"

He slam his fork down. "THATS ABSURD!"

"Wow I didnt expect that big of a reaction at all"

"You tellin' me, someone, someone I gosh darn know! Dont like wearin' costume on Halloween? Thats like- thats like worse than murder!"

Her eyes widen "okay thats a little-"

Ted nod calming down a little "yeah yeah, I know, a little dramatic. It ain't worse than murder at all, I was just-" he poke his heart. "Just lost in the moment AND ITS YOUR FAULT!" he pointed at her

She laughed lightly.

"It wasn't even that bad! I just don't like doing it, its perfectly fine"

"No it ain't! I have never met someone like ya before! People always like dressing up, doesn't matter how bad it looks, Halloween is for everyone, its the only day its legal to pretend you're someone else" he's slowly losing his mind.

"I get that and I fully support that but its just not for me" she explained, finally finished with her spaghetti and she had to admit it was pretty fucking good. "I have to say, you're a good cook i didnt expect-"

"NO! FORGET ABOUT THE GOSH DARN SPAGHETTI!" He pointed at her face

"Youre goin' to the party even if i have to drag your bum in there"

She whistled, eyebrows up and eyes a little wide. "Oh my, I didnt know you're into that"

"Shut it" he stated but the blush on his cheeks are apprent.

"Youre goin' that's final, wrapped your self in a toilet paper if ya don't got any costume, you just have to be there"

"You literally cannot make me" she shrugged, leaning on the chair with arms crossed. "Im not going to that party even if you have to put a gun to my head, I don't like Halloween, I don't like costumes and I dojt like candies"

"YOU DONT LIKE CANDIES-" he stop himself before taking a deep breath, controlling his emotions. "Its like, its like I don't know you at all"

"Ted we've been friends for like 2 years, of course you don't"

Ted shook his head, distraught. As if the revelation of her dislike for the holiday might send him spiral to a pit of hopelessness. "If you ain't goin, im not goin'"

Her eyes widen. "What the hell are you on about?"

He looked up to her, eyes hard, determined. Like a soldier off to war.

'This is ridiculous' she had thought

"I said, im not goin if ya ain't goin"

"Y-you can't do that! The others would kill me!" She yelled, panic settling deep on her guts. Rebecca would literally drag her corpse on the road, yelling shame! Shame! Shame! While the folks of richmond would throw shit at her face. "Ted, they'll do worse than kill me. Keleey would use my skin to make herself a new bag, you can't do this to me"

"Oh I will" he pointed, shoulder squared. "I will blame it all on ya', if they ask why I ain't goin' ill tell them it was you"

"This is crazy! Why are you even doing this?!" She asked him, wanting to laugh and wanting to cry on how fucking mental it is.

"Why do I even- why do you even want me there?!"

"BECAUSE!"

"THATS NOT A PROPER REASON, IDIOT!" she yelled before groaning, throwing her hands up. "FINE! FINE! IM GOING! GOD!"

He then grinned, big, wide and bright that she had to squint. She hates the part of her brain that told her that suffering on the party is all worth it if she could see him like this for a second , smiling just for her. Its crazy how he can make everything more livable just by existing.

"I know ya would come around"

She scoffed "like you just didn't threaten me"

"Had to do it" he shrugged, still smiling, still joyous. It makes her heart melt.

"Whatever" she looked away when he met her eyes, blush slithering on her cheeks. "Im going only because of you, you hear?"

It was his turn to blush, dimple deep on his cheek and eyes glimmering. "Yes ma'am" he looked down, suddenly shy. "And I'm only goin cause of ya' either"

She gave him a sideways glance, suspicious. "You sure its not for the beer?"

"Nah, just for ya" she suddenly had a sick sick disgusting urge to giggle. "Ya make everythin' better, not the booze"

God she's so inlove with him she would carved a pumpkin right now if he ask.

___________

She went as ghostface.

Tight black shirt and a sweatpants with fake blood (ketchup) splattered on her white shoes and arms. Its a simple costume that required a little amount of effort and money. And she had to admit, she look hot as fuck, she just wished the security guard up front had let her kept the kitchen knife but no matter how many pleading and yelling of 'its not real!' The man wouldn't budge.

She stood next to Rebecca whose dress could send any man with eyes falling on the floor. She went as maleficent, with horns, high cheek bones and everything that made her almost fall inlove with her.

"Hows the drink?" She had asked, smiling at her so pleasantly ever since she had got there.

"Terrible"

"Oh?" She blinked, confused. Blood red lips almost scowling. "Was it too strong?"

"Not strong enough" she replied with a teasing smile that made her boss rolled her eyes.

"Of course you would say that, the one person here that wants to go home"

"Thats not true" she laughed, putting her glass down before leaning on the wall. Watching as the other dance on the floor, some giggling and some stumbling.

"Im actually enjoying myself"

"I doubt it" Rebecca raised her perfectly drawn brow before a slow teasing grin slithered its way on her red lips. "Ted isn't here yet"

She ignored the heat on her ears

"Are you implying i can only enjoy this party if Ted is here? That he's the sunlight on my dark days? Because if so then you're are one hundred percent corre- holy fucking shit, get out of the way" she quickly, as fast can blink, lightly push Rebecca off the view of the entrance door.

"Goodness!"

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph is that Ted fucking Lasso dressed up as a cowboy?" Keeley -dressed as katniss everdeen - strolled in like a ghost in the night, suddenly popping up, a cola on her hand.

"I think I'm about to faint" y/n confessed with a heavy breath while clutching her heart. Rebecca giggled next to her, gently holding her arm.

"Look at him walking around like he doesn't have half of the woman's eyes on him, he's killing me, he's fucking killing me"

"Look at that ass, oh that is criminal" keeley stated with a whistled, watching as Ted walked around, greeting people with a laugh and a smile.

"Is that a whip?" Y/n squinted her eyes and oh fuck it is, it is a whip, right on the holster on his hips - she swallowed thickly, the familiar heat of desperation drawing a line on her stomach.

"I have to say, im impres-"

"Im going to ride him"

Keeley choked on her drink

"excuse you?" Rebecca's head whipped around to look at y/n's face, eyes blown wide.

"Forget about the horse, im going to ride Ted Lasso tonight"

"Y-youre going to hook up with him?" Keleey asked her carefully a grin on her lips. "Tonight? Like actually tonight?"

"If he let's me" she answered though her eyes still hangs heavy on Ted Lasso who is currently standing across the room with Beard beside him dressed as Alan from the hangover.

"So you're going to confessed?" Rebecca then asked "Because this is your opportunity to tell him what you really feel, this is your time"

Ted's eyes suddenly met hers and suddenly - everything stops.

The chatter, the song, even the loud flash of cameras and the yells of the drunk. As if one look from him can make the whole world stop turning, made the time crumbles and lay dust beneath his foot.

She could hear her breathing, slow and full and deep. As if he's taking it away, feeding from her own soul. For a minute she would let him, let him take it all, place her heart on his palm and make him promise to keep it close, pour her soul onto his mouth and kiss it to seal its lock, reduce herself into nothing but atoms and dust and particles on the air and be kept in a jar, forever still, forever there, forever on him.

Ted grinned so beautifully she could cry, he gave her a wave, almost shy, almost adoring before he took his first step towards her. Every foot the same rhythm as her heart, for a second she believed in soul mate and for a second she had hoped it was him.

"Hes coming this way!" Keeley squealed lowly, turning away from him and walked towards the bar. "Im going to pretend I dont know you so you can jump on him, okay?"

"Im going to, uh, going over there! Right there to Higgins" she scrambled to lift off her gown and run lightly towards her assistance who's currently dressed as a Frankenstein.

Ted walked towards her, apologizing to the people he had bumped on his way. She doesnt think she can love anyone like this dork..

He wore a flannel, blue and black and rolled over his thick forearms. It was tucked inside his jeans, scandalously tight on his muscled thighs. There's a leather belt slithered between it, thick with a silver buckled on its front. A whip and a fake gun hang on each side.

There's a red bandana hanging on his neck and brown cowboy hat place upon his head.

Ted lasso looks sinful underneath the beating lights and shadows, like a proper seduction on a night, dress in pure temptation with a smile that held thousand of promise.

"Howdy, ma'am" he tipped his hat on her, winking. "Never have i thought I would see a lady as fine as you are"

She pray to get she wouldn't get a nosebleed. "Why thank you, cowboy" she push her mask down, hiding the grin and the blush on her cheek.

"I must say, you look good enough to eat-" she approached him a little, standing close. "-ya wouldn't mind a little bite would ya', sweetheart?"

Ted swallowed "n-not at all"

"What got you stuttering now, little lamb?" She went up to his face, titling her head a little, as if taunting him. "Youre not scared are you?"

Thank fuck for the mask, if it wasn't for it she would be on the floor right now, confidence and determination gone and replaced by the undying need to have him and never let go.

"you're really into your character arent ya?" Ted grinned at you.

"Was i?" She peered up to him with smirk, removing the mask off her face. "What are you going to do about it, cowboy? Lasso me away?"

Ted's dimple become apparent "Might have to if ya keep this up" he titled his head "Whisk you away out'a 'ere and show you what happens to a pretty little naughty thing like ya'"

Her breath hitched, body hot and guts swirlin. Her fingers itched to yank his collar and kiss him stupid.

"Yeah?" She uttered breathlessly

Ted nod his head, gaze stuck on her mouth. "Mhm, but ya would like that wouldn't ya? Have ya with me, bound and tied. Bet you would love it, a minx like ya'"

"Oh I would love it alright" she looked up to him with half lided eyes, almost drank on the words spouting of his mouth.

"Specially so because its you"

Ted had blushed then, red and harsh even under the thousand beating lights. He chuckled, the magic that reside between them now gone, replaced by the silence that you could only get when everything is light and adoring and filled with colors of love and feelings too big for your own heart.

"I uh," he looked down "im glad ya' came, thought ya wouldn't"

She chuckled and took a step back, away from his space.

"I told you I would didn't I?"

"Yeah I know but I thought you're just foolin' me, get me to shut up"

"Ted i would literally pay you my entire savings just to NEVER shut up" she smiled when he shyly looked away. "You know how much I enjoy you talk, even about things I do not understand like a 100 years old pop culture reference from an ancient movie"

"Im not that old" he grumbled rather adorably and it took everything on her not to pinch his cheeks.

"Yeah? Bet your hips would pop if I took you to the dance floor right now"

He stared at her for a couple of seconds before a grin erupted on his lips. "Is this your way of asking me to dance?"

She sighed "depends, are you going to say yes?"

"You gosh darn right I will!" He had replied with a big smile before interrupting it with a pointed finger " 'n not cause of your allegations about my perfectly fine hips, its cause I want to dance with ya'"

"I know that ted" she laughed, grabbing his hand suddenly, warm and big and rough. She likes it. "Now show me what you got, cowboy. You're too fine not to show off on the dance floor"

_________

They stumbled around the flat, kissing heatedly - all teeth and tounge and the pain of desperation to consume.

"Fuck, you're killing me" she grumbled, eyes half lided and lips red and wet. Her fingers worked in frenzy to take off every clothing he wore, buttons flying and his hat somewhere on the floor.

"Did I mention how good you look tonight?" She nose his neck, licking a stripe that had him shivering. "Did I, darling?"

"N-no, oh god" he moaned when her palm squeezed the outline of his cock on his tight jeans.

She smirked and bit him lightly on the skin between his shoulder.

"Well you are, my love." She whispered, not even bothering to give a flying fuck on the nickname she had accidently slip out. "Absolutely handsome, couldn't keep my fucking eyes off you you know that?"

Ted looked half drunk across you, hair a mess and neck covered with bites. "I-i didnt know ya find, ngh- I didnt know ya find me t-that attractive, sweetheart"

"All the flirting wasn't enough then?" She questioned, pushing him to fall on the couch and he did, easily, with a grunt and a look of anticipation and dark lust.

"Looks like you're more of a visual learner eh?" She sat on his lap, grinding her heated core on his hard cock - wet with slick and thick between her thighs. "What do you say, cowboy? Gonna let me ride you till sunrise?"

Ted moaned loudly, hands gripping her waist and nails digging on the flesh. "Y-yes please"

She smiled, hands slithering on his hair before pulling it to bare his throat to her like a submissive prey would. "Dont worry, darling. I'll take good care of you"

In one move his cock was inside her, thick and splitting her open. A gush of slick drip down her thighs and Ted moaned loudly, not a care in the world. "God.." he groaned, throwing his head back. "Feels good, fuck, ya feel so fuckin' good baby doll"

The nickname send shiver down her spine, a tingling of heat and cold.

"Squeezin' my damn cock so fuckin' tight" he licked his lips before grinning up to her, eyes lazy, dark and blown wide. "Ya sure this cunt ain't made f'me, dollface? You takin' my cock like champ"

She moaned on his filthy words, tounge frozen and chest tight. She could feel him inside her, deep on her guts, moving and rearranging anything it can reach.

"Yeah-fuck, look at ya'" he strike a palm on her ass, loud. "Beautiful thing sat on my cock, s'yours yeah?" He took her mouth, gifting her a wet kiss, pulling her bottom lip. "How ya feelin', bunny? Feels good?"

"Y-yes, feels-fuck, feel so full" she arched her back as Ted's hand went to her waist, big palm squeezing it thigh with his thumb caressing the skin he can reach.

"Cock's too big, ain't it?" He questioned, a lazy smirk on his lips. "Fitting into your tiny cunt just right though yeah? Look at it" his other hand went to her soaking pussy, caressing her folds before sucking it clean with a hummed. "Swallowing me whole easily, what a good fuckin' girl ya are. Makes me wonder if ya can take my cock on the back, fill ya up even more what'd ya say?"

He pulled her close and she gasped as his dick pierced her impossibly more deeper. "Talk to me, darlin'" he nose her neck, breathing warmth on her throat. "Gonna let your man tear ya' up from behind? Shoot my cum inside ya till you're a drippy mess hm?"

Goodness his fucking mouth..' she had thought, shivering.

"Bet ya would huh?" He bit a skin on her neck before sucking it harshly, drawing a bruise and a shiver on her spine. She moaned when his hands went to her ribs, big they were and rough, a hands of a man who could toss her around. "Bet ya would even beg for it, ya naughty thing"

His fingers went to her shoulder, brushing it gently with heavy breath and heated eyes. Tracing the collar bone and the line between her breast before his fingers reach her perked up nipple - making her shudder. "Beautiful" he whispered lowly, as if it was a secret meant only for himself. His hand envelop her whole breast, playing with it as his cock speared her in a pace that had her toes curling. She could feel every vein inside her, every thrust had her cunt quivering and gushing, painting his pelvis with her own slick.

His mouth went to her nipple, hot and smooth and soaking. His tounge swirled and his lashes flutter as he closed his eyes, the hand on her ribs pulled her much closer than before and Ted sucked at her nipple like a man starve, groaning.

She bounce on his cock, moaning wantonly from the fullness between her thighs, she swore she could feel his dick on her throat, so deep and so thick it was splitting her open, making a room inside her just for his cock and his alone.

"Thats it" he remove his mouth off her nipple with a pop before throwing his head back. "Thats it, dollface. Take my cock like ya own it" he clenched his jaw, the litte hair dangling on his forehead moving at every movement she makes, long eyelashes closed and mouth slightly agape.

She moaned when his hips started moving, meeting her thrust halfway through, it hit the hidden spot inside her that made her want to scream and sob and stop at the same time. "T-ted, Ted, Ted!" She repeated his name like a mantra, like a broken prayer of a desperate man, filled with adoration and lust and yearning for something she doesnt even know what.

He groaned loudly, almost like a growl of a feral man before he sat up more straighter, grabbing her closely, impossibly close, pushing her head on his neck and hugging her tight on his own sweaty body that it render immovable and writhing in pleasure. "Gonna fuck your pretty little pussy just like this yeah?" He stated in her ear before his hips started moving much faster, more harder, hitting her spot over and over again that every thrust had her gushing and moaning.

"Yeah, fuck yeah, t-take it, take it, take it" he repeated in her ear, thick thick cock spearing her mercilessly until she was sobbing and drawing her nails on his shoulder.

"S'too m-much!" She complained and yet she widen her thighs further more, savoring the feeling of his wet cock. "T-teddyy" she whined, pushing her face into his neck as tears fell from her eyes.

"What got ya cryin' now, sweetheart?" He chuckled breathlessly, hips still moving, dick still splitting her open. His hand went to her nape, grabbing it with his whole palm before pulling it to glimpse at her fucked out face. "Even with tears drippin' on your cheeks you're fuckin' beautiful" he pecked her lips sweetly before drawing back, a grin on his lips. "'S my cock too much for ya' dolly? Daddy hurtin' your cunt hm? Do-dont worry.." his hand tighten. "Gonna give ya my cum to make it all better"

That was the last straw of it all, snapping everything in place, cogs turning and limbs rigid.

She came on his cock with a cry and a thousand tears on her cheeks, back arching and quivering that Ted had to hold him more tighter. She could feel her cum dripping down his cock, soaking him wet. Ted moaned in return, loving the filth of it all, basking on it even - he watched her face relax and brows furrowed, letting herself be used even when her cunt throbs.

"T-teddy" she whined lowly, biting her lip. Her hand went to his arm, gripping it tight. "C-cant, m'too, im too s-sensitive!"

"Just a lil' mo-more" he groaned, holding her waist now, lifting her up and bringing her down, completely using her like she was only a hole for him, a cum dump. "Ya can take it, d-darlin'. M'sure ya could yeah? Jus-just a little, be good f'me"

She squealed and she sob, soaping cunt loud at every thrust. He was breathing heavily then, sweating like a dog in heat as he split her. Thighs sticky and cunt still dripping.

"Fu-fuck, bunny" he groaned, grinding her on his throbbing cock. "M' close, f-fuck, so fuckin' close" he whined, head thumping on her chest, breath warming her breast. "G-gonna cum, can-can i, can I fill ya' up? Pleas-please please, oh god.." the sound he had made was between a sob and a moan, it made her guts coil, made her cheeks hot.

"Mhm hm" she nod her head quickly, pulling him close to him. "P-please cum inside me, t-ted pl-please" tears drip down her cheeks, cunt swollen and clit throbbing with need. Hes stretching her wide, touching every corner of her inside.

"Y-yeah, thank you dolly, fu-fuck thank you" he groaned and push his hips much faster, fucking her silly with his cock. "Gonna fill your pretty pussy up nice and good yeah?" He was breathing heavily, heaving chest and throbbing cock. She can feel it more on her guts, a dull bump on her tummy at every movement he makes."G-gonna have ya drippin' f'me, use ya' like a fuckin hole and dump my spunk into your pussy yeah? Fuck!" He gave a harsh thrust "Oh god, sweetheart oh fuck i love you"

Her eyes widen.

"Love ya' so fuckin' much" he growled, pulling her onto his lap before he lift his hips up and gave her a single harsh thrust. "Fucking take it, take it, take it" he repeated in her ear as his cum came flooding in, hot and so so many.

"Yeah, s-shit look'a that. 'S too much its dripping out'a ya'" he groaned, thrusting slower then, riding his high.

"Ya did such a good job" he sighed as he had stopped, pulling out of her with a low moan and a shudder.

He kissed her forehead with a lazy grin. "Lets get ya clean-"

"You said you love me" she interrupted him with a wide eyes and a blushing cheeks.

"What?"

"You told me you love me" she repeated, as if in trance. "You said you love me so much earlier, you repeated it twice, Ted"

Ted sat frozen underneath her before looking away, suddenly so so sad.

"I-yeah, okay, no point in-in denying i supposed" his brows furrowed and his eyes had turned into that softer gentler look that had her heart always aching. "I love ya..for, for a long time. Don't know how it started and I'm quiet upset im confessing to ya' like this but what do I do" he chuckled but the humour on it was gone. He met her eyes, earnest, adoring, the same gaze he had used to looked at her for as long as she can remember, a gaze she couldn't put a finger on back then but could finally see it as clearly as day now.

"I love you, im inlove with you, stu-stupidly so and I get it if ya don't feel the same, its okay and I can do whatever ya like me too after this, I can walk away or I can pretend to never know ya at-"

She kissed him.

She kissed him like he would loose him.

Like any second he would turn into ashes, flew in the air and never to be return again. Tasted him like It would be her last to see him for a very long time, as if he's off to war with death hanging like a noose on his head, ready to pull and ready to kill.

"I love you too, you fucking idiot" she grinned up to him, eyes wet and cheeks hurting.

"I love you, Ted. I fucking love you"

Ted smiled, big and bright despite the darkness of the night. He looks beautiful with happiness lingering on his eyes.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, fuck yes"

Their lips met and yeah..yeah maybe Halloween wasn't too bad.

Ted smiled on her lips and it tasted sickeningly sweet as a melted sugar.

Yep, it definitely wasn't bad at all.

#ted lasso #jason sudeikis #ted lasso x reader #fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso smut #ted lasso one shot #ted lasso imagine #cowboy #holloween

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daydreamgoddess14 · 10 months

Text

Landslide pt. 1

MASTERLIST here

Summary: Jason approaches a singer/songwriter about a request for Ted Lasso Season 3.

Jason Sudeikis/Reader Insert (OFC, no use of y,n/l,n)

Rating: General for now... we'll see how it goes 🤭

Playlist Link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1crFZfdqL1fspNXb80u5sK?si=e90f5f8f357b4647

Songs used in Chapter 1:

If I had a gun - Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds (piano cover version): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1xvoxDXxdok)

Landslide - Fleetwood Mac (piano cover version): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5JP43fk_SM)

Chapter 1

“Have you checked your emails yet?” A voice sounded through your apartment.

“Not yet, why - anything good in there?” You ask, your head deep in the fridge searching for eggs.

“Marcus wants to talk to you, he said he’s text you?”

“Yeah, he wanted me to show up at a couple of his Canadian dates but I’ll be in Spain. Or France... Europe, I’ll be somewhere in Europe.” You emerge somewhat triumphant, a two egg omlette will have to surfice.

“You’ll be in South America actually.” Your assistant Lily takes a seat at the counter and slides a coffee over to you.

“Oh. Well, I won’t be in Canada that’s for sure. I already told him I couldn’t do it, I wonder why he’s still asking.” Lily passes your phone over and goes back to attempting to tackle your inbox while you drop a message to Marcus.

Hey, sorry I missed you. Can’t do Canada - I’m in South America that week. Thought we’d talked about it already? Would love to catch up with you & Carey when you’re back in L.A though. Let me know xx

You’d actually met Carey long before Marcus. The same age, you’d crossed paths a lot in your early and mid twenties when she’d been an up-coming actress and you’d been a struggling musician. You’d drowned many, many sorrows together in dingy South London pubs, you’d been in the audience at her first performance of The Seagull in London and you’d followed her to New York to watch her Broadway debut. In contrast, she’d cheered you on in dark clubs and pubs for endless weeks and months. When she’d reconnected with Marcus, he’d tagged along to a couple of gigs and asked you to join the band for a number of their shows. Eventually you were added to the billing on your own, and supported them on a range of tour dates. From there, your career had really taken off. Now, you were regularly selling out arenas and festivals. Next on the masterplan was a worldwide stadium tour, but that was some way off. First you had music to write for a new album and a summer of festival appearances planned.

“Aha! Figured it out!”

“Did we miss an email?”

“Not entirely, it went to junk so it’s not really your fault. Or mine.”

“What is it?” You ask, pushing the eggs around the pan.

“Hang on, just reading now… It’s from a Tom Howe?” You look blankly in reply, the name sounds vaguely familiar but you’ve no idea where from. “Hi, I’m trying to get in contact with you regarding Ted Lasso season 3. Jason came across some of your older work and the sound is a great fit for the show. He asked if I could reach out to you to discuss further. You also come highly recommended by Marcus Mumford who I believe is a friend we all have in common. Don’t hesitate to give me a call on the number below or reach out via email. We don’t have too long on this so would appreciate speaking with you. Best, Tom” Lily finishes reading the email on her device just as your phone rings.

“Do you just not read your emails, or?”

“I’m a bit behind! It’s been a busy few weeks.” You dump the eggs onto a plate and team them with a toasted muffin.

“Ah yeah, the life of a superstar.”

“You should know, you’ve sold out more gigs than me.”

“Not true… maybe still true but not for much longer.”

“If you say so. How are you? How’s Carey and the kids?”

“All good here, they’re missing you though.”

“I’m back in a few weeks, we’ll have a day out. Lily just read me the email from Tom.” “What do you think?” “I’ve no idea, I need to hear it again. How on earth did you think of me?”

“I didn’t. Well, I did. I play your stuff all the time. We were working on Season 3 and it just so happened that Jason heard some of your really early stuff and liked it. He asked if I thought you’d work with us so I said I’d ask - or rather Tom would.”

“That makes sense. He said something about a tight timescale?”

“Kind of, the show premieres next month but we’re thinking of you for the back half of the season so wouldn’t need anything from you till early May.”

“Do I get an idea of what you need?” “That’s where you’re better off talking to Tom and Jason. I daren’t spill any secrets, I’m not getting in trouble.”

“Ok, I’ll get in touch with Tom and set something up. Is he based in L.A?”

“He’s there at the moment, yeah. Why, are you still in New York?”

“Yeah, I’m here til the 13th I think? But I might be able to get there early.” You reply, looking to Lily for confirmation who nodded, stealing the last bit of your muffin.

“Ok, definitely call Tom, cos if the timing won’t work then he’ll need to think of something else. Let me know. I’m in L.A at the same time as you so we’ll catch up.”

“Love to Carey and the babes.”

“See ya darlin’.”

“Right, I’d better read that email again properly before I call anyone else.” You sit next to Lily who opens the email back up for you. You can see that Marcus and what appears to be Jason have both been copied in. It had been sent earlier the following week so had been stagnating in your junk folder for about 6 days. “Shit.” You mumble, realising. “What’s the time in L.A?”

“Umm 8.30am.” Lily checks. “Acceptable enough for a work related call?”

“Fuck it, I’ll leave a message if it’s not.” You read the number from the email and dial it from your phone, taking a deep breath. “Hi, can I speak to Tom please?” Tom was, it turned out, really lovely. You’d grown up not a million miles away from each other in various parts of London and he was a similar age to your older brothers. You instantly felt at ease with his good humour and musical knowledge. He’d explained that they were looking for a specific song to be used towards the very end of the season in a highly emotional moment. Though he and Jason had heard your recent music, it wasn’t until they’d been with Marcus who was listening to your much older back catalogue that the penny had dropped for all of them. In the days that had followed, Marcus had given them a masterclass of sorts, sending them copies of your early work and showing them how it had grown as you had and how your new music still has similar themes and styles. You’d blushed furiously while pacing in your apartment. Marcus hadn’t exactly been telling the truth about just how in depth your music had been discussed in recent days. You admitted that you wouldn’t be in L.A for another two weeks and questioned whether it would be a problem, he thought not and you’d promised to respond to his email. You hung up feeling elated at the prospect of a new project to get stuck into.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

CC: [email protected], [email protected]

Subject: New Project

Date: 27th February 2023

Hi Tom,

It was great to finally speak to you earlier, I apologise for missing your email - thankfully Marcus set me straight. From what you’ve said this project sounds really interesting, I’d love to hear more about it. As discussed, I’ll be in L.A from 13th March but can be there earlier if you have time? I know that’s pretty close to the premiere so I understand if you think we can’t fit this in - there’ll always be something else! On the off chance I am still in luck, I’m going to spend a couple of days binge watching 🙂

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

CC: [email protected], [email protected]

Subject: RE: New Project

Date: 27th February 2023

Hey,

Thanks for reaching out, I won’t speak for Tom on how much time we have, but I really want to make this work so happy to hang on for as long as possible. Here’s hoping you can turn a track around in 24hrs, I guess?! It would be great to meet with you as soon as you can make it to L.A, then you could also attend the premiere if that sounds OK? I'll get the details sent over to you. We can meet first and then figure out next steps. Don’t worry about timing, that's on me.

You’d received a reply within minutes. Literally minutes, and you were buzzing. It was from Jason himself. You’d only been half joking about binge watching, you’d done that already with Season 1 but had run out of time recently for Season 2. Now you were even more itching to watch it. Though you had no idea of storyline or what kind of song they were looking for, you could tinker with melodies and riffs. Tom had talked specifically about family, love and fighting for what you believe in so you could use those basic prompts to get you started. Over the following week, you'd worked on some new music and planned to bring your trip to L.A forward by a week. You were going to be there for up to 4 weeks. The information had come through inviting you to the season 3 premiere of Ted Lasso, so you'd made sure to catch up on season 2 just in time. But first came the initial meeting with Jason and Tom. You almost wished you could get away with waiting till the premiere but knew that wasn't realistic and you could totally understand why they'd want to get to know you sooner. L.A afforded you a little more anonymity than New York and with Tom's studio as the meeting place, you had a reasonable cover for being there if you were to get noticed by anyone. You slipped out of your Uber and followed a path through a pretty little courtyard. You'd gone for a denim skirt and Bon Jovi t-shirt, it felt miles warmer in L.A and you'd tricked your body into believing that Spring had fully arrived. You pressed the door buzzer and waited patiently. Lily had offered to go with you but you were still very much unused to having a real life assistant and still attended most meetings, interviews and events alone.

"Hey, you made it! Come in, I'm Tom. You're alone?"

"Yeah, it's easier to go unnoticed." You smiled stepping into the entryway.

"I wouldn't know, thankfully no one knows who I am."

"After the few months I've had, I'd wish the same thing." You follow Tom through the building, a handful of offices, a small kitchen and then into a corridor with a recording studio on either side.

"I don't pretend to keep up with gossip so I'll just have to take your word for it." He admits, you're grateful for that. It had been a rough 6 months or so. Your last relationship with a well known actor had ended abruptly - in that you'd escaped. He'd then leaked all over social media and outlets such as Deux Moi that you were 'emotionally unavailable', 'manipulative' and 'high maintenance'. He'd placed horrible, false comments that you'd supposedly made about your fans and friends, and he'd tried to alienate everyone against you. There had been a pile-on of negative press about you. Say nothing the management team had said, do nothing, stay calm and quiet they'd insisted it'll blow over. Bullshit. You'd gotten a little drunk and joined a friend in playing a dumb Tik Tok game where she'd asked what your 'Ick' was… you'd replied "Boyfriends who gaslight you and are emotionally and mentally abusive and then try to blame you in the media to make everyone hate you'' with an arched eyebrow and a knowing look. She'd posted it to Tik Tok and within minutes Twitter was ablaze with your retort. It had completely taken over the press tour for his new movie and overshon his interviews. Other exes of his had posted similar confirmations and praise of you on their socials. You’d then gone totally dark on the subject and not commented any further. Your team were still picking up the pieces from the escapade but you had so far been hailed a bit of a hero and it appeared that people were leaning more on your side now than they had been. It was only a matter of time before he’d produce some other lies though, at which point you fully expected that you’d have to go public and go all in on substantiating your initial comments. The how and the when preyed on your mind heavily. Tom led you into the studio on the right, a huge mixing desk took up much of the space but there were a couple of desks and sofas, space for downtime and collaboration. Beyond the mixing desk you could see into the studio itself with its acoustic panels and sound deadening equipment. Jason sat at the mixing desk, elbows up on the table typing on his phone. He turned and smiled at the sound of the door opening.

"Hey, glad you could make it. I'm Jason." You hold out your hand to shake his, his large hand engulfing yours. Your skin instantly felt like it had been set alight. He was tall, broad and ridiculously handsome. Binge watching the show had given you an almighty crush, so you'd sought out his other work too. Once you'd found out how funny he was, you were done for. Get a fucking hold of yourself you thought. It had not been so long since a man had touched you that you should be this affected by him. But, oh those eyes. And that smile is really something. He takes off his baseball cap and drags his fingers through his dark hair, greying at the temples and if you’d focused for any longer than half a second on that alone you couldn’t be held responsible for your actions. He greets you like he's known you for years and as Tom gets the meeting going, he's charming, attentive and so quick witted it makes your head spin a little. "I'm looking for a song specifically about the relationship between hope and failure and perseverance. That's the basic outline at least - I can't tell you much more than that." He apologises. You whip out your phone,

"Just taking some notes, that OK? I get it, you don't want some rando knowing the ending." He motions for you to go ahead, smiling as your fingers frantically move across the screen on your notes app.

"Yeah you might spill the beans on Twitter."

"It was Tik Tok actually."

"Ah how's it go? 'Tik Tok made me do it'?"

"And a lot of wine." You smirk, "Can I ask, how you feel about season 3 generally? For the song, I promise I'm not fawning over you to get information."

"I don't know if it's the end of the end, if that makes sense. It could carry on in different ways."

"I'm just trying to figure out if it’s a goodbye to the characters, or to this chapter of their lives… from what you've said the song needs to be really personal. I want to make sure the emotion is there. Are you really sure I'm the right person for this?"

"I'm sure. I've heard enough of your music to know that this is what we need, I know you're more than capable. Between what you can do and what Tom already knows I need, I'm completely confident." Tom nods in agreement having stayed silent for much of your conversation.

"So is this like The Voice? Do you guys have a list of people to see?" Tom laughed,

"Not at all, we're hoping you're it to be honest. Though since you're here it would be great to hear you sing if you're happy with that?"

"I didn't bring anything with me, so as long as you don't mind sharing your piano or a guitar?"

"It's all yours." He gestures into the other room and you head through nervously. They both join you, not wanting to listen via speakers. You stop for water first, and then flip through your notebook to find a suitable song, settling on something reasonably new but not so well known. You'd been performing for the best part of 20 years, you knew every note, every line, but performing in front of two people was about a million times more nerve wracking than two hundred people, or even two hundred thousand people which was exactly what you had lined up in the summer at Glastonbury. You closed your eyes, honed in on the piano at first, allowing yourself an extended intro to give you time to compose yourself.

If I had a gun,

I'd shoot a hole into the sun,

and love would burn this city down for you.

If I had the time,

I'd stop the world and make you mine,

and everyday would stay the same with you

Hope I didn't speak too soon,

my eyes have always followed you around the room.

'Cus you're the only God that I will ever need,

I'm holding on and waiting for the moment

for my heart to be unbroken by the sea

You didn't play the full song but it was one you were extremely proud of. You let the piano trail off and risked a glance at Jason and Tom who were grinning at each other. Jason let out a whistle,

"Y'know how you always wonder how people are gonna sound when they sing live and it sometimes doesn't live up to expectations?" He said mostly to Tom. You’re stomach dropped, oh god, were you about to fall into that camp?

"Yeah. Yeah that was pretty special." Tom agreed, vocalising Jason's thoughts. You breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Thank fuck for that. I haven't done that one for ages. You scared me then!” You said more to Jason.

"It's a beautiful song. I could just use that for the show to be honest, but I'd regret not working with you on something original." Tom said, as he did so, his phone rang so he left to take the call, “Sorry, be right back.”

“Any chance of another song?”

“I don’t see why not, while we’re waiting for Tom.” You flipped back through the notebook again, this time choosing a classic cover you’d done for years and years. It had been one of the first songs you’d learned and the lyrics seemed to change meaning for you in different chapters of your life so that it always fit you.

I took my love, I took it down

I climbed a mountain and I turned around

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills

'Til the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky

What is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

“Holy shit.” He mumbled, sitting on the piano bench next to you. You could see through the glass that Tom was still on the phone. You run your hands over the keys playing mindless notes and melodies, no real intention behind, just filling the comfortable silence. You feel him leaning against you a little as he watches you play, the narrow bench not quite big enough for two.

“I played it with Stevie Nicks once.” You say quietly. “I actually thought I was going to die. It’s like I have this black hole in my memory, where I remember meeting her and then I remember coming off stage and we had a couple of drinks together, but I can’t for the life of me remember actually singing it with her.”

“I think that’s probably to be expected. Our brains do weird shit and make us feel like idiots.”

“That is definitely the truth.”

"I would really like to get to know you a little better while you work on this," Jason admitted almost hesitantly, "if that's OK with you?"

"I'd like that a lot." You smile, he returns it, relieved.

“So how did it go?” Lily asks when you call her from the Uber ride home. You’d stayed far longer than any of you had probably anticipated, throwing ideas around and experimenting with melodies. You can’t help but gush over just how much fun you’ve had - probably for the first time in weeks.

“I can’t wait to get started, they were both so welcoming.”

“And Jason?” Lily asked, knowing about your crush. You pause slightly, it’s been hard to know who you can actually talk to recently. With your ex on a campaign to smear your reputation, it’s hard to know who is really on your side. You know that the comments he’s made are all false but it still worries you that some people will believe him over you.

“He’s just… lovely. And my god he’s gorgeous, like up close in person? He’s insanely handsome. I felt like a creep staring at him!” Lily giggled along with you,

“Oh my god, I didn’t realise this crush was like a full on crush?!”

“Neither did I!” You admit. “Tom had to take a call so we were just mucking around at the piano for ages.”

“You had to sing?”

“Of course I did! They want to know that I’ll be the right fit for what they need.”

“What did you sing? How was it?” Lily knew you hadn’t sung properly for weeks, you were rusty and unprepared and it made you anxious just thinking about it.

“I did ‘If I had a gun’ and ‘Landslide’. It went ok, my voice is a bit rough, but nothing some decent exercises won’t help.”

“Classics! I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you. I wasn’t expecting this… connection. It’s weird, like he saw me immediately, like he’d known me forever. I feel like someone’s just plugged me back into real life.”

“You should write a song about that.” She teased.

“Well, I need to. They want to move forward with me so I need to bring my A game.” You reply, anticipation fizzing in your belly.

~~~~~~~~

Let me know what you think! I'm excited to get started on this 😊 As usual, my inbox is open!

#jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis rpf #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis imagine #jason sudeikis x reader

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