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rqgnarok · 11 months

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standing ovation - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 2321

warnings: mentions of jamie’s dad and DV, spoilers for ted lasso’s mom city. reader uses female pronouns.

summary: reader sneaks into training grounds after richmond’s win against man city. seeing her is just what jamie needs.

author’s note at the end!

There’s something in the air.

Jamie’s pretty sure Will sprayed some lavender shit all over the locker room again but that’s not quite what he means– he’s said goodbye to every single one of his teammates and all the coaches– and the locker room is now his and his alone. He locks away his dad’s ghost by locking up his phone, the simple message doing wonders to finish lifting that weight off his shoulders.

He wasn’t at the game. Or maybe he was, Jamie realizes now that it doesn’t really matter. A part of him will never stop looking over his shoulder whenever he visits his hometown for his dickwad of a father, but the older, bigger part of him knows Coach was right– his motivation doesn’t come from hating his dad anymore and it doesn’t have to. His forgiveness is for himself, for the little boy that had to build a mask to save himself from his dad, and for the man he is today because of him– and because of his mum, Keeley, Roy, Ted, his teammates–

The standing ovation at the end was more of a benediction than he’d like to admit. Everything about his hometown made him feel prickly; like he was a virus the town was doing its best to reject, and other than his quick visit to his mom Jamie expected the whole thing to be a disaster. The kids on the street, the people on social media, the rude assholes in the bleachers– Jamie thought that was all he was gonna get. Blind, thoughtless hatred despite Jamie trying his best.

He remembers Roy getting a standing ovation on his last game, while Jamie was still wearing Man City blue. He’d been appalled, unable to discern the possibility of someone hating you so much they respected you. All he’d ever gotten– from his dad, rival teams, his own team– had been everything except respect.

But they’d clapped for him. They thought him deserving of something precious and somehow it feels like permission. He can play for himself. He can come home without his dad’s ghost belittling him for not turning out the way he expected him to.

Even Manchester hasn’t been home in a long time. Sure, his mom and Simon are there, but Richmond has his family, too– his friends, his teammates, his–

“Excuse me, I’m looking for my boyfriend. 5’9 not quite 6 foot, sexy as hell, the most fantastic football player to ever walk on Earth?”

Jamie’s lips involuntarily twist up as he glances at the door. (Y/N)’s a sight wearing her Richmond TARTT jersey, looking disheveled and flushed like the rest of the city probably is right now after their win tonight.

Jamie doesn’t give a shit about the rest of the city, though. At least not right now. He cares about his girl sneaking in (with Keeley and Roy’s permission and advice, probably) to see him, normal sleep schedule be damned.

He laughs, loud and unrestrained joy lighting up his features as he hobbles towards his girlfriend, letting himself be enveloped in a crush-tight embrace.

“Did ya watch it?” he wonders, forgoing his usual shy demeanor whenever (Y/N) praises him and just allowing his excitement to overflow, arms going around (Y/N)’s waist and hoisting her off the ground.

“Did I watch it, he asks,” (Y/N) scoff is downplayed by her big grin and the way she wraps her arms around Jamie’s neck as he spins her around, fucked up ankle be damned. “I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off of you, Jamie, oh, my God–”

She’s kissing him deeply, unable to contain her excitement.

“You’re so fucking brilliant,” she whispers against his mouth, her hands at the nape of his neck making him shiver into her embrace, unable to get enough. “Oh, Jamie, that assist– the entire play for Colin’s goal? Your goal–”

“It was for you,” he tells as he drops her off, cupping her face in his hands and cheeks hurting with how wide he’s smiling. “I couldn’t celebrate but it was for you. For you and me mum, you were with me on the pitch the whole time–”

He stumbles a little as he drops her on the ground and (Y/N) tenses in his arms. She looks him over, suddenly worried. “Oh, shit. Your ankle, dumbass, are you okay? Fuck, did I–”

“Angel,” the nickname has her melting almost immediately just like he thought it would, a five-word weapon he’s never gotten tired of wielding. (Y/N) pouts at him, still concerned, and Jamie can’t have that, he kisses the expression off her face immediately. It should be illegal for her to be sad, no, sir. “‘s not even a sprain. It was probably the panic of bein’ in the same place as me dad, to be honest.”

Something steely flashes through her eyes, there and gone in a second, at the mention of Jamie’s dad. (Y/N)’s never been anything other than kind about it, but Jamie doesn’t doubt she’d beat the old fart up if she were given the chance.

The thought only makes him smile.

“Did you? See him?” she wonders cautiously. She’s touching him again after her moment of hesitation over his injury, hands doing soothing motions up and down his sides. Jamie fights off a shiver.

“Nah,” he says simply as if the thought of crossing paths with him didn’t have him toeing the line of a panic attack the entire three days they were in Manchester. “I don’t know if he was there, and if he was, I didn’t see him. I don’t think I care anymore. It’s for the best, really.”

(Y/N)’s expression brightens, though they both know they’re not done talking about it. Jamie wishes it could be as easy as turning off his phone and forgetting about his dad, but his skin already itches a little with the idea of getting a text back from him. He’s also no doubt that (Y/N) will hold him throughout it all.

“I did see me mum.”

“How is my favorite Tartt?” she teases.

“Happy,” Jamie says softly, always the most important thing to consider when it comes to his mother. Ever since he was a toddler and he gained acknowledgment of his dad’s actions; after an especially gruesome argument that ended with his dad breaking a few photo frames and plates, stumbling his way out of the apartment, and slamming the door shut, Jamie would climb on his mom’s lap and wipe her tears as best he could with his tiny clumsy baby fingers. “Yeah, she was real happy. And for me, too. Even before the match, she was happy to see me, happy to… jus’ happy.”

“That’s good, sweetheart,” she threads her fingers through Jamie’s hair to keep it off his face, his headband lost somewhere in his lockers or amongst the rest of the dirty laundry. He’ll have to tell Will to watch out for it, he’s a little attached to it after the night he’s had.

Jamie’s usually not the one to believe in lucky garments or charms but– well. He feels pretty lucky right now; that (Y/N) saw some worth in him when they met and makes the choice to love him and come home to him, day after day, whatever the outcome may be.

(Y/N) looks at him adoringly like she knows what he’s thinking. “Did’ya get your wings back, then?”

Jamie grasps her hand in his and turns to kiss the inside of her wrist, only slipping a little bit of tongue. “Nah. They was never gone. All I needed was a little help to see.”

He frowns before (Y/N) can answer. “I was gonna say something stupid like ‘you’re me wings’ but that’s disgusting and I hate it. I would never say something like that. ‘m not Roy.”

(Y/N)’s laugh is surprised and comes deep from her belly. “Are you telling me Roy Kent’s a secret romantic?”

“Big old softie, that tosser,” he rolls his eyes. “He snuck you in for me, didn’t he? That’s all you need to know about–”

(Y/N) shuts him up with a kiss just because she can, and they’re both smiling too hard for it to be a proper one.

She says “He likes you. He’s proud of you. We’re all so proud of you,” while peppering kisses all over his face, landing on his cheeks, nose, temple, jaw, and corner of his mouth. “You’re so, so good, Jamie, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he says, because there’s not gonna be a single time in which she tells him that and he doesn’t reciprocate. “Mum said that, too. And Keeley and Roy. And Coach, too, I guess, in his own way. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without them.”

“I can’t believe I missed it,” (Y/N) pouts and beats herself up over it for the thousandth time. Jamie presses a kiss to the space between her eyes for the thousandth time in response. “I should’ve been there, I should’ve told my boss to go to hell–”

“You’re here,” he tells her, shaking her a little by the shoulders and looking her over like he can’t quite believe it. That she’s here in the locker room, in his life, loving him like he’s always desperately wished for but never thought he’d deserve. “What was I gonna do, put my dumb ankle into ice and sit alone in the dark?”

“‘m sure Roy and Keeley would be here drinking champagne with you if I wasn’t here.”

“And what could we be doing that is keeping them away right now?” he raises his brows, sneaking a hand down her back lower, lower, lower–

(Y/N) slaps his chest, though a gleam in her eye tells him she’s not saying no to anything. “You’re…” she drifts off.

He smirks cockily. “Unbelievable?”

(Y/N) shakes her head imperceptively. “Nah. I always knew you could do it. But you’re breathtaking, I’ll give you that. As if your ego needs it.”

Jamie’s mouth softens into a smile, soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) frowns a little at the sudden shift in conversation. “Whatever for?”

“I’ve been a dick these past couple of weeks–”

He had. (Y/N) won’t let him admit it but he wasn’t lying when he told Roy he wasn’t doing well. Not eating, not sleeping, waving off (Y/N)’s concern with a little too cold shoulder. It made him feel a little too much like his dad, and that thought only dragged him further down.

It had been (Y/N) who suggested Jamie pay a visit to his mom while in town for the game, and when he’d mentioned this to her she’d smiled knowingly, ran a hand through his hair, and made him promise an introduction soon.

“You were anxious,” she corrects him with a shake of the head, won’t let him speak ill of himself when all he did was have a normal, human reaction to a very triggering situation. “And I’ve been worried about you but you don’t have to apologize, Jamie. Not to me, not in a million years.”

“Alright,” he says, soft and charmed. He soothes his thumb over her knuckles, featherlight. He looks down at their intertwined hands for a beat or two, gently swinging them back and forth. “Then can I apologize for shutting you out? I know you were only trying to help. I’ll do better next time at letting you know what I need.”

“And I’ll do better at listening,” she assures him with an indulgent smile, using her free hand to trace the Richmond crest of his shirt. “Look at us, communicating and shit.”

Jamie scrunches his nose in faux disgust. “Gross,” he says, but even the facade is too much to keep up when (Y/N) nudges his nose with hers. His lips tilt upwards against his best intentions, drunk on her presence and something inside his chest brimming with unstirred delight.

(Y/N) exhales against his mouth. She hasn’t been more than a few inches away from him since she came down to meet him, always touching him.

“What do you wanna do, huh?” she asks him, pulling at the bottom of his shirt. “Anything you want. We can go get some takeout from that burger place you like or maybe something fancier? We can go home and get some ice on that ankle–”

“It’s nothin’–”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” by that, she means when the team doctor gives him the all clear and he isn’t limping slightly with every step he takes. It’ll take a while but Jamie can take it, especially if any downtime comes with them spending the days together. She makes a questioning hum. “But we can do that tomorrow, then. Tonight, whatever you want. You’ve earned it.”

And Jamie does feel like a winner. Not only because of the three points they managed to steal from Man City but because he gets to come home to this. He gets to leave his dad behind in Manchester and his mom in safe hands, he gets to accomplish his dream for himself and the people that love him instead of trying to prove someone who hurt him wrong.

He gets to live for himself. Coach Lasso was right, him forgiving his father was the kindest thing he could do for himself.

“I want this,” he murmurs against her temple, breathing in the smell of her perfume and taking in the warmth of her body against his. “I got all I need right here.”

(Y/N) smiles and crowds even closer, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

A beat. Then–

“So that’s a no for a quickie in the locker room, then?”

(Y/N)’s laugh tastes like a standing ovation.

_________

precious little jamiebaby i hope i did you justice ily

i was ready to make an angsty peace about him but mom city left me craving to give him a moment of peace so ta-da! thank you so much for reading and letting me know what you think!

a reminder that commissions and asks are open!

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

#leo writes #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso imagine #roy kent #keeley jones #phil dunster #brett goldstein #juno temple #jason sudeikis

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