#“they say there's no place like home but there's no place like richmond”

[megamindsecretlair]

heyyyy sugarplummm, you already know why i’m here🤭🤭🤭. i’d love to a request for teddy richmond??? im thinking smutty smutty down to the ground, but i NEEDDDD overstimulation from oc to teddy and him tapping out??? some crazy crazy shit LMAOOOO please and thank you, i would forever be in your debt🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

A/N: Hope I did it justice! I read a FILTHY fic from @planetblaque, make sure you check her fic out here! Good & Plenty

Ruined

Pairing: Daddy Dom!Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), fingering (fem receiving), teasing, size kink, dirty talk, face sitting, mean Terry, daddy kink, praise kink, overstimulation, reader is able to be picked up, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some, rushing.

Summary: See Ask. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog . Terry has been spending more time in the gym lately, preferring to retreat into his head like he often does. Tonight, however, you aim to take his mind off of his worries if only for a little while.

Word Count: 3,232k

AO3 Link

A/N: Ya'll don't ask about this man no more! I need to focus on this book, lordt LOL. He has rotted my brain, enjoy! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Your favorite part of your nightly routine was watching Terry workout. He was never more so in his element then when he was pumping iron, blasting his metal music, and in the zone. He became so focused, lifting weights, leg day, arm day, biceps, triceps, and whatever else he managed to hone into a deadly weapon.

You joined him most nights, but quickly became entranced in the way he lifted his body doing pull ups. Or working his legs out on the machine. Your home gym was nothing to sniff at. Making him deck it out in all of the equipment he ever wanted when he got his settlement from Shelby Springs. 

You liked using the bike mostly, setting a program, and pretending to ride up the side of a mountain. You were able to zone out, picturing the mountain air and the subtle breeze. It was a wonderful sight to behold but did little in comparison to Terry’s massive form. 

Terry had been a little distant lately, spending more and more time in the gym instead of resting. You entered the gym now to find him facing the wall of mirrors along the far wall, watching himself as he lifted heavy weights in his arms, doing curls. 

Something was bothering him. You bit your lip as you watched him. What could it be? 

He was focused, not even noticing that you were standing in the doorway. He wore a dusky blue tank and black shorts, compression shorts underneath showing off massive thighs. His earphones were in his ear, probably listening to his favorite band. 

You thought over what could possibly be his problem… it occurred to you. It was the anniversary of all the shit that went down. Losing his cousin, violence, racism. You sighed, wondering why he didn’t say anything. Then again, he wasn’t the type of man to burden others with his thoughts. 

You sauntered into the gym, taking off your pajama shirt as you did so. You wore no bra underneath so you were bare to the heated room. Your eyes were trained on Terry beside you, soaking through his tank top with sweat. The tattoos on his forearm moved with him, the star and moon on his arm curling.

You stopped beside him, taking off your sleep shorts and panties in one fell swoop. You grabbed your own set of weights and went through a series of light reps, stretching out your limbs and loosening up your body. 

Terry looked over at you and then faced forward. He did a double take, nearly dropping the weights in his hands. He caught them at the last minute, placing them down on the dumbbell rack. 

“What you doing?” He asked, a smirk curving his face. He took out one of his earbuds.

“Working out, what does it look like?” You asked. You didn’t look directly at him, opting to look at him in the mirror. That was easier. Easier to admire his face without having to look at his eyes dead on. Sometimes it seemed like he looked right down to your soul. 

He licked his lips, siding up to you. He was huffing with exertion, reaching up to grab your shoulder. You sidestepped him, tsking at him. “You didn’t finish your workout,” you said.

“You gon’ do me like that?” His voice. Good god. He pitched it even lower, sounding put out and superior at the same time. 

“Finish your workout. Go on,” you said. You switched up your stretches, adding in lunges and stretching your thighs. 

Terry admired what you were doing, the jiggle in your ass, and the sway of your breasts as you moved. He looked at you in the mirror and you smiled at him. He nodded and then yanked off his tank top. 

You faltered in your own routine. His body was insanely ripped. Like a lifelike painting. Like an artist painted each and every ab. You admired the way his body moved. Effortless. Easy. His eyes were trained on you as he took off his shorts and compression shorts, letting his dick spring free.

He was already semi-hard, long and thick, as the tip slapped against his inner thigh. He pulled his other earbud out, tapping away on his phone to put on a playlist you both enjoyed to pump through the house’s speakers. “Coming Undone” by Korn began to blast through the speakers and the dirty beat had you feeling excited. The vibrations in the floor tingled your bare feet. He moved back to retrieve his weights, standing beside you as you both got into your workout routines. 

No words were spoken as you looked at each other, eyes dragging along each other’s bodies like a physical caress. His wide chest glistened with sweat as he pumped his arms, curling those biceps that you just wanted to sink your teeth into.

Your plan was to take his mind off of things, coax him into relaxing, and then talk about what was in his head. But you were making your own self bothered, staring at his lean hips, thick thighs, and strong legs. 

Your pussy throbbed, as you stared at his dick moving with his effort. Wet slick starting to pool between your legs. 

You grunted as you lifted shaking arms to put away your weights. You weren’t as skilled as him and that was okay. You would work yourself up to his level. Sculpting your own body the way you wanted. 

You free-stretched, lifting your arms above your head and pushing out your chest. The room seemed to get hotter. You felt every inch of Terry’s gaze on your body. Everywhere his eyes roamed, your body tingled. You were connected to him on a deep, spiritual level. 

Terry put away his own weights, the metal clanging above the music playing. The song continued to blast, making your body sway to the chorus. Terry stalked forward, licking his lips, eyes looking his fill as he approached you.

“Time for pushups,” you said. 

Terry smirked, encroaching into your personal space. He leaned down to kiss you and you turned your head at the last minute, making him kiss your cheek. He chuckled. “You think you’re cute,” he said against your skin.

You shrugged, a big smile on your face. “Just a little,” you said. You pinched your fingers to show him how much. He laughed, sinking down to his knees. He got into position, facing the mirrors. You climbed onto his back. He tested a few push ups before flicking his eyes towards yours in the mirror.

Wordlessly, he began. He lifted you with ease, not a grunt on him as he kept going, kept pumping his arms. Sweat dripped from his face. You felt his muscles bunch between your legs. You giggled, excited from the high of being lifted on his powerful back. 

“Good Daddy,” you purred on top of him.

Terry stopped, staring at you. You smirked and leaned forward, redistributing your weight so you didn’t hurt him. You licked the shell of his ear and he shivered from head to foot. “Such a good Daddy to me,” you moaned in his ear. 

Terry shook his head, starting up the push ups again. You rubbed his back, caressing him, scratching your nails against his skin. He groaned, body shuddering again. You continued to tease him, running your nails anywhere you could touch. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. 

“I can’t wait until you’re all done, sweaty, feeding me that long dick of yours,” you purred in his ear. 

Terry stopped again, arms extended. He smirked at you. God, he was fucking beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. He literally took your breath away whenever you saw him. A sigh carried off in the wind. 

Music thumped as you looked at each other. Your thoughts were probably broadcast all over your face. You took a quick peek at yourself. You were perched on top of him like a lazy, feline goddess. Brown skin gleaming, eyes low, bottom lip between your teeth. You looked so pretty like this. Felt pretty. Felt amazing because he made you feel like you were flying every time you were with him. 

You moaned, thinking of him. Of how wonderful he truly was to you. An entire gift. You rubbed yourself on his back, finding that little bit of friction to keep you going. “Oh shit,” you moaned, head falling forward onto his shoulder. You moaned, getting yourself there.

“Hol’ up.” Terry’s rough voice cut through your fog. He lowered himself to the ground and he rolled to the side to let you off. You climbed off of him and then faced him on the floor. 

“You think you get to play with what’s mine?” He asked. He got to his feet, pulling you up with him. 

Your thighs tingled as he stepped into your personal space. He grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the weight bench. He straddled it, laying down. You hopped onto him, and he groaned. He must feel the slick between your thighs rubbing against his stomach. His muscles flexed beneath you and you closed your eyes, pussy fluttering. 

“Mine,” he growled, winking at you. He pulled you to slide over onto his face, lips sliding through your folds.

“Oh, god,” you sighed and moaned. 

Terry hummed, licking his lips. You felt the entire motion, pussy growing wetter from the action. He began to lick you in earnest, moaning between your legs. You gripped onto the weight bar above the bench, held on for dear life, as your legs shook. 

The song switched to “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails. Terry followed the erratic beat, flicking his tongue across your clit rapidly, making you shake and twitch on top of him. “Oh, fuck, Terry, shit, oh fuck,” you moaned. 

Terry chuckled, gripping onto your ass and spreading your ass cheeks. Terry wrapped his lips around your clit and suckled. You screamed, your toes pushing you off of him from the ground. Terry held on, using his tongue to tease around your entrance. 

Stars were blinking on and off in your mind’s eye, lower belly burning with desire. “Terry,” you begged, voice weak and pathetic. Oh fuck, you were about to cum. You began to sink onto his face, putting all your weight down when Terry moved his lips. He pulled away from your entrance right before you were about to cum. 

You groaned, leaning back to look at his eyes. There was something deeply erotic about those mesmerizing eyes staring up at you from between your thick thighs. He winked at you and then pushed you off of him. 

He sat up so that you straddled his lap. “Ready to stop playing games?” He asked, wiping your essence off.

“Who’s playing?” You asked. You blinked at him innocently, wrapping your arms around his neck. His dick was nestled in your ass, growing harder as you rubbed yourself against him. He hissed, hands flying to your waist to steady you. 

You kept moving, kept rocking and rolling your hips so that your wet pussy rubbed against him. “Baby, the games have just begun,” you leaned down and whispered in his ear.

He pulled back, his eyes crinkling as a smile split his face. It was a predatory grin, full of evil intent as he kissed you. You sighed, nibbling on his big, juicy lips. He suckled your bottom lip into his mouth, and you moaned, canting your hips forward once again. 

“Another Way” by Sleep Theory came on, turning up the heat. The heavy beginning reverberated under your skin as you scratched at his nape. You moaned into each other’s mouths. Terry’s hands on your waist were no longer hindering you from rubbing on him, grinding on him. 

Terry cursed, his hand slipping between your legs. “Good fuckin’ girl. Getting wet for Daddy,” he said in awe. 

“You make me so fuckin’ horny, I can’t stand it,” you confessed, capturing his lips with yours again. It was all true. The way his body felt beneath your questing fingers. Tracing every vein, every muscle, every inch of skin. It all served to turn you on more, drive your desire higher, reaching new heights. 

“Let me train that throat,” he said, more of a command than a question. You smirked as you slid off of him, already planning your method of attack. 

Terry scooted forward on the weight bench, and you gripped his thighs for stability as you lowered to the floor. You smiled, grabbed his dick, and rubbed the bead of pre-cum across your lips. 

Terry moaned, licked his lips, tilting his head at you. Your pussy throbbed at the way it made his eyes narrow, made him look cocky. You aimed to change that. You opened your mouth, sucking him down and he groaned as you took him down to the base. 

It was hard, no lie, considering his size. But fuck, you were greedy. You breathed through your nose and then slowly dragged him out of your mouth, making sure to lick every inch of him. 

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back. He grabbed the sides of your face, stroking his thumb across your cheek, before moving your head faster, making you take more of him. 

Silly boy. You resisted, pushing against his hold. He grunted before he let up and that’s when you took over. Giving him the sloppiest, messiest, nastiest head you’d ever given him. “Shit, let me get out yo way,” he breathed, his moans competing with the sounds of the song playing in the background. 

You stroked him as you sucked him off, his tip leaking cum. The salty taste of him made you moan, made your thighs tingle. You moved your fingers between your folds, rubbing your own clit as you sucked him off. 

Curses flew from his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. Fuck, he was perfect. Absolutely perfect. His mouth dropped open, jaw going slack. He groaned, eyes crinkling with the effort. You took him deep, near gagging, bobbing up and down on his length like you were trying to suck the soul out of his body.

“Shit, slow down,” he said, voice growing needy. 

You didn’t listen. You kept going, kept going faster, shaking with the effort. Rocking back and forth on your fingers and bringing your own pleasure back to the front. Back from where he teased. 

“Damn girl,” he moaned. His jaw flexed with restrained effort. You moaned around his dick, humming, flicking your tongue across his sensitive tip. You suckled him there, drooling. Your saliva and his pre-cum dribbled down your chin. You locked eyes with him, spat on his dick, and then sucked him back down. Returning to the pace you set, sucking with extra pressure.

“Fuck, fuck,” he panted, his hips pushing up. He tapped your cheek softly and you reluctantly pulled off of him. His huffing breaths were better than the music. His eyes turned deep blue like a lagoon, drunk with pleasure. 

His eyes narrowed, staring at you like you stole something. You licked your lips, licking up any extra taste of him. He watched you do it, before he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to him.

He kissed you, lips soft and sweet. You opened your mouth to him, to his exploring tongue, to the bite of his teeth. You moaned, hands trapped by your side. 

He stood up abruptly, pulling you over to the mirrors. He wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing your back against the cold, smooth glass.

You yelped, trying to get away from it. Your skin was too heated for it, too sensitive. “Terry, please,” you moaned.

“My turn, baby girl,” he said. He grinned, sliding into you with no preamble. Your mouth dropped open with a scream as he split you open. 

“T-T-,”

“Shh, shh, Daddy’s got you,” he cooed as he moved in you like he was punishing you. He was relentless, moving like a jackhammer. Like a well-oiled machine. He held your legs spread open, taking his dick.

“T-too, mu-uch,” you cried, pussy flooding his dick. He was pounding into you so good, your vision turned black. Your ears began to ring. Your back tapped the mirror, shaking it, with the force of his deep thrusts. 

“Too much?” He asked.

You held onto his shoulder, nails digging. “Too good, too good,” you moaned. 

He moaned with you, synching up your sounds and bringing a new level of intimacy to the moment. He stared in your eyes, nose to nose, heavy breaths fanning across each other’s faces. The wet, dripping mess you made was leaking down your ass and leg, growing wetter. 

“How ‘bout now?” He asked. He increased his thrusts, angling you so that he was fucking up into you. The tip of his dick rubbed against a deep spot inside of you, rubbing up into you and making you see stars again. His dick was huge, splitting you, and god it felt so fucking amazing. 

“Meanie,” you whimpered, grip growing weak. 

Terry kissed along your jaw, your cheeks. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ good for me. Such a good girl, creamin’ on this dick. You always know just what Daddy needs, huh?” He asked. 

“Daddy, please! Please let me cum, please, please,” You begged. 

His dick throbbed and you crumpled, falling into that abyss of pleasure. Where it filled up your entire being. All of the teasing and edging just sent you overboard, losing yourself and finding yourself in an endless loop of give and take. You twitched and jerked, moaning loud in his ear. 

“Fuck. Grip that shit. Show Daddy you love it,” he said. “Show me. Show me.” His thrusts grew frenzied, hips out of alignment, as he lifted one of your legs higher on his hip and then groaned as he climaxed.

His hot, pulsing seed filled you to the brim. “Ahh, that’s my good girl. Take all of me,” he cooed. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. 

You lazily found each other’s lips. He stilled against you, deeply lodged inside like he lived there. Like he didn’t want to leave. Hell, you didn’t want him to leave either. If you could live like this, you would. Never going a moment without him buried in your pussy where he belonged. Where he was always meant to be. 

Terry kissed your temple and slowly, so slowly, pulled out of you. He looked down as he watched himself exit, a thick load of cum spilling out behind him. Your pussy contracted, trying to push him all out. You shivered as the cum slipped down, leaking onto the ground. 

“Ruined,” he said, smug smile to accompany his words. You looked up at him and kissed him, needing his lips on yours just one more time. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whispered against his lips. He smiled against yours, leaning back just far enough to look you in the eye.

“I think I have a few ideas for the sauna,” he said.

“The sauna?” You asked. He fucked you so well, you didn’t think you could walk straight at the moment. However, there were plenty of areas to sit in the sauna. Light bulbs flashed in your mind, thinking of what dirty schemes he was up to.

Terry grinned, turning away from the mirrors and heading towards the sauna. You giggled and talked to him the entire way there.

The end.

There will be more, but seriously ya'll. Stawp distracting me! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[saltyoaktree]

the way i can see ted following in his father's footsteps after that finale

Edit: ok I've had some sleep and took some time and I don't actually think that. I still agree with the tags though

[pineappical]

in light of tedtrent becoming so real, im also jumping on the tedtrent epilogue 😊

there's just no way ted wouldn't keep in touch with the others (and have weekly zoom meetings just like in the christmas special) and I just love the thought of the whole team having reunions once in a while.

and going back to trent's arc in s3, the sunflowers conversation, "And your daughter?" "She's never been happier." I think it could go the same for ted.. we've never really properly saw how henry felt about his dad being in london, it's always other people that told ted his son misses him, who's to say henry would rather see his dad happy because that in turn would make him happy too? he was there to win the whole thing, right? I just know ted’s story isn’t done yet when he still hasn’t learned to let others take care of him in return and who else to pair him with than the man who blew up his career because a man was nice to him (and also because they were so. so cruel for the fakeout tedbecca scenes for that finale) 🥺

I'm no writer so just pretend these are snapshots of a slow burn fic where ted visits london for their team reunion and slowly realizes that trent has a crush on him and they kiss about it 💛

[inkskinned]

i love finding out how big this world is. my girlfriend has only visited boston a handful of times, but i grew up here. i told her we'd be going to do the tourist traps in salem, and she said - which salem?

to be fair to her, there are a lot of other states that have a town named "salem." and i think there's some evidence that the witch trials actually happened in what is now called Danvers. but the thing is - she thought "salem" was like, a made-up thing. there wasn't actually a salem, massachusetts - like there isn't a gotham city.

they don't talk about it that much where she grew up, is the thing! and this made me laugh. a week ago she was talking about her hometown and said something akin to "well the museum's kinda like the one in richmond," and i had to explain i still had no frame of reference for what the hell this museum was like.

i love finding out what knowledge i take for granted. i used to live with 5 other women. 3 of them were from south korea. they had to take, like, a solid fifteen minutes to explain their birthday system to my gay math-blind ass, laughing as they did.

that same month, our roommate from denmark taught me the danish word for wreath by accident - she'd been talking about decorations, used krans, and i'd been able to figure it out through context. i just picked it up and kept talking. our entire house used krans as the word. she came home and slammed the door one evening, mock-angry, shouting: you motherfuckers! it's a - a wreath!

and how often do you use certain words, anyway! i am cuban, so i was raised with certain spanish words sort of sprinkled in there; but never how you'd think. in middle school i asked someone to pass me the recogedor - in a completely american accent, like i was speaking english. i hadn't registered it as a spanish word. i mean, how often in school do you actually use the word "dustpan" - i'd only ever heard it in the context of cleaning my house.

there are places that you grew up that you, just, like, know. that you assume everyone knows. there are things and people and "common knowledge" that you have that, just, like. doesn't exist for me. i don't know what you call your public transportation system, but in boston we call it "the T". our train cards are called charlie cards because of a song where a father accidentally abandons his family, which was written because our system of transportation. in boston, most people would snort and say everyone knows that, kid.

i think you and i should go on a long walk - it's getting dark early these days and we need any sun we can manage. tell me about the first time you saw snow. tell me about the stuff everyone knows about your home. tell me about the cities "everyone's been to," about the food "everyone's already tried." who knows. maybe it will feel nice to you - watching someone learn about it for the very first time.

[writtenndust]

"I know folks like to say 'there's no place like home'. That's true. But man, there ain't a whole lot'a places like AFC Richmond, either." 💙💛❤️

[iwritefandomimagines]

SAY THAT AGAIN — JAMIE TARTT

masterlist

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

description: the press have hounded you and jamie ever since your relationship was made public — his reputation leading them to constantly claim he’d cheated or just flat out didn’t deserve you. when a player on the opposing team makes a comment to rile him up… he takes the bait.

warning: swearing as usual, angry jamie to v soft fluffiness when he sees you. hurt/comfort reassurance vibes :-)

author’s note: that gif… no thoughts head empty !!! had to write this. hope you enjoy.

Jamie had been doing so well at keeping his temper down since he had been with you.

Something about you was like home to him — he was calm, relaxed, and most himself when he was with you, and everyone who knew him could see it.

If only the press saw it though.

There was never a dull day in the press regarding your relationship. Always some pathetic story in print about him not being good enough for you, or insinuating that he would cheat on you sooner or later, or already had.

Still, you tried your hardest not to acknowledge it or let it get to you both. Everything was good. You loved each other, and that’s all that mattered.

You made him happy and he made you happy, and whether or not other people cared enough to believe that meant absolutely nothing to you.

You were proudly seated up front in the stands for today’s Richmond game, a beaming smile on your face as Jamie scored an equaliser just 2 minutes after the opposing team went 1-0 up.

You cheered, blowing a kiss as his eyes briefly met yours amidst his celebration.

In the chaos of him celebrating, you noticed a player shove at his side — someone on the other team who you didn’t really recognise.

“You don’t deserve her,” he’d spat as he barged past him, “I bet I could show her a real good time.”

Jamie had been working so hard to control his temper on the pitch.

He knew you hated to see him so riled up, and with you around it generally did take him much more to get angry enough to kick off.

But here, he drew the line.

Being shoved, being shouted at, being fouled… He could handle that.

But talking about your relationship when the bloke knew absolutely nothing about you? Fuck that.

Furious, Jamie turned around and followed the player as he walked away, “Go on, say that again.”

“I said, you don’t deserve her and I could show her a much better time than you, dickhead. What? Mad that I’m right?”

Jamie snapped, elbowing the player away from him, watching the smirk fall from his face as he fell to the ground.

He was definitely exaggerating the pain he was in, but Jamie didn’t care. He knelt down to his side, pretending to reach out his hand to help him up.

You were watching intently, confused at why both players seemed to keep snapping their eyes up at you between frosty exchanges.

The commentators grumbled about what was going on, too, unsure about the delay in getting back to the game because they had no idea what the provocation for this little fight even was.

As his opponent took his hand to be helped up, Jamie leaned in closer to his face with a deep-set expression of anger.

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about Y/N like that ‘cause she wouldn’t go near you mate. Fuck off, you disrespectful little prick.”

He yanked him up, and as soon as he was on his feet Jamie turned to walk away, but not before both players received a yellow card from the referee for whatever the fuck had just happened.

—

“What was all that about, baby?”

Your voice was soft, not accusatory. You never were, but it still hurt Jamie to have done anything that might remotely make you think badly of him.

You placed both hands on his shoulders, rubbing your thumbs over his collarbones to soothe him as your eyes twinkled up at his.

“I’m sorry I kicked off,” Jamie frowned at you as you ran your palms over his arms and looked up at him, “I wasn’t gonna, but, he started talking about you and… I just saw red.”

You bit your lip, unsure whether to ask him what was said or whether to focus on calming him down.

“Whatever he said, it doesn’t matter, J,” you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, “I’m here. And I love you. And you still scored twice, he played like absolute shit.”

“He did, didn’t he,” he smirked for a second, before shaking his head and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in for a proper kiss, “Thanks, babe. I love you too. I wanted to ignore him but there’s only so many times people can tell me you deserve better before I start to wonder if they’re right.”

As much as it hurt you to see him so vulnerable, you loved how honest he was with you. The growth you’d seen in the famously egotistical fuckboy Jamie Tartt was crazy, and to get to love him was the greatest privilege.

“They’re not right though, not at all,” you whispered, “You’re Jamie fucking Tartt. And I don’t just mean the player, I mean you. You make me so proud to be your girlfriend Jamie, and whatever those pricks have to say about you, about us… Please don’t listen.”

His lashes fluttered as he blinked down at you, and you could see that he was starting to get emotional.

“When I’m on the pitch, I know I’m the best fuckin’ player there,” he shrugged, “But when it comes to you… That confidence disappears. I’ve never cared this much about wanting to be good enough for someone, but, like, you’re too good for me. And everyone else can see it but you.”

You shook your head vigorously at him, moving your hands to his face desperately, “That’s not true, Jamie. Like I said, I’m yours and that’s the way it’s going to stay. So you’d better start believing you’re good enough, okay? Because you are.”

He dipped his head to kiss you again, this time a much more feverish and desperate kiss.

“Now c’mon, big shot,” you tried to lighten the conversation, knowing that it would only go in circles, “I think I owe my boyfriend a celebratory meal for scoring twice and defending my honour.”

You kissed his nose, pulling back from the kiss and hooking your arm in his, and as you leaned your head on his shoulder you felt his muscles relax.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

—

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y/n: so fucking proud of you jamietartt, as always. i’m so lucky to love you and watch you do what you love every day, and i’ll never get tired of it. so many idiots think they know you and know us and know best about our relationship — but fuck ‘em. it’s me that doesn’t deserve you, and i’ll spend every day grateful that theeee jamie tartt is all mine (yes, thesun, all mine.) btw otherplayer, you’ll never be jamie tartt. x

jamietartt: ❤️❤️❤️

roykent: even i teared up at this.

tedlasso: aren’t you two just the darned sweetest!

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thank you for reading !!! i included the insta post as a lil cute extra and i want to apologise for jamie being a lil ooc here but i wanted cute fluffiness at the end hahah and jamie deserves all the love in the world.

i’m getting through your requests don’t you worry, and if you have more feel free to send them my way. in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Cruel Summer

no rules in breakable heaven

Pairing: Jaime Tartt x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ - smut(f receiving oral, other implied nonsense, cursing

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: clearly I’ve gotten caught up in the babygirl wave, my lovely wife @andr0medafallen helped me immensely and I love her. Also I’m just a slutty little virgin so I can’t be held accountable for any inaccuracies

Conversations are swirling around you, music is blasting from a building down the street, you’re keenly aware of the blood pumping in your veins, and you need a goddamn break.

You loved spending time with Keeley, you really did, but it’s hot and muggy outside, and this is the fifth party you’d been to in the past week. Tonight, at least, is with the Richmond boys, and not some friend of a friend of Keeley’s where all you do is stand in the corner and drink by yourself. Keeley, ever the social butterfly, is off chatting with Rebecca and Leslie, giving you the opportunity to focus on not losing your mind.

It’s strange, to feel so simultaneously alive and asleep, and you could swear you can feel the air buzzing in your ears. You simultaneously want to go to bed and to stay awake for the rest of the night, it’s like your mind can’t figure out what it needs.

And then Jamie’s walking over to you and the world comes back into focus.

The two of you aren’t very close, connected mostly through your separate friendships with Keeley, but from what you’ve heard from her and from the internet, he seems to be turning over a new leaf. Though, there was a part of you that enjoyed his bad boy attitude, even when he was a bit of a dick.

Maybe you just had a thing for men who were emotionally unavailable.

“Want me to walk you home?” Jamie says after a few seconds of standing next to each other in silence, shocking you out of your silent appraisal of your surroundings.

“Huh?” Clearly, your brain-mouth connection is taking a while to get up to speed.

“You seem kinda out of it, I know you came with Keeley, figured I should ask if you wanted to leave.”

The kindness of his offer is a little shocking in the way it’s so purely sweet, and again, your brain seems a little slow on the draw.

“I’m alright, I can call a car in a bit,” you tell him, not wanting to drag him away from a fun night just because he saw you acting all mopey and uncomfortable.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind getting outta here,” and then it’s clear to you that his offer is simply an excuse for him to leave the party, and while your heart drops a little you can’t say you blame him.

“What the hell,” you respond anyway, finishing your drink before you turn to follow Jamie out of the party, stopping by Keeley to let her know you’re headed home.

The walk back to your place is mostly silent, the air hanging heavy and thick as you try to figure Jamie out. It’s clear that he’s changed from the first time you’d met him, back when he was only Keeley’s douchebag of a boyfriend, shortly before his stint on reality TV. Now, though, he seems different in some way that you can’t quite puzzle out.

“Wanna come up?” You offer, your heart and your brain in a heated argument over how awful and irresponsible of a decision that is.

“Nah, I’m alright,” he sticks his hands in his pockets and you try not to let your heart sink onto the ground with this cool-guy routine of his.

Still, you thank him for taking you home and head up to your apartment, flicking off your shoes and berating yourself for acting the way you did. Even though you’re an adult, and wanting to sleep with someone doesn’t make you a bad person, there’s a layer of guilt that hangs over your simple question, over your desires.

Maybe it’s because he’s Keeley’s ex, and even though she’s moved on and found her perfect match, girl code says you shouldn’t even look at him. Maybe it’s because as far as you know, he’s an awful person who would treat you like nothing. Or maybe it’s because he’s actually worked on himself and you’re going to self-sabotage anything good that could even possibly happen.

The guilt you taste at the back of your mouth doesn’t change the fact that you want him, though, so you throw a longing glance out your window and are surprised to see Jamie still standing on the street below. As quick as you can in your old building, you unlatch the window and push it open, sticking your head out.

“Change your mind?” You ask, a grin spreading on your face when Jamie jumps at the sound of your voice.

“That ok?” He throws back, looking a little bashful and so unfairly adorable that he makes you a little dizzy. You just nod in response, and he seems to get the message because he disappears from view and a few seconds later, there’s a knock at your door.

Briefly, you wonder if he ran up the stairs.

There’s a part of your brain that keeps screaming about how this is a bad idea, that come morning you’re going to regret this, but you do your best to ignore it as you close the door behind Jamie and press your lips to his. His hands find your waist, settling there with a firm grasp, and you hope you never need oxygen again.

It’s addicting, the way he touches you, the way he kisses you, and you do your best to ignore the alarm bells ringing in your mind that you’re never going to be able to move on from this and instead just enjoy yourself. Moving on autopilot, you find yourself at your bedroom door, and feeling lightheaded you pull away from Jamie and rest your forehead on his.

“Can I?” He breathes against your mouth, fingers grasping the bottom hem of your shirt. You nod enthusiastically, your nose brushing against his. Once your shirt is flung somewhere into the depths of your room, Jamie’s hands settle on your bare ribs.

Pushing every worry you have to the back of your brain, you follow Jamie’s lead and, with his help, pull his shirt over his head as he walks you back towards your bed. Obviously, you’d known he was fit, but seeing him so close, so open to your touch is a whole other feeling. You want to trace his entire body, his scars and bruises and tattoos, first with your hands and then with your mouth.

“This is just a one time thing, yeah?” Jamie asks as your hands settle onto his jaw, trying to bring him in for another kiss.

“Yeah, of course,” you respond, being the cool girl you know you’re meant to be even as you fantasize about hearing the stories behind his tattoos and spending mornings together.

It’s practically impossible for you to keep your hands off of him, every layer removed giving you more of his skin to explore. Jamie, though, seems just as greedy as you are, kissing and touching his way across your body. You feel alive, electric in ways you’ve never felt before. It’s as if every moment you spend with Jamie, he takes up more and more space in your brain, until he’s all you can think about.

Jamie, as he bites that sensitive spot underneath your jaw bone with a grin.

Jamie, as he trails kisses down the center of your body, from your sternum to your belly button.

Jamie, as he moves lower and lower, his hands resting on your inner thighs.

Jamie, he’s all you think about until you can’t think of anything, your mind shut off and your body rewired as you feel like you’re exploding from the inside out.

And then everything comes rushing back in, all the sounds and scents and feelings of your apartment, all the thoughts you’d tried to keep away. You still haven’t said anything, focusing on breathing and not floating away.

“You need water or something?” Jamie asks from his spot on the pillow next to you, watching as your breath continues to heave in and out of your chest.

“This is my place, shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You retort once it feels as if your heart won’t escape your chest.

“There aren’t any rules about who gets water.” You watch as a smirk grows across his face, “Besides, you look like you need it more than me.”

Trying not to give in to his teasing, you hide your face in your hands and groan, “Maybe that means you should have been trying harder.” He shrugs, conceding before he slips off your bed and begins the hunt around for his clothes. You wish you could ask him to stay, even just for a few minutes longer, but instead you shrug on a large t-shirt and walk him to the door.

“See you around,” you offer as you lean in the doorway, Jamie making his way to the stairs.

“Yeah, sure, see ya.” And then you're left all alone again, your brain running wild within your skull, so you make your way back to your bed in the hopes that you can fall asleep and pretend you aren’t regretting all of your life decisions.

The next few times you see Jamie, the two of you talk sparingly, sticking mainly to waves across the room or slightly uncomfortable smiles. And it’s a shame, because you’ve found that you actually enjoy talking to Jamie, but now you’re not so certain you can handle yourself around him.

Even though you know Jamie’s not looking for a relationship, it’s hard not to think about what you’d be like together, if you’d even work out, because in your mind, what’s the point of trying if you know you’re going to fail? Why would you enter into a relationship with someone if you know it couldn’t possibly last?

“Hey,” a voice says from behind, shocking you out of your introspection. You jump, ready to scold whoever snuck up on you when you hear Jamie’s laughter, happy and loose.

“Jesus, Jamie, you scared me to death,” you tell him as his laughter dies down, eyes scanning for anyone watching your interactions. You know that no one cares, that people have casual relationships all the time, but you can’t help but feel like you’d be judged for doing the same.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks, and you can tell from his voice, from his eyes, from the way he’s holding himself, what he’s really asking you.

“I thought that was a one time thing?” You hide your smile by taking a sip of your drink and delighting in the way Jamie’s cheeks redden.

“What I meant was, it’s just a no-strings-attached thing.”

“I’m flattered,” you tell him, already turning to leave and planning your text to Keeley that you hadn’t felt well and called an Uber to leave early.

Instead of an Uber, though, you find yourself pressed up against Jamie’s car, his hands holding your waist and his tongue down your throat. As much as you loved the attention, you pulled away, placing a gentle hand on his cheek when he tried to follow.

“Someone could see,” you whisper against him, trying to keep an ear out for anyone else leaving the small party at Colin’s house. This seems to bring Jamie back to his senses, though, because he unlocks his car and slips inside, but only after he kisses you one last time.

The drive to his place is short, leaving the two of you sitting in his driveway, no sounds but the noises filtering in through the cracked windows. There’s something about this, about him, that just feels like summer, like late sleepless nights and days spent in bed.

Even though neither of you have spoken about it, you can tell that whatever relationship you have with Jamie ends with the summer. You know this is for the best, knowing that once training and games pick up again he’ll barely have time for friends, let alone any other kind of relationship, but you hate the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. It feels like there’s an expiration date, some dark cloud looming over your sunny day, and it’s making it hard to enjoy the time you do have with Jamie.

You’d never say any of this to him, though, because you’re not even sure if you’re really friends, if this relationship you have is anything beyond physical. It’s not as though you sit around pining after Jamie Tartt all day, but you can’t help but feel left out whenever you see him with his actual friends, as if you’re missing something important about him. The two of you have a surface level connection, and you’re fine with that, you really are, it’s just hard not to get caught up in your own head.

Jamie, though, is doing his best to get rid of seemingly every thought you have, leaning over the center console to kiss you again. It’s cramped and a little awkward and you don’t have any room to move around, but you can’t stop. Eventually, the two of you break apart for long enough to stumble into Jamie’s house and then you’re being pushed backwards to his bedroom.

The realization hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever been to Jamie’s house, and you can’t help but look around his bedroom, taking in all of his choices in decorations and knick-knacks.

“That’s a pretty color,” you say absentmindedly, starting off into his room.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Jamie asks, pulling back from where he’d been sucking a mark onto your chest.

You can’t help but laugh, loud and unrestrained, as you run your fingers through the strands of hair hanging in Jamie’s eyes, giving them a gentle tug. Looking down after you catch your breath, you notice Jamie smiling at you and suddenly you feel too exposed, too open and you want to turn and run and never see him again but instead you use your light grip on his hair to pull him up for a kiss.

There’s a strange feeling deep in your stomach, one that you plan to ignore for as long as you can because it’s distracting you from Jamie. At first, you’d just thought it was the want filling your body, the urge to pull him impossibly close and feel him impossibly deep, but the feeling’s still there hours later as you lie boneless and sleepy.

Jamie’s off getting you some water, even though you never asked for any, and when he returns you’re dozing on his pillow, resisting the urge to snuggle under his sheets.

“You can just stay here tonight, if you want,” Jamie offers, sitting on the other side of the bed and staring off into space before quietly adding, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Your bed is pretty comfortable,” you reply, thankful that you don’t have to get up and go searching for your clothes.

Instead, Jamie hands you the glass of water and a t-shirt, one that you gratefully slip on before getting under the covers. You fall asleep almost immediately, exhaustion spread throughout your entire body and mind, so you never know that Jamie lies awake almost the whole night, staring at the ceiling and trying not to wake you up or think about how perfect you look while asleep next to him.

When you do wake up, it’s with the sun streaming through the windows and Jamie’s arm slung over your waist. The two of you are impossibly close, both sharing the same pillow despite the size of his bed. It pains you to notice that he’s incredibly adorable when he’s sleeping. Part of you wants to kiss him all over and wake him, but the other just wants to let him sleep forever, watching as he breathes.

Luckily, you don’t need to make that choice, as Jamie’s eyes flutter open and you can see when he realizes just how close the two of you are and he tries to play it smooth but he scoots back to the side he fell asleep on.

“Did you sleep alright?” He asks, and you’re more focused on the scratchy way his voice sounds than the actual question. You just nod, hoping that was the right answer and delighting when he smiles, all soft and sweet and just for you.

You need to leave, get out while you still can before you end up spending the whole day with Jamie, because you know if you stay for a second longer you’re never going to want to leave him. Most of your time together was spent sleeping, but it's already almost impossibly hard to leave him. While you still have your resolve, you slip out of his insanely comfortable bed and go hunting for your clothes. It kills you a little inside when Jamie doesn’t stop you.

“Want me to drive you?” He asks, sitting up and moving to get out of bed and you need to stop yourself from staring at his toned chest, at the shorts low on his hips.

“No, I can just walk, it’s a nice day,” you lie, having no idea what the weather was like but hoping that summer wouldn’t let you down. Jamie nods, settles back into bed, and you could swear your heart physically aches because none of this should be happening.

You shouldn’t even be here in the first place, but here you are not wanting to leave. You shouldn’t be staring at him, with his mussed hair and his tattoos on full display. You shouldn’t have any feelings for him besides physical attraction and the basic feelings of friendship, but you’re starting to worry about that feeling in your belly that just grows and grows every second you spend with Jamie.

“See you around,” you tell him, leaving as quickly as you can before you convince yourself to stay any longer. You wander around London, all turned around and trying to find your flat without thinking of Jamie, while Jamie sits at home and tries not to think of you.

The rest of your day is spent doing meaningless activities, chores and work you’d been putting off for weeks. You wash your sheets and clean your fridge and respond to emails, trying your hardest to keep your mind off Jamie. It’s impossible, and the second you find yourself distracted, your mind wanders right back to him. What you really need is to leave your house, find someplace with blasting music and bodies pressed impossibly close, somewhere that you’ll have no space to think of anything, let alone Jamie.

Lucky for you, Keeley stays busy, always having one event or another she needs to go to and she always lets you tag along. Tonight your mission is to stop thinking of Jamie, even if that doesn’t mean going home with someone else. Just for a few hours, you don’t need him consuming your every thought.

Unfortunately for you, Jamie is always welcome with Keeley and has the same exact plan as you.

The air inside the bar is stifling, as if there’s no air conditioning and no windows, just the thick summer heat. You notice Jamie almost immediately, though it would be impossible not to with his highlights and his beaming smile, like your own personal sun. As much as you try to fight it, you can’t help but wonder if he noticed you at all, if he thinks of you at all when you’re not together.

You’re two drinks deep and you can’t help but think about Jamie, about what he thinks of you. Are you really just someone to fuck, someone who’s attractive enough for him to sleep with you whenever he feels the urge?

You’re three drinks deep and you can’t help but wonder if you could ever be anything more to him, if he’d ever want that. It’s common knowledge that Jamie’s still a little hooked on Keeley, and who could blame him, but are you really just a distraction?

You’re four drinks deep and you can’t stop crying, the tears flowing like rivers as Keeley and Rebecca try their best to comfort you, to calm you down. Eventually, Rebecca calls you a car and Keeley waits with you, ready to leave and make sure you get home safely.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise,” you say through your sobs as you sit in the backseat on your way to your apartment, Keeley rubbing up and down your arms in a soothing manner.

“This isn’t about Jamie, is it?” She asks in that kind, understanding voice of hers and it only makes you cry harder.

“I think I love him and it fucking sucks.” Keeley’s hand moves to smooth over your hair as you lean against her, all the fight draining out of your body.

“Babe, just tell him.” You can’t help but shoot her a glare, one that she brushes off with a laugh, “What’s the worst that could happen? He won’t sleep with you anymore?”

Your mouth drops open, shocked to your core that Keeley knew about what the two of you had been doing and your heart breaks a little more because you feel like you’ve just betrayed one of your best friends. Keeley, though, gives you a supportive little squeeze, one that tells you that she isn’t mad at all.

That was one of your favorite things about Keeley, how supportive she is of all of the people she loves, no matter the situation. She’s wise beyond her years and is the kind of person who will go out and get whatever she wants through her own hard work and determination. Keeley is absolutely someone you need on your side, and it hits you just how thankful you are for her and all she does for you.

Here you are, sobbing over a boy, and Keeley does nothing but support you and try to help you calm down. She doesn’t look at you like you’re over-dramatic or crazy and instead is doing her best to fix whatever was making you feel this way.

“Clearly, this whole situation-ship is hurting you, and if he doesn’t want the same things as you, maybe it’s time to let it end,” she finishes with another loving squeeze, just as the car pulls up outside of your building.

The two of you slide out of the car, Keeley offering you her hand as she helps you up to your apartment and you’re left reeling by what she’s said. You didn’t even know you wanted something more until it hit you like a ton of bricks tonight, Jamie consuming your thoughts in all the wrong ways. You know Keeley’s right, that whatever you have going on is only going to hurt you in the long run, so you resolve to tell him everything the next time you see him.

Keeley’s wise words from the car and the glass of water she gave you before she left after confirming no less than ten times that you were okay have you sobering up rather quickly. You’re left feeling embarrassed and exhausted to the bone, wanting nothing more than to lay down in your bed and stay there for the next hundred years, but suddenly there’s a knock at your door and Jamie’s standing outside.

“Keeley let me in, hope that’s ok,” he tells you, seeming slightly uncomfortable and you briefly wonder if it’s because of your puffy eyes and slightly disheveled appearance, embarrassment coursing hot through your blood. “Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Jamie always keeps you on your toes, and though you know this isn’t a big deal, it warms your heart all the same. Jamie Tartt, drama queen footballer and prick reality star, is at your front door to see if you’re ok because you left a bar crying. You’d promised yourself that the next time you saw Jamie, you’d sit him down and talk about your feelings, vowing that you wouldn’t hide them anymore.

But here Jamie is, being all sweet and concerned, and that plan goes out the window. There’s just something about him that makes all the sense leave your body, so instead of having a conversation about your feelings you pull him down by his shoulders and kiss him.

It’s messy and desperate, and even though you’ve sobered up since leaving the bar, your head is spinning and your thoughts are starting to become consumed with Jamie. There’s a weight behind it this time, one that you’re sure the both of you are aware of, because Jamie’s hands are gripping your waist with a bruising force and you barely even pull away from him to breathe.

Both of you know something is going to change.

As you make your way to your bedroom, clothing is thrown down the hallway, a sock here and a shoe there, until you almost trip trying to remove your pants. Luckily for you, though, after what seemed like a miles long walk, you finally reached your bedroom door.

Jamie pushes you gently inside, breaking the kiss but staying close enough to breathe the same air, and he keeps pushing you back until the back of your knees hit the bed and you fall onto it with a sound of surprise. Jamie just smiles, but it’s soft in a way that makes your insides melt and not the cocky smile he has whenever he scores a goal.

You scramble to sit up, to take your shirt off, but your brain shuts off when you see Jamie get on his knees in front of you. More gently than you ever could have imagined, he tugs on the hem of your pants, bringing them down your hips until you need to push off of the bed to get them down the rest of the way. He continues to pull until they slip free of your feet, and by the time he’s standing again you’re throwing yourself upward to kiss him.

There’s just something about him that makes you want to be near him all the time, like a moth to the flame. It doesn’t feel self destructive though, and that’s what scares you. It scares you that you might be hurting yourself without knowing but it scares you more that this might not hurt you at all.

It’s always a little shocking to you just how gentle Jamie is, the soft way he cradles your jaw when he kisses you and the way he runs his hands up and down your back when he can tell everything is starting to get overwhelming. Of course, he can be plenty rough and you have the bite marks on your thighs and the hickeys on your chest to prove it, but it seems like it’s in his nature to be soft with you.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asks, fingers playing gentling with the hem of your shirt.

“100%,” you reply, and give him a quick kiss to reaffirm your statement. Now, he wastes no time in pulling off your shirt and starting to remove his own clothes. It makes you pause, standing there by the foot of your bed in the process of removing your bra, because suddenly he’s shirtless and it never gets any less surprising despite the many times you’ve been in this situation.

It’s not like your being subtle in your ogling, and Jamie just smirks when he sees you staring. He pushes you back onto the bed, softer this time, and you scoot yourself backwards until your head is resting on the pillows. Jamie joins you, pushing your legs open wider so there's room for him to lay in between them.

Then, you’re almost certain you’ve died and gone to heaven because he’s slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them over your hips and down your thighs. You’re absolutely no help, lying there pliant for him to maneuver however he sees fit because you’re fully convinced your brain has stopped working.

It’s a little startling, how well Jamie knows your body. He always knows the right pressure and movement and location to make you see stars, make your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drop open. You’d think that he’d be all bark and no bite, but it’s so clear to you now that he has the skills to back up his attitude.

You have the bite marks to prove it.

Your fingers are itching for something to grab onto, something more substantial than grasping at your bedsheets, so you gently twist Jamie’s hair around your fingers, just enough to ground you, to keep you anchored to your body when you feel like you’re seconds from floating away.

It feels too good, too overwhelming, you’re unable to control any of the sounds that come out of your mouth. Jamie’s hands are gripping, digging into the flesh of your thighs and it stings where his fingernails dig in but it’s so perfect you can’t help the way you whine.

The connection between your brain and your mouth must be severed because you keep babbling away about how good, how perfect everything feels. You’re not thinking at all, only able to focus on the feelings building deep in your belly until Jamie licks at your clit with the perfect amount of pressure and you just fucking lose it. Your mouth drops open and you’re completely unaware of the sounds that come pouring out of your mouth until, “I fucking love you.”

It’s like you’ve been doused in a bucket of ice water and Jamie’s pulling away and you’re fucking terrified and the pleasure that’s been building inside your body is completely replaced with dread. After you feel Jamie pulling back, you turn your gaze from the ceiling down to between your legs where Jamie still lies.

He just grins, looking like sin himself with your slick making his mouth all shiny and glossy. And then he gets right back to work, nipping at your inner thigh before doubling down his attention, working twice as hard and you don’t even remember what you’ve said because you’re thrown headfirst back into the intensity of Jamie’s full skill and attention.

It’s only seconds later when you’re almost certain that you’ve died, feeling like an exploding star as your back arches off the bed and you dig your fingers harder into Jamie’s hair and your mouth falls open again. When you regain your sense of existence, your body feels tingly all over as if the remnants of your orgasm are still coursing through your veins.

Breathing hard, you look down to see Jamie resting his head on one of your thighs, just waiting for you to come down from your high. He places a kiss over one of the marks he made on your inner thigh before he crawls up the bed to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

He disappears after that, and you’re a little worried that he’s left you like this before he comes back a few minutes later, with a glass of water and a plate of snacks. The thought of him trifling through your cupboard makes your heart stutter a little and you’re so overwhelmed with feelings that you can only manage to give him a small smile in thanks.

The two of you sit quietly side by side on your bed, eating the snacks Jamie had brought. He checks in on you again and again, making sure you’re totally comfortable. And then, he clears his throat and shifts around, looking uncomfortable and you can feel your heart rising into your throat, dread gripping at your stomach.

“Are we gonna talk about what you said?” He asks, tracing shapes on the bare skin of your knee as he talks and looks anywhere but your face.

“I think I meant it,” you tell him, feeling as if your whole world is crashing down around you. There are other important things in your life, work and friends and family, but there’s something about Jamie that even after the limited time you’ve had together, the thought of losing him makes you sick to your stomach.

“Good, that’s good to know.” He goes quiet for a moment but his fingers never still in their drawing, “I think so too.”

“Good,” you tell him with a smile, one that he returns and it makes you want to cry because he’s so gorgeous and wonderful and you won’t be losing him after all, there’s a hope for you, a future, and that’s all you need.

You know nothing is certain and there are plenty of things that could go wrong, but you try to bask in the afterglow of what’s been confessed the same way you’d lay in the sunshine. You feel warm and happy and you’re determined to hang onto those feelings, to enjoy the time you spend with Jamie instead of worrying that everything will come crashing down.

There’s just something about him, something that makes your worrying come to a pause whenever you’re with him. He brings you an unexpected sort of peace, one that you vow to enjoy now that you’re not worrying when it will disappear, when he’ll disappear. For once, that feeling in your chest isn’t one of anxiety but one that you’re convinced is love.

You love Jamie Tartt, and that thought isn’t as scary as it once was.

Tags: @andr0medafallen @pazvizslasprincess @scaramou @parcelofbread @lightninginab0ttle @curlypeter @maggiecc @percysaidnever

[roykentschesthair]

I just feel like Jamie would move in with Roy before they ever start dating. Before they even realize that a majority source of their tension is romantic/sexual. First it just makes sense that Jamie comes in after their early morning practice, he needs to eat and Lord knows he can’t cook, but Roy can, and he knows his dietary guidelines and he has a shower and yes it’s only two-in-one shampoo, but he doesn’t need all that fancy shit, just go shower!

But Jamie brings a bag of toiletries the next morning because he’s not subjecting his beautiful hair to that monstrosity again, and then it only makes sense that he’d have a change of clothes, because the first time he’d had to borrow stuff from Roy, and he doesn’t think anyone on the team noticed but Beard had given him one of those weird looks of his and Jamie isn’t meant for black or dark heather charcoal so he brings his own stuff.

And then it makes sense to ride in to Richmond with Roy because they’re going back to his place after for their next training and more home cooked meals and maybe sleeping over makes total sense because they’re going to be up and training at four anyway

And then it’s been weeks, months, and Jamie is at Roy’s more than he’s home, and even the off season keeps the same way, except they don’t go in to practice during the day and Jamie convinces Roy to play FIFA with him and Roy cooks and makes Jamie read and watch old movies and they hang out with Phoebe together because she adores Jamie and Jamie adores and spoils her and Roy goes to visit Georgie and Simon because why wouldn’t he?

All of this to say I honestly think they’d get married before ever going on a first date because to them it just makes sense.

[benedictscanvas]

be still, my foolish heart [1] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: eeeek i have been furiously writing this the last few days and now that a few chapters are done i'm desperate to share. chapters will be out regularly, every couple of days or so. really hope you lot enjoy this one, i'm so grateful for all the recent love <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he's terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

next chapter | series masterlist

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chapter one: to be alone with you

Jamie hadn’t found himself this nervous in quite a while. He’d been worried when he came back to Richmond of course - trying to prove to his team that he’d changed, that he was there for the right reasons, was a challenge. But he’d overcome it and now he had a family for the rest of his life. He thought very little could make him properly nervous anymore.

That was until he was sat in his childhood home, clutching his mum for dear life as they waited for the England team to be officially announced, refreshing the page over and over and over again on his phone. When it appeared at 2pm like clockwork and his eyes scanned the list of forwards only to find the name Jamie Tartt as clear as day, he was up in a moment, him and his mum screaming as they hugged each other and bounced around the room.

It had been the same at Richmond the next day, the congratulations coming thick and fast. He was overwhelmed and excited and eager to chat to every single person who’d listen to him about his dream coming true, but the nerves only kicked in when he was sat in a car with tinted windows a couple of weeks later, arriving at the training ground for his first ever training sessions, which would turn into his first ever England matches in just a few weeks time.

He didn’t know anyone here apart from a few Manchester City players who he had never said goodbye to, so he had no idea what they’d think of him. Sometimes, on a not-so-good day, his mind would wander to the idea of his old City mates laughing together about the shit he’d gotten up to the night before on Lust Conquers All. He hated thinking about it. He knew seeing their faces again would make him think about it more.

It had only been a few days but he missed Sam. Isaac and Colin and Beard and Ted and Keeley and Roy. Roy would have something so simultaneously horrible and inspiring to say to him right now. Richmond had become such a family, it was difficult to imagine playing football with anyone else.

“This is it, Mr Tartt,” the driver says, and that makes him feel even worse because Mr Tartt is his dad and he is not his dad. He hadn’t even realised they’d pulled into a car park.

“Just Jamie, yeah?” he says rather than running away as he gets out of the car. The man smiled, passed him the suitcase that had been sat in the boot of the car and drove off without a word. Now he was really alone.

He pulled his headphones from around his neck and placed them on his head, putting the playlist that the boys had curated for him back on. Ted had made everyone make a playlist for the boys on international duty over the summer, ‘somethin’ to remind you of home’, he’d said, and Jamie had honestly thought it was weird.

Now he was listening to ‘Adventure of a Lifetime’ by Coldplay, added to the playlist by none other than Ted himself, and he had to admit - it was catchy. And it reminded him of home.

He looked around for the entrance and spotted one other young man who he recognised from Liverpool making his way in at an entrance to his left, so he made a beeline for it.

He was just reaching the doors when a woman leaned into his eyeline just enough to catch his attention, just ahead of the doors. He was quick to tear the headphones from his head to avoid looking rude - it was his worst fear.

“Sorry, did ya say somethin’?” he asked, trying to wear a bright smile even if he knew it would come off a little worn. You appeared unphased, wearing a far brighter grin that he knew he could ever manage. It was warm; you were warm. And incredibly pretty, even though he was less keen on how quickly he noticed that.

“I tried to tell them that this whole thing would be a bit awkward when you had headphones on,” you said, and as he stepped closer to have a conversation, it was easier to notice that you were actually quite flustered, the bright grin masking some embarrassment, “I’m part of the PR team, we’re just doing some content for the Instagram. Ask the players what music they’re listening to when they walk in, people go crazy for it. If you’re trying to become the summer’s heartthrob, I recommend saying Taylor Swift.”

“They’re supposed to tell the truth!” a man beside you piped up, all nasal, but Jamie barely spared him a glance. He was still a little caught up in how pretty you really were the closer he got. You were very fucking pretty now that he was a couple of metres away, leaning on the handle of his suitcase. He scolded himself for even thinking about flirting with you.

You, now looking at the man who’d spoken as if you’d just remembered he was there. You cleared your throat.

“No, I know, sorry. I was just fucking with you,” you confirmed, turning back to Jamie, then wincing, “Playing with you, I mean. I swear I’m a very professional person and I don’t swear that much. At work.”

Jamie only realised a few moments into the silence that you were waiting for him to speak. He could feel the heat in his cheeks he had been desperate to keep at bay.

“I swear all the time,” he said, already kicking himself for how stupid that sounded, “Work or no work. Swear as much as you fuckin’ like.”

He can see at least a bit of your embarrassment leaking away, so maybe it hadn’t been such a stupid thing to say after all.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, head tilted in a way Jamie can only describe as fuckin’ adorable. All too quickly, you seem to snap back into work mode, “Anyway, Brian’s right. The truth would be preferable, but if the truth is Taylor Swift, good for you! Any chance you’d be willing to walk backwards a bit, then pretend to do this again for the camera?”

You had the decency to look embarrassed, again, to be asking, but he was quite sure he’d do whatever you wanted him to with those wide, pleading eyes of yours. Just the little kindness you’d provided had washed away a lot of the deep-seated fear he’d been feeling just moments prior. He’d do what he could to repay the favour.

“Yeah, ‘course, whatever you need. Just walk up, pretend I hear your question with me headphones on and then…answer?”

“You’re a natural, Jamie Tartt,” you offer up, signalling who he assumed was Brian to raise his camera back up and get ready. He can’t help himself, just like with his driver, although this time he hopes he won’t get blanked.

“Just Jamie, eh? Less syllables, an’ that.”

You nod and almost look impressed, but he can’t imagine why.

“I’m almost sure Just Jamie is the same number of syllables as Jamie Tartt actually,” you argue, and he almost thinks you’re serious until you break out in that big, bright grin again and he feels like he’s 16, “Sorry. Fucking with you again. You can call me Just Y/N if you like.”

Y/N. Suits you, he thinks. Almost as much as that shade of blue does, all rich and Richmond-esque. He’s sure he’s got a team shirt somewhere that matches that exact colour.

“It’s nice meeting ya, Just Y/N,” he says, then realises how much he’s smiling and needs to do something about it, “And you, Brian. It’s great to be ‘ere, actually, just in general like.”

You nod, kind. Brian does a signal Jamie doesn’t understand, but he walks back a few paces anyway and puts his headphones back on. This time, when you step forward to stop him, he knows what you’ve asked without hearing it and takes his headphones off with a genuine smile at you.

“Oh, this?” he says, making sure he doesn’t smirk when you giggle behind the camera at his acting, “Whole Richmond gang made a playlist for us international lot. Ted, the gaffer, he put a lot of inspirational stuff, you know? Right now it’s Adventure of a Lifetime, the one by Coldplay.”

He’s not sure if he’s meant to say all that or just say the name of the song, and he’s ready to ask if he should start over before Brian signals that he’s cut the camera and you’re gaping at him.

“Okay, I know I put it in your head that you could lie, but you’re actually telling the truth, right?”

Brian scoffs. The prick within Jamie wishes Brian didn’t exist.

“That was worse than just saying Taylor Swift to impress girls,” he mutters, and you make a face that only Jamie sees. You don’t like Brian either and he already likes having something in common with you.

“I know you think that music went downhill after the 1960s, Brian, but no need to take it out on literally everyone who comes through here today. We’re meant to be a fun greeting crew! Why don’t you go get a snickers or something?”

Brian looked disgruntled throughout your speech until you suggested a snickers - clearly the way to the man’s heart. He was turning and speed-walking to the what Jamie assumed was the nearest vending machine in no time.

Now you were pretty and assertive. A deadly combination in Jamie’s eyes, particularly when paired with the fact that he was now pretty sure you were Brian’s boss. You were staring after Brian reproachfully, with a bit of that embarrassment back that Jamie was desperate to rid you of.

“Uh, it was true, by the way,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I can go again if you don’t want me to say that much, or-“

“No! No no, that was-“ you shake your head in a disbelief he doesn’t understand, “Brian’s been like this forever. Please don’t take it personally. I’ve been trying not to all morning.”

“It’s okay, really,” he tries to reassure you, “He works for you?”

He can see the smirk that you try to hide. It’s endearing.

“No, not technically. I like that you think so, though,” you smile, a real one again, just as he’d hoped, “I don’t normally work with Brian, he’s usually a match cameraman, not so much PR. I was just a woman down today.”

Jamie leans in, all conspiratorial, because he simply cannot help it.

“You pulled the small straw, huh?”

You giggle a little and he can feel himself puffing up with pride.

“Short straw, you mean?” you laugh, and some of that pride deflates in his chest. He could have sworn it was small, “Either way, yes. Very much so. I’ll be glad when Tiff’s back at it.”

“So when ya said that you were part of the PR team…you actually meant that y’ run it, right?”

“Guilty. What gave me away?”

“Just an air about ya,” Jamie says, because he doesn’t have a fucking clue what to say. You seem to like his answer, ducking your head a little in a way that’s driving Jamie to distraction, so he decides he’s definitely getting in over his head here. He’d already decided he was not going to flirt. It was a terrible idea, “Anyway, I’ve taken up enough of y’ time. Are y’ sure me bit was okay?”

You look startled at the mention of how much time he’s taken up, like you haven’t even thought about it. Soon enough, that ducked head is gone, replaced by the shoulders back, head up attitude that you’d greeted him with, the one that had told him you were in charge. Professional. He couldn’t decide which version he liked more.

“It was perfect, they’ll love it. Such a great story, even better that it’s true,” you confirm, then you add, like you’ve been holding it in, “Richmond ‘til we die, right?”

He actually feels his heart skip, just for a moment: a moment that tells him he’s absolutely fucked. You look like you’ve just told him the biggest secret of the century and he can’t help but believe you. 

“You-“ he’s too breathy, has to cough to correct himself, “You’re a Richmond fan? Or do ya have to say that to all of us?”

“I’m not supposed to say that to any of you,” you grin, “We’re supposed to keep club level allegiances to ourselves. We’re all one England team and all that. But, you know, star striker tells you the most adorable story about your hometown club, it’s pretty hard not to tell them. Think you can keep it to yourself?”

He’d definitely do whatever you asked of him right now. He wants to go and call Keeley right away, but he already knows what she’ll say. Bad idea: wrong place, wrong time, wrong woman. She’d be right. He shakes aside all thoughts of any harmless flirting with the exceedingly kind, exceedingly pretty Richmond fan. 

“Me lips are sealed,” he says, and he mimes it. He even throws the invisible key in your direction and watches you pretend to struggle to catch it, then mime swallowing it yourself. You finish with a rather convincing gulp then nod at him, like you've just entered a blood pact. He nods back, matching the serious energy.

“Enjoy England camp, Just Jamie,” you say, still with an air of fake seriousness the two of you are keeping up. He wants to shake your hand, continue to play pretend, but there’s the sound of a suitcase behind him and he knows you have work to do. He hopes you don’t like anyone's music choice more than his.

“See ya around, Just Y/N.”

You both nod again and it’s getting a bit stupid now but the two of you seem to want to keep it up. He tries ever so hard not to look back at you once he’s inside, and he almost manages it until he hears you talking to the next arrival. He turns to see you in full professional flow…

With two of his old City teammates.

It’s a bucket of cold water over his head. One pretty girl to greet him and he’s managed to use it as a distraction, a way of forgetting all his doubts, worries, fears. Seeing the two City guys brings them back full force, so he glances back at you once more, then turns to delve further into the training complex, hoping to find another face as friendly as yours.

There’s a voice in his head telling him that would be impossible, but he doesn’t want to listen to it right now.

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if you got this far, i fucking love you <3 oneshot/drabble requests remain open for sexy little jamie tartt and his grumpy bestie roy!!

[axelsagewrites]

Jamie Tartt*Prick

Pairing: Jamie x f!reader

Word count: 2744

Warnings: swearing, Jamie having daddy issues and insecurities, sad Jamie, drinking, Roy being Roy

Summary: after seeing how upset Jamie gets at Roys treatment of him reader decides to take a stand. set in season one but a timeline where Jamie is still a prick but not quite as prickish as the show

Inspired by a post by @if-i-look-straight-look-again (hope you don’t mind me tagging you)

Masterlist Here

“Hey baby how was your day?” you called out from where you lay on the sofa as you heard Jamie dragging himself in from practise.

all you had to do was look at him to see how it had been. the way he dumped his bag and let his jacket slump from his shoulders onto the floor before he trudged towards the sofa. you held your arms out for him to fall into as he curled up beside you on the couch. “Fucking shit,” he mumbled, his hand moving to grab yours to pull your arm over his tense frame till you were spooning him.

your hand shot to his hair, running slow strokes through his sweaty mane but that was an issue for later. when Jamie got in his own head, he’d often turn to you for comfort, needing to be held without having to ask. “You wanna talk about it?” you asked, kissing his temple.

“Roy was just being so mean,” he grumbled, his eyes closing shut as he settled into place, “And for no reason right. like I get I can be a prick but like I was no being that bad the day. then he was just shouting at me like I was stupid and I was no being stupid like,” Jamie sighed, almost sinking further into the couch.

usually, you and Jamie would tease and rile each other up but you knew now was not the time, “I know baby,” you said, kissing him again as he began to relax. “I know its sucky baby but maybe eventually he’ll tone it down,”

“Doubt it,” Jamie mumbled as he began to trace circles onto your hand resting over his chest. “Just sucks you know. I thought I was gonna train with some great footballer, but it turns out he’s just a has been,” you sighed but you didn’t want to provoke him further so the two of you fell into silence.

you remember the day Jamie found out he was going to Richmond. you had only just started dating then but he wanted to celebrate the news with you. he was weirdly excited about the whole thing which shocked you since he’d always talk about if he went to man city or Chelsea but there he was bouncing around like an excited schoolboy when he got the news.

he ended up inviting you to join him, his mum, and stepdad out to dinner to celebrate. it was the first time you’d met her, and you had to say she was an absolutely wonderful woman and you understood instantly why Jamie loved her. she had insisted it was far too late for you to go home after you’d spent the whole evening playing monopoly with the family. she had insisted you stay the night, and you ended up squished beside Jamie on his childhood bed for the night.

it wasn’t till you were about to fall asleep you noticed the poster on his wall, “Doesn’t Roy Kent play for Richmond?” you asked, disturbing a tipsy Jamie from his almost slumber.

“Yup,” he grinned as he pulled you into his arms even tighter, “Im gonna be playing with the Roy Kent,”

“You gonna get him to sign your poster?” you teased, leaning your nose in to rub against his making him laugh. Jamie had spent the rest of the night telling you about the highlights of Roy’s career before eventually you both fell asleep.

cut to his first day at Richmond he called you to say how the only thing Roy said to him was in the form of a grunt. you’d insisted that it would get better, maybe he was just shy, but here you were now with him curled up on the couch pouting over Roy. you knew better than anyone else Jamie could be a bit of a cocky prick. you loved it about him, most of the time, but you knew why he was the way he was.

you knew he craved the attention and praise he’d desperately tried to get from his father and then suddenly from his old hero. you remember Jamie’s calls after practise where he was absolutely exhausted from going full out when he didn’t have to. he had to move when he transferred to Richmond, and you had been unable to move with him at first. he’d tried to hide his disappointment over the phone, but you knew it was there.

you ended moving down after his first season and threw a housewarming party that he invited the whole team to. the party was swimming with footballers, even Higgins came, but no Roy. Jamie was all smiles and perky the whole night, showing you and the house off to all his friends, but once everyone left you could see the sadness in his eyes. despite that now seeming like so long ago you knew deep down it still bothered him.

“Do you think he’ll ever like me?” Jamie mumbled in the voice you knew meant he was on the verge of sleep.

“It doesn’t matter if he likes you baby,” you murmured, kissing the back of his neck, “it just matters that you like you,”

it was a couple of days later while you were getting ready for the day you noticed Jamie’s phone still sitting on the nightstand. this was especially odd since Jamie never left the house without his phone and practise was supposed to be starting right now. it wasn’t uncommon for Jamie to wake up a bit late so you grabbed his phone, figuring he must’ve forgot it so you would be generous and drop it off for him.

it was as you were about to drive off you got a phone call from a front desk lady at Richmond saying Jamie had asked you to bring it in. you laughed at the predictability of your boyfriend before heading off to the club. you were able to get in no problem and insisted on dropping it off to Jamie yourself to not create more work for the receptionist.

you headed to the pitch, knowing the club like the back of your hand by this point. they were all practising what you thought was dribbling when Jamie suddenly noticed you. he paused mid dribble and waved with a goofy smile before running over to you.

“You’re a life saver princess,” he said as he took the phone off of you to stash in his hoodie he’d left at the side of the pitch.

“You need your girlfriend to teach you how to play Tartt?” a gruff voice barked from behind.

you span around to see the culprit of your boyfriends upset storming over, “Calm down grandad,” Jamie scoffed as he stood back up, “Was just getting meh phone alright?”

Roy stared your boyfriend down as he said a quick goodbye to you, kissing your cheek, before jogging back over to the rest of the boys. you could see Jamie’s new coach walking towards you in the corner of your eye, Ted you think Jamie had said, but your eyes were glued on Roy as you folded you arms as he began to walk away, “What is your problem?”

your words shocked the whole team into stunned silence as they stopped their drills, “Excuse me?” Roy asked, his eyes wide as he turned around.

“Do you need the attitude to play or is it just an added bonus?” you glared right at him, not caring how loud he chose to yell at you.

“Your boyfriend the one with the fucking attitude,”

“At least my boyfriend can still kick a ball,” you spat back making the boys behind Roy gasp and a vein pop in the captain’s neck, “What kind of captain just grunts orders and expects their players to play well?”

“This one fucking does,” Roy said.

At this point the new coach decided to step in, getting between you and Roy, “Well howdy there im Ted,” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake which you did while still glaring at Roy, “Is everything all hunky dory here?” he asked, looking between you both like an actual fight might break out.

“Everything’s perfect,” you smiled, your eyes locked on Roy’s.

“Fucking peachy,” he grunted back, his eyes not leaving yours either leaving Ted in an uncomfortable silence, “I’ve got training to do,” Roy said, eventually backing down from the challenge and stomping back to the team, waving off anyone who tried to speak to him.

you glared after him before turning back to Ted. instantly a smile spread across your face as you reached out your hand to shake his, “Nice to meet you Ted, I’m Jamie’s girlfriend,” you smiled as you introduced yourself and you could see the confusion written in teds face as he tried to figure out what was happening.

he snapped out of it as he shook your hand, a smile spreading to his own face, “Well nice to meet you, I think,” Ted said, and you spoke to him for a minute or so before finally leaving.

you wondered for the rest of the afternoon if you had went to far as you waited for Jamie to get home but when the door slammed shut and a loud, “I’m home,” rang out across the house you knew it had been a good practise, “Babe I gotta tell you that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he praised as he found you in the kitchen and pulled you in for a kiss.

you laughed against your lips before pulling back and turning your attention back to dinner, “Well im glad you had fun,”

“We should have even more fun,” Jamie said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder making you giggle as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Later,” you said, hitting him in on the shoulder with a wooden spoon before turning back to attempt to finish making dinner, “Also I think we should have another team night. invite everyone round,”

“Why?” Jamie said as he settled to hug you from behind as you cooked.

you shrugged as you stirred the pasta, “Be a nice way to welcome Ted to the team I suppose,” you said. it did not take much Jamie much convincing to have a night of casual drinking with his team mates even if that meant inviting the new coach round.

the boys of course were more than thrilled at the idea since apparently the last couple movie nights had ended up in hour long fights over which film to watch. they all began to pour into your house on Thursday evening. Collin and Sam were the first to arrive, Sam even bring you a bottle of wine as a thank you gift, but it wasn’t long till your house was filled with footie obsessed boys who had brought lots of vanilla vodka and beer bottles.

Ted seemed a tad overwhelmed when he arrived, but you made sure to get him settled in, which was made much easier when the other coach, beard you think, arrived. everything was actually going pretty well until the room suddenly got silent.

you glanced up from where you sat on the back of the couch to see Roy Kent standing in your doorway. he walked in slowly, not bothering to say hello as all eyes were on him. “Roy,” you said, slowly getting off the couch as you tried not to step on Issac or Jamie.

he grunted in response before finally adding, “Hey,” he said before looking around, “What’s everyone staring at?”

everyone’s eyes darted away as they tried to pretend to be in conversations, “Kitchens over there if you wanna stick that in some ice,” you said, motioning to the drinks he had brought. Roy nodded before walking off to the kitchen.

before you could walk to follow him, Jamie grabbed your wrist, pulling you down so he could whisper in your ear, “Roy Kents at my party!” he drunkenly grinned in your ear.

“Yes, he is baby,” you whispered back, no where near as buzzed as Jamie, before kissing his cheek and standing back up, “I’ll be two seconds alright?”

you quickly went to join Roy in the kitchen who was opening his beer bottle on your countertop but now did not feel like the time for arguments. he looked up silently as you walked in but as you walked over, he held out the bottle for you which you gladly accepted as he opened one for himself. “Suppose this is when I say sorry for being a dick,” you said before taking a sip out the bottle.

“Are you gonna?”

“Nope,” you said, popping your p with a grin.

Roy laughed, well chuckled slightly, but still, “Good. couldn’t respect you if you did,”

you both fell into a somewhat comfortable silence as you sipped your beers. You decided you couldn’t take it anymore though and decided to break it, “Why are you so hard on Jamie?”

“Your boyfriends a prick,” Roy grunted, and you laughed a little, “Which im guessing you already know,”

“Obviously,” you said before hopping up to sit on the counter, “Just don’t know why it bothers you so much,”

Roy sighed as he downed the rest of his beer, “Because I was the prick,” he said as he began to open another bottle, drinking half of it in one go like a pro, “When I started, I was just as irritating as that shit, if not worse,”

“So, because you sucked you have to take it out on him?” you asked.

“He’s not gonna get anywhere by having everyone kiss his ass,” Roy spat right back leaving you in a far tenser silence than before which was only broken by a regretful sigh from Roy, “He’s good alright. really fucking good. but he needs to fix his fucking attitude,” he said making you raise an eyebrow with a slight laugh, “Alright I get the irony,” Roy said as he sat his beer down.

you hoped off the counter and held your hand out to him, “Truce?” you asked and silently he shook your hand, and you wondered if he had deliberately made his grip extra strong, “Lets just try have a good night. socialising is fun,” you teased as you took another drink making Roy roll his eyes.

almost as if on cue Jamie walked in the room, stumbling slightly, “There you are,” he grinned, quickly moving to your side and wrapping an arm round your shoulder before placing a wet kiss to your cheek, “Whatcha talkin about?” he asked with a drunken grin.

“You,” Roy deadpanned making Jamie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Your girlfriends…nice,” he finally said before walking out the room, his third beer in his hand. you wondered if drunk Roy would be more fun and contemplated switching his beer for vodka given the chance.

Jamie turned to you, his jaw hanging open as he began to hold you tighter, “Roy Kent likes my girlfriend,”

“Roy Kent likes you too dummy,” you giggled as you turned to try escape Jamie’s grip to no avail.

Jamie gripped your wrist, his eyes going wide, “He said that?”

You didn’t want to lie but you knew how much this moment meant to Jamie, “He said, and I quote, ‘really fucking good’ and that you reminded him of himself,” you said, leaving out the insults so Jamie could have his win.

Jamie jumped up and down on the spot, doing a silent cheer as he grabbed your hands, “No fucking way,” he whispers shouted and you wondered how on earth drunk Jamie was quieter than sober Jamie, “Man that’s so cool,” Jamie gushed as if he was still twelve, “Except im prettier than him, obviously,” he said bringing out that cocky side you secretly adored.

you took his face in your hands, giving him a swift peck on the lips, “Much prettier. now should we get you back to your party?”

Jamie grinned as he pulled back before sticking his hand out dramatically for you to take which you gladly did. he pulled your arm, spinning you around the kitchen making you laugh loudly before finally leading you back into the living room. even if Roy was sitting silently in an armchair watching the team make a full of himself you swore you saw a smile at the edge of his lips. the ice was finally melting.

a/n: writing this feels very ironic for me since i started the show as a roy lover and jamie hater but now im a die hard jamie defender (still love roy just as much tho if not more than when i started)

[its-time-to-write]

Hi!! I absolutely love yo he fics talk about carrying the Jamie tartt fic community 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

could you please write something about like the Richmond team being out at a bar and someone kissing Jamie and reader seeing and the chaos that ensues, hopefully with a happy ending but I trust whatever you want to do 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Haha hey, thanks! I write because I have a lot of things in my head, so thanks for enjoying it and for requesting!

Also I literally hate looking for gifs because I can never find the ones I want

wrote all your lines in the script in my mind

“Why did I let you drag me here?” you ask your absolute best friend the whole world, “I hate bars so much!”

Colin grins. “It’s good for you to get out of your flat and into the real world for a change. You’re getting all pasty.”

“I am not!”

You can’t help but catch onto his infectious mood. He’s still happy after scoring a winning goal, so he and Michael convinced you to go out with them even though it was almost a whole week ago. 

You and Colin had grown up together, kicking the football around his backyard until age ten, when you declared you were never playing with him again because he was “unbeatable.” 

You hate losing. 

You two had been inseparable, even at university. Colin was more outgoing, what with football and all. You were too, in your own way, but you hated bars. And going to the club. You said it was too many drunk, sweaty people but both Michael and Colin promised that it would be fun this time. 

“If I have to go, you have to go,” Michael had said to you. 

You had groaned, but acquiesced. You’re not too sure of your decision anymore, especially because of how many footballers are present.

The last time you were out with them, one of Colin’s teammates had taken it upon himself to flirt with you the entire night. And he flirted very well. Like, so well that you went home that night incredibly flustered. So well that it now occupied a permanent place in your brain. You played the moment he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear on repeat in your mind, like a tab on your laptop that you couldn’t bring yourself to close. 

And you told fucking Michael, who told fucking Colin, who then teased you about it mercilessly until you swore you’d tell the press about the Incident when you two were ten.

Colin shut up after that. 

Actually, that’s not entirely true. You’d go out to coffee and he’d say, “Saw your footballer today,” and you’d say, “He’s not MY footballer,” and Michael would ask, “Then why are you blushing?” so you’d respond, “I’m not blushing, it’s just hot in here, alright?”

Anyway, you’re at this fucking bar filled with fucking footballers and you catch yourself looking around the room for one in particular, and Michael catches you too. He doesn’t say anything, just winks at you and pulls Colin over to an open booth. 

You tell Colin all the time that you like Michael better than him. It’s because Michael knows the meaning of the word discretion. 

“I can be discreet,” Colin says. 

“And I can play football,” you reply.

Michael says you two bicker like a pair of siblings. He’s not wrong.

Right now, though, you’re not bickering. A few of Colin’s friends are filling in the booth. Sam slides in first, then Isaac, and then finally Jamie. 

Michael is sitting opposite Sam, then Colin, then you. 

You’re all squished in, ordering drinks and food, swapping stories and laughing like you’ve known each other for ages. 

You suppose you sort of have. 

You’ve known Colin the longest, obviously, but the next one is Isaac. You met him shortly after university because he was always around Colin. You met Sam once he signed for Richmond, and Jamie when he domineered the little triad of him, Isaac, and Colin. 

You really didn’t like Jamie. 

You told Colin all the time that he was a prick and a bully, but Colin wouldn’t listen. 

It actually was the cause for one of your biggest fights. You two didn’t speak for three months. 

Then Roy head-butted Colin and Jamie was gone, and you’re sure there are other details in between but whatever the case, Colin was at your doorstep with takeout and an apology. You watched Look Both Ways and argued about which was was the best. And that was that. 

When Jamie showed back up, you were less than thrilled. 

“If you fucking act like that prick again, I’ll fucking sabotage this date,” you had said. You were setting up Colin with a friend of yours named Michael. You didn’t know him incredibly well, but you had a lot of mutual friends who absolutely adored him. You were pretty sure he and Colin would click but you didn’t want Colin to act like a douche again. 

He didn’t. It worked out for him. 

Jamie knew who you were to a certain extent, which you suppose is why he was flirting with you that night at the club. Your distaste for him was evident, but you felt so uncomfortable in that environment. You were sitting alone, trying to make yourself invisible, when a tipsy Jamie found you and began to make it his mission to get you to a) smile and b) not hate him. He succeeded at both, as well as secret mission c) make you blush and fall madly in love with him. (Not that he knew that option existed.)

But he did that with all the girls, so you tried not to let it go to your head. 

It did anyway, which is why you’re sitting in this booth in this bar trying not to look at his perfect face for to long and pretending you don’t notice that his foot is resting next to yours under the table. 

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” he says, pushing himself up. You can’t help but notice the glint of his thin gold chain and the way his shirt hugs his bicep. Colin pokes you under the table. 

You look back to the group and try to immerse yourself in the conversation, but you are far too distracted. Your eyes keep flicking to Jamie. 

Jamie, as he orders a drink. Jamie, as he laughs to the bartender, Jamie as he… kisses a fit blonde girl in a tight skirt?

You look back to your table, eyes fixated on the chips in front of you. Oh. You suppose that settles things then. 

You close the tab in your mind and try to muster up some of the old dislike you had for Jamie. It’s not really working, because all you can think about is how he drunkenly waxed poetic about your eyes and told you he had liked them even when they were angry. 

This is the first time you’ve seen him since that night, so it’s not like it’s that big of a deal. What were you expecting, for him to soberly declare his love? Maybe Colin had over-hyped the way he said Jamie had asked about you the next day. Maybe he was exaggerating when he said he caught Jamie looking at the picture of you and Colin from uni that Colin had taped to his locker. 

Maybe you were looking for something real in someone who was just looking for the next good time. 

It doesn’t matter though, because it was just a crush. That’s what you tell yourself as you get up and tell the table you’re going to get some fresh air. “Too many sweaty boys,” you say with a nose wrinkle, and a squeeze to Colin’s hand that means I’m feeling anxious and need cold air. 

You’re breezing out the door by the time Jamie returns, hair slightly tousled and frazzled expression. Michael and Colin exchange a look.

—

Meanwhile, you’re outside freezing just a little bit. The cold air is a welcome shock to your system, so you don’t mind the way you’re shivering. You take a deep breath, envisioning your lungs expanding to the point of popping. Your breath comes out in a whoosh, and you feel the anxiety beginning to dissipate. You stand, back against the bar wall, puffing cold air into the sky for a long time, tears welling in your eyes but refusing to fall. 

You’re outside so long, that when the door opens and you hear footsteps coming toward you, you’re sure it’s Colin or Michael coming to make sure you haven’t been murdered. 

“You plannin’ on freezing to death?” asks a voice that is neither Colin nor Michael. The owner of said voice leans against the wall next to you, mirroring your position. He’s so close you can feel heat radiating off his body, but you’re not quite touching. 

You shake your head. “No, I’m not,” you hear yourself saying, “I just got a little anxious and the cold air is good for me, so… here I am.”

Jamie makes a concerned hm and nothing else. He just stands there next to you, not touching but still too close. 

“Why are you out here?” you ask, breaking the silence. “Thought you’d be inside. Looks like you met someone interesting. She might be missing you.” 

There’s no malice in your tone. You’re just stating facts as an observer. As a friend, maybe. The only thing that colors your words is just a hint of sadness. You’re sure Jamie won’t register it. 

He grimaces and shakes his head. “Ain’t my friend. Some fan who thinks it’s fucking cool to kiss a footballer. Weren’t paying attention, otherwise I could’ve blocked it. I fucking hate it when that happens. It’s like, they don’t even see me as a real person. Just a sexy lad they can do whatever with.”

You chuckle at the way he says “sexy lad.” It reminds you of the way he had told you he had been a “wee sexy baby.”

“That fucking sucks,” you say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize, otherwise I wouldn’t have said it like that.” You’re taking deep, calming breaths, still trying to get rid of that anxious feeling. 

Jamie just shrugs. He makes no indication that he’s going to continue speaking so you ask, “So, is that why are you out here, then? Is it to get away from her? Because if anyone should have to leave, it’s her. Pretty sure we could talk to someone and get her kicked out.”

You shiver, cold air beginning to seep through your coat. Jamie closes the gap between you, his bicep pressing against yours. You stifle another shiver, this one not from cold. 

“Nah,” he replies, “that’s not why I’m here. Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Oh. That’s weird. “Why didn’t Colin or Michael come?”

Jamie shrugs again. “Colin said some shit about fuckin whatever and Michael said the same fuckin shit, so…” he trails off. 

You look up at him. “Jamie. You’re not making any fucking sense. I don’t know if it’s the cortisol flowing through my body or if you’ve had too much to drink, but you have got to be a whole lot clearer.”

That seems to get his attention, and bring him back to the reality that you two are outside, in the fucking cold, and he’s chatting with you as if nothing is wrong. 

Jamie puffs out a breath, watching it coil into the air. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, then settles on: “I ain’t drunk.”

You’re still looking at him. He’s right. He’s stone-cold sober. 

“I wanted to make sure you were alright. Colin said that you’d probably rather see me than him so… I dunno, I fucking came out here. I’ve been thinking about you ever since the last time we talked.”

Your cheeks flush bright red, and you’re grateful for the night sky. You keep taking your deep breaths. 

Jamie continues, “You flirted with me for fucking five seconds, and it’s like- I forgot you hated me. Didn’t care about anything anymore, you just smiled at me fucking one time and I felt like I was floating.” He stares at the sky. “I fucking hate talking about feelings and shit, and you’re basically Colin’s sister, so I figured I didn’t have a chance. But I’ve been fucking head-over-heels since the first time you glared at me.”

You’re pretty sure this is an anxiety hallucination. That’s a thing, right?

Jamie is no longer staring at the sky, but looking at you. He breathes out a laugh. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make it weird.” He moves to go back inside but you grab his arm. 

“Jamie,” you say. The look on his face when you say his name is so hopeful, that you feel your heart shatter and reform almost instantaneously. “Jamie, you- you like me? You came out here because you like me? And that’s why you were drunkenly flirting with me last month?”

“Yeah, yeah it is.” 

Your hand is still on his arm, and you’re standing face to face. You’re still breathing heavily, but so is he. You slowly run your hand up his arm and cup his face. He’s staring at you, mere inches apart, as you stand on tiptoe to reach his lips.

He kisses you back with the hunger of a starving man, arms wrapped around your waist the moment your lips make contact. You’re pulling each other closer, forgetting the freezing cold, when you hear an, “Oi, boyo.”

It’s Colin and Michael, walking out from the bar, headed home. 

You and Jamie break apart and Colin points to him. “Break her heart, Michael and I will break your fucking legs.”

Jamie grins and nods, and you just roll your eyes. You’re going to have to tell them everything, but right now they’re walking away and it’s fucking cold, so Jamie’s pulling you back to him again to pick up where you left off. 

[wlntrsldler]

Hi, I loved “apple pie” so much!! Would you consider doing a part 2 with Jamie’s injury during the game and the reader taking care of him when they get home to Richmond? I feel like it would be so soft 🥹💗

sweet nothing | jamie tartt

based on the song sweet nothing by taylor swift

description: part two to apple pie, but can be read alone!

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (she/her)

warnings: language-- it's ted lasso, what did ya expect?; tooth-rotting fluff! jamie being pookie asf. mention of sex but nothing crazy. mention of his dad.

wc: 1.7K+

Nobody in the owner's box spoke. Jamie was lying on the pitch, arms crossed over his eyes in pain. You could hear Man City fans hollering insults at him in the distance, but all of their noise was drowned out by the thumping of your heart. You forgot how to breathe.

You felt Keeley squeeze your hand, bringing you back to the present. You watched the physios help him off the field. The game continued but you were no longer interested. Instead, you found yourself staring at the boy sitting on the sidelines as he talked to Ted.

"Come on, Jamie," you whispered, biting your thumb anxiously. "You got this, baby."

With a pat on the back, Jamie re-entered the game. You cheered along with Keeley and Rebecca, tears pooling your eyes. You were so proud of him.

The taunts from Man City fans got louder as he walked toward his teammates. Jamie, looked around, rolled his eyes, and stuck his tongue out as he banged on his chest where the AFC Richmond logo was stitched on his kit. You laughed, wiping your eyes, enjoying how confident and full of life your boyfriend seemed to be even after getting injured.

You watched as he masterfully dribbled the ball, dodging three Man City players, before he got in position to kick the ball. The loud whoosh of the football rang throughout the entire arena and before you knew it, all AFC Richmond fans were on their feet cheering for the native Mancunian.

Jamie looked up at the owner's box where he knew you'd be and blew a kiss in your direction. Although you knew he couldn't see you, you blew him a kiss right back. As he was exiting the pitch, he was met with thunderous applause from supporters of his old team.

"That's how good he is," you heard Higgins say from behind you. "Jamie Tartt is a legend."

Your smile widened as you nodded in agreement. The camera crew focused on Jamie's expression as he allowed himself to marvel at the crowd's praise. He no longer had the cocky smile on his face, but rather, his face was relaxed and full of gratitude. This was a homecoming that he deserved.

When the full time was called, the team celebrated on the pitch. Jamie stayed for a bit, but excused himself to come find you. You were waiting for him in front of the locker room entrance, unable to contain your excitement when you saw him.

Briefly forgetting his injury, you ran to him, engulfing him in a hug that made him lose his balance. You peppered kisses all over his face, "I am so proud of you, Jamie Tartt. God, I love you so much."

He tried to laugh to mask the hiss of pain he let out when he put too much pressure on his ankle. You pulled away quickly, suddenly feeling horrible for nearly attacking him. You stepped away from him, "I completely forgot. I'm so sorry, love."

"No," he whined, immediately reaching out for you again. You reluctantly obliged and approached him, much calmer this time around. Jamie sighed in content, leaving light kisses on your neck, "Much better. Don't go too far."

"Jamie, you're hurt," you tutted, threading your fingers through his hair. He hummed in approval, still refusing to let go of you. You placed a kiss on his cheek, forcing him to separate from you to capture your lips in a kiss. You pulled away, "Let's get you to the physios, yeah? Make sure you're all good to go?"

Jamie knew you were right. He did need to get a thorough check-up. He nodded, intertwining his fingers with yours, "Let's go?"

You squeezed his hand gently, letting him lead you away.

Thankfully, Jamie was okay for the most part. The physio told him that he needed to take it easy at least until the next match, but he should be able to participate in light training after two days. Roy grunted in disapproval after hearing the news, but you could tell that he was relieved that Jamie wasn't hurt any more than he was.

The bus ride back to Richmond was rowdy. The boys were absolutely wild over their win-- as they should be, but it also meant that Jamie refused to rest the entire time. You were glad, however, that he remained seated the entire time and didn't put too much pressure on his hurt ankle.

It was nice to be around the boys again. You didn't realize how much of a community, a family, you created in Richmond. Jamie played a big part in that. Before him, you had friends in the industry who were shooting projects in England, but never anybody who's grounded and secured here. You craved stability, at least as much stability as you could get being an actress. You never thought you'd find it here, in Jamie.

"Hi, love," Jamie whispered from beside you. He had a hand on your thigh, "Whatcha thinkin' bout?"

"Just how much I missed all this," you motioned toward the loud, ruckus of the team around the both of you. You turned your head to look at him, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose, "How much I missed you."

"Don't get all sappy on me now, love," Jamie teased, though he wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer, "I'm the one that's hurt here. I'm the only one allowed to be sappy."

You faked a groan, rolling your eyes, "I suppose you're gonna be a big baby for the next few days."

"Oh yeah," he answered too quickly. He chuckled, placing a kiss on the crown of your head, "Gonna get so sick of me. We're gonna lay in bed for two days straight. Doc said I had to take it easy, remember?"

"You know that also means no sex, right?"

He turned to you in horror. He shook his head in disapproval, "Well Doc doesn't know what he's talkin' about anyway. He obviously doesn't know that my proper fit girlfriend hasn't been home in so long and that rest wasn't an option for me when you're only back for a week."

"Knock it off," Roy grumbled from in front of you. "You guys are fucking disgusting."

"Don't worry, grandad. I'll save some lovin' for ya." Jamie made kissy noises as he spoke to Roy, making you laugh uncontrollably in your seat.

By the time you made it back to the facility, the boys were buzzing to celebrate the night out partying-- all of them but Jamie. You were waiting in the car park by his car, thinking that you'd drive it to his place while he celebrated with the team, but you were caught by surprise when he walked out with his bag, looking as cozy as ever.

Dani and Colin waved to him, both excited to spend the night getting wasted with the team. Jamie walked towards you, careful not to put too much pressure on his ankle, and handed you his keys.

"You don't mind driving tonight, do you love?" He asked. "Need to get my ankle sorted before the next game and I don't want to do too much."

"I don't mind at all. I figured I would be drivin'," you replied, unlocking the car. You and Jamie both got in, adjusting the seat a bit so you could drive properly. Before you pulled out of the facility's premises, you turned to Jamie, "Are you not going to celebrate with the boys?"

"Nah," Jamie said, so casually. He buckled his seatbelt, twisting his body to grin at you, "See them lads every fuckin' day. Love 'em, but I love ya more. You're only here for a week so I'm makin' the most out of it."

"Such a romantic," you teased, but his words made your heart flutter. Jamie didn't know the effect he had on you and honestly, even if you tried to explain it to him, he probably wouldn't believe you.

It was already hard for him to believe that you said yes to dating him. Sure, if you had asked him a year ago if he saw himself with the hottest up-and-coming actress, his prick self would've said, "Of course, I'm Jamie fucking Tartt." But now that he's finally allowed himself to be vulnerable and care about people, that facade he once had no longer seemed necessary. With that side of him slowly fading, he'd be lying if he said small parts of his confidence didn't.

That's why he's so fucking lucky that you decided to take a chance on him. You never did anything that made him doubt how much he meant to you. He spent so much of his life trying to figure out who actually loved him and who didn't-- massive thanks to his dad for that one-- that it's so nice to not have to worry about something like that.

You made him feel so fucking loved that sometimes the idea of it overwhelmed him, in a good way of course. All the times he wondered if he was worthy of love seemed so trivial now.

The both of you fell into your comfortable routine as if you hadn't been gone for weeks when you got to Jamie's place. It was like you never left. In between the mundanity of getting ready for bed, you gave each other kisses on the cheek, and hugs from behind, always somehow touching each other or so close to each other.

At the end of the night, you and Jamie were lying in bed, Jamie's head on your chest. You were absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair, letting out a soft chuckle when he sighed happily. A few times throughout the night, he would get a video from one of the boys, pissed drunk, doing something so stupid, that you both could only hope that the paparazzi weren't there to see.

You talked to each other about everything that's happened over the last few weeks-- what restaurants you guys need to try together when Jamie visits you in New York, what new training regimen Roy prescribed Jamie, what Colin and Isaac were bickering about this week. You ended up falling asleep before Jamie because jetlag was finally catching up to you.

Jamie, who became the big spoon after you fell asleep, laid awake, unable to stop himself from smiling. This, he finally allowed himself to admit it, was something he could see himself doing for the rest of his life. With you sleeping soundly next to him, clinging to him like you never want to let go, Jamie lets himself deserve this good, loving life with you.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

At An Impasse

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Princess!Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're taken back to your home country to continue tradition and marry someone you don't love. When objections come around, you look to the crowd in hopes someone saves you. Someone does and now you have a new choice to make.

Play Pretend Masterlist

Square Filled: royalty au for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

You thought the next time you were in Yacleira, you’d have a much different life. Here you are, back in your dressing room wearing the same beautiful dress you were wearing when you left this country. The dress is a pinkish-beige color instead of the traditional white a wedding dress is supposed to be. The strapless bodice has golden swirls and diamonds are placed sporadically along the spiral lines. Extra fabric was sewn onto both sides of the dress to give it a more full and voluminous look. Those pieces of fabric start from your waist and go all the way down to the ground to meet the bottom of the dress. The fabric is curled over each other to create a sort of wavy look that looks natural. The bottom of the entire dress has fluffy ruffles and a train flows behind you.

Why did you think things would be different for you? Why did you have hope that you were going to be treated differently? Spencer has shown you things you only read about in books, and made you feel things only characters in movies get to feel. The time spent with Spencer has been the best months of your entire life but your parents don’t care about any of it.

Their princess is back and they expect her to get married off to someone she doesn’t love. You want to scream and cry but you don’t, and Ben watches you with a careful eye knowing you want to. He hasn’t said anything to you since you got back mostly because you think he feels guilty for sending you to America without checking who you’re staying with. It’s not his fault but he won’t hear it.

Your mother enters the room and smiles when she sees you in your wedding dress.

“Look how gorgeous you are.”

“Thank,” you mumble.

“Don’t be so sad, honey.”

“You won’t understand. There was something special with Spencer. I thought I really loved him.”

“Everything is going to be okay. You’ll see.”

This time, she isn’t letting you out of her sight. She is eager to walk you down the aisle knowing you’ll be married to Henry in only a few hours. The tradition fulfilled, the peace treaty unbroken. Ben stands on your left while your mother stands on your right. Both of them start to walk you down the aisle where Henry is waiting for you at the altar. You keep your gaze focused on the banner right above Henry because you will break out in tears if you look at him. Maybe if you pretend he’s Spencer, it’ll be better.

The minister’s voice drones out so you’re not paying attention to anything he is saying. It’s like you’re locked inside your body, forced to watch this disaster play out. There is nothing you can do about it so you sit idly by and wait for the storm to pass. This is being televised to the citizens of Yacleira with the most important people in the audience.

“If anyone should object to the marriage of Y/N Richmond and Henry Harrington, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You don’t look to the audience knowing there is no one there who will speak up.

“I do.” Your eyes widen and you look to see Spencer standing up. “I object.” You can’t find the words as whispers fill the ballroom. He steps into the aisle just as everyone turns to look at him. “I know I don’t hold nearly as much value as a prince but I do know that I can’t stop thinking about you. You make me happy, happier than I have ever been in a long time. I have no idea where this relationship will go but if you let me, I will do everything I can to make you happy. I want to be with you. Do you want to be with me?”

Everyone turns to look at you who has a shocked look on your face.

“I have a confession,” Henry says and all eyes are on him. “I can’t… I’m in love with someone else.” Shocked gasps go through the room, and Henry looks at you. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“I think I’m in love with someone else, too,” you say and look at Spencer.

Your mother and father are already storming up to the altar with not-so-pleased looks on their faces.

“Throne room, now,” your mother scowls.

You look at Spencer once before leaving the room. Ben and Kylen follow you to the throne room while your parents deal with the rest of the wedding that may not happen. You’re only in the throne room for five minutes before Spencer and your parents walk in.

“Mother, I’m sorry--”

“How do you feel about Spencer?” she asks.

Spencer walks over to you and you grab his hand in support. You can’t believe he flew all the way out here just for you. He must have left only days after you did since the wedding happened four days after you got back to Yacleira.

“I love him, Mother.”

“Then you two need to make a decision. I have misjudged you and I apologize for that. Your father and I were talking in the days before the wedding. I had hoped you would marry Henry but I realize now how unhappy you have been. I loved your father when I married him but I see now you don’t love Henry. Forcing you to marry someone we want isn’t going to work for you.”

“Mama,” you whisper tearfully.

“I love you so much, my dear. I want nothing but happiness for you, and if being with Spencer makes you happy, then I want you to be with him.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

“However,” your father’s voice booms around the throne room, “there is a choice you need to make. If you don’t want to marry royalty, then we won’t make you. We’ll deal with Vosharia and sign a new peace treaty.”

“What’s the choice?” you ask.

“You can either give up royalty and live as a commoner with Spencer or you can embrace your status as Queen with Spencer by your side. You’ll need to be married for that and without Vosharia, I can give you another year before you have to be married.”

You look at Spencer who is already looking at you. How can you possibly ask Spencer to do this? You want nothing but to be with Spencer but does he want you enough to be in this life with you?

“We’ll give you two a minute,” your mother says.

Everyone leaves the throne room to pick up the pieces of the abandoned wedding.

“Y/N--”

“I could never ask you to give up your life for me.” The tears fall but you make no move to wipe them away. “I could never ask you to give up all your friends and family to come here and live with me as King.”

“Technically, I’d be a prince.”

“That’s not the point,” you sigh.

“Still, I could never ask you to give up your friends and family for me.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Neither do I.”

This time, you have no words. Do you stay with Spencer in Virginia or does Spencer move to Yacleira and rule by your side? No one else can make this decision but you and Spencer.

x

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[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Meet the Greyhounds

Plot: On the first day of season training, the Greyhounds welcome the newest member of AFC Richmond and Y/n gets a crash course in Ted Lasso’s unconventional coaching methods.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: language, use of f!reader (16+)

A/N: Here we are again, now with the Greyhounds entering the story…👀

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged, though I’m still only tagging 16+. Enjoy!!

————

Contrary to the whirlwind of her hiring, Y/n’s first week at AFC Richmond was nothing but calm waters.

The first few days had been spent mostly in meetings with Higgins, learning the basic operations of parts of the club she’d be involved in. She bounced back to the KJPR offices every few days for a meeting with Keeley. Already, there was a rhythm developing to her days.

Y/n took the weekend to set up her office, driving over a few boxes of books, wall hangings and office supplies to Nelson Road Stadium. Season training started on Monday and Y/n knew it was her last chance to get settled before the work truly started.

On Sunday evening, she stayed late organizing her desk the way she liked. When she was finally done, taking a final satisfactory look at the space, she collected her coat and locked up for the night. She was on her way out when she noticed up the stairwell, there were still lights on.

Thinking only her and the night cleaning crew were still around, Y/n shuffled up the steps. The closer she got, the better she could make out the light was coming from Rebecca’s office. Not only that, she could hear mumbled curses.

Y/n rapped her knuckles twice against her boss’s door, poking her head in just enough to show who it was.

“Oh,” Rebecca breathed, sat behind her desk, “Come in.”

Y/n took a cautious step through the doorway, giving a little wave, “I saw the light and didn’t know who was still here.”

“Well, I shouldn’t be here,” Rebecca replied, trying to put on a smile for Y/n, “Not till tomorrow anyway.”

Nodding, Y/n shifted her coat in her arms.

“You’re here awfully late as well,” Rebecca changed the subject.

“Oh,” Y/n answered, “Finally took the time to unpack everything. Figured it was a good idea before tomorrow.”

“Good,” Rebecca replied.

It went without saying that there was something wrong. Rebecca had no reason to be there.

“Is everything…” Y/n shifted in her spot a little. She was skirting one of the professional lines she valued. “Alright?”

The moment the question hit the air, Rebecca’s facade cracked. The edges of her smile drooped ever so slightly and whatever faux cheeriness had been masking her eyes faded.

“Do you read many tabloids, Y/n?” Rebecca asked.

“Not actively, but,” Y/n answered, her eyes darting between the floor, the lamp, anywhere other than directly at Rebecca until absolutely necessary, “I see things.”

Rebecca knew, without asking, what headlines she was referring to.

“My ex-husband recently purchased West Ham United,” the woman began to explain, “He poached one of our coaches from last season and…” Rebecca shook her head from the ridiculousness of it all, “There was just a headline that…”

Y/n waited for her boss to find the words, knowing they probably wouldn’t come. Nor did they need to.

Rebecca inhaled, “I suppose I shouldn’t let it get to me but…”

“Hey,” Y/n held up a hand, “There’s no judgement here.”

Rebecca gave a genuine smile, thankful for the understanding. “Well, we both need to get home and get some rest,” she said as she rose from her desk.

“We do,” Y/n was thankful the subject was shifting from personal matters, “Goodnight, Ms. Welton.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re going to call me that the entire season,” Rebecca sighed, half-laughing at the formality, “Rebecca.”

It shouldn’t have mattered, but Y/n felt most comfortable with her barriers in place. However, going up against Rebecca was a fight she knew she’d lose.

“Alright,” Y/n conceded, the only time she planned on doing so, “Goodnight, Rebecca.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” Rebecca said in return.

That night, once she returned home and settled in bed with a cup of tea, Y/n did research on the enemy. Rupert Mannion, Rebecca’s ex-husband, had indeed purchased West Ham United at the end of last season. He’d gone one step further and hired Richmond’s old coach, Nathan Shelley. There was much speculation as to why the former kitman had left and why he’d chosen specifically to work for Rebecca’s ex. Several tabloids had framed the upcoming season as a battleground not only for the Greyhounds and Hammers, but the ex-spouses as well.

Y/n shut her laptop and rubbed at her eyes. She could uphold all the professional boundaries she liked, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t become a part of a deeply personal fight.

—————————

Come Monday morning, the parking lot at Nelson Road was packed.

Season training had begun.

Y/n had gotten in early, having stopped by Keeley’s office to pick some papers up, and had yet to cross paths with any of the Greyhounds or coaches. She wasn’t trying to avoid meeting them, but she also wasn’t actively seeking out the opportunity. There was safety in the isolation of her office with the only intruder being Higgins every once in a while.

It was around 10 when the first knock at the door came.

Y/n looked up from her desk to see Sam Obisanya standing in her doorway.

“Ms. Y/l/n?”

“Yes,” Y/n answered with a small smile.

“Ah,” Sam took one step inside the office, “I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself. Sam-“

“Obisanya,” Y/n finished for him, rising from her desk to come and shake his hand, “I may not be a football fanatic, but I know your work.”

Sam laughed humbly, Y/n didn’t think there was such a thing until then.

“You’re very kind,” Sam let go of her hand, “I heard you were hired over our break and I wanted to be one of the first to say ‘welcome.’”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Obisanya,” Y/n replied, feeling genuinely touched.

“Please,” he smiled, “Call me Sam.”

“Sam,” Y/n nodded, she was 0 for 2…

“Are you finding everything okay?” Sam asked.

Y/n glanced at the space around them, “Everything I need so far, yes.”

“Ah, good,” Sam grinned, “Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. It’s a lot to get used to.”

“Well, I’ll agree with you there,” Y/n chuckled, “But really, Sam, thank you. I genuinely look forward to getting to see you play this season.”

“Ah,” Sam’s hand briefly touched his chest, “Thank you. I hope you have a wonderful day.”

“You as well,” Y/n replied as the midfielder headed back through her office door. Her Youtube observations had been correct; Sam Obisanya was as genuine off the pitch as he was on it.

A few moments after settling back at her desk, a second knock came.

“Hola, Ms. Y/n!”

Dani Rojas.

“Hi,” Y/n greeted, a little surprised, “You must be Mr. Rojas.”

“Dani, please,” the player grinned, “I wanted to come and officially welcome you to Richmond.”

Y/n rose from her desk and crossed the room once again. “That’s very kind of you, D- oh!”

Dani had pulled her in for a hug and had practically lifted her off the ground. In any other case, Y/n would have slingshotted them both into the HR office, but she could tell his intentions were 100% pure.

“I hope you will be very happy working here with us,” Dani said, finally releasing Y/n from his arms, “It is like one big family.”

Y/n chuckled awkwardly, trying to hide her dismay at the thought from someone who was the human embodiment of joy.

“I’m sure I’ll be quite content,” she replied politely, “And I look forward to seeing you play, Dani.”

“Oh, thank you,” Dani said, his grin hadn’t dropped half an inch since he’d arrived, “I look forward to getting to work with you.”

“You too, Dani,” Y/n nodded, “I hope you have a great day.”

“You as well,” Dani wished cheerily before exiting Y/n’s office.

Y/n stayed in the middle of the room a moment longer, trying to process the interaction. She was half sure that within the next thirty seconds, another Greyhound would come through her door.

She wasn’t wrong.

Five minutes after Dani, Colin Hughes and team captain Isaac Mcadoo showed up. While their greetings were less personal than Sam’s and they let Y/n stay on the ground, unlike Dani, they took their time to welcome her. Two minutes after them, Thierry Zoreaux swung by. Just as he was leaving, Jan Maas took his place. In and out, the Richmond players seemed to form a never ending stream of well wishes.

As Will, the team’s kitman, was on his way out from his introduction, Y/n decided answers were worth seeking.

“Can I ask,” she tapped her pen against her desk, “How did you guys even know I was here?”

“Oh, Coach Lasso told us,” Will answered plainly, “He wanted us each to stop by and introduce ourselves. See if you needed anything, officially welcome you to Richmond.”

Y/n nodded, it all made sense now.

“Got it,” she politely smiled, “Well, thank you, Will. I definitely feel welcomed.

With a polite farewell, Will left Y/n on her own once more. She felt like locking the door just to ensure she could actually get some work done. She was pleased to know that the team she worked for wasn’t comprised of inconsiderate pricks, but their kindness had been more than overwhelming.

“Alright, Ted Lasso,” she mumbled to the empty room, “Message received.”

Itwas an hour later, after five more stop-bys by various Greyhounds, that Y/n escaped her office. She headed to the cafe to grab a tea before her morning meeting with Rebecca and Higgins. She made it in and out without any more ambushes, and headed on her way to Rebecca’s office.

Just as her eye caught on one of the placards on the hallway wall, a door swung open at Y/n’s side. She froze as the emerging body nearly bumped into hers.

“Whoa,” the culprit said as they too stopped in their tracks.

Y/n awkwardly laughed as she held her tea in the air, trying to prevent a mess.

“Sorry, that was on me,” the man apologized as the door swung back into place.

“No, no,” Y/n exhaled, “It’s on me for not paying attention.”

The man breathed out a laugh as Y/n brought her arm back into her side.

“And nothing’s on anyone so,” Y/n gestured to her tea, “Could’ve been worse.”

Finally looking up at the man in front of her, Y/n recognized him instantly.

“You’re Jamie Tartt.”

Jamie pursed his lips and pointed a finger at Y/n, “And you’re the new girl? Keeley’s new hire?”

Y/n didn’t love the sound of her position being explained so casually. “Miss Jones hired me to do some work for Richmond, yes. Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Ah,” Jamie nodded, attempting not to laugh at the formality, “Coach wanted us all to come by and introduce ourselves.”

“Well, you saved yourself a trip,” Y/n replied, somewhere between a polite and genuine smile.

Jamie chuckled, his hands awkwardly clasped in front of him. “Well, good to put a face to the name.”

Y/n nodded a little, “Same to you.”

“Right, well,” Jamie bent at the knees and flashed Y/n a smile, “See you ‘round, I guess.”

“See you around,” Y/n returned.

Without another word, Jamie and Y/n walked off down opposite ends of the hallway.

As she climbed the stairs up to Rebecca’s office, Y/n made a note that the Jamie Tartt she’d (quite literally) run into was, indeed, far different than the ill reputation he’d built for himself. He seemed perfectly pleasant, a little blunt, but polite nonetheless. It didn’t seem like the Greyhounds didn’t have any bad eggs.

Switching back to work mode, Y/n knocked on Rebecca’s semi-open door.

“Ah, come in, Y/n,” Rebecca quickly greeted.

Y/n walked in and saw that Higgins and Ted were already standing across from Rebecca’s desk.

“Hey, it’s the newest Greyhound,” Ted said cheerily.

“So sorry I’m late,” Y/n apologized, setting her purse and tea down on the coffee table. She was happy to bypass Ted’s greeting with nothing more than a polite smile.

“Oh, no it’s fine,” Rebecca waved her concern off before turning back to the matter at hand, “As I was saying, everyone alive has picked Richmond to finish in 20th place this season.”

Y/n came to stand between Higgins and Ted.

“Except for the The Daily Mirror,” Higgins interjected, “Which has us finishing ‘twentyelf.’ An adorable but devastating typo.”

Ted hummed, “Okay. Well, you know what? I predict all their predictions ain’t gonna come true. So it looks like we got ourselves a prediction Mexican standoff,” Ted turned to Y/n and Higgins, “Or as they call them in Mexico, a prediction standoff.”

Y/n wondered if the man had an off button.

“Well, the worst part is they’ve picked Rupert to finish in the top four,” Rebecca said with a heavy sigh.

“Rupert’s gonna play this year?” Ted asked in all seriousness.

“What?” Rebecca replied, “No.”

“You’re referring to West Ham United,” Y/n spoke up, trying to move the conversation along, “Correct?”

“Precisely,” Rebecca said, “Everyone thinks he’s better than us.”

“They,” Ted corrected his boss, “Everyone thinks they are better than us.”

Rebecca nodded a little too fast to be considered normal, “Yes, that’s what I said. They. So, what’s the plan? How are we going to beat him?”

Once again, Ted caught the error that Y/n knew was no error at all. “Them.”

“Exactly,” Rebecca replied.

“Oh, boy,” Ted said lowly.

“You know, this might be a good time for us to update our roster,” Higgins spoke up, “Put some more firepower in the team.”

Rebecca pointed towards Higgins, “That is an great idea, Leslie.”

“I agree,” Y/n threw in her support, thankful the conversation was moving back towards work, “Plenty of opportunity to make a big fuss over it, get people excited, pack the stands a little more.”

“Let’s put some feelers out, shall we?” Rebecca continued, glancing over to her manager, “Ted?”

“Well, I know Roy and Coach Beard are workin’ on some new tactics,” he answered, “And, you know, the fellas we already got are gelling real nice. I think we’re gonna do just fine this season.”

If Y/n could have measured the indignity on Rebecca’s face, she couldn’t have.

“Ted, this team doing ‘just fine’ is a far cry from you telling me we’re going to win the whole fucking thing.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raised just as Higgins exclaimed, “Whoa!”

“Did I really say that?” Ted asked, just as shocked.

“Yes, you did,” Rebecca’s voice raised an octave as she pointed towards her couch, “Over there after the Man City loss. Just before you blasted half a liter of Pellegrino in my face.”

The memory finally rang Ted’s bell, “Oh, right.”

“Wait, what happened?” Higgins confusedly asked.

Y/n nearly raised her pen to ask questions but decided against it.

“That,” Rebecca pointed towards Ted, “Is the Ted Lasso I want coaching my team this season. The one who’s willing to fight. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ted nodded, “You watch, from now on, I’ll be floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. Except I won’t die immediately after using my stinger. I plan to float and sting for the entirety of the whole season.”

“Excellent,” Rebecca’s expression finally shifted and she looked to Y/n, “I apologize if we’ve thrown you into the deep end of our problems.”

Y/n held up a hand to signal there were no issues, but she was a little confused as to what the purpose of the meeting had been.

“I have a very important lunch meeting with one Miss Keeley Jones,” Rebecca continued as she collected her purse and came out from around her desk, “For some much needed girl talk.”

“Hey, tell her we said howdy and…” Ted wished before looking to Higgins.

“Yo,” Higgins added in a deep voice.

Rebecca looked to Y/n last.

“Tell her I’ll be in tomorrow,” Y/n added, still holding onto her binder.

“Okay,” Rebecca left out the door, off to the KJPR offices.

Y/n sighed as Ted and Higgins began to converse over the later’s out of character greeting.

“Hey, Y/n,” Ted tapped her on the arm, “You settling in alright?”

“Yes,” Y/n nodded, adjusting the waist of her skirt, “Very excited to get started.”

“Well, don’t be afraid to stop by if you need anything,” Ted smiled, missing the slight edge to Y/n’s words, “Or if you just wanna chat. Roy and Beard’d love to meet you.”

Y/n gave one more cordial nod before crossing the room to retrieve her belongings. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths at some point,” she replied, desperate to escape, “But I really do have a few things that need to get done. I’ll see you both later.”

With a trail of goodbyes from Ted and Higgins, Y/n vacated the office as quickly as she could without being too obvious. Not only did she feel it was a waste of a meeting to simply discuss the team’s standings, but no work had really been accomplished. She did, however, learn a great deal more about Rebecca’s mindset for the season than she’d set out to know.

When she returned to her office, Y/n shut the door and locked it. No more interruptions, no more distractions, she could do what she was here to do…her job. If the only way she could do that was by literally shutting Richmond out, so be it.

—————————

Much later in the day, Y/n took her second scheduled leave back up to Rebecca’s office. There was a West Ham press conference being held and Rebecca had requested her presence for the viewing. Something about PR strategies, but Y/n suspected she was partially valued as another essential piece in the takedown of Rupert Mannion.

She arrived just as Higgins was coming to stand behind Rebecca’s desk with her.

“Has it started?” Y/n asked as she crossed the room.

“Just about to,” Rebecca breathed, steel in her voice already.

“Are you sure you want to watch this?” Higgins made a point of asking.

“No, I don’t want to, Leslie,” Rebecca replied, as she loaded the stream link, “But it’s part of my job. I need to be ready to comment if Rupert were to say something snide about me or the team.”

Y/n came to stand on the other side of Rebecca, “I agree. Preparation isn’t always fun, but necessary.”

Rebecca blindly gestured to Y/n as she clicked away on her screen, she only looked up to glance out her window. “Where are they, by the way? Shouldn’t they be training now?”

Y/n peeked out the glass, she hadn’t noticed that the team was completely absent from the pitch. Odd for the first proper day of training.

“Oh,” Y/n said, coming to stand a little closer as the laptop screen changed, “It’s loading.”

Rebecca scooted her chair closer as the feed went live and a West Ham United backdrop became visible. Striding in from off camera came Rupert Mannion, calm, collected and charming.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, welcome,” he announced, “Lovely to see you all, and thank you for selecting our humble little football club to do so well this season.”

As the press let out chuckles, Rebecca reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a small pink box. Y/n watched as her boss pulled it open and angrily shoved a bite of a thick biscuit in her mouth.

“Twat,” Rebecca mumbled through a half-full mouth.

“The person you are here to see,” Rupert continued in a grandiose tone, “The Wonder Kid himself, our new manager, Nathan Shelley.”

Rebecca’s ex extended a hand towards his right and seconds later, Nathan and him exchanged places in the center of the room.

“Thank you,” Nathan smiled once he was seated, “Very nice to be here. I’m pretty sure I said ‘wunderkind.’”

Silence from the press.

“This is the same Nathan Shelley who was the kitman here,” Y/n said, half-asking, “Became assistant coach and then stole over to West Ham?”

“Yes,” Higgins answered as Rebecca was chewing, “Rather a hasty and heated exit.”

Y/n hummed in reply, nothing about the man struck her as particularly hasty or heated. The tabloids had painted a much different picture of the man. As Nathan stuttered over his answers, Y/n sensed nothing but a rather awkward humility.

She was proven terribly wrong over the next two minutes.

Nathan’s answers came quicker and were delivered with more confidence. At some point, they became biting. The sudden character shift felt like a reverse of Jamie Tartt’s, from the little Y/n had observed of both.

“Coach Shelley, regarding your old team, AFC Richmond,” one of the reporters began, “Any idea why everyone is expecting them to finish 20th this season?”

Y/n shifted in place as they awaited Nathan’s answer. Something about the smile that pulled at his cheeks just before he spoke unsettled her.

“Probably because there’s no 21st.”

If there was tension in the room before, it had just intensified tenfold.

“Meow,” Higgins commented.

Y/n turned to her co-worker, “Hasty and heated, you said?”

Before they could hear the next question, the Twitter alert on Y/n’s phone sounded from her jacket pocket. She’d set up alerts for the club, each Greyhound and the coaches. Pulling out her phone, the keyword ‘AFC Richmond’ was the first one she saw.

Her eyes widened, “Oh, no.”

Higgins tugged out his phone half a second later.

“What is it?” Rebecca asked.

Y/n and Higgins looked to one another, Higgins braving it and showing Rebecca his phone. Displayed on both their screens was a picture of the Greyhounds, led by Ted Lasso, climbing down a manhole into a sewer.

A PR nightmare.

Y/n distractedly looked up at Rebecca’s computer screen, still scrolling the tag. Someone had asked Nathan a question regarding the photo.

“Yeah, well, it makes sense,” Nathan answered, “They probably have to train in a sewer because their coach is so shitty.”

The press both gasped and laughed, each reporter’s eyes lighting up at the headline possibilities.

Rebecca slammed her laptop shut, fuming.

“Oh, boy,” Higgins broke the silence.

“Coach Lasso needs to address this,” Y/n spoke up, going into strategy mode, “Immediately. This is being turned into memes as we speak.”

Rebecca took a deep breath, pressing her hands together and to her lips in an effort to retain calm. “I will be speaking to him the second they are back,” she answered, before looking up to Y/n, “Come up with some potential response for the press conference.”

“Absolutely,” Y/n nodded, already out from behind Rebecca’s desk, “It’s best if the players don’t say anything either. Don’t give Coach Shelley any more ammunition.”

The day had officially turned and while Y/n had prayed for actual work to do, she hadn’t wanted it like this. Was this the gig? Digging Ted Lasso out of whatever absurd headlines his actions created? Combatting bitter ex-coaches?

Come 2:15, fifteen minutes before Ted’s press conference was scheduled to begin, Y/n gathered the notes she’d made and headed downstairs. She waited outside the press room until Ted came out of his office.

“Coach Lasso,” Y/n called, coming to walk alongside him, “The press are all ready for you but I think it’s important to address the matter of the picture trending on social media. The best strategy is not to stay on it too long, but don’t laugh it off. I wrote down a few responses that might be of use.”

By the time she’d finished, they were stood outside the press room once more.

“I appreciate it, Y/n,” Ted thanked her, “But I think I’m gonna Buffalo Wild this one.”

“You’re gonna-“ Y/n began to question the sentence before connecting her dots, biting down on her lip, “Wing it?”

“Exactly, Tom Clancy,” Ted smiled easily before heading in through the side door and leaving Y/n in the hallway.

With no one else around, Y/n took the opportunity to take a deep breath, throw her head back in frustration and scrunch up her face. Things were about to go from bad to worse.

After collecting herself, she rounded the corner of the hall and entered the press room through the back door. Rebecca was already waiting at the rear of the room.

“Did he take the suggestions?” Rebecca whispered as Ted began to speak.

Y/n inhaled deeply, “He did not.”

Side by side, the two women tried to contain their emotions and project confidence towards whatever was about to be said.

Though his ability lay in questionable standing, Y/n was surprised at how well Ted handled himself. The reporters and him had a rapport that Y/n shouldn’t have been shocked by. For all the comical flaws he possessed, Ted Lasso was likable. It wasn’t many coaches who would compliment a reporter on her new choice of hair color before she asked her question.

“Coach, how are you feeling about the unanimous opinion that Richmond will be relegated at the end of the season?”

“Yeah, that’s true, isn’t it?” Ted replied, “Expectations for us are as low as a rattlesnake’s belly button, huh?”

A few chuckles and smiles from the press.

“But, hey, we got 38 chances to prove all them folks wrong though, right?” Ted continued, “Yeah. And my hopes are as high as a giraffe’s top hat. Next question. And if it’s ‘why is a giraffe wearing a top hat?’ Don’t ask me, man. Go ask a giraffe.”

Y/n felt like she was regaining the ability to breathe as the midwestern wit was accepted. Ted chose his next interrogator, Marcus Adeybo, who was clearly known but in a new position judging by the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the press room.

“Do you have any response to comments made earlier today by your former assistant coach, Nathan Shelley?” Marcus asked.

Y/n tightened her hold on her notebook, Rebecca pursed her lips. They waited with bated breath as Ted thought over his next words with great care.

“Uh, yes, I do. Yeah,” Ted began, pausing with a small smile before continuing, “I thought it was hilarious.”

Through her peripherals, Y/n could see Rebecca was less than pleased. She was thrown herself, but decided to wait for Ted’s full answer before reacting in full.

“I mean, he came and got us, didn’t he? No doubt about that,” Ted laughed, “Hey, but that’s Nate the Great for you, you know? He’s the same way on the pitch. He’ll find the tiniest weakness in a team and just wanna attack that, you know? I mean, he’s a junkyard dog, man. And smart. They’re real lucky to have him over there at West Ham. I wish him the best of luck.”

For all her schooling and experience, Y/n found herself watching Ted in pleasant surprise as he pulled out a strategy she never would have thought of.

“I guess I am a little surprised that’s all he could come up with,” Ted kept going, shrugging slightly, “Especially against me. You know, not one joke about me being a dumb American? Come on, man. It’s sittin’ there. I mean, I’m so dumb…”

Ted’s grin hung open as he waited for a reply to a joke that clearly only served on one continent.

“Y’all are supposed to say ‘how dumb are you?’” Ted helped them out. One reporter raised their hand, “Gary?”

“Why?”

“I-I mean, it’s just classic joke structure,” Ted answered, “Give it a shot. I mean, I’m so dumb…” he nodded towards another reporter, “Lloyd?”

“How dumb are you?”

“Okay, well,” Ted raised his voice loud enough for the room to hear, “I’m so dumb, that the first time I heard y’all talkin’ about Yorkshire pudding, I thought it was a fancy word y’all had for dog poop.”

A few laughs came quietly.

“I mean, I’m so dumb,” Ted continued, waiting for the next line. A slightly confused chorus of questioning his intellect followed.

“Yeah, okay, well, whenever I text someone over here about money, I still spell pounds L-B-S.”

Y/n allowed herself to smile, realizing that there had been no point in giving Ted any suggestions. He was far better on his own.

“Look, man, I’m not a great coach,” Ted shrugged, “Probably ain’t. You know, I’ve been doing this sport now for three years, and I still get a chuckle every time someone talks about a handball violation.”

Shaking her head as it happened, Rebecca nudged Y/n with her elbow and held up her phone. There was a text from Keeley.

Way to let Ted be Ted!

Quickly, Y/n pulled out her own phone and opened up Twitter. Sure enough, there were tweets pouring in under Ted’s name, filled with nothing but praise and ‘LOLs.’

“Yeah, and not one crack about my appearance?” Ted continued, “About this mustache? I look like Ned Flanders is doing cosplay as Ned Flanders.”

Finally, the whole press room was laughing. Even Rebecca had found her smile once again, reserved as it may be for the unconventional approach.

“When I talk it sounds like Dr. Phil hasn’t gone through puberty yet.”

Y/n covered her mouth as she snorted.

“Yeah, I’m more corny than Kevin Costner’s outfield,” Ted waited for the joke to land, with no such reward, “Oh, I lost you on that one. Yeah. Field of Dreams? No?” Ted glanced to the back of the room and spotted Y/n who gave him a slight nod, signaling she understood it. “I guess y’all don’t really like baseball over here, so why would you like movies about it?”

Ted briefly bent down to check his phone, giving Y/n and Rebecca the chance to glance at one another. Rebecca sighed and Y/n shrugged with one hand, the wheels were entirely off and there was no point in trying to reattach them.

“Well, hey, how ‘bout this one?” Ted went on with a new strength, it seemed, “Regarding my panic attacks, I’ve had more psychotic episodes than Twin Peaks.”

The room filled with laughter again, including Ted’s.

“I mean, I’m so crazy…”

This time, both Rebecca and Y/n joined the reporters in asking just how crazy Ted Lasso was.

“There we go,” Ted said approvingly before continuing another round of self-depreciation.

As Y/n watched the room, and Twitter, sing Ted’s praises and reject Nathan Shelley, she made a mental note. No more notes on speaking to the press. Ted was aiming to kill with kindness, and she wasn’t planning to stand in his way.

Names and press conferences, the only things she planned to bend on.

—————————

By the end of the day, Ted was trending heavily and by association, so were the Greyhounds. The manhole picture had been thoroughly memed and it would take a week or two for the image to get lost in the Twitter-verse. Regardless of how good Ted was with the press, Y/n suspected there’d be several more sewer-type messes to clean up.

The sun was just setting as Y/n headed out to the parking lot. A few stray players had stayed late and were trailing out, most of whom she’d already met.

As Y/n searched through her bag for her keys, she heard a familiar voice wishing a teammate a good night. Jamie Tartt.

Y/n glanced up as the striker walked towards the car parked two spaces apart from hers.

“So tell me,” she called across the lot, “Do you guys save the sewer visits for special occasions or am I going to have to get used to doing this kind of damage control daily?”

Jamie chuckled, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “Uh, yeah, that was a new one.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n’s smile was barely perceptible.

“Coach was tryin’ to teach us a lesson,” Jamie explained, standing at the boot of his car, “See, everyone’s got us finishin’ dead last, but we’re supposed to let that shit flow,” Jamie made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “Like the canals in the sewers.”

Y/n’s tongue poked her cheek as she tried to understand the teaching moment.

“I know it sounds bizarre,” Jamie admitted, most of Ted’s methods sounded insane outside the Greyhound’s locker room, “But he had a point.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n replied, before grabbing her keys, “Well, whether the shit was literal or metaphorical, you guys just made my job a hell of a lot more interesting.”

“Hey, you didn’t have to fuckin’ go down there,” Jamie’s voice jumped an octave.

The two shared a laugh before moving to unlock each of their cars.

“I’ll see ya,” Jamie said with a smile.

“See ya,” Y/n replied, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Once she shut the door, she let her head hit the headrest. The day had felt like one big preview of how the season would go, and if it continued that way, Y/n was in for much more than she’d bargained for…

——

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex

[deathblacksmoke]

today’s filthy, disgusting thoughts are brought to you in part by a request i got from @somebodyels3 that’s been burning a hole in my brain. liberties were taken (and it’s a little longer than i planned). enjoy a little nicky x noah x f!reader phone sex thingy 🩷

part of the euclid polyverse / 18+ nsfw below the cut

nicky is back home in richmond for a little bit while you’re staying with noah in LA.

it’s a lot of lazy days in — lying on the sofa observing while noah is fucking around in the home studio, sprawled on the living room floor or on the couch having anime marathons, mid-afternoon naps all bundled up in bed with the AC blasting.

an early morning make out session in bed — slow grinding bodies, whispered praises, and roaming hands — devolves into something else when there’s an unbearable, painful pang in your chest.

“i wish nicky was here.” you say. you just can’t help it. it’s the only thing you can think about sometimes, how wrong it feels to be doing anything without him, how incomplete it all is. noah’s expression lets you know that he feels largely the same.

“i miss him too, sweetheart.” he responds, pity in his tone laced with what you know to be sadness. longing. the a lot goes unspoken, but you know it’s meant to be there. the so much is unsaid, but it doesn’t need to be. it’s clear in his tone, in the energy that lies heavy over everything when nick is gone. noah misses his boy just as much as you do. a gentle hand strokes your side, drawing you closer to him. “only a few more days until he’s back with us.”

you let yourself sink into him, barely soothed but happy to at least be here with one of your darlings. you love him so much and he is so good to you; he deserves to feel appreciated even if there’s a pit of misery in your gut as well as his.

it’s a comfort to the both of you when you start making your descent down his body, placing kisses to his exposed skin until you reach the waistband of his sweats. his belly tightens and relaxes beneath your palms and it dizzies you. his sigh when you pull down his waistband and sink your mouth onto him sends a rush of blood to your head — you almost miss the distant ringing and a familiar voice.

“hey, no.” comes a voice that can only be nick’s, and an excitement buzzes through you. you remain focused on your task, hoping to hide the sudden thrumming beneath your skin caused by the sound of your love’s voice. it’s something you’ve discussed before, for when the boys are on tour. you didn’t know it would be so soon, or like this, but you can’t find it in you to be displeased. you don’t want to.

“hi, nicky. we miss you, baby.” noah tells him. you work your mouth further down on him to distract yourself, wait your turn. noah gasps, it breaks off into a moan and he sounds so pretty — you find yourself basking in the sound of nick’s sweet laugh.

“i miss you both so much.” nicky responds, and you feel a little pitiful. you wish he was here. you miss him more. “what are you two doing?”

“our darling is a little occupied.” noah says as he runs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your face. you flit your eyes open to meet his, and there’s something mischievous in his eyes. you do your best work, gagging on him and feeling your eyes brim with tears. “do you want to talk to her?”

“please.” comes nicky’s reply without pause, and you feel as your cheeks heat. noah hands the phone down to you, but he shakes his head, a hand on the back of your head when you try to lift your head up. it becomes clear what he needs from you, as you work harder, sloppier, noisier for the both of them. “oh, sweet girl. our noah is putting you to work, huh?”

normally you’d nod, and he’d tell you to use his words, but you have a task and he’s not here. all you can do is whine, and nick’s groan is so unmistakable, and you really wish he was here with you. you wish he was here to help move your head on noah and hold your hair back how you know he likes to.

noah takes the phone back, clicks it off speaker and puts it up to his ear. it’s torment, but it only serves to make you work harder, make both of your boys happy and proud.

“yeah, nicky, her mouth is so good. you miss it, don’t you?” you wish you could hear the other end of the conversation — you wish you could hear nicky. the way he speaks to noah, so gently and so teasing, the way noah tenses and relaxes. you need to know what he’s saying, what causes noah to tighten his hands in your hair and buck his hips into your mouth. “i wish you were here. we wish you were here.”

almost none of the attention is on you other than noah’s hand in your hair, lost in flirty conversation with nick. envy courses through you and you find yourself needing noah to finish. the sooner he does, the sooner you can get the phone back and nick back in your ear. you pull almost all the way off, sliding your tongue through noah’s slit and basking in it when he yanks on your hair again and releases a painful, broken groan. there’s barely a tug on your hair as a warning when noah spills down your throat.

it’s with pleasure when you crawl back up his body, kissing him deeply before snatching the phone from his hand and putting it up to your own ear.

“come back soon, nicky.” you say. his breathing is heavy in your ear — it seems you interrupted something. you’re pleased to help him finish, too. “you miss my mouth too, don’t you, honey?”

[neil-gaiman]

Hi,

My name is Hayden and this is less an ask, more a rhetorical “how did you do this?!” and "this is really weird and cool please listen!" I'm not sure if you'll be interested but it's a very strange, very real story of coincidences melting my brain. I hope you find it as wonderful as it felt.

So last winter/spring I was in the last year of my undergrad degree in Twickenham. On the weekends I worked at a cocktail bar in the area -the Richmond, London area to be specific. During this time I started listening to The Sandman Audiobook on Audible. I’ve always wanted to read the graphic novel, I knew I’d like it, it’s exactly my type of fiction but something always stopped me a few pages in, I was enjoying it but it just wasn't going in (maybe it was my dyslexia or ADHD or the stress of 3rd year Uni). So I started listening to the Audiobook. It was amazing. It pulled me into the world immediately and I could listen when I while doing other things and still be engrossed. As a Creative Writing/Film student it inspired me, motivating me to write my dissertation, fueling my creativity. I would listen every spear chance I could, when I cleaned my room, as I did laundry, on my walks to lectures, on the bus to work...

I would even get to Richmond 30 minutes early so I could sit on the Green and listen for a little longer. On my breaks I would sit in the little office at the top of the building, eating my dinner at 11pm and listening to the tales of Dream of the endless. The bar was (and still is) on Brewers Lane, a narrow little cobbled-Alley that goes between Richmond Green and the high street. It's a beautiful, old bar, definitely haunted and full of memories, full of stories.

A few months later, I had finished the Audiobooks (the 2 that were out at the time), I no longer worked at the bar, I had graduated with a First Class Joint Honours. This is when The Sandman Series came out. I watch it and to my delight when it's good, more than good. The acting, production and characterisation were everything I could have wanted. I then get to Episode 6, The Sound of Her Wings. Adapted beautifully from the graphic novel. While I watch I start to recognise the environment Dream and Death were in, the park bench seemed familiar. I think "that's just London parks, they're all pretty much the same". Then the siblings start walking, and I start to recognise some landmarks of Twickenham, pubs by the river that were too expensive for me and my friends, old wisteria-covered streets I walked down with people I no longer talk to. I'm already thinking this is so cool, seeing Dream and Death walk around these places I spent the last 3 years of my life around.

Then they're back in the park. And I see it. no doubt. It's Richmond Green! The same place I would sit and listen to the audiobooks! the exact place I sat! daydreaming, people-watching and listening. Where I pictured these exact characters in my mind's eye. The embodiment of story and imagination was standing on the Green that I had imagined him on.

Dream and death say their goodbyes and I am full of wonder, disbelief and some other hard-to-define emotion. Dream walks away from his older sister. He enters an alley. No, a lane. He's walking down Brewers Lane. The Lane I worked on for a year. The Lane I sat above listening to Lord Morpheus in existential angst and now he was walking below it. Waking among the people. Walking past the shops I passed. At that moment I felt like I had willed him into existence. At this point, my mind was well and truly blown. Then he came to just outside the Bar, my Bar, and the scene ends. The scene ends at the very same place I would stand, at 2am, smoking with my friends after a hard shift, before we'd go back inside, and make each other the most extravagant drinks we could come up with and talk til 5am. Then stumble back to that spot, say our goodbyes and make our way home. And I had just seen Dream stand there.

I know this is all a coincidence, that Tom and Kirby aren't actually Dream and Death. I didn't actually will the TV series into the world. Lots of stuff is filmed in Richmond, it was probably filmed before I even worked there and I could have been listening to any audiobook at the time. It's not a magical occurrence, it's scratches on shiny metal, random and without meaning. But for that moment, watching that episode, You (and 50+ other people) held up a flame to the scratches, letting me see all the meaning and purposeful patterns I could ever want. And that's just a bit magical I think.

But yeah, I think it's pretty clear you've somehow gotten directly into my brain, Netflix knows something and the show was made specifically for me!

That's magic.