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teddysudeikis · 1 year

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Teddy Bear 🧸

Summary: I had a long day working at Keeley Jones’ PR firm and felt so overworked, stressed, and the instant need to cry my eyes out. I come home to find Ted who’s there to comfort me after a long day. He is the perfect boyfriend who knows how to cheer me up with comfort and cuddles.

Relationship: Ted Lasso x me (I inserted myself)

Before you read: It’s my first fic that I’ve written in awhile. I appreciate any feedback and love on it. It’s mostly fluff 🧸 so there’s a lot of cuddly Ted and some light NSFW (I’m so bad at writing those) 😭 but I needed something cuddly to be comforted.

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My thoughts spiraled into an endless pit of despair, full of anxiety. When’s the last time I hung out with Keeley and Rebecca? Why have I become so introverted and distant from everyone? What happened to me? And most importantly, what about Ted? Have I been tiring him out?

I felt guilty letting work take over my life being such a perfectionist but I really wanted to help Keeley with all that she’s been through. She’s the closest friend I have and I felt even more pressured to perform to the best of my ability with her as my boss. The last friend she hired let her down and I didn’t want her to think less of me, especially with how important this job was to me.

Feeling a slight tug at my heart with Ted on my mind, I felt so selfish. It’s been awhile since we’ve last went on a date and been intimate really. I know it’s not fair to keep doing this to him.

By the time I reached the door handle of my flat, my hands were shaking with the fear of Ted being home when I just wanted to cry myself to sleep. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I was so stressed and overworked, I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face.

I heard footsteps by the door, hearing the doorknob twist before I could turn it myself. An excited Ted Lasso flashes a big smile my way, making my heart flutter at the sight of him.

His hair was disheveled, his little tendril of hair over his forehead, and chest hair peeking out from his unbuttoned white polo collar. He was wearing the signature AFC Richmond navy sweater on top of it. His sleeves were pushed up, exposing his forearms. He looked so handsome and cozy.

“Welcome home sweet cheeks, been wonderin’ where you were,” Ted beamed, his cute dimples showing.

Just like the day I fell head over heels for him, I was in a daze, taking in the sight of him. I just wanted to cry in his big warm chest to forget today even happened.

“How was your…” Ted started but stopped in his tracks when he noticed my red cheeks from crying.

He stood there for awhile, examining me with his big, bright brown eyes. His smile turned into a frown, wiping the tear from my cheek.

”Darlin’?” he asked concerned, his eyebrows bunched together. “What happened?”

My lip trembles, angry at myself for being so sensitive. “Ted, I…I…just…” I stammered, struggling to get the words out. “I…had a really…bad day.”

I felt even more embarrassed he had to see me like this and started crying again, feeling like I was falling apart right then and there.

Ted was so kind and compassionate, he never judged me like anyone else did. He was always there for me.

I just didn’t want to push him away too. My worst fear was him getting sick of me and leaving me when I needed him the most. I’ve known the feeling of abandonment from people all too well.

“Sweetie,” Ted says, holding his arms out for me. “Come here.” He pulls me into his warm arms.

Feeling so pathetic right now, I just kept crying more into his chest. He runs his hand in my hair, hoping it would comfort me. He kissed me on the head, whispering sweetly in my ear, “It’s okay, let it all out. I’m here now.”

He helps me out of my coat, placing it on the coatrack nearby. He then takes my hand, guiding me to the couch. He puts his arms around me tightly, letting me get comfortable and snuggle into his neck.

“I…just…feel like…I’m not good enough,” I manage to choke out between sniffles and cries. Ted listened as he rubs my back and arms tenderly to soothe me.

“Good enough for who? Me?” Ted asks, furrowing an eyebrow, saddened at the thought of me not being good enough for him.

“Darlin’, you’re everything to me, I love you,” he assured me, making me tear up.

“That…and…Keeley. I feel like a failure,” I cried out.

“Darlin’, you’re not a failure. Heck, you’re the best at everything,” he assures me with full confidence. “You’re the smartest and most hardworking gal I know. And she knows that too. She’s lucky to have you.”

“And you’re the best thing that’s happened to me,” he continues, making me instantly blush with the endless praise and heartwarming compliments to cheer me up. “I couldn’t imagine life without you.”

My breathing starts to relax a little at the comfort of his touch and words.

I tilt my face up at him, making his mustached lips curl into a warm smile. “Am I too much?” I shyly ask, feeling overwhelmed with all the love that I felt like I didn’t deserve.

“Baby cakes, of course you’re not. Why would you say that?”

“I just…well, I…” I stammered, getting lost in his pretty brown eyes.

“Sweetie, if you think I’m ever gonna give you up and let you down, then I’d be pretty darn stupid,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “I love you so much, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He tenderly tucked my hair behind my ear, making my face flush red even more. I didn’t even tell him what was on my mind and he managed to heal every painful feeling in me.

He shushes me, feeling my hands being shaky again, hoping to calm me down, knowing a lot was on my mind and bothering me. “Just take a deep breath, it’ll be alright,” he whispers.

He could feel my heartbeat race, hoping to calm it down.

“Please don’t worry, it’s okay,” he whispers.

“In…out…” he nods, guiding me to follow.

I follow along with him, making him smile coaching me through it. “In…and out. There ya go.”

I take another deep breath, closing my eyes for an instant, trying to calm down. I was feeling so many bottled up emotions coming at me all at once.

I felt more at ease being there in his arms. A big, warm hand tickles me as it makes its way under my sweater against my back. He rubbed it in gentle strokes, the warm feeling making me less tense and more relaxed.

“How are ya feeling, sweet pea?” Ted asked gently, rubbing my back even more. “Better?”

I nodded in response, opening my eyes to see the beautiful sight of him again. “That’s my girl,” he beams with delight in his voice. “You’ve had a long day, you deserve some rest. I’m here now.”

My eyes traveled down his big puppy dog eyes to his handsome smile. Then they made their way to the unbuttoned shirt, eyeing the chest hairs poking out from the neckline.

He takes me by the hands, lowering them to my sides, raising one brow at me. “How about you get cozy and settled in while I finish up the batch of biscuits I whipped up for ya.”

I nodded, feeling flush red in the face for letting my mixed emotions get the best of me. I just needed him right now more than anything.

I could smell the sweetness of his warm biscuits nearby. “T-Ted, that’s really thoughtful of you,” I smiled.

He cups my chin in his hand, giving me a gentle kiss. “Let’s get you all warmed up too with a nice hot bath, how does that sound?” he suggests.

I nodded, smiling from the warm kiss. “C-Could you…” I stammered, feeling shy and anxious again.

“Mhmm?” he asks, patiently waiting.

“C-Could y-you…help me out of these clothes? I’ve had a long day,” I shyly asked, wanting to feel his warm touch again. I couldn’t stop thinking about his hands on my body. It made me feel so…good.

“Why of course,” his mustached lips curling into a playful smile.

Without hesitating, he pulls my pink sweater over my head, tossing it aside. His big hands then pull me by the hips making me squeak from our faces inches apart as he teasingly unzips my jeans while pulling them off my legs slowly.

He tossed my jeans aside next to my sweater, hungrily looking at me in my bra and underwear. “How’s that?” Ted smiles, gently massaging both of my thighs slowly.

I gulped, feeling my heart in my throat. The room felt like it was heated just with how intense it felt right now, drowning in his pretty brown orbs.

I smile as I look up at his big brown eyes, his lips leaning into mine for another kiss. “Perfect, Teddy.”

He smiles instantly at the nickname, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside everytime I said it.

“Do you need any other assistance today, ma’am?” he asks, his hands diving down into the loops of my underwear, playfully toying with the bands on my hips. He loved my curves so much.

Goosebumps rise up, making me lose my breath for an instant. “I-I’m okay for now.”

He chuckled to himself, knowing how nervous I get around him especially when it comes to sex.

I was so inexperienced to it still and he knew that. He never pressured me into it, he wanted me to be comfortable when it came to that. He loved every opportunity to be intimate though, he’s been craving it for the longest and so did I.

“Well hop on to it then,” he gets up and winks at me, lightly smacking my upper thigh making me squeak and jump. He gestured me to follow him but I just sat there in amazement and stared at him from afar on the couch.

He happily strides his way over to the bathroom, drawing a nice hot bath for me. He stands in the doorway with his hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow at me. “Well don’t just sit there, c’mon in when it’s hot and ready, babygirl.”

I got up, blushing bad from head to toe when he’s in Coach Lasso mode.

He watches me undress, smiling from ear to ear when he catches a glimpse of my breasts and shaved mound. He picks up my undergarments watching me get in the tub slowly.

I stop for an instant holding the sides of the tub before sitting down fully, seeing him in the doorway enjoying the view.

“Teddy Bear,” I innocently say.

“Mhmm?”

“Could you get my phone?” I asked, biting my lip. “I think I left it in my bag.”

Ted crosses his arms, knowing me better than anyone else. “What for?”

“To check what time I need to…” I started but before I could finish my sentence, Ted shakes his head knowing it’s about work.

“Sabrina, if you don’t get in that bathtub I’ll throw you in there myself,” he says in his stern coach voice. “Don’t make me get the whistle now.”

My cheeks turned pink and I instantly slide my way into the tub till my butt hit the hot water.

I don’t know if it was me or the water but I felt like I became wet the minute he went into coach mode. I wonder if he would really bring the whistle if I…

“Don’t take too long darlin’, I’ll be in the kitchen if ya need me,” he smiled widely as he exits the room carrying my bra and panties.

I could hear him whistling from afar. He throws my stuff into the laundry hamper, making his way to the kitchen, tying back his apron on, getting back to biscuit business.

I giggled at the thought of him becoming full Coach Lasso especially in the bedroom. It helped my body unwind as the thought of anything Ted made me forget about what kind of day I had.

A few minutes passed by and I could feel his presence by the door, his disheveled hair over his brow again. “What’s all that gigglin’ I hear?”

Blushing bad I giggled a little too loud for him to hear, I covered my mouth in embarrassment.

“Having fun without me now?” he teases, hinting I might’ve been doing something sneaky in there.

Caught off-guard by the thought of it, I was blushing even more. “I-I wasn’t doing…” I started, trying to defend myself.

“Mhmm hmm, sure, miss gigglypuff,” he chuckled in his Southern drawl. “Don’t take too long, sugar, or I’ll make you run twenty laps.”

He slowly walks back to the kitchen, unable to keep his eyes off of me as he exits the room again, letting me know he was onto me.

Comfort was his number one priority and he always made sure I was pampered with kisses, cuddles, and biscuits.

A half hour goes by and I turn off the water, getting out to dry off. I throw on one of Ted’s grey sweaters with the signature AFC Richmond greyhound stitching. I slid under the navy bedsheets making myself comfortable.

Ted enters the room with the biggest smile on his face, carrying a plate of his biscuits baked to perfection.

“Well aren’t you snug as a bug?” Ted jokes with a big grin, setting the batch of biscuits down on the bedside table.

I let out another giggle, blushing from head to toe everytime he made me laugh.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. Seeing you gigglin’ and all. Been missin’ that gorgeous smile of yours,” Ted smiled widely, his gorgeous dimples showing.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this relaxed and happy in awhile,” I admitted, feeling much better. He really knew how to loosen me up.

“Ain’t that good to hear,” he smiles, lightly booping me on the nose with his finger.

I grab one of his biscuits, putting it in my mouth. That hit the spot. I softly moaned chewing it.

I blushed, feeling his soft watchful eyes on me.

“And I missed hearing that sound too,” he winks.

He walks out of the room, untying his apron and setting it on the chair.

I sit up on the bed, pouting seeing him walk off again. “I need my Teddy Bear to cuddle with,” I insisted, making him spin around to face me.

“Awe sweet pea, I’ll only be a minute. I gotta hop on out of these clothes unless you want to snuggle with the Pillsbury Doughboy,” he jokes, kissing me on the head.

He had sugar and dough on his pants and apron after baking biscuits.

He pulls out another biscuit, putting it in my mouth to taste. “Good, ain’t it?” he smiles.

“Mhmm,” I softly moan into the biscuit, biting into it.

“Help yourself, sugar,” he says to me. He walks over to the foot of the bed, taking off his clothes one by one.

I slowly stop chewing, taking in the sight of his strong forearms slowly pulling the sleeves off his sweater.

He’s doing this for me I know it. It was torture.

I bit my lower lip in anticipation, seeing his white polo shirt ride up enough to expose his soft tummy and happy trail as he takes his sweater off.

He has no idea what he’s doing to me. Unless he does know…

He sets it aside on the chair next to the apron, going for the polo next.

My eyes traveled up to the top of his polo, where most of the buttons were already undone and I caught another glimpse of the chest hair peeking out that made me feral. I always admired his dadbod but something about his chest hair was just so masculine and sexy. It was what made him such a cuddle bear too, it was soft and furry to the touch.

My brain is racing, making me giggle at the thought of taking him out of those clothes, pulling down those khakis to see…

“You’re having a blast over there, gigglypuff,” he joked, getting another irresistible smile from me.

“I think I caught you drifting off again like you did in that tub earlier,” Ted teased with a smile. I blushed hard.

“I…” I stammered, nervously sweating when his big hands reached for the zipper on his khakis.

“I’ve been putting on a little show for you, huh, sugar plum?” he chuckled, making my heart melt the more he lowered the pants off his legs.

I blushed so bad, I could feel my face burning red. I covered my face in the sheets, hiding my face for him to not see. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ted.”

He wiggled out of his khakis, smiling at me hiding from him. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he smiles, pulling back the sheet to meet my eyes. “I don’t mind one bit.”

He’s in his boxer briefs and polo, crawling next to me in the bed. His strong arms pull me towards him from behind, resting his hands on my belly.

I felt his warm chest on my back, making me blush and smile again. I could smell his cologne on his shirt, making me feel more relaxed and at home than ever.

I nuzzle against his neck, feeling his arm around me, lowering down to rest at my hip.

“Thank you, Teddy. For doing this for me,” I gently whisper.

He looks down at me, giving me gentle kisses on my neck. “That’s what Teddy Bear is here for, I’m just glad to see you smilin’ again. I’ve missed that,” he replied.

I pouted, feeling like something else was missing. I still wanted the snuggle bear I’ve been craving. And by that I mean his warm snuggly chest hairs.

Ted was sometimes self-conscious about his body and even though I loved his dadbod, he still felt like he had to hide his belly and love handles when around me.

I wanted him to be comfortable too. I loved this man too much to hide the most beautiful parts about him.

I sat up in the bed, feeling his arms drop down next to me. He cocks his head to the side, wondering what I was up to now.

“Everything alright, darlin’?”

I turn to face him, rubbing my hands affectionally on his chest, making him grin a little.

I rub the chest hair poking out of his shirt, making his manhood harden in his boxers.

“Can I cuddle with my furry Teddy Bear?” I innocently requested, hoping he’d say yes. “Chest hair and all…I think it would help me sleep better. You’re so cozy.”

“Mhmm, you know I can’t say no to that, now can I, honey bunch?” he chuckled, equally blushing unable to resist my pouting. “I’ll let you do the honors.”

I excitedly bounce in the bed, giddily making my way to pull off his polo shirt. I grab the sides of his shirt, pulling it off his head to be face to face with his broad shoulders and chest.

Without thinking, I run my fingers from his belly to his chest hair, purring at the feel of it.

My nails dig at it, pulling a few of the chest hairs as I ran my fingers through it, somewhat clawing at them, pulling him closer to me.

Ted struggles to keep up with me and tries to catch his breath, surprised by how feral his body made me.

“Woah easy now,” he says.

I continued by planting small kisses from his chest to his happy trail. My hands caressed his strong, warm chest while praising him more, making him feel good about himself.

“I love you…you’re so perfect,” I whisper, kissing him on the lips.

He softly grunts into my mouth, craving the love and affection.

Unable to let go of him, I run small circles through his chest hair with the twirl of my fingers.

His tongue teases my lips and I tease him back by biting his bottom lip, making another giggle escape my mouth. After the kiss deepens for another moment, he pulls back, admiring me.

“Aren’t you the gigglin’ girl today?” he smiles.

“Mhmm. You’re hairy…so beary hairy,” I giggled.

He raises an eyebrow, liking the sound of this. “Am I now?” he grins. “I should take my shirt off more if I knew how much it would make you grin like a possum eating a sweet potato.”

Ted’s tongue traces my lips, then trails down my jaw, neck, and collar bone making me purr in response.

“How’s that?” he asks, hoping to satisfy me.

“Mhmm, so good,” I softly moaned, craving his warm touch.

My hands move up his chest, then to his broad shoulders.

His big, warm hands work around my waist, exploring my curves while pulling me closer to him. He caresses my cheek, pulling me into another kiss that had our mouths moving in perfect unison.

Feeling breathless, I reached up to his hair, running my fingers through them. He growls into my mouth, making me tug onto it in response.

When his lips move down my neck again, I couldn’t help but let out a moan I’ve been holding in, feeling a wave of ecstasy rush over me, coating my panties instantly.

His warm hands rub my protruding nipples sticking out of his grey sweater, making him smile enough for his dimples to graze my neck.

“Oh my god,” I murmured, feeling lost for words.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his warm breath against my skin.

“M-Much b-better, T-Teddy,” I said, feeling my body tingle with his hands slowly massaging my breasts.

He pulls back, his brown eyes dark and full of lust. “Any other requests for Teddy Bear?” he grinned, hoping to pleasure me some more.

I blushed, feeling my heart race. “C-Cuddles,” I said, struggling to get the words out.

My eyes trailed over to his bedside table, spotting the pair of aviators, whistle, and white visor hat he left out, thinking it’s something he’s been saving for a special occasion: Coach Lasso. If I kept on teasing him, he would find a way to torture me with it somehow and he knew I would love it. He wanted me to feel good and he knew how to make me feel good.

“Anything for you, darlin’,” he whispers, kissing me on the cheek.

He tucked himself again in behind me, pulling the bedsheets over us, wrapping his arms tightly around me. He playfully nibbles on my ear, getting another playful giggle out of me.

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, running his hands up and down my arms. His hands explore my hips and upper thighs, making me blush even more.

He felt so warm and snuggly I couldn’t stop smiling around him. His legs are wrapped behind mine, tangling our bodies even closer together.

“I love you so much,” he whispers gently, giving me more tender kisses on my neck. His breath tickled against my ear.

“I would do anything for you, you know that?”

I giggled, feeling his impressive bulge rub against me. “I know you would,” I smiled.

“You’ve got a case of the giggles today, don’t you?” he chuckled, hoping to hear more of it.

“I can’t help myself when I’m around you,” I shyly admitted, feeling embarrassed he noticed the small details about me. But he loved it so much.

“I can’t either,” he whispered, making my heart feel full.

“I love you Tedbear,” I reply, feeling so comfortable in his arms.

He smiled, giving me more of a bear hug by squeezing me tighter. His hands felt so warm against mine, letting my body melt into his as he kept caressing my curves to help me drift off to sleep.

The more comforting and loving he was, the more my eyes fluttered into dreamland.

“I love you too,” he whispers in my ear, smiling and enjoying the beautiful silence around us. Worn out himself, Ted fell asleep holding me tightly against him smiling ear to ear knowing he made my horrible day better with him around.

#selfship fic #self insert #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso reader insert #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #fluff #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso smut #my tedbear fic #proship dni

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thisismysecondrodeo · 2 years

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Getting Good (Dom!Ted x Sub!Reader)

AN: The unrequested 4th (and probably final part) to the Dom!Ted x Sub!Reader series. Again, I definitely had to do some research on D/S dynamics so apologies for any errors. Based loosely on the discord message: "He texts you to be ready for a dom/sub scene as soon as he gets home and you know that means you have to be on your knees and waiting and fully in “yes sir” mode + this post:

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Established Relationship, Date Night, Dom!Ted, sub!Reader, dom-sub dynamics and conversation, kink color system, rough oral sex (male receiving), light impact play, vaginal fingering

Getting Ready (1) | Getting Busy (2) | Getting Off (3) | Fic Masterlist

You had gotten the text message from Ted about 45 minutes ago and you’d been buzzing ever since. He had slowly grown more comfortable with the dom/sub dynamic the two of you had been exploring—you reserved specific nights and used specific phrases to indicate your stops and starts—but it was still rare that he initiated. You knew he still had trouble around feeling demanding. But tonight, after a long, hard day at work you’d gotten a text that drove everything from your mind.

Ted: I’d love to take charge tonight. Be ready for me?

You knew exactly what that meant and you texted back an immediate, “yes sir.” You’d spent all day long making decisions and having people look to you for next steps and you wanted nothing more than to be empty of everything but following directions and receiving pleasure. No thinking critically, no making decisions, just meeting needs and having needs met. You practically skipped to your dresser and slid open the drawer you reserved for your laciest things. It was never important to Ted what you wore, but it helped you get into the proper headspace when you dressed in something sexy.

You chose white, knowing Ted loved how it looked on your skin; a lace, see-through bra, and matching crotchless panties, complete with garters and stockings. Ted had purchased it, but you’d never worn it for him before and you were preemptively giddy at what his reaction would be.

You kneeled in the center of the bed, sitting back on your heels, and fought the urge to text him to get an ETA. The waiting was part of it, the anticipation already ramping up your arousal, already making you shift a little on the bed as you listened for the sound of the front door.

Your heart skipped a beat when you finally heard it and you sat up ramrod straight, ready for your love to walk into the room and tell you what was going to happen next.

Ted was tired, but he didn’t regret texting you. He hovered outside of the door for just a moment, eyes closed, hand resting on the doorknob. Richmond was suffering from tie after tie, Michelle wanted to discuss the custody agreement for the thousandth time, and it seemed everyone in his life was looking to him for answers that he didn’t have. But on the other side of this door, he knew you would be there waiting for him, with no questions and needing no answers from him; when he stepped through the door, if he asked for something he was going to receive it and just the thought of that had his pulse quickening and his cock throbbing.

You didn’t dare move a muscle when the door opened silently, but you couldn’t hide your smile. There was never a moment that you didn’t want to see Ted, and right now was certainly no exception. He was wearing his classic button-up shirt and khakis, and you knew he must have removed his sweater before his walk home, maybe just to make it easier to get undressed right now. He leaned against the doorframe and looked at you, his eyes full of unadulterated affection as they trailed the lengths of your exposed skin. He gave you a low whistle as he crossed the threshold.

“Look at you, darlin’,” Ted spoke slowly, his voice quiet enough that if you’d moved you wouldn’t have heard him. “You knew exactly what I wanted, didn’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you said, matching his volume, your voice dripping with pride.

He walked over to the side of the bed, within arms reach and you turned to look at him but stayed firmly on your knees. “Eyes forward, beautiful.” And it was just like Ted to make a command sound so sweet and pleasant. You turned back toward the doorway and could feel his fingers drag chastely across your shoulders and down your arm, before picking up your hand and bringing it to his lips. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the tenderness that was immediately countered by a firm snap of your garter against your thigh that you didn’t see coming and it shocked a gasp from you.

You bit your bottom lip in regret at the sound but Ted ran his thumb over it and pulled it free. “It’s okay darlin’, you can talk to me. You make such beautiful sounds.”

You said the first thing that came to mind, all in one deep exhale of breath, “I missed you baby.”

You were still looking straight ahead so you couldn’t see the bright smile that graced his face. “Oh, baby you have no idea,” Ted sighed, and he slid onto the bed behind you, resting on his knees and plastering himself against your back. His arm snaked up your chest and his right hand held you loosely under your jaw—you sucked in a breath as his lips found the side of your neck, his mustache tickling at the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“Do you want me to touch you, baby,” Ted asked, his left hand fiddling with the waistband of your underwear, his right hand gently stroking the length of your neck as you tilted your head back onto his shoulder.

“Yes.”

Ted snapped your garter again and you yelped, “Yes, sir.” He kissed your shoulder for delivering the right answer, which you appreciated, but you would have said anything to get him to put his hands where you wanted them. The crotchless panties meant you could feel yourself slick and wanting and you nearly whined when Ted removed his hand from your neck. You didn’t mourn the loss for long because he quickly looped it around your ribcage and pulled you back into his lap, pressing his own back into the headboard and spreading his legs in a V. With your back against his front, he could look over your shoulder and see all of you spread out for him, your legs askew and braced on his strong thighs. Ted hummed as his warm palms covered your stomach and thighs, taking his time with caresses and tickles that had you wiggling against his noticeable erection.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” you whined through gritty teeth when his fingers barely grazed your nipple. You knew better than to ask or beg but you were glad he gave you the okay to talk.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, and you’ve been so good for me,” Ted chuckled, dropping an open-mouthed kiss on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. As he kissed you, he tugged the cup of your bra just enough to give him access to your nipple, tweaking it gently between his thumb and forefinger. You moaned, deep and low, and Ted pinched just a bit harder, his teeth and mustache grazing your neck, his other hand still splayed wide on your thigh.

“Fuck, Ted,” you breathed out, and he released your breast, pressing his hand firmly between your shoulder blades so you’d bend forward enough that he could reach the clasp of your bra. You took a deep breath when you relaxed into him again, your peaked nipples tingling slightly as they were exposed to air.

“I want to take you apart, sweet pea,” Ted nearly growled in your ear and you shivered hard. The hand on your thigh was creeping closer to your center, while his other hand was back to massaging your breasts, alternating between them. “How does that sound?”

“Please, sir, fuck, please. Do whatever you want to me, I’m begging you.”

Ted groaned. His cock twitched against your back at the sheer devotion in your voice as you pleaded for him. “Yes ma’am.”

Ted used his own legs to spread yours further apart and you were sure the bed underneath you was damp, but it didn’t matter because he was finally sliding his middle finger over your throbbing clit. You whimpered loudly, but Ted took his time touching and exploring, his other hand still toying with your nipples. Without thinking about it, you slid a little further down in his grip.

“Where ya runnin’ to darlin’,” Ted chuckled, the hand on your breast quickly reaching up from your chest to hold your neck again, steadying you against him. He wasn’t restricting your breathing at all, but just the feeling of his possessive hold made you moan. The hand stroking your clit picked up its pace as he lowered his mouth to your ear. “You’re going to stay right there and be good for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered, huskily. Ted paused in touching you and you watched with wide eyes as he reached for your garter and stretched it further than ever, the elastic making your eyes water and you cried out as it made impact. It was a sharp sting that was over quickly and it felt like it went straight to your clit.

“I can’t hear you, beautiful. You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna sit right here and let me make you come?”

“Yes, sir,” you overcorrected, nearly yelling as his hand returned, but he bypassed your clit and instead entered you in one smooth motion and fucking you steadily with long, confident fingers. Your eyes practically rolled back in your head, but as much as you wanted to meet his thrusts or push back against his straining erection, you followed instructions and held still. It was worth it for the praise he cooed in your ear. Ted released your neck, slowly returning to caressing every inch of your skin with a warm, firm pressure while still working you up easily, the sounds filthy and arousing.

He curled his fingers, transitioning to short strokes against your inner wall that made your eyes slam shut and your head fall back again. Ted took advantage of the access, licking and sucking marks into the thin skin of your neck. Your skin was growing hot to the touch and you could feel Ted’s smile pressed against your shoulder, his hair flopping over his forehead and tickling the side of your face. He knew you were close and you’d do anything in your power to obey so that you could orgasm. You were panting curses as the pleasure built and Ted was a grinning fool, as he brought his thumb to your clit with a rapid flicking motion. Your abs flexed with the force of your climax, shockwaves rolling up from your core that had you flinging your hands to grip Ted’s thighs, your fingers digging in hard enough that you knew he’d find bruises when it was all said and done.

When your breathing settled, Ted used his thumb and forefinger to tilt your face toward his and kiss him deeply, his tongue slick and searching against yours. Your heart beat a steady patter of I love him, I love him, I love him and neither of you had to say it for you to know that he felt it too.

“You okay, darlin’,” Ted asked softly as he pulled away. “Color?”

“Green,” you answered with zero hesitation. You licked your swollen lips and realized Ted was still fully dressed. You turned around to kneel between his legs and started unbuttoning his shirt.

Ted reached for your wrists and held them easily with one hand, restraining you from his buttons. “Why don’t we take a break, let me get you some water.” You knew Ted was being sweet and considerate but it almost felt like a punishment for him to pause the scene, for him not to snap your garter or slap your ass and admonish you for taking his clothes off without permission. You’d followed every instruction, and behaved yourself perfectly, but you must look pretty wrecked if he was taking your green as a yellow anyway.

“No sir,” you pouted, avoiding his eyes and instead looking down at his tented crotch.

“No,” he questioned, one eyebrow raised, his voice instantly darker. You smirked knowing that you had him hooked again. “You’ve been such a good girl and now you want to ruin it by telling me no?” His other hand fingered the elastic of your garter yet again, but he waited you out.

“You’re right, I have been such a good girl,” you practically purred, and you moved backward on your knees, a stretch considering your hands were still bound in one of Ted’s. “And now I want my reward.” Thank god for yoga, you thought as you bent down, your arms still restrained, and pressed your lips to Ted’s crotch. Ted groaned and you took a few moments to press kisses into his khakis before licking a broad stripe over his hard, hidden cock. Despite the multiple layers, he could feel the heat from your tongue and his breath hitched.

“Baby,” Ted started to speak, but when he opened his eyes to look at you, your face was pressed to his bulge and you were looking up at him with pleading doe-eyes; whatever thought or objection he had died before it hit the air. “Fuck, you really want it, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to sound seductive but your tone was excited and embarrassingly desperate.

“You were a very good girl for me,” Ted considered, “but right now you’re being incredibly naughty and you know it.” You smiled a little, wiggling your hips in the air. “I guess I’ll just have to show you what happens when you’re not careful what you wish for.”

You weren’t sure exactly what he meant but the words themselves sent bolts of electricity through you. He tugged your hands gently so you’d raise up enough for him to slide off the bed. You were surprised that he didn’t release his grip on you, but you weren’t complaining about watching him open his belt buckle and pull his boxer briefs and khakis down to his ankles one-handed. His cock bobbed, hard and shiny with precum, and you had to put in some effort to keep your drool contained. You were still kneeling on the bed, but Ted gestured with his head at the floor and you used his support to clamber down and kneel in front of him instead.

“Open,” Ted requested firmly, and you obeyed instantly, sticking your tongue out slightly. Ted grabbed his cock at the base and fed it gently into your open mouth, a short thrust before he removed his cock entirely. You didn’t have the use of your hands to brace yourself so you fell forward just a little and Ted used his other hand to tilt your chin up to him. “You’re not going to get to use your hands, do you know what to do if you need a break?”

You wanted to joke “bite” but Ted was serious about safety and you were so close to getting what you wanted. “Yes, sir,” you wiggled your hand around to make enough space that you could easily tap the top of his hand in 3 short bursts.

“Good girl,” Ted said, before using the hand that was still under your chin to bring your mouth back to his cock. Ted was big and he knew it, not often requesting blow jobs, but you relished in the burn of your jaw as you bobbed your head down the length of him and back up. He held himself still at first but then slowly started to thrust, his hand moving from your chin around to the back of your neck. You moaned as he took control of the pace and you focused on nothing else but being wet and open for him. You could tell he was being gentle with you and yet you still gagged around him a little when he brushed the back of your throat.

“Fuck, darlin’, you feel amazing,” Ted sighed, his hips continuing to snap forward, and you could answer with only a whimper. If you could speak, you would have told him the silky, warm weight of him against your tongue felt just as fantastic. You looked up at him and could feel tears forming in the corner of your eyes and Ted slowed slightly. You could tell he was about to check in with you and you cut him off by hollowing your cheeks, ramping up the suction. Ted threw his head back with a growl thrusting once, twice, with his full length and then held, fully filling your throat. Your mind emptied of anything but breathing through your nose and making Ted come. You swallowed against him involuntarily, but the pressure made Ted spasm and he slid all the way out immediately, panting like he’d just run 5 miles.

“Jesus Christ,” Ted gasped, his hand still holding your neck steady and you grinned, your face damp and lips swollen. “Come up here.” Ted pulled your hands a little towards the bed but you held your ground and he looked at you quizzically.

“No, sir,” you said, your voice hoarse. “I want you to come in my mouth. Please.”

Ted waited a moment, searching your face for any hint of you regretting the request. He massaged the back of your neck and you hummed. “Beg for it.”

From your position on your knees, you locked eyes with your love, his dress shirt hanging open and his hair askew. This would be easy.

“I want your cock in my mouth. I would do anything, baby. Ted please, I want you so deep inside me that you cum straight down my throat. I want you to know how much I love you, Ted, and how much I want you to use me. I just want you to feel good, sir, please.”

The second the last syllable fell from your lips it was replaced with his cock, and he thrust into your mouth hard and fast. Your eyes fell closed and you felt floaty and loose, your whole body relaxing under his attention. Somewhere over your head he was cursing and praising in equal measure, but you were lost under a wave of pleasure and sensation. Ted managed just a few more thrusts before he again paused with his cock in your throat; he came with a groan and you quickly swallowed all of him.

Ted slid out of your mouth, releasing his hold on both your wrists and your neck as he fell to his knees in front of you. He pulled you into his chest and your eyes shut as he shushed and rocked you gently; you didn’t even notice how much you shivered in his arms. You were sated and soft and you melted into his embrace. He was familiar with the comedown after scenes like this—the two of you had done this enough—and he looked forward to the aftercare almost as much as the scene itself. When he could feel you return to yourself somewhat, he helped you off the floor and led you to the bathroom, shrugging off his shirt so the two of you were equally bare. He helped you into the shower and your throat was sore and you didn’t talk much, which used to scare him, but now he knew just how to fill the silence.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I love doing this with you and making you feel good because you make me feel spectacular. I feel, just, on top of the world with you. Like I fell out of the lucky tree and hit every damn branch on the way down. You’re so gorgeous. I love every curve, dimple, and stretch mark. I love every eyelash. Ever smile and whimper and sigh.”

The words were different every time, but they still felt like a familiar chant as he washed you clean first and then himself. He placed chaste kisses on your warm skin as he dried both of you off, and the two of you slid into bed. Skin-to-skin contact always helped you feel more centered after being in that headspace, and Ted didn’t waste an inch of space—his legs tangled with yours and your head was tucked under his chin. Your tiredness fell over you suddenly but gently, like snowfall, and you pressed your lips over his heart and whispered, “I love you,” before falling asleep.

<- Getting Off

#ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso reader insert #ted lasso x reader #smut #ted lasso smut

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for-fuck-sake-im-alive · 1 year

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I NEED FANFIC ABOUT TED LASSO AND JAMIE AND ROY KENT

HELP ME PLEASE

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso reader insert #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #roy kent #roy kent fanfic #roy kent x reader

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danistartt · 1 year

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Gentleman- Jamie Tartt

pairings: jamie tartt x reader, richmond team warnings: language. i think i read this one too many times. about: request! secret dating because reader works for Richmond (as like pr or physio or something) but when they win a match one day Jamie is so overcome with joy he just has to kiss her

“Don’t you think someone is bound to get worried you’re coming in here every day?” you wonder, pinching away individual blades of grass stuck among the fuzzy dandelions of Jamie’s socks.

“Nah,” he says, watching your careful attention from his place on the pillow. He’s feeling bad about putting his muddy shoes over your clean lap, but you haven’t complained once, only appreciating the easy access to touch him. “They don’t know I come up here.”

You look perplexed. “Where do they think you go?”

Jamie shrugs. “The loo?”

“The one not in the locker room? Six times a day for ten minutes?”

“I keep myself hydrated,” he tells you, lifting up his water bottle to wag it at you. “Y’know, to keep up appearances.”

You chuckle, pushing the web of your thumb around his ankle and trying to touch your pointer. Your phone blinks up at you, the time precarious. Your hand slackens. “You need to get back soon.”

Jamie gets that sticky feeling he does whenever he has to leave something, gross and pleading at the pit of his stomach, his every cell calling out for him to use his time better. He wants to touch you like you’re touching him. He shifts onto his elbows and stares at you. “I can be a little late.”

You frown at the idea, your hands still and warm on his calves. “No, Jamie.”

“Yes, Jamie,” he murmurs, his arms making quick succession in tugging you to him. He’s strong, he’s always been strong, but you don’t tend to notice until he’s pulling you out from beneath his legs and hugging you in a single movement.

You don’t want to encourage him but you want even less to not make your delight shown at being pressed against his chest.

The minute changes. Your care for it begins to dwindle.

“Jamie!” you squeal, not moving.

He says your name in the same tone, as condescending as he used to be but sweetened by the kiss he presses against your hair. “C’mon, love,” he encourages, a horrid influence working.

“No,” you insist weakly. “Ted’s waiting for you. The team’s waiting for you.”

“But I’ve been waitin’ for this all day,” he complains pointedly. “Maybe I should trip o’er the ball or somethin’. Make a nice excuse to spend hours here with ya.”

“Jamie Tartt? Not believable.”

He makes a pleased noise, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You’re right.”

Another minute. Ted’s brown eyes bore into your subconscious.

Painfully, you peel yourself off of Jamie, slotting his thighs between your own. You watch his pupils dilate from above him.

“No,” you start, gently holding his face in your hands in a plea and causing the opposite effect you’d meant to. “No time. Later.”

He grasps your coat tightly.

“I promise. Just go to practice.” You spy the time and scramble off of him. “Now.”

He groans, catching your wrist when you hurry to collect the loose strands of his hair. He holds up a hand, pinky finger outstretched, and stares in question.

You roll your eyes but hook your own through his, a grin making its way to his face. “Y’know these’re binding, right?” he asks pragmatically.

You’d taught him that. The prick. “Yes,” you say exasperatedly, trying to pull him off the couch.

“‘M goin’,” he mutters, letting you. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

“No you will not,” you gasp. “They’re going to think you have a bladder infection.”

“I’ll make somethin’ up,” he shrugs, looking around. He picks up your keys off your desk and wags them. “Maybe you dropped your keys when you were headin’ in.”

“Jamie,” you warn. “You can’t leave the team so much because, beside the fact that they’ll notice something is up, you actually like being with them and—”

“I like you better. A lot prettier.” He closes his fingers around the keys.

You inch closer slowly, but he’s undeterred and blows you a kiss, leaving your office with only muddy tracks left in his place before you can catch up. “Do not come by in half an hour!”

He listens to you. Kind of.

You see him a few hours later, a cocky glaze on his features, keys clicking against one another. “Hey, doc, I think ya dropped somethin’.”

You snatch them from him. “What a gentleman.”

“Right? Had to fight for it, too. Coach must really like returning keys.”

“How’d you get him to give them up?”

“I jus’ left,” he shrugs.

You gape at him. “What?”

“I told ‘im I found your keys, he said he’d give ‘em to you after practice. I said you might need ‘em now and then I just went inside ‘fore he could call Will over. I should actually be gettin’ back now, our screaming break’s probably over.” He slinks over to you and kisses your forehead, smelling like grass and sweat and lavender detergent.

“What?” you echo.

“I’ll see you later. Can you pick up some food before you get home? Kent don’t really like it when I leave the screamin’. Says it’s most effective on me.”

He smiles at you, waves, and leaves you perplexed.

You put down what he stole from you and notice vibrant pink peeking beneath metal, a green stem’s end through the ring. When you pull it out, you recognize it as one of the flowers that keep growing at the far right edge of the field. You melt into your seat, pouting at the crumpled petals.

“So, what’s the verdict, Doc?” Ted asks when you come out of your room, dipping a finger behind your right glove.

“He’ll be okay. He can play this week’s game as long as he doesn’t put too much pressure on his foot. I told him to ice it periodically for two days and then just make sure it isn’t swelling.”

“No permanent damage, then?”

You laugh. “No permanent damage.”

Sam pushes your door open, leaning on a crutch.

“How you feelin’, champ?” Ted asks.

Sam shrugs. “I’ve been better. At least Doctor Y/n gave me the all clear for this week.” He looks pointedly at you, as if Ted might need confirmation from you.

“Under what conditions?” you pry.

“Rest, ice, compress, and elevate,” he lists off his fingers.

“The most important for you, Mr. Obisanya, being…”

“Not being on it for two days,” he answers, ever the great student.

“I wish all my patients listened as well as you do,” you commend, letting him go with a smile.

Ted watches him go, turning back to you with a cheery expression. “Well, thank you, Doc.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” You toy with your gloves, listening to the team erupt in noise once Sam assumedly gets back.

“And also to bring a smile to all our faces. Not to say that’s a purpose. Just a nice bonus.”

You laugh. “Thank you, Ted. Is there anything else you need from me?”

He shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. Just wanted to ask if you were interested in goin’ out with the team and I tonight.”

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, just the Crown and Anchor. We haven’t officially asked ‘em yet, but one thing that doesn’t change no matter where we are is that athletes always appreciate a good drink with good company.”

“Very true,” you murmur, contemplating. You hadn’t gone out with the boys in a while and you were beginning to miss their antics. You could sit around the house for the evening, or you could spend that same evening a little drunk with your friends. “You know what? Sure. I’d love to.”

“Alrighty then!” Ted cheers, pleasantly genuine in the way no one else is. “I’ll let ‘em know. We’ll see ya later, Doc!”

“You too, Ted!” you call after him, slumping into your chair once you’re alone. Your phone vibrates from the table, lighting up with a picture of Jamie that he’d insisted you set as his profile picture. “Hello?”

“Coach says yer coming with us tonight?”

You stare at your door. “He just left. How could he have possibly already told you that?”

“Team groupchat. He was very insistent about it an' m'honestly not that upset about it anymore.”

You laugh. “I am going. Are you?”

“Course. D’you want me to pick you up?”

“How do we explain that?”

“I’m a gentleman?”

“To this degree? Do you think they’d believe that?”

“I’ll go before. Help ya pick out your clothes, put ‘em on?”

“You’ll see me when I get there.”

“C’mon, love. I want to be the first.”

“You always are!”

“Do you really wanna risk that streak?”

“Yes.” Other voices begin to filter in, still far away but getting closer. “I’ll see you there, Jamie. I love you.”

Jamie pauses, a soft shuffling noise preceding what is clearly Jamie’s palm curving around his phone’s speaker. “I love ya, too,” he whispers. You hang up, leaning into your seat. Your phone zzpts in your hand.

send a picture. Three dots, blinking in and out. please.

Humming, you debate it before: i’ll think about it.

Jamie, of course, is the first to see you.

He looks for you in every creak of the pub door, slyly craning his neck to check for the color of your hair or the burgundy coat you tend to wear on these outings. When he finally catches sight of you, he looks away, satisfied to have been the owner of the first glance.

The others spot you quickly, raising their beers in your direction. Zoereaux puts your drink in your hand, cold bubbles splashing the curve of your thumb.

You thank him, kissing his cheek in greeting as the others crowd you. “Maybe I should be worried you all know my order.”

“Absolutely not,” Ted chimes in from your other side. “Knowledge is love.” He hugs you too. “Glad you could make it, Doc.”

You push yourself onto a seat next to Jan Maas, tipping your glass at him. “You look nice,” he says.

“Thank you,” you respond. “You too.”

“Doc?” Isaac asks.

“You can call me by my name, Isaac.”

He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Nah. Feels weird now.”

“Alright. What’s up?”

“My sister says thank you for the advice. Her leg’s all better now and she told me to invite you over for dinner.”

“She doesn’t have to do that.”

“She insists.”

“You should just accept,” Colin says. “She makes a good Shepherd’s pie and won’t give up.”

Isaac nods, jutting a finger in his direction.

“Of course, then. Can’t wait.”

The conversation continues, and you indulge a glance at Jamie to find him looking back at you, an inquisitive pull to his brows. Your eyebrows jump, trying to ask a question with only your features.

You pull your phone from your pocket and begin typing out a message for him when the topic somehow heads back to you.

“Hey, d’you end up going on that date?” Bumberbatch asks suddenly.

You blink. Jamie turns to him curiously. “What?”

“With the prick. You know. Coiffed hair, All puffed up.”

“Um.” You try very hard to not look at Jamie, who’s surely staring at you with wide, amused eyes. “Yes. Yes I did.”

“How’d it go?” Isaac urges. Your mouth is open with no certain words to comfort.

“Yeah. How’d the date with the prick go?” Jamie pipes up, sliced brow up. He’s awful. Truly, truly awful and he knows it.

You force a smile at him. “Not as bad as I thought.” The team mumbles in satisfaction but Jamie doesn’t give.

“Not as bad, huh?” Jamie repeats, lips thinning in thought. “I dunno.” He does a little shake of his head and licks his lips, meeting your eyes again. “Maybe it went a little better than that?”

You clear your throat, heat rising to your face though you try desperately to keep it down.

Colin raises a brow. “Why would you say that?”

Jamie shrugs, unfairly unphased. “Just askin’.”

The attention moves off of you. You glare at him.

He smiles and, in the wake of a controversial argument between cartoons, winks at you. Your legs go weak.

You’re supposed to sit with the coaches during matches. Keeley had been upset at first and Rebecca sorry, offering a replacement medical professional for a game if you were so inclined to observe a game from the box seats, but you’d refused. Your place, although precarious with flying balls and the grandest source of stress, is kind to you.

You sit behind Ted during matches. The back of his head is surprisingly comforting in the tensest points of a match, and you find you can catch the preliminary movements of his fingers when you’re nearby.

There isn’t much contorting you have to do to sprint into the field if you’re needed, and the seat itself isn’t too bad when you’re not. Also, you have a great view.

You’re close enough to feel the strength with which the players kick the ball, you’re part of the very exclusive audience to the coaches’ hope, and when he gets close enough, Jamie can hear your cheers for him very clearly.

You’re completely sure he can hear you now, shouting at the top of your lungs up front with the coaches, fists tight enough to shake. He speeds up with renewed energy, the ball a blur between fast legs and fake passes. You grasp Roy’s arm with everything in you and let your eyes move to the timer. Less than fifteen seconds to go and a tie glares in blocky red numbers.

Your fingers spark with something hot, curling tighter around Roy’s wrist when the ball is passed to Jamie.

The time goes by too slowly and the ball flies too fast, a defender slamming to the ground with his hands up as Jamie’s kick sends the ball into the net. The clock ticks for the last time. The arena erupts in sound and a combination of red and blue.

You scream, finally letting go of Roy to drag your hands to your face. Isaac and Dani embrace on the field, most of the others running toward Jamie but Jamie is sprinting toward you.

You realize too late what’s going on, too proud of Jamie, too dizzy on adrenaline and excitement to realize what’s about to happen and why it shouldn’t.

He comes up to you beaming, picking you up easily and spinning you around. You respond immediately, palms against his warm cheeks, lips pressing repeatedly against his forehead and then finally his lips. “You did so good,” you praise, hoping he can hear you even through the overwhelming noise. “I’m so proud of you.”

He grins, finally catching your lips and lowering you to the floor. It takes only two seconds for what happened to settle in. You can see it on his face, the exhilaration contorting into recognition. He finally looks away from you and gulps.

The stadium is still loud, but most of the team is looking at you, caught in differing positions of celebration. Ted stares at the both of you, jaw dropped.

“What do we do?” he whispers to you. “Do you think they’ll believe it if we say it was an accident?”

“No,” you respond just as quietly. “No, I don’t think so.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt reader insert #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt secret relationship #jamie tartt x reader fluff #secret relationship #jamie tartt x reader secret relationship #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #jan maas #richmond team x reader

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rqgnarok · 1 year

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i can see you - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 6,082

warnings: SMUT, both implications and the actual act. no use of pronouns but reader is described with female anatomy.

summary: you and jamie have been watching each other for ages, trying not to feel the pull between you. a moment in the hallway changes everything.

author’s note at the end <3

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

Jamie comes back to Richmond one cold, quiet morning.

Quiet, because his teammates refuse to talk to him even after he’s at the receiving end of the harshest glares Jamie’s ever seen. They prickle his skin and make him feel too small in his own body, but he juts his chin up and trots around the field following Ted’s instructions.

“He’s the worst,” Sam tells you one morning after the facts. You bought an extra coffee on your way in because Sam had spent the entire week clenching his teeth so tightly you could see it in his jaw. It had only taken you one nudge and he spilled his feelings out like a dam breaking. “He just makes me feel awful about myself. And even if he’s apologized, that doesn’t mean he’s changed. I know Ted believes in second chances and I do, too, but that man is incapable of improving. The only person he’s ever cared about is himself.”

You’re inclined to believe him just because of how dejected he sounds. So when Jamie Tartt comes by the PR office later looking for Keeley and finds you instead, the annoyance that overtakes his features only cements your bad image of him.

“Keeley ain’t in?”

“Just missed her,” you say, short and clipped, head bent to focus on your work. “She’s out for lunch, Roy’ll probably bring her back in an hour.”

Silence meets your words, and you look up to see him looking at you, seemingly lost in thought. “Is… there anything else I can help you with?”

He snaps out of it, eyes a little wide and mouth struggling to find the right words. He’s pretty, you allow yourself the thought before immediately filing it away from your mind. He’s an asshole, your brain supplies, and yeah, that’s much better.

“Sorry,” he says in that awful accent of his that’s in no way endearing. Not even a little bit. It doesn’t help that he looks actually apologetic, unsure, tugging at his shirt nervously. “We, um, haven’t met, have we? ‘m Jamie.”

“I know,” you say, not exactly kindly, but the whole world knows who he is. You’d have to be living in outer space to not be aware of Jamie Tartt’s existence. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Jamie’s tentative smile turns bitter and he tucks his head down, embarrassed. “Ah. ‘Course. Yeah, no, I’m. ‘m sure you have.”

He sounds just like Sam had when telling you about Jamie’s torment and it tugs at your heart despite how you don’t want it to.

“Anyways, just,” he shrugs, trying to give you a sunny grin and failing only slightly. You almost respect his efforts. “Know you’ve been here a while and all but, uh. Welcome, anyways. Richmond’s a nice place to be.”

You sigh.

“You, too,” you say when he’s already at the door, surprising both of you with your sudden considerate candor. You shrug a little. “What you’re doing can’t be easy. It takes a lot of guts to come back here. I hope it’s worth it.”

“So do I,” he says before giving you one last smile, albeit a bit more genuine, and leaving your office.

After that, you’re both extremely aware of each other. It’s like the universe has decided to make sure you’re always in close vicinity, bumping each other in the hallways, arriving and leaving work at the same time, being paired up by Keeley for ad campaigns and photoshoots. You have the suspicion that Keeley’s been doing it on purpose– a good boss but a nosy friend, nevertheless, but it’s proven incorrect when she assures you don’t have to work with Jamie if you don’t want to.

“I know how he can be,” she says, eyes kind and hands on your shoulders, shaking you a little. “If he makes you uncomfortable in any way just say the word and I’ll take care of it, babes. I know how to handle him anyways.”

But you’re a grown woman. You can handle an asshole at the workplace, even if it comes in the beautiful package that is Jamie Tartt.

You can’t say you haven’t noticed him; his plump lips and smart mouth, defined arms covered in tattoos, hands that look like they know their way around the in-between of someone’s legs. You’re angry at him by your connection to the other boys but you’re not blind– and Jamie is a sight to behold.

He seems to know it, too, smirking at you whenever he catches your eye. He brushes by you in the hallway and you get a whiff of his cologne, sometimes a steady hand around your elbow when your steps stumble.

He murmurs a quiet alright, love? and you both move on with your day, your skin a little too warm and the imprints of his fingers tattooed on your skin until you get home.

You pay him back for those moments at random times. Once, during a photoshoot, you make a noise of frustration when the photographer insists that Jamie poses a certain way, dressed in his uniform as if he were about to jump into the pitch but looking a little too put together.

“It doesn’t feel genuine,” you explain, but you only receive blank, annoyed looks in response, so you take matters into your own hands and walk into the set, placing yourself in front of Jamie.

“Just-” you sigh, frustrated, and reach towards him before hesitating. He’s sitting down for the photo, and the sight of him looking up at you, his body between your legs does something you can’t bear to think about in a workplace environment. “May I?”

Jamie stutters, suddenly nervous. “I- sure. Go ‘head.”

You take off his hairband with a swift motion and tangle your fingers in his hair, messing it up. It’s soft and runs like water between your fingers, the smell of some fancy conditioner and hair product hitting your nose.

You dig your nails into his scalp a little too roughly, and before the apology sitting on your tongue can be said, Jamie’s shiver overtakes his body, a muffled sound being bitten back for you not to hear it, but you hear it anyways.

It makes you stop, just for a second, and your eyes meet. There’s something different in Jamie’s, greyish green darkening like you’re looking into the eye of the storm. The air is suddenly thick with tension, your hands still in his hair, his own twitching in his lap as if wanting to reach for–

Behind you, the photographer asks, “Are you done?”

You gulp and look away from Jamie, voice incredibly steady despite how dry your throat feels. “Almost.”

You hand him the hairband back and your fingers brush when he goes to take it. He exhales a gust of air, slowly, as if trying to avoid any suspicion of how badly the little touch is affecting him.

When it’s back on, you reach again to pull loose some strands of hair and your other hand holds him by the chin, keeping him still.

“There,” you say after a couple of moments or after an eternity. You let go of him and the room comes back into focus.

Jamie blinks as if he’d been having trouble thinking past the touch of your hands on him, oddly intimate. You move out of the way so the photographer can squint at whatever you did with his hair. “You see what I mean?”

The rest of the photoshoot is uneventful, but it becomes quite clear that whatever things you do to get into Jamie’s head work as efficiently to get into yours.

The team begins warming up to him after the whole Dubai Air debacle, and something inside of you unclenches in relief when you see Jamie sharing beer and laughter with the boys in the locker room after Sam’s press conference.

It feels like permission. The guilt you feel whenever you stare at Jamie a little too long suddenly dissipates, and you dare to bite your lip when he catches your eye across the room. His stare slips to your mouth before refocusing on his conversation, and the way he tugs at his collar and his cheeks flush makes you feel victorious despite the team’s loss tonight.

Later at Keeley’s, Roy nurses a beer while splayed out on the couch and asks you about Jamie. “Please tell me he’s done something stupid so I can punch him in the dick next time I see him.”

“You need an excuse for that?” you raise your eyebrows in question.

Roy grunts, but there’s hidden glee in his expression as he concedes your point. “Fair enough. He’s given you any trouble?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, I guess,” you shrug, but you make the mistake of hesitating before answering and Roy perks up like a dog who’s caught an intruder.

“Spill,” he orders, but you’ve been friends with both him and Keeley long enough to know rolling your eyes when he gets all manly is an appropriate response. “Come on, out with it. What he’d do?”

“Nothing!” you exclaim, throwing a pillow at him. He catches it swiftly, which annoys you a little. “Relax, old man. If he ever pulls a little too hard on my pigtails you’ll be the first to know.”

Roy grunts again, not satisfied but done pushing for the night.

The real trouble begins at Christmas, hours after the boys exchange gifts and most of the staff is sent home. You’re on your way out, coat on and Uber on the way when you run, once again, into Jamie in the hall, almost knocking both of you to the ground. He has to quickly hold onto your waist, your hands on his chest, to stop it.

“You scared the hell out of me,” you chastise him, both hating and loving the way he smirks at your breathlessness. “I thought you all troublemakers were gone already. You’ve got the rest of the day off, what are you still doing here?”

“Can’t go back to Manchester with a game tomorrow here, can I?” his hands tighten around your waist for a delicious, stretched-out moment before he lets you go. Jamie covers his flush coughing behind his hand as your own slip from his chest. “You lot just got me back after all. Can’t leave you hangin’ without your best player.”

“Ha, ha,” you laugh sarcastically, knowing he’s mostly kidding about that. “Still, I thought you’d be the first one home. Some Louis Vuitton slippers and Gucci robe on, expensive rum…”

“Oh, know me so well, do you,” he teases, poking at your bag. “What about you? You’re on your way out?”

“Uber’s almost here,” you show him your screen so he can see that your ride’s less than five minutes away. “Are you coming around to Higgin’s later?”

Jamie shrugs. “Don’t know if I’m invited.”

“Of course, you’re invited, Tartt. Everyone is.”

“Don’t know if I’m welcome, then,” he corrects.

“Everyone is,” you say again, firm but a little bit gentler than before. “Honestly, you’re lucky you look the way you do, ‘cause you’re a little bit thick.”

Jamie brightens like a kid on, well, Christmas. “You think I’m hot?”

“Of course, that’s what you take from that,” you roll your eyes. “I gotta go, but I better see you there later.”

You point menacingly at him but he only steps forward until your finger’s touching his chest, towering over you with a smirk that screams trouble. “To give you your gift, you mean?”

“You did not get me something,” you say, as sure about it as you are that the sky is blue and dirt is brown. “Not when you dropped the ball with your Secret Santa earlier today.”

“Maybe I like you better,” he suggests, voice low and rich. The sound makes a knot of heat tighten in your belly. “Than I like them, you’ve ever thought about that?”

You remember what Sam told you when Jamie first came back, how he was incapable of thinking about anyone other than himself. The Mancunian had proved that statement to be incorrect a handful of times already, and you’ve been flirting with him long enough to know you’re attracted to him, but you don’t expect any kind of emotional reciprocation from him. Sure, you’re friendly, maybe you’ll call him your friend at one point, but that’s as far as it usually gets with someone like Jamie.

You didn’t even get him a present. That’s how close you two are.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” you relent. You really should be going, but a part of you needs to entertain this conversation for some reason. It’s not always that you get to talk to Jamie without anyone else present. “What could you have possibly gotten me that you couldn’t give your Secret Santa?”

You barely see the face he makes before you’re being kissed within an inch of your life. Right there in the hallway of AFC Richmond’s training headquarters, Jamie Tartt holds your face in his hands as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, warm and wet and relentless.

You open yourself up to him without thinking it through, your phone lost somewhere in the mess of limbs as you latch onto his shirt, desperate for balance.

The kiss is toe-curling hot, your arms wrapping around Jamie’s neck while his own flail a delicious path through your back, hands going under your coat so you feel his skin hot against your sweater.

He ends up with his arm tight around your waist and a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close. Your mouths slide against each other, warm breaths trapped between your lips as the desperation for more grows and grows and grows and–

Jamie draws back and leans his forehead against yours only to kiss you again, softer and lingering while you’re still catching your breath, then one last kiss for good measure before finally drawing back. Like it happens around Jamie, the world you’d forgotten had existed outside the two of you comes back with rushing clarity, the hallway still miraculously empty.

“Somethin’ like that,” he says, and it takes you a moment to remember what you were talking about before this. Christmas, parties, gifts…

Jamie takes one last look at your face like he’s trying to commit you to memory while you’re all flushed and breathless before he lets you go, walking away into the locker room. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You stay there for a while after he goes, your fingers inevitably going to your kiss-bruised lips, brain still struggling to catch up to the moment.

Jamie kissed you. You kissed him back. You kissed each other like you weren’t at work and where anyone could walk by and see you.

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Your Uber’s outside and waiting.

You end up missing Higgin’s later that afternoon, unsure if Jamie would actually go after you bugged him about it and are terrified that he might.

You’re not avoiding him. For fuck’s sake, you’re a little too old for high school-level social skills, but you’re not sure your heart could take it if you see him so soon after your kiss, acting like nothing happened.

Or worse, making sure to sit next to you during dinner just so he could put his hand on your thigh and make you sweat while everyone’s watching, unaware of the change that’s just transpired in your relationship.

By the next day, you’ve decided to keep things professional, and it helps that Jamie doesn’t really bring it up. You see him before the game in the locker room when you go record some stories for the Instagram page, and he says hello as casually as the rest of the boys.

You exhale a breath you didn’t know were holding and wish them all the best for the game, though if it’s relief or disappointment that washes over you, you’re not sure.

Life moves on. You continue to work together, not sans stolen glances and running into each other in the hallway. It’s different now, because you both know the other remembers that Christmas kiss and accidentally touching when passing each other by makes your breath hitch and Jamie’s face flush.

The energy you had building up between you is charged with something dangerous now, and unless you dare to talk about it it’ll only build up into something you eventually won’t be able to ignore.

But fuck, do you think about it. About the way Jamie’s hands held you, how they kept you in your place and how they would pin you down if you ever were to end up in bed together, his hips driving home while his mouth brushed the shell of your ear, his voice low and accent thick with the heat of the moment.

Fuck. Fuck, you’re so fucking gone for him.

It’s also different because Roy comes back, and it’s like he just knows there’s something about Jamie that you’re not telling him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What?” you question, trying not to sound too defensive.

“What was that… look?” he splutters. Never once in your life have you seen Roy Kent fucking splutter like he couldn’t get a grip on a situation.

“What look?” maybe you can gaslight your way out of this one, you hope, because Jamie had been less than subtle when coming up to you both in the parking lot and talking about needing your help for a sponsored post he was supposed to make.

He got real close, so near you could smell the mix of cologne, sweat, and plain Jamie that rested on his skin. While showing you his phone put a hand on the small of your back, fingers spread open and hot like a brand.

It’d stolen your breath for a second, a hitch in an exhale that had caught both Jamie’s and Roy’s attention. You eyed Jamie warningly but he only smirked, completely aware of what he was doing. You said something about tagging the sponsor and then he was gone, brilliant smile and thanks on his lips as he waved you goodbye.

“That look, all cheeky and shit,” Roy points at where Jamie used to be and looks around for witnesses. You roll your eyes so hard it makes your head hurt a little. “Like he knows something I don’t, as if there’s anything in his brain other than elevator music.”

And of course, he tells Keeley about it, which earns you an interrogation as soon as you come down to the office.

“Thought he didn’t have access to his account,” Keeley frowns. “Didn’t you change his password after the Oreo Incident?”

“God, don’t even think about the Oreo Incident while near me,” you rub at your temples to try to diminish the migraine building up at the mere thought of it.

Now you gotta worry about Roy becoming a buffer between you and Keeley not buying your usual excuses. With them and the rest of the team and staff in the mix, you don’t stand a chance to get near Jamie.

You start surviving on fantasies alone that grow and spiral into unrealistic, too-hot scenarios.

Jamie, his shorts around his ankles and you on your knees in an empty locker room, his hands on your hair as he pants please, love, so fuckin’–

You on the desk and Jamie with his head between your legs, late into the night after everyone’s gone home and it’s you and him in your office as you moan fuck, Jamie, that’s– yeah, that’s good–

A night in a hotel room after some away game, Jamie letting you ride the leftover energy out of him. Thassit, angel, put your back into it, yeah? Be good for me.

It’s too much and it’s not enough.

Jamie throws himself into his training, trailing after Roy’s approval and eager to improve in every way he can, both as a person and a player. It’s nice to see him so dedicated, you think, remembering the traces of cockiness when you two first met in your office.

They’re still there somewhere, and you see them shine when, for some reason, all the coaching staff– Ted included– give Jamie the bird mid-game. You’re sitting on the V.I.P. box next to Keeley when his monster of a goal goes through, screaming your lungs out and hugging everyone within six feet of you.

You’re too far away from the field to see clearly, but you can imagine Jamie with striking clarity: cocky expression and tongue out, arms crossed before the rest of the boys jump with glee to embrace and congratulate him.

The locker room is a mess of sweat and laughter when you go down there, Keeley making a beeline for Roy and Rebbecca going straight to Ted. It leaves you with a bunch of overexcited men hugging you and handing you drinks in celebration.

“No stories for the ‘gram today,” you promise when Zorreaux and Dani begin posing, making faces, and showing off muscles to you. You can’t help but laugh, Sam’s arm around you. “I’m off duty tonight, boys. On a fan capacity only.”

“Are we allowed to date fans?” Jan Maas asks, half joke half genuine question. The boys make ooooh noises of interest.

You laugh again, not taking it seriously, but Keeley suddenly pipes up from her spot on Roy’s lap. “Please don’t! It’s a PR nightmare.”

Roy adds helpfully. “I’ll punch you in the dick.”

The conversation shifts to other topics but you search the room to find Jamie already looking at you, eyes dark and jaw tight. It’s barely a moment of eye contact, insignificant to anyone else in the room, but it’s enough to make your insides flutter. Meet me outside.

Thank God everyone’s too distracted celebrating when you sneak out of the locker room about half an hour later. You find Jamie already there, waiting for you at the end of it. He brightens when he sees you, shutting his phone and putting it in his back pocket.

It’s a little overwhelming, having Jamie Tartt’s full attention on you. As if it’s not exactly what you’ve been pining after for months.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Man of the Match?”

“Me?” he wonders faux incredulously while leaning casually against the wall, a dramatic hand to his chest. You walk till you’re right in front of him. “I work here, love. Or are you forgetting my heroic play out there already?”

You scoff. “We work here, dumbass, and how can I forget? It’s all everyone’s talking about. What are you doing away from your victory parade?”

“Same thing you are. Taking a breather,” he shrugs, giving you a slow once over, taking you in head to toe. You’re wearing a Richmond jersey and some loose jeans, nothing to write home about, but Jamie seems to like it. His tongue wets his lips before he focuses on your face again, charming. “Lots of people in there, yeah? Needed a minute.”

You raise your eyebrows, amused and unconvinced. “I can leave you alone if you want.”

Jamie abandons his spot against the wall and goes to you, slow and careful like a hunter stalking its prey. He says, voice a low, rough murmur, “Didn’t I already tell ya I like you better? You can stay as long as you want, love.”

Your entire body heats up at the callback to last December, the reminder of how easily Jamie snuck into your personal space and stole your breath with a heart-stopping kiss in this very same hallway.

“I‘m not gonna lie, this seems a little orchestrated, Tartt.”

He smiles, indulgent. “Oh?”

“Sending me looks, getting me all alone…” you take a step closer so you’re poorly hidden behind the water cooler. If someone were to walk out of the locker room, they’d have to walk this way and take a turn to see you standing so close to each other.

“You were the one who followed me out,” he reminds you, tilting his head and raising his brows. He’s so expressive and you can’t take it, want to put your mouth to every inch of his face until he’s saying nothing but your name. “Who’s the real mastermind here, ey?”

“Don’t even,” you warn, unable to bite back an upward tilt of the lips. “I know how you get in hallways, mister. I haven’t forgotten, yet.”

“Haven’t forgotten you kissed me back, either,” he adds and dares to place a not-quite kiss on the corner of your mouth, a barely-there brush of the lips. “Couldn’t let go of me, could you?”

“Yeah, well, you leave a lot to the imagination,” you can’t help but complain, the little touch not enough to satiate the hunger you’ve been cultivating since that moment. You grab onto his shirt with a strength you didn’t know you possessed. “I gotta brush up against you just to see if you’ll do something about it and you never do.”

Jamie laughs, rich and warm.

“You think I don’t see ya?” he wonders, fingers brushing against your knuckles before his hands travel slowly up your arms, touch agonizingly warm. Your breath hitches, and it only makes him bolder. “When you pass me by right here in the hallway, touchin’ me ‘on accident’? Leavin’ me wantin’ more?”

“Do you?” you wonder, voice low, facade cracking as your eyes fall to his mouth for a second, stare hungry. “Want more?”

“How could I not?” he admits. You’re looking at him like you want to take a bite out of him, and the adrenaline of that goal is finally wearing off to find more unreleased energy behind it, a tension that’s been strung tight long before he stole a kiss from you. “Fucking Christ, angel, you’re…”

“What?” you wonder when he trails off. Your hands brush against the hem of his shirt and Jamie feels your touch even through his clothing. “What about me?”

You make him feel like he’s on fire, right here in the hallway where anyone, anyone, could see you. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

You smirk, pleased.

“What would you do, huh? If I touched you right now?”

Jamie breathes out his nose harshly. “Fuck.”

“What if I told you-” you begin, slow and tortuous. “That I haven’t stopped thinking about you here? Against the wall where anyone could walk by? What if I wanted you so badly that I didn’t care if they did?”

Jamie follows the bridge of your nose and the shape of your eyebrows with his eyes, the bite of your lip calling to him like a brightly lit bullseye.

He thinks fuck it. Fuck it, fuck restraint, fuck stringing this out any longer. He’s a winner tonight, in more ways than one.

Who knows who leans in first? All you know is that you both meet in the middle, clashing like two waves hitting each other, his mouth frantic and eager on yours. He has one hand at the small of your back, pulling you to him, and another one on your collarbone edging dangerously to wrap around your throat, fingers drumming against tender skin.

You’re touching him everywhere you can reach, feeling so untethered to the rest of the world that your knees buckle, helping him keep you right where he wants you. Whatever remaining bravado you had left vanishes when he has you like this, and you’re desperately trying to keep him close by clutching at the back of his shirt, tanging your fingers into his hair, and raking your nails against his clothed torso.

You can’t make up your goddamned mind. You want all of him, putty in your hands, all the time.

You hear a couple of voices, laughing and joking, leaving the locker room and becoming louder by the second. You separate, mouths bruised and tender to the touch. Jamie offers you his hand, smile glinting dangerously. “You trust me?”

You scoff, taking it and intertwining your fingers. “Against my better fucking judgment.”

He pulls you towards the closest exit and you let yourself be led, anything other than your phone forgotten in your office.

In the blink of an eye, he’s got you in his car, his hand on your thigh edging closer and closer and closer to where you want it. You’re sure he misses one or three stop signs and runs a red light, but the streets are almost deserted at this hour and your skin is warm, only getting warmer even with the AC at full blast.

When you get to his place it’s like you never stopped, and despite your urgency for him to have you right there in the middle of the training facilities, you love the way he pins you against the wall of his home, picture frames rattling with the force of it. His hands bruise your hips and he lifts your jersey up to your chest so his mouth can travel a path of bare skin down your torso, wet and open-mouthed.

He looks up to you when he reaches the waist of your pants, kneeling in front of you, a question melted in the sheer want of the green of his eyes.

He’s asking for permission, you realize.

Something sweet momentarily replaces the urgency you have for him, and you have to drag him back up for another kiss. He makes a questioning noise when you pull him towards you but melts against you when his lips touch yours. It’s a tender thing, an answer, one last quiet moment before you both sink into the chaos.

“Lemme see you,” Jamie kneels back between your legs, this time cleverly undoing your pants and leaving you in nothing but your underwear while you struggle out of your shirt and leave it forgotten on the floor.

His fingers brush over the wet spot between your legs and you gasp, insides clenching in response to his touch. He sounds gutted when he says, “God, look at you. Haven’t even touched you, yet, fuck.”

He tucks his face between your legs and runs his tongue over your clothed clit, the sensation of the wet fabric against his tongue driving him crazy.

He’s painfully hard against his boxers. Jamie’s been waiting for this too long– there’s no way he’s lasting as long as he wants to, but he can focus on you for the time being. It’s not a difficult task, your body’s trembling with the force of your arousal and begging him to do something.

It calls to him, muting the rest of the world around him.

“Are you ever gonna, or should I get things going on my own?”

He smirks against your thighs, biting playfully at the skin there before going alright, alright when you pull at his hair, though it only makes his dick twitch in his pants.

He feels more than he sees your shiver when he finally gets your underwear out of the way, and he wastes no time before hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder before diving in, eating you out with the energy of a man starved.

You hadn’t even made it past the living room.

“Fuck,” you moan, hips thrusting forward and your hand tightening against his hair, the other one searching and failing to find balance against the wall you’re leaning against.

You want to close your eyes as the waves of pleasure wash over you, your muscles taunt with how Jamie’s expertly driving you closer and closer to your orgasm, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. “Fuck, Jamie, that’s good. You’re so good at that, oh–”

You see how his body takes in the praise and feel it against your center when he moans into you, tongue cleverly touching all the right places. Jamie closes his eyes, thoroughly enjoying the experience.

He suddenly draws back, earning a noise of displeasure from you only to be rendered back into a moaning mess when his hands replace his mouth. He looks up at you like he’s staring at a deity.

“What d’ya want?” he asks as he slides two fingers through your folds, his other hand keeping your hips pinned to the wall as you try to buckle into his touch, whimpers echoing through Jamie’s home. “Huh, love? Have I left you speechless already?”

“You said I left you thinkin’ about it,” he recalls, too coherent for someone as terribly horny as he is. But Jamie needs to know, he wants you to crave him as desperately as he does you. “Back in the hall, that’s what you said. Whad’ya want, love? Where do ya want me?”

“Here,” you pant, eyes closed and face tilted upwards as you try to move your hips, chasing ecstasy. Jamie’s fingers are slowing down, probably to make you focus and only driving you further insane. “Anywhere, everywhere. Fuck, Jamie, I want all of it, all of you, please–”

“Greedy,” he singsongs, but any amusement is ripped from his throat with a moan when you pull at his hair again, walnut mist locks like silk between your fingers. He quickens the pace, unable to deny you. “Fuck, greedy thing, aren’t you? Wasn’t enough to stare me down and to steal a kiss, ya want all of it.”

You sigh, muscles clenching. “Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

“Then take it,” he gives you all you want on a silver platter, right there for you to take. “All you need, angel, ‘s all yours, ‘m all yours–”

With both his fingers and mouth back at work, you’re a lost cause, reaching your high and letting it wash over all your limbs like TV static before you become boneless against the wall.

Jamie kisses your knee before moving your leg from his shoulder and setting it gently on the ground, back on his feet just in time to kiss you soundly.

He’s practically holding you up, your arms limply hanging around his neck and your legs made of jelly after the strength of your orgasm. It’s like you let go of all the tension that started building up the second Jamie walked into your office that cold November morning and there’s nothing left holding you up other than his hold on you.

Except Jamie’s hips push into yours and you feel the length of him pressed against you. It’s a reminder that no matter how badly he seemed to enjoy eating you out he hasn’t been able to find his own release. Yet.

You smirk lazily, finding the strength from God knows where to cup him in your hand, watching his expressive face contort in desperate pleasure. “What about you, Jay? What do you want?”

Jamie is unable to do anything other than babble nonsense as you move past his shorts and boxers to take him in your hand, slow and tight. He gives out a little cry when you strengthen your grip, exhaling as he rests his head on your shoulder.

He never does answer you, and Jamie comes like that in your arms, quick and easy. He’s kissing your shoulder, your neck, the hinge of your jaw before finding your mouth and slipping his tongue past your lips, languid and easy.

“You getting tired on me, angel?” he wonders, massaging the skin of the back of your neck to gain your attention. You turn your head, following his motions. His eyes haven’t lost their dark edge. His mouth is red and calling for you to worsen the damage. “Cause the night’s young, you know. Bed’s comfortable, too. If I’m good against a wall, wait ‘til I get you in me bedroom.”

“You’re an idiot,” you say, but you feel a flutter of interest between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m attracted to you.”

He steals another kiss just for that, giddy with victory, though you don’t know how long you’re gonna get away with calling it stealing when you keep giving yourself to him without a second thought.

“Is that a yes?”

You pretend to ponder on it. “Well. You haven’t fucked me, yet. There’s still room for improvement.”

Jamie shivers. He can’t resist the challenge and you know it. Whether you’re on the other side of the room or in his arms, he’s never getting enough of you and you love it.

“Oh, angel,” he cups your face, already on his way to seal his lips onto yours. “You’ve no idea.”

___

IT’S HERE IT’S HERE IT’S HERE

i’m so afraid of not living up to the expectations of the song but i couldn’t get this idea out of my head!!! thank you if you got this far into the read and i appreciate any comment of support and feedback!

i’m hoping to put out two or three more fics this summer before school starts, after that my schedule might not allow me to post that often but i’m not gonna leave you guys hanging, don’t worry!

_____

taglist: @dunster @daisy-crybaby @talksoprettyjjx @loveslide @ccomandercody @marrianena-library @shakespeareanwannabe @ajkdjdnkekemfxj @higherthanheroes @jamietarttdodo @lightninginab0ttle @seacactusplant @sokkigarden @kti2004 @mrfitzsimmons @guccilongboard @jellycolors @littlemisssunshine192 @uniiversed @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @royskents @youbelongwithflo @curlypeter @alipap3 @feelinthesefics

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #fanfiction #leo writes #ted lasso imagine #reader insert #phil dunster #sam obisanya #toheeb jimoh #roy kent #brett goldstein #keeley jones #juno temple #can't believe i forgot to add tags lmao so stupid

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light-yaers · 16 days

Text

Take Care: Chapter Fourteen

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: YEEE FUCKING HAW WE'RE BACK AND LONGER THAN EVER. FEAST, MY PRETTIES.

Word count: 10k+

Chapter Fourteen:

Well, Arlo. It seems the Greyhounds have actually… done something right?

I know, Chris. If you’d told me they’d be in this position, not even in the Premier League, yet through to the FA Cup final, then well! I’d have eaten my hat!

But Arlo, you don’t own any hats.

There’s lots that you don’t know about me, Chris.

Oh. Well, I’d like to find out more one day, Arlo.

Maybe one day, Chris. Maybe one day… But, moving forward– it seems AFC Richmond’s new coach, badboy Roy Kent, has well and truly shared the fabled ‘Roy Kent Effect’ once more.

That’s certainly true, Arlo! Kent and his teammates have never worked so well, even when he was on the pitch next to them. I think this is the start of a blossoming season for the Greyhounds.

I agree, Chris. So, you heard it here, folks. AFC Richmond are off to Wembley!

A few weeks after Roy’s return, you found yourself feeling the love. When you came to, you were screaming your head off. Everything was a giant blur of those familiar reds and blues, so you knew you were home. The locker room still looked the same as always, but the players within were so drastically separate from how they were a week ago that you could hardly fucking believe it.

AFC Richmond were going to Wembley for the FA Cup final. The only downside– they were against Manchester fucking City. You weren’t about to dampen their joy, though. You suspected they all knew exactly what was at stake, but they deserved this. They deserved to feel like winners.

Sam bound over to you as soon as he could. His embrace brought you back down to earth, and you hugged him back so tightly that it was a miracle neither of you passed out. “God, I am so proud of you,” you whispered into his shoulder.

He reciprocated by squeezing you once more, before you tugged apart. “You still bring us good luck. You are part of the reason we have come this far.” He spoke so earnestly that you couldn’t stop your throat from drying up.

You swallowed painfully, utterly overwhelmed. Sam went one step further, however, when he stepped onto one of the benches. “Hey, guys! Guys!” he yelled, bringing the sound in the room right down. Every player, and coach alike, turned to him and listened intently. “We wouldn’t have gotten to this position without the help of every single person in this room.” Sam looked down at you then, smiling like the golden sun. “Thank you, everyone! We’re Richmond till we die!”

The room erupted into roars that no jungle could replicate. You soaked up their cheers, their happiness, their togetherness, and as you did you sensed someone close by: Roy.

He stood in the doorway of the manager’s office, wearing a tracksuit that donned Richmond’s logo. He’d fallen into his coach position as if he’d always been here– assertively, strongly, respectfully. When you glanced around the room and saw him, you had to stop just for a moment to take him in. You smiled at him, even though he wasn’t looking at you. When he eventually caught your eye, you quickly looked beyond him, acting as if you hadn’t been eyeing him up for the better half of a minute.

Roy liked it when you looked like this– happy, content, in the middle of a bustling and buzzing room yet perfectly fine with just existing and not speaking. You were good like that, good at listening and observing. You were also good at talking when you got to it, but Roy’s initial annoyance whenever you opened your mouth had quickly disappeared after a few weeks into your placement at the club. That sentiment had only grown over the past year and a half.

Jesus– eighteen months. It’d really gone fast, hadn’t it? Eighteen months, and you’d grown into your talent and only increased your work ethic (even if you secretly hated your current position). Eighteen months, and Roy had played his last game of football ever, but coached his first professional game since.

Roy leaned on the doorframe of the manager’s office and crossed his arms. Dani had his hands wrapped around your neck lovingly from behind. The two of you swayed back and forth as the team continued rejoicing. Slowly, you latched your fingers onto Dani’s forearms and held them tightly. Roy knew what that felt like, having you close. He’d been there with you once, when it was impossible to keep your hands off each other in a crowded room like this.

There was another thing that hadn’t happened in eighteen months. You and Roy. Roy and you. In truth, you’d thought about things more than he had. This was amongst one of the first times he’d allowed himself to think of you together, properly, and what it could have been like.

He thought back to November, almost six months ago now, when he’d told you that he had no intention of fucking things up. To do that, you and Roy couldn’t happen– wouldn’t happen.

Roy frowned when he thought about how awful he’d been, not even during that conversation, but afterwards. He hadn’t put up any boundaries, had continued acting the same as he always was around you. It wasn’t kind; he knew that as soon as he’d seen your face on Boxing Day, practically scrambling to get the fuck out of his house.

The bad thing was, however, that Roy didn’t want to stop. Sure, he’d said things would never happen, and you’d graciously accepted that fate and tried to move forward over these past few months like any respectful and decent person would. But, he hadn’t. He’d said the words, but not followed them.

Roy huffed to himself, only now realising– he was a fucking idiot.

This was Roy’s more prominent disease, it seemed: delayed on-set realisation of selfishness. DOROS for short. Maybe he’d always known, but had pushed it all away in favour of keeping you close. Maybe he’d always known, but innately knew that he had never wanted to cut things off with you, so simply acted like he’d never fucking said a thing.

Mentally, Roy added a new to-do box to his list.

Fix things with you.

He would. Oh, he would.

“Roy!” Ted’s familiar accent called from behind him. Roy turned around and looked down at his fellow coach, sat before him with his feet on his desk. Beard was the same, and the two of them looked like peas in a pod. “How’re your first few weeks going?”

Roy balled his fists instinctually. “Good. I think.”

“Well, you gosh darn thunk correctly!” Ted burst, jumping out of his chair in excitement. “And now, I need your help once again. This match next week, the big one.” He stopped directly in front of Roy, chin to chin. “How do we keep the guys like this?”

This meaning the ruckus behind him. Joyful, strong, ready to fight with all they’ve got even if the outcome isn’t in their favour. Roy knew that feeling well, having felt it too many times to count.

He sighed. “It’ll be tough. Come tomorrow, they’ll all start to spiral.”

“How so?”

Roy shrugged. “It’s the hope that kills you.”

Ted’s face soured immediately. “I don’t like your sayings over here.”

“Yeah, well…” Roy turned around to look at the guys. “It’s easier than being fucking disappointed.”

“Screw that!” Ted suddenly exploded. He grabbed Roy’s shoulders and urged him to look in his eyes. “We’re stopping that today. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you look at those guys right there, acting like that?” Ted asked.

Roy swivelled his head back around to look at them. “I… I dunno?” he said.

Ted squeezed his shoulders abruptly. “Yes, you do! Say it. Say it!”

“All-fucking-right!” Roy yelled. “Her!” He pointed at you without hesitating.

As if on cue, you laughed. You scrunched your eyes shut in happiness, giggling as Dani placed his chin atop your head. He squeezed you tighter, and you giggled even harder, gripping his arms stronger than before. Sam and Colin laughed opposite them, still overcome with the buzzing adrenaline of the win. They all were. You perpetuated that feeling, made the guys want it even more so you could join them at times like this.

Ted moved next to Roy, looking at the same scene. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Ted whispered. “You’ve never been more right in your life.”

You had to suck in a deep breath as your laughter dissipated. Your lungs were empty of all reserves, but you’d never felt better about it. Dani gently removed himself from you to head towards Richard and Zoreaux. As he did, the most unexpected thing happened.

Someone tapped you on the shoulder, and when you turned to greet them with a glowing smile, you stopped short. Jamie Tartt stood before you. “Hey,” he said.

You kept things light as you perked your brow at him quizzically. “Hi.” You smiled. “Congratulations.”

Jamie laughed awkwardly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Thanks very much.” You’d never tire of his accent, secretly. You were fond of Mancunian. “Listen, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh– sure.”

“Privately,” he added.

You glanced around the locker room quickly, before nodding once. Jamie led you out to the corridor and beyond. He opened the door to the kit room and held it for you as you entered, then followed you inside and shut the door behind him.

You didn’t know where to place yourself. Stood in the centre of the room, overwhelmed by the scent of soggy feet, you turned to the striker and waited. Jamie stood opposite you with the same feeling of being utterly out of place.

“What can I do for you, Jamie?” you started, getting the ball rolling.

“I know we’re not really… er, close.” He clutched his hands together awkwardly, almost unable to meet your eye. “But I know how much you mean to the club and that.”

You huffed amusedly. “Sure,” you agreed.

“Which is why I know you won’t laugh at me when I ask you this.” Tartt finally met your eye, and you were taken aback. Whatever was on his mind you now knew was a big deal. I mean, it had to be for him to approach you like this, surely?

“Okay,” you said sturdily. “Lay it on me.”

“It’s Roy.” You held your breath as he said it. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that Jamie would come to you about a Roy problem, yet here he was. “He won’t coach me. Not like the others, you know. I know I was a dick in the past, for lack of a better word, and that Roy was on the receiving end sometimes–”

“All the time,” you said, matter of factly. Jamie subtly exploded.

“Okay, fine– all the fucking time– but I’m back now, and I need a fucking coach. I want him to teach me the same way he teaches Sam and Isaac and the rest.”

“But, you don’t know how to ask him,” you said your thoughts out loud.

Jamie nodded quickly, agreeing with you tenfold. “I know he’d tell me to fuck off.”

“Well, of course he’s going to do that.” You almost chuckled from how right he was in saying so. “But, I see where you’re coming from.” Your mind spiralled down different routes, unknowing of where you came into this equation. You could tell Jamie what to say, but you knew what Roy would reply simply because it was Tartt, not you. “Why come to me, though?”

Jamie’s face squished questioningly, like he couldn’t understand why you hadn’t put two and two together just yet. “Roy fucking listens to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh now. “Oh, please. Yeah, he listens. But whether or not he decides to do what I say is a completely different ball game.”

Jamie reached out to you suddenly and gripped your shoulders in desperation. “Please. I know I’m making up for lost time and bad behaviour and whatever else I did to the guys, or Lasso, or Roy, but I need to be useful here. I want to be useful here.”

You regarded him thoughtfully then. It was hard not to take him into account when he was like this, bearing his soul to a person who had never connected with him beforehand. Reaching out to you was a shot in the dark for him, but he’d done it anyway because he wanted to succeed. It was commendable, when you put it all into perspective.

You decided upon a middle ground. “I’ll plant the seed in his head to let you in, alright?”

Jamie let out a clear sigh of relief when you agreed. “Well, fuck– thank you.”

“But!” you continued. “You need to go to him yourself. You need to apologise, and tell him exactly what you said to me. It’s Roy, so he’ll make it a fucking nightmare and will probably be childish and petty and whatever fucking else that grown man is capable of…” As you rambled, the cogs in Jamie’s brain finally understood the whole story– you liked him, didn’t you? “...but he’ll do it eventually. He has to. He’s a coach now, and if you’re here, you deserve to be coached properly.”

Jamie squealed and smiled at the same time, his eyes ablaze with boyish resemblance. He squeezed your shoulders affectionately. “I knew coming to you would work out. I just knew it.”

You scoffed in amusement. “Don’t make it a regular thing,” you joked. “There are only so many strings I can pull with Roy.”

Jamie raised his brows assumptively. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“What do you mean by that?” All your amusement reluctantly trailed off alongside your words.

“Well,” Jamie started. His grin dropped instantly. “I mean– don’t make me fucking say it. You already know, don’t you?”

“Know what?” you pressed.

“That Roy, y’know. That Roy–” Jamie flailed his arms around like a flapping seagull. “He– y’know…”

You squinted at him. “Are you speaking some kind of secret footballer language that common people like me don’t fucking understand?”

“He likes you!” Jamie finally let out.

“Oh.” You stepped back. Jamie’s arms dropped to his sides. “Stop fucking talking now.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t see it?” Jamie looked you dead in the eye, but all you were capable of doing was looking away from embarrassment. “Well, you’re more stupid than I fucking took you for.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “There’s no need for that shit when I’m digging you out of the mess you fucking made last season.”

He raised his arms up in understanding. “Alright, alright. Sorry, my bad.” You let out your own sigh of relief when you realised the conversation was over.

You and Jamie headed back to the locker room soon after. As he made his way towards the guys, you stuck to the outer limits of the cinder block walls. Roy was still in the manager's office, his back turned as he spoke to Ted and Beard. You didn’t want to intrude, so you made the decision to cut back into the corridor once more; not to leave, but to wait until the guys were ready for a pint.

You slowly trudged down the familiar corridor that you used to traverse every fucking day. Past the locker room, you approached the gym. Beyond that, your old office still sat. Keeley had recently upgraded to a larger room deeper underneath the Dogtrack, however, so the usual array of pink pillows and her cheetah statue were nowhere to be seen.

You entered through the half open door and walked straight into darkness. The walls were the same, just pinker. The desk was the same, just empty. Whenever you visited this office space after time away you felt the same pull to return. You didn’t care if it had no windows; you’d managed to make it home for nearly a year without any hiccups.

God, you wanted to be back here. Everyone knew it, even Rebecca, but you daren’t take favours. You would never.

A small knock sounded from the door, and you turned back quickly. “Ready to g–? Oh!” you exclaimed. You’d been expecting Sam or Roy, but were met with the still slightly unfamiliar face of Nate. “Sorry, Nate. I thought you were someone else.”

“That’s alright,” he said, smiling. “May I come in?”

“Oh,” you spluttered. “Yes, of course. This isn’t my office anymore.”

He stepped inside. “No, no, it’s not, is it?” he said, and the tone of his voice was erring on patronising. You opted to ignore it, knowing that he wouldn’t have meant it that way. Surely?

The silent pause that flittered between you was very awkward, there was no denying it. It wasn’t that you’d meant to not really know him, but your circle at the club had seemed to travel in one certain direction that you hadn’t been able to control. The guys, Ted, Roy, Rebecca. Not Beard, not Nate. You didn’t mean anything by it innately.

If anything, you were happy that Nate was making himself known to you. You’d love to get to know him more– or more than what you barely knew of him from your time at the club.

“What a great game today, wasn’t it?” you started.

“Oh yes, fantastic game,” said Nate.

“And that thing–” You mimed what had happened on the pitch earlier, which happened to be a middle finger of all things. “That all four of you did to Jamie. Classic, really fucking brilliant.”

“Oh yes, the good old middle finger.” Nate copied you in miming what he’d done less than an hour ago. All four coaches had signalled to Tartt what needed to be done, and that signal happened to be swearing at him full-frontally. Four middle fingers had stood up on end, and Tottenham didn’t know what had hit them when Tartt managed to make a goal from just beyond the halfway line.

“You were all absolutely brilliant!” you exclaimed. “I’ve been seeing you in the paper as well, you know? The whole Wonderkid thing.”

Nate smiled forcefully. “I definitely said Wunderkind.”

“Either way, it’s fantastic you’re getting that recognition.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Nate said, taking your compliment graciously; or so you thought. “So, here’s the thing.” He plunged right into his words like he’d had them on standby the entire time.

“Go on,” you urged him happily.

“You can’t come to Wembley.”

“What?” you asked, not fully absorbing his words.

Nate stopped smiling. He looked at you sternly, or like you were akin to dirt on his shoe, or whatever else. Your smile turned to a frown instantly.

“You can’t come to Wembley,” Nate repeated.

Those five words hit you like a tonne of bricks. You didn’t understand what he was saying, or what he meant. For a second, you thought he’d got his words mixed up, maybe, but even if they were un-muddled they wouldn’t make sense at all.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you said smally, feeling multiple degrees of hurt even though you had no explanation.

“Okay,” Nate replied. “I’ll spell it out for you.” He raised his chin and sucked in a deep and confident breath, “You cannot come to Wembley for the FA Cup final.”

You still didn’t understand, but you understood Nate’s words fully. Why he was saying them, though, you had no idea. Perhaps you hadn’t misinterpreted his patronising tone upon entering the room, but had picked it up perfectly. You didn’t know Nate enough to get mad– properly mad– but your blood boiled as you looked at him.

“Why not?” you asked, swallowing sullenly to try and keep the butterflies in your gut at bay.

Nate smiled. You hated that he smiled. It felt grimy and wrong. “Roy, Ted and Beard seem to think that you keep the team happy, and maybe you do. But, this is the fucking FA Cup final. They can’t afford any distractions, and you.” He looked you up and down like a blight. You’d never been looked at like that before in your life. “You are a distraction. You may think you’re helping, but the guys need clear minds and ready heads. You’re a distraction towards all of that.”

You laughed abruptly, at a loss for words. Nate’s smile turned to something much more condescending. Gently, he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. You froze on the spot.

“It’s just better if you sit this one out, alright? Don’t worry, the guys won’t miss you too much.”

You opened your mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was air. Your lungs collapsed beneath your chest, your heart pumped blood uncomfortably and incredibly fast into your limbs, your organs, your gut. It hurt. It really hurt.

Nate squeezed your shoulder. You stiffened further. “Good talk. Let’s catch up after the final.” He removed his hand from you and left promptly, leaving you in the darkned seclusion of your old office.

Realisation hit you like a double-decker bus. Nate had always been like this a bit, hadn’t he? Not before he became a coach, but afterwards, certainly. A shift had cemented within him as soon as he’d donned the Richmond jacket and owned a desk spot next to Ted and Beard. The whistle around his neck clung to him like a trophy of his authority.

Nathan Shelley was not a nice coach. Good, smart, intelligent, but not nice.

You wondered if Ted knew. You wondered if Beard knew. You wondered if Roy knew. If they did, you knew they’d do something about it, so perhaps not. Innately, despite the weak way your chest scraped air through your crippled lungs, you hoped it was just you that he had gripes with. You hoped he wasn’t like this to any of the guys themselves. Just the thought alone made you angry beyond belief.

No one on the team deserved to be treated the way that Nate had just treated you.

You sucked in a sharp breath quickly, feeling the beginnings and endings of tears behind your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, not for this. If you twisted this entire ordeal on its head then it was borderline comical. Not to toot your own horn, but you knew that if any of the guys in the locker room next door found out about this, then they’d take your side.

That was exactly why you couldn’t tell them. You weren’t about to be the reason that AFC Richmond’s managerial team broke apart. They’d come so far already after relegation. You couldn’t– wouldn’t– fuck that all up.

Quietly, you swallowed away your pride and your feelings and left your old office. Silently, you headed back to the locker room and entered timidly.

“There she is,” Roy muttered to Sam as you entered. As you approached him, you realised he’d picked up your bag and slung it over his shoulder to save you holding it yourself. “Ready to go?” he asked, face to face.

Your eyes hit his. You struggled to keep everything at bay, but brushed it off as best as you possibly could. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Here.” You gestured to your bag on his shoulder, but Roy twisted himself away from you.

“I’ve got it.” Roy frowned slowly, a sour feeling sprouted in his gut. “You alright?”

You waved him off. “I’m fine. I just don’t feel all that good, if I’m being honest.”

“Hm.” He reached out confidently and laid his knuckles against your forehead. Roy had done this to you many times. You were used to it, but still allowed yourself to silently indulge in his touch. Besides, you needed this. He didn’t know, but you needed him right now. “You do feel a bit hot, actually,” he said lowly. “Wanna skip the pub and go home?”

Gently, you nodded. Roy’s hand dropped to your shoulder, the same one that Nate had held just minutes before. Quickly, you placed your hand over his. “Yes, please.”

Roy stayed still. Something was wrong, he knew it. There was this look in your eye that coincided with you not feeling well, but that wasn’t all. The way you were standing; slumped, arms wrapped around yourself, as if you were desperately trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. The hand that rested atop his own didn’t feel strong. This wasn’t you, the real you.

Roy nodded at you in understanding. “Okay,” he whispered. Roy turned to the rest of the room and addressed the team. “You’ll have to catch us next week for drinks, boys.”

The collective groan that descended across the room made you feel awful, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Roy sensed your unease. “Hey!” he yelled. “That’s fucking enough of that. Get some sleep after your well-deserved booze break, and I’ll see you all bright and early for practice on Monday!”

“Yes, coach!”

You and Roy drove home in silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, but Roy could tell something was on your mind. It was rare that either of you evaded the weird sixth sense you had about the other now. Roy could read you as clear as he’d read your article about him.

He stopped his Jeep outside your apartment building and killed the engine. You gathered your belongings and shot him a quick smile. “Thanks.” You went to leave.

“Wait.” In one click, Roy had locked your door from the driver’s side door. “Tell me what’s wrong or I’m not letting you out.”

You huffed, slumping back into your chair in acceptance. “Really?”

“Really,” Roy repeated.

“This is childish, Roy.”

“I don’t fucking care. One moment you were happy as a daisy, and the next you look like you’ve landed on death’s fucking door.”

You sighed in exasperation. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

Roy twisted himself to face you more head on. He crossed his arms and waited patiently. “Go on.”

You rolled your eyes, wishing this to be over. “I’m on my period.”

Roy pointed at you quickly. “Don’t try and catch me out with a feminine problem that you assume men don’t want to hear about. I have a fucking sister, and I know all about how crazy her cycle made her. This isn’t that.”

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, raising your voice slightly. Your stress levels had grown exponentionally in the last minute and a half. You could feel your rapid heartbeat beneath your chest. “It doesn’t fucking matter, alright. If I wanted to talk about it then I would have told you by now.”

Roy perked his brow at you. “Is this about something football related, or something life related?”

“God!” you exploded finally. You wouldn’t mention Nate, but Roy’s incessant poking meant you had to say something real. Maybe this really was something you should have told him a while ago. “You really wanna know?” You turned towards him, eyes crazy and breathing erratic. “I hate my fucking job, okay. And everytime I go to the stadium for a game I’m reminded of everything I left behind and everything I continue to leave behind. The guys, Ted, Beard, you.”

For the first tme since the car stopped, Roy shut his mouth and listened.

“I– I wonder how much longer I can fucking do it. The commute every morning, the staleness of my work colleagues, the giant stack of papers and assignments that are always waiting on my desk to get done because no one else will fucking touch them. I don’t sleep at night properly, and I can’t even cook meals anymore. I feel like–” You sucked in a deep breath and finally looked Roy in the eye. “I feel like, even despite all of you including me in everything, I’m running on the spot behind you and will never be able to catch up. Like I’ll never be part of that world anymore. And it’s, it’s– breaking me.”

Roy leant towards you instinctually.

“Rebecca and Keeley know I hate it, but every time Rebecca talks about getting me a position at the club I freeze. It makes me feel sick that she’d so easily and without question hand me something because I don’t feel like I deserve it. And–!” Roy flicked his eyes over your face, at a loss of what to say. You laughed from a lack of what else to fucking do. “The game last weekend, when you showed up and finally realised your worth as a coach, I almost missed it because I couldn’t take being back there without thinking how much I fucking miss it all. I’m pathetic–”

“No, you’re not,” Roy interjected hoarsely.

You laughed again, on the brink of tears. “Yes, I am. Who does that? Who cries before a fucking game because they can’t handle being there? Me. I do that now, apparently.”

Silence descended inside the Jeep. You finally took a breath, and when you did you realised what you’d done. You leaned back in your seat and faced the windshield, utterly embarrassed that you’d burst at the seams.

“So,” you said smally. “That’s that.” You turned towards Roy again. “Is that what you wanted me to say?”

Roy stayed as quiet as a mouse. That wasn’t his style. Glued to his spot, Roy kept his gaze on you thoughtfully. He regarded the look on your face and noticed the subtle embarrassment on your brow; you hadn’t expected to cave so easily when questioned about what was wrong.

He looked down at your hands in your lap. Your fingers shook subtly as they brushed across your knuckles in worry. Roy hated that you were worrying after being honest about something in your life. It was only him, he thought. Surely you should know that you could tell him anything and he’d listen.

“Sorry,” you blurted out.

Roy huffed, speechless. “What the fuck are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fucking–” Roy moved closer to you. “Come here.”

His arms were around you in no time. You stayed stuck in place, stunned, for just a second, until you found yourself hugging him back so fiercely that you couldn’t have thougth of anything you needed more. It was funny. You could count on one hand how many times you and Roy had hugged, and none of them had been like this.

You’d been close before, sure, in proximity and in more. You were close even now, despite counting the conversation you’d both had in November. Everyone on the outside seemed to think of Roy as someone who wasn’t hands-on. He liked his space, he didn’t like to pry or poke, yet here you were– the air being squeezed from your lungs because he’d made you open up for your own good– because he couldn’t think of anything better to show that he cared than to embrace you.

Roy Kent cared so much that it was a wonder he had energy to do anything else.

When the two of you parted, you couldn’t help but laugh. You stayed close, foreheads almost touching. Roy smiled at you genuinely, fully, thoughtfully.

“No wonder you’re going mental,” he said lowly. “That’s a lot to hold onto without letting it out.”

That’s not even the half of it. You wanted to say, but you didn’t.

“You’re not running in place behind us,” Roy continued. “You’re what keeps us all together. You’re the reason I went back to Richmond.” You didn’t say anything, just took in his words. “I didn’t go back just for the game, or the guys– I went back because I knew you’d be in the box, looking down at me on the pitch again.”

Your throat closed slightly, as the urge to cry hit you. You swallowed it away, not wanting to burst again in such a short amount of time. “Well,” you whispered. “I’m glad.”

For a fraction of a second, Roy’s eyes dropped to your lips.

You’d been here before, you thought. You’d been here with him like this so many times that you couldn’t even count them off the top of your head. If you had time, a few minutes maybe, you’d be able to pinpoint every occasion where the word almost screeched within your mind.

Almost there. Almost on you.

Perhaps you’d never get beyond the proverbial almost, but this time felt different. Something had shifted recently. You felt it. Roy’s stares lingered for just a tad too long. Electricity buzzed between you even when you weren’t touching. The joy you’d felt when he’d arrived at the Dogtrack and finally caved in had been second to none. In hindsight, maybe jumping the wall of the home box and running down the steps in the stands to him had been too much.

Roy didn’t think so. He’d relished you being close. His stomach had somersaulted as soon as you’d yelled his name. Secretly, he’d hoped you’d react the exact way you did. He’d done it for you, had he not? He’d come back to Richmond for you.

Without realising, you and Roy had inched closer to each other so much that you both hovered over the centre console of his Jeep. Foreheads almost touching. Hearts almost caving.

You’d been here before so many times.

Roy swallowed without moving a muscle, ready to speak. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Instantly, you crashed back down to earth. You sucked in a deep breath and straightened yourself, leaning back towards the passenger side window. You thought the worst. Was this an ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this’? It had to be, surely.

“Oh,” you let out, flustered. “Don’t apologise, don’t wo–”

“No,” Roy cut you off strongly, unexpectedly leaning closer. “I’m sorry for being a fucking idiot.”

Time stilled. That word– that almost– lingered in the air like dust in the desert. Heavy, dry, suffocatingly warm.

Roy’s expression grew to frustration as quickly as you’d both fallen to silence. “I thought I was doing the right fucking thing, stopping–” He gestured between you both, not able to find words. “I thought it would be better for you, to not get you mixed up in all my shit.”

The penny dropped. You squished your face into a hurt smile involuntarily. “It’s okay, Roy,” you said softly.

“And worse yet,” he continued. “I’ve been a… a fucking arse. Not changing how I acted around you, or what I said, or what I did. I must have made everything ten times fucking worse for you.”

You shook your head immediately. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Roy replied instantly. “It does matter. I never wanted to play with your fucking feelings or make what I did more difficult for you, but that’s exactly what I did.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s okay,” you repeated, just for good measure.

Roy fell silent for a pause, taking in your words as if he really needed to hear them. In fact, you thought he really did need to hear them, straight from your mouth and no one elses.

“You’re sure?” he asked, checked, wanted to make extra fucking sure.

You nodded quickly. “I’m sure.” You smiled, trying desperately not to let the cropped up hurt on your face show through. That wasn’t on him; he hadn’t intended to damage you this way.

“Okay.” Roy breathed out deeply, leaning back into the driver’s seat like the weight of the world had just been taken off his shoulders. “Thank fuck,” he whispered, before meeting your eye again. He smiled, accepting the silliness that one felt after being so vulnerable with someone else. “I really fucking need you, you know?”

You laughed first, wanting to say so do I. Instead, you differed your response. “Of course, you fucking do. Who else is going to tell you what to do with your life?”

Roy’s smile lit up all over his face. You remembered a time where you used to count how many times he looked at you like this; honest. Now, it was everyday.

“Exactly,” he said. Gently, he stuck his hand out and laid it upon your cheek. “Fucking exactly.” His thumb swiped across your face warmly. You shivered immensely, but tried desperately to hide it.

You glanced at the radio clock. Time ticked by, and you knew you had to leave this conversation soon. Innately, Roy knew it, too.

“My mum’s coming to Richmond tomorrow morning,” you said softly. Roy’s hand stayed put. You didn’t mind. “I need to go and clean my flat, or she’ll start washing up mugs against my will.”

Roy’s eyes flicked between your own. Affection seeped from within them, so far removed from when you’d first met. Slowly, he removed his hand from your cheek. His fingers skimmed your skin on the way back to his lap. “Okay,” he whispered; acceptance.

Almost would stay the same. Almost had gone the furthest it had ever been.

You slung your bag over your shoulder. Roy unlocked the passenger side door with one button click. You gripped the handle strongly, but paused before you left for good.

“Thank you for listening to me,” you said simply. “I mean– really listening to me.”

Roy stayed still, not leaving your gaze for a second. “Always,” he said lowly.

When the door to your building shut behind you, Roy was still reluctant to drive away. He watched as the light turned on from the window of your ground floor flat, saw your silhouette enter the living room– the room where he’d stood before a few times– and drop your bag to the floor in exhaustion.

Roy drove away when your silhouette disappeared, the feeling of you still present on his fingertips.

You didn’t tell anyone about Nate. You didn’t tell anyone that he’d warded you off or spoke ill of you supporting the team. Instead, you went to work. You encompassed yourself in your job, taking on extra responsibilities despite that being the one reason you felt spread thin.

By Thursday, you were ready to crash. Your bed had been calling you every day, as soon as you disembarked from the train at Richmond tube station. Intentionally, you ignored texts from Rebecca and Keeley about times to rendezvous at Wembley Stadium. If they ever asked, you’d blame it on having too much of a heavy work week. That would be your out.

Logically, you knew you wouldn’t be able to completely miss Richmond playing at Wembley. People would be expecting you there. The guys would be expecting you there. But, despite their cries and pleads for you to be present, you were prepared to keep them at arms length– for Nate’s sake.

When Saturday came, you knew it would be hard for you to avoid everyone at the club. By ten o’clock in the morning, Keeley had already called you twice. By half past the hour, Rebecca had called you three times.

On the fourth time she rang, you knew you had to pick up.

“Darling,” she said quickly. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” you said (you lied), secluded in your flat. “This week has been insane. I haven’t been able to focus on anything that isn’t Pluto Press related.”

Rebecca made a guttural sound in her throat. “Bollocks!” she exclaimed. “I’ll send a car. It can be there in twenty minutes if need be.”

“It’s okay. I can get the tube. Don’t worry–”

“Oh,” Rebecca cut you off. Her tone switched instantly. “Actually, don’t worry about a car. I think someone is waiting for you out front.”

As if on cue, the horn from Roy’s Jeep sounded from your living room window.

Quickly, you ran to the window. Between your sheer curtains, Roy’s obsidian black Jeep was stationed on the road by your front door. You couldn’t curse on your call with Rebecca, but by God– you wanted to.

“Is that the cavalry coming for me?” you said down the phone, peeved.

“Yes, it is,” Rebecca said smugly. “See you in an hour, darling.” She hung up the phone fast, so quick that you couldn’t give any excuse to get out of this match.

Quickly, you gathered a bag of belongings and left your flat. Reluctantly, you descended the steps of your building and pulled the handle of the passenger side door of Roy’s Jeep. You settled quickly, without fuss, but words dangled in the air as soon as silence descended within the car.

“Ready to go?” Roy said from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. Roy didn’t push you, but he did push upon the accelerator and toward Wembley Stadium.

Roy parked in the car park beneath the stadium, only for players or coaches, and killed the engine.

You grabbed your bag quickly and left his Jeep, knowing what happens when you’re trapped inside with nowhere to go. The two of you made your way through the back entrance of the stadium. It was a miracle that Roy hadn’t asked what was wrong– you were being quiet and subdued, that was enough of a trigger for him to know something was up.

You wondered if Nate had eyes on you. You wondered if he was watching you traverse the inner sections of Wembley, if he saw you freak out when going past the locker room, if he saw you retreat into yourself past the press rooms.

Roy didn’t wonder. He kept his eyes on you through it all.

Silence hung in the air uncomfortably as you passed office after office. These were the inner workings of a stadium; a world that you knew well, but nothing like that of the Dogtrack.

You finally broke the air. “I should really get to Rebecca and Keeley,” you said.

“And you will,” Roy said. “There’s just one stop we have to take first.”

Your heart stilled as soon as he turned to the right, entering into the final office on the long corridor you’d traversed. You were hit with the nervous gazes of Ted and Beard immediately, but you didn’t care for the way their expressions faltered softly—

You cared for the way Nate’s eyes bored into you with no remorse. At the back of the room, he glared at you ten times worse than he’d done the week before at the Dogtrack.

“Writer!” Ted exclaimed, filling the tension in the air with his enthusiasm. “Oh, thank God,” he added in a whisper.

“Hi,” you said smally, accepting a hug from him suddenly.

You hated this. As you removed yourself from Ted’s grasp, you could feel the steely eyes of one Nathan Shelley staring you down, like a child did to an ant before he crushed it with his shoe.

After you left Ted’s embrace, you stepped back so quickly that you almost tripped over Roy’s feet. He steadied you instantly, keeping his hand at your lower back.

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Ted said, gaining some colour back on his face.

You laughed nervously. “I should really go and find Rebecca and Keeley. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Poppycock!” Ted exclaimed. “You’re exactly what we needed. The guys are in the locker room just down there, why don’t you go and say—,”

“No!” you burst suddenly.

The room went quiet instantly. Beard looked at Ted quizzically. You could feel Roy’s stare on the back of your neck.

“They need to focus,” you stuttered. “I should just go and find my seat.”

Nate stepped forward a few paces, coming between Ted and Beard silently. “I think that’s a good idea. Let her go and find her girlfriends.”

You hated the way words fell from his mouth. You knew he had you exactly where he wanted you— uncomfortable, vulnerable, everything in between— but you were in no situation to open this can of worms with Ted, Beard and Roy.

You gripped your bag on your arm tightly and turned to Roy. “I’ll see you on the pitch,” you said timidly. Quickly, and without thinking, you pressed a chaste kiss on Roy’s cheek, and left promptly.

You had no idea where you were going, but knew that you couldn’t stop as you made your way down the inner corridors of Wembley.

All you knew was that you needed to be where Nate Shelley was not, as soon as humanly possible.

“Have a glass of wine,” Rebecca said sternly from the internal bar by the VIPs box.

“I’m okay,” you said, keeping yourself contained.

Her smile turned to a frown. Oh, she knew you far too well for you to get out of this one.

“Take the fucking wine glass, darling.”

“Okay.” You took the glass of wine instantly and downed one, two, three gulps. You breathed out. “Oh, that’s better.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, satisfied.

“Sorry,” you said between gulps and sips. “It’s just been a long week.”

“I can see that,” she said, looking you up and down. “Are you sure that’s all it is? Your job?”

Shit. She knew something else was up. They all fucking did, and it drove you insane. Innately, you cursed yourself out for being so well-known, so well-loved. You were surrounded by the people who knew you most in this world, but also by the people that didn’t want you around. It was a double-edged sword of inescapable proportions, and you were tired.

“That’s all it is,” you said, trying to adopt as much sincerity as you possibly could.

Rebecca’s frown stayed put as her eyes roamed your face. Gently, she reached out her hand and ran her expensively manicured nails through your hair softly.

“You’d let us know, wouldn’t you?” she said, and you froze with your wine glass to your lips. “You’d let us know if it was something else, too?”

Keeley shoved a mini sausage roll in her mouth and approached you both quickly. “It’s Roy, isn’t it.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not Roy,” you groaned.

“Then what is it!” Keeley exclaimed, launching pastry crumbs across the bar.

Before you could respond, applause broke out from the crowd immensely. You gulped down the rest of your wine quickly and dropped the empty glass on a side table by the door to the stands.

“That’s kick off,” you said, already on your way to take a seat.

The conversation went unfinished, as Rebecca and Keeley followed you out of the door towards the pitch. They didn’t attempt to pry during the game, too caught up in the song and dance of yelling chants for Richmond, of being present, of supporting.

You knew you’d dodged a bullet, as you screamed your lungs out from the stands. But, you knew your silence was on a time limit. If anyone would get something out of you, it was Rebecca and Keeley.

And you knew it would only be a matter of time before they broke your silence (for the better).

When the full-time whistle blew, you felt helpless. You could only imagine how the guys were feeling, knowing that they’d lost so spectacularly against none other than Manchester City.

The person who your heart went out to the most, however, was not normal. It wasn’t Roy, it wasn’t Ted, it wasn’t even Sam or Isaac or Colin— it was Jamie Tartt.

You knew he’d be hurting the most from this immense defeat. His old team, his past life, and at Wembley fucking stadium no less. He’d be in bits.

“Well,” Rebecca said, standing up and wrapping her scarf around her neck. “That’s that, then.”

“The guys will be crushed,” Keeley said sadly.

“Jamie will be crushed.” The pair of them looked at you as you spoke. Their sombre faces were enough for you to know that they agreed wholeheartedly.

“Come on.” Rebecca passed you and stepped out of the stands. “Let’s go and commiserate with them.”

You tensed instantly, watching silently as Keeley stood up and followed Rebecca. The two of them waited for you at the end of the row.

“I should really head home,” you said finally, trying to keep your expression neutral.

“What?” Keeley.

“Why on Earth do you need to leave now?” Rebecca.

“It’s just— I don’t want to crowd them, you know?” The pitch of your voice had risen. You sounded like a mouse, a lying, cheating mouse.

The two of them stared at you like you were mental. Neither said anything, their expressions spoke a thousand words for them— what the hell is up with you?

You faltered first. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Oh no, we absolutely will look at you like this,” Rebecca said threateningly. “What’s got your knickers in a twist? You look like a labrador that’s shit all over the carpet!”

“I really hope you haven’t shat on someone’s carpet, but if you have, you can tell us.” Keeley leaned down and laid a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I haven’t shat on a fucking carpet!”

“Then come on!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Your team needs you.” Her words stung you internally. “They need you.”

Rebecca’s commanding nature jumped out tenfold. You were stuck at an impasse, between a rock and a hard place, whatever other metaphor you could use for being trapped. One side of your brain projected a sad picture of the guys in the locker room, begging for a friendly face to come and lift them up; and the other— Nate was glaring at you like you’d just done something terribly wrong.

God, you hated this. No one knew the way he’d talked to you, or what he’d said. And the worst part was that you couldn’t tell them— wouldn’t— from how much drama it would create.

Football was supposed to be your safe space. Watching matches with your girls, cheering or crying in the locker room with the guys, urging Ted, Beard and Roy on whenever you could.

Nate had taken that all away after one simple conversation.

You didn’t know how to tell them no. If it was up to you, you would have sprung out of your seat and ran down to the locker rooms without any hesitation.

But, it wasn’t up to you. Nate’s words rattled around your mind like beads in a maraca.

Rebecca sucked in a deep breath. She leant down and grabbed your hand swiftly, warmly. “We’re here with you. Whatever you need, we’re always here. But, those boys need us the most right now. You know them better than I do—,”

“And me! You know them better than me, too!” Keeley joined in supportively.

“They don’t want us without you, and that’s a fact.”

You let out a shaking breath, then nodded quickly. Nate would have to move to the fucking side.

“Okay.” You nodded again, strongly. “Okay— let’s go see our boys.” You stood up quickly, not letting go of Rebecca’s hand.

“Your boys,” Rebecca said sternly. “They’re all yours.”

Navigating the lower levels of Wembley was nerve wracking, you couldn’t lie. Scenarios raced through your head of things going terribly wrong; Nate stopping you in the corridor; Nate forbidding you from entering the locker room; Nate this, Nate that.

Fuck this shit.

Rebecca was right. They were your boys, your team. You knew them on levels that didn’t revolve around football, you knew them as people. And by God, they needed that. This time, they needed someone to make them feel something other than defeated.

The corridors were clear when the three of you turned the corner to the locker rooms. Only a security guard stood at the door of Richmond, and he very easily let you all in when you approached.

You held your breath when you finally entered. The guys sat in their respective cubby holes sullenly, elbows on knees, heads in their hands.

You’d seen this before at Roy’s last game. Silence even deeper than when you both sat in the Dogtrack locker room alone littered the air at Wembley. You could only imagine what the guys were feeling, like history was repeating itself on so many levels for the team.

You caught eyes with Jamie first. He looked broken.

Rebecca and Keeley headed towards the coaches, but you felt stuck in place by the door, frozen by the sad atmosphere in the room.

Roy saw you before you saw him. He strolled over slowly and reached out to grab your forearm. “Hey,” he said softly.

You flashed back to reality and gazed up at him. “Hey.” Quickly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders tightly. He clutched you back strongly, and you knew that he’d been needing a hug with the same fervour as yours.

You didn’t need to say you were sorry. He’d probably heard it enough already. He knew you felt the sting of a loss this big just as much as he did.

When you went to pull away, he squeezed you tighter. Evidently, he wasn’t done just yet.

“Well, guys,” Ted said to the room. Roy finally tugged away, but he kept a firm grasp around your waist as the two of you turned to listen to Ted’s address. “We lost. You don’t need me or anyone else to say it, because the look on your faces says it all.” Ted’s southern drawl felt like therapy. Within seconds, the team felt acknowledged, and that was all that mattered. “We all knew this was going to be tough, and for just a moment I want you all to forget the score, forget the goals and whatever else, and just think of how you all played like a proper team.”

Ted had a way with words that you knew was the main reason his career was so vast. You didn’t know a thing about American football, but you knew that Ted was a stellar coach whether it was football or soccer in his eyes.

“You played as a team today,” Ted continued. “And sure, you’re allowed to be sad about the outcome, I’m not about to tell you you can’t feel that sting, but—.” Roy squeezed your waist. You wondered if he was doing it subconsciously. “But you all need to know that you were a unit today. One that has got us up through these ranks and back on the radar of the Premier League, even if the FA Cup wasn’t ours this time around.”

His words settled over the room and brought back a sense of self to all the players. Next to you, Roy breathed out softly and in understanding. You could feel the tension within him dissipate ever so slightly.

And then, that all went away.

“Knock knock!” a voice sounded from the door to the locker room. A second later, a face you didn’t recognise turned the corner and into the room. “Awh no, sorry for the loss, lads,” he said, as your eyes darted quickly around the room, trying to find any semblance of familiarity. You found it in Jamie’s eyes instantly. “Though, not fully sorry. Because Man City fuckin’ won!” His Mancunian accent reverberated throughout the room.

You understood immediately, as you watched Jamie’s hands ball into fists. The rest of the team stayed back, as if glued to their cubbies. This was Jamie’s father. It had to be.

Jamie’s dad pottered further into the room, towards his son. Jamie stood up as he did, sucking a deep breath into his tired lungs. “My boy, my boy. You bottled it didn’t ya?”

Your entire body tensed as everyone observed, not saying a word. Jamie’s dad only kept coming, not paying any mind to the other players in the room. Roy’s grip on your waist tightened suddenly, as if he could feel your anxiety rising. You could feel the same from him; every muscle in his body tried desperately to hold back.

Jamie’s father lunged towards his son’s face, so close that Jamie couldn’t look anywhere else. “You hear me, boy? You fuckin’ bottled it, didn’t ya?” he repeated.

“Don’t speak to me that way,” Jamie said quickly, seething.

“Wha?” his father faked not hearing him, getting even closer.

“Do not speak to me that way,” Jamie repeated. His father looked up to his face, catching his eye lethally.

Your gut lurched as his father kept going, kept repeating wha?, kept getting closer and closer to his boy’s face. This was vile, and you could hardly believe no one was doing anything.

“Wanna say that to me again, boy?”

Jamie stood his ground, puffing out his chest to be bigger, straightening out his spine to be taller, and better, and whatever else he hadn’t learned from his shit-bag of a father.

“Huh?” he said again, louder. “Huh!” he exclaimed. Alongside his voice, his hands bombarded into Jamie’s chest– hard.

Something within you snapped. Your chest compressed, your intestines warped, and your legs started moving. Roy’s grip disappeared from around your waist as you rushed forward, not giving a shit about the audience, or about the guys, or about Nate. Nate, who was standing behind Ted and Beard, saying and doing nothing.

Inside, you stopped caring. You didn’t give a fuck if he hated you being around, you didn’t give a fuck if you’d get in trouble from this outburst, but you had to do something– anything. Jamie Tartt was being publicly abused by his father in front of your eyes, and you couldn’t fucking stand it.

Maybe this is what Roy meant. You were the glue. You kept everyone together, you brought Roy back to the team. Maybe this is what you’d always been meant to do– protect these boys from whatever you fucking could, when they weren’t able to for themselves.

As Jamie recovered, ready to strike, you were already one step ahead. In a fraction of a second, you were already beside his father, fist raised. When your knuckles hit his skin, you finally came back into the room. There were two crashes; one from the impact of your fist on his father’s cheekbone; the second from him hitting the floor unceremoniously.

Quickly, Beard approached you and hoisted Jamie’s dad up by his armpits. The two of them backed out of the door, clambering over stray shoes and shirts and whatever else that lay on the floor. Without any warning, two large arms wrapped around you from behind and pulled you off the ground. You knew it was Roy as soon as you smelled his cologne. You smiled inappropriately, and then you chuckled to yourself deviously.

You’d just punched Jamie’s piece of shit dad in the fucking face.

And it felt fantastic.

Clatters sounded from the outside corridor. Beard breathed heavily as he made his way back into the locker room, and the door slammed loudly behind him. The air felt heavy as eyes darted around the room. The guys looked at each other, then to Beard, then to you. Roy still held you tightly, dangling you above the ground as you tried your damned hardest not to burst into laughter.

You couldn’t feel your hand. Your knuckles were red when you dropped your gaze to look. Your hand shook, finger bones stuck in place as they contemplated what their owner had just done– thrown a punch for the first time in her fucking life, and very haphazardly at that.

When Jamie looked over to you, Roy finally dropped you to the floor. He leaned in close to your face, surveying your eyes suddenly. This was a look you’d never seen from him; fear. Roy Kent wasn’t one to be afraid, but the way his eyes poured into your own had your chest crumpling beneath your skin. He was worried– he was frightened– for you.

“You ok?” he whispered.

You nodded quickly. “I’m not the one you need to be asking that to.” Your gaze moved over to Jamie in a heartbeat.

Roy stood up straight once more, puffing out his chest as he inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. He started walking without warning, fists balled, towards the Richmond striker. Everyone held their breath, knowing that him and Jamie together were not a good combination. You, however, smiled to yourself without question.

When Roy reached Jamie, he wrapped his arms around him immediately. Coach and player hugged in silence, as the gravity of what Jamie’s father had just done stuck to every wall in the room. He needed this– hands on help, a real show of love and affection.

You were happy that Roy was the one to breach contact. That’s exactly what Jamie had needed.

“You ok?” Roy asked him, pulling away from the embrace.

Jamie breathed out slowly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“It’s not me you should be thanking,” Roy muttered.

Both men turned back to face you. You held your wrist with care, not wanting to jolt your now fucked up hand. You smiled at the two of them knowingly, as everything settled back into place.

Behind you, Nathan Shelley grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. On the way out of the locker room, he rushed past you harshly. You yelped to yourself as he pushed into you, jolting your wrist painfully. He stopped before you for just a second; he smiled. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Watch yourself there,” he said, in some kind of fake honey-toned pitch. Then, he turned on his heels and left the locker room as fast as he’d bumped into you.

Another threat. What a fucking joke.

Your face soured immediately, you couldn’t help it. Inside your head, you imagined a world where you’d told Roy all that Nate had put you through recently. You could see it clearly– his whole body would tense, his fists would ball, his nostrils would flare, and he’d yell I’ll show that little fucker!

Deeper within the indulgent part of your mind, he kissed you passionately before he went to confront Nate on your behalf. You swallowed quickly, trying to pat away those thoughts from the unexplored crevices of your mind. It was futile. Besides, you knew you still couldn’t tell Roy about Nate’s behaviour, for the sake of the team.

One day, rest assured, you would. When Nate left Richmond, or something else happened to change things around here, that’s when you’d lay it all out for him.

You were counting down the days.

“Hey,” Roy said, alerting you back into the room once more. Stood before you, he looked down at your hand. His brows furrowed. “Hm,” he growled gently.

“It’s fine,” you lied.

Softly, Roy laid his fingers atop your red knuckles. A sharp pain bombarded through your flesh instantly, forcing you to suck in a gasp. The pain spread to the rest of your hand, down your fingers, and twinged into your wrist. You couldn’t help it– you had to scream. “Motherfucker!”

“Just as I thought,” Roy said. “You’ve fractured the shit out of your hand.”

You squirmed on the spot, trying desperately to alleviate the pain you felt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you rattled off, purely as a way to expel what you felt.

“Come on.” Roy bent down to the floor and picked up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go to the physio.” You hardly heard him, too focused on your hand. Roy gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the room. “See you in a bit, lads!” he exclaimed to the room.

The two of you turned into the empty corridor ay Wembley, walking slowly as you tried to hold onto the last of your composure.

“God,” you hissed. “Why the fuck did I punch Jamie’s dad?”

“Because someone had to,” Roy replied. “And besides.” He glanced at you unknowingly, as you remained preoccupied on your self-inflicted injury. “It was fucking hot.”

You groaned immensely, dropping your head onto Roy’s shoulder. “It doesn’t fucking feel like it,” you whined. Roy couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh, believe me,” he said lowly, indulging in you being this close to him. “It was.”

Roy held you all the way to the physio. Secretly, he’d never been happier that you’d decided to be so reckless. Perhaps, he thought, he was rubbing off on you just as much as you’d changed him for the better.

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security-chief-odo · 11 months

Text

To Love and be Loved in Return

Roy Kent x Reader

Description: Both you and Roy Kent are in love, but of course neither of you knows your feelings are requited. Who will be the first to spill the beans?

Chapter 1 - World’s Greatest Boss

Word Count: 1k

• • •

You have been working as a coaching assistant for AFC Richmond for the past six months. Though your job technically speaking is to assist the entire coaching staff, in reality, you were hired to manage Roy Kent.

Though he is an excellent coach, he is god awful at things like maintaining a schedule, filing any paperwork in a reasonable time frame, and generally dealing with the public. This is where you come in and make his life (and Rebecca’s) easier.

Your life on the other hand has gotten much harder as a result of this job. You have had a school girl crush on Roy since he was still playing for Chelsea. A crush you had assumed was just superficial and would fade as you got to know him as a coworker and a friend. If only life was ever that easy.

If anything, your crush has just gotten stronger because not only is Roy insanely hot, but he is kind, smart, and surprisingly funny. Perhaps more importantly though, he is sitting in front of your desk, not noticing as you stare at him.

“What do I have to get done this weekend?”

“Well, it’ll be a busy one for you. You need to go pick up your suit from the tailor tomorrow for the gala next weekend.”

He groaned, “I still don’t see why I have to go to that stupid thing.”

“It is quite literally in your job description Roy.” He rolls his eyes at that but lets you continue. “You have a game Tuesday, press conference after that. Do you have your shoes for the gala?”

“I’m not getting new shoes for that shit, I have a pair that’ll do. Do you have my talking points prepped for the press conference?” You hand over a bullet pointed page. “And if we lose?”

“You won’t, but that’s on the printer.” You turn in your chair to grab it but he's up and behind your desk already, skimming over the page.

“What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn, probably”

He chuckled at that, “Yeah, probably. So I, uh, wanted to ask before, but are you going to the gala?”

“I’m office staff, I’m not sure I’m invited”

“Of course you’re fucking invited.”

“I’ll ask Rebecca about it.”

“No need, you can be my plus one.” You stop dead in your tracks at his words. Of course you want to go to the gala with Roy but there’s no way he means it like that and sitting by his side all night just might be the death of you.

“Oh um, I don’t know”

“Come on, y/n”

“I don’t have anything to wear. My wardrobe isn’t exactly fitting for a gala”

“Then I’ll buy you a dress.”

“You don’t need to do that. I’m sure you had some model you were going to bring anyways.”

“I’m not that guy anymore, y/n. And anyways, you deserve to go, you’re part of the team” Right, part of the team. He’s being a good boss. That’s all he was ever doing.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll give Keeley my credit card and have her pick you up Saturday”

Returning to your emails, you began typing as you continued the conversation. “Anyone ever told you that you’re kind of an amazing boss?”

Right, you only see him as your boss. Nothing more. Probably never will be anything more. He just needed to accept that.“I don’t know that that’s the word the boys would use.”

“Well, maybe you should try buying all of them fancy dresses?”

“You know, that just might do the trick,” a smile threatens to cross his face, “but I don't think they’d look nearly as good.”

“Careful sir, don’t let Isaac hear you say that one.”

That one actually got a laugh out of him. “You’re right. Then I might have to bring him as my date instead–” His eyes widen as soon as the word ‘date’ leaves his mouth and he stumbles out, “not that I’m asking you as my date. I’m not. I just–”

Despite the sinking feeling in your gut, you let him off the hook. “Of course not Roy. I didn’t assume you were.”

“Right. Well. I’ll just leave you to uh, you know, I’ve got a meeting.” He rushed out, nearly slamming your door behind him. As soon as he was out of earshot, he groaned “Fuck.” Roy should have known better than to say anything. You are sweet and beautiful and fucking brilliant and he might have just ruined everything.

You are sitting in your office, having completed Roy’s schedule, you move on to Beard and Nate. There’s no way those meetings will be nearly as painful as your last one. You never thought Roy would return your feelings, but you figured you would at least have to ask before he could reject you.

Roy and you are clearly avoiding each other all day Thursday. He takes his lunch in his car. You don’t even leave your office. You wait until the end of the day to go meet with the assistant coaches about their calendars, hoping that Roy may have left early.

You aren’t quite so lucky and bump into him as you enter the locker room. Of course this knocks your papers out of your hands. You squat down to pick them up.

“Fuck,” he growls, “sorry.”

“It’s ok. I wasn’t exactly looking where I was going either.”

He extends a hand to help you up. Your hand feels nice in his and you both are holding hands for a moment longer than necessary before pulling away.

With nothing left to say, you find yourself looking into his kind eyes before you are interrupted by Nate.

“Oh y/n, I was just about to come grab you for our meeting.”

“Right.” you turn to Roy, “See you tomorrow!”

He waves as he walks away, not for a second noticing where your eyes were as you watched him leave. You follow Nate back into the office for your meetings with the assistant coaches, your thoughts however stay on the head coach.

• • •

Click here for chapter 2!

Let me know if you’re interested in joining my taglist, either for this series or my general taglist. Otherwise, just let me know what you think!

#reader insert #roy kent x reader #roy kent #Roy Kent/reader #idiots in love #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso #afc richmond #to love and be loved in return

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noforkingclue · 1 year

Text

It’s a Date (Jamie Tartt x reader)

Summary: you asked Jamie for one small favour. Who knew that it was going to end with this?

“I don’t know about this Jamie…”

“Look I said I got ya, ok?”

“Yes but-“

“Then what’s to worry about?”

“What if someone see us.”

“Sees us,” Jamie gives you an incredulous looks, “That’s what you’re fucking worried about.”

“Yeah.”

“Thought it would be more about falling over and hurting yourself.”

“No. Just, won’t you be embarrassed being seen with me.”

“No.”

“Really?”

“’course. Now are you going to let me fucking help you or not?”

You bit your lip as you looked nervously at the bike. Jamie gave you can encouraging smile as he held the handle bars and gestured towards it.

“Trust me?”

“Yeah,” you said at last, “I do.”

“Then get on. Not gonna let anything happen, ok.”

“Ok.”

In all honesty, you were surprised about how good of a teach Jamie actually was. You were expecting him to be kind of, well, arrogant about the whole thing. Have an ‘I can do this so why can’t you, it’s easy’ attitude.

“Y’know,” you said after you fell over for what felt like the hundredth time, “Despite me being shit, you’re not a shit teacher.”

“Nah,” Jamie held out his hand, “You’re not that shit. Roy was worse.”

“You taught Roy Kent?” you said as you grasped his hand, “How are you still alive?”

“Just used my natural charm.”

You raised your eyebrows at him as Jamie pulled you to your feet. You felt your cheeks get hot at the contact. You had forgotten just how strong Jamie actually was as he pulled you up and against him. Your eyes locked with his and something unreadable passed across them. You quickly let go of his hand and grabbed the bike again.

“Let’s have another go,” you said as you looked at the ground, “Think I’m getting the hang of this.”

You put your foot on the pedal and pushed down, still distracted by the memory of Jamie’s hand in yours. You hadn’t realised how distracted you actually were until you felt yourself tilting to the side again.

“Woah! Watch it!”

And then Jamie’s hands were on your hips. Warm and steady and making your cheeks heat up even more. He walked behind you, fingers trailing behind you, as he kept you steady. He leant closer and said,

“You alright there?”

“Yep.”

Your voice was strained and behind you Jamie frowned. He knew that if you were really uncomfortable with him then you’d let him know. However, he secretly enjoyed being this close to you.

“Definitely think I’m a worse student than Roy.” you said

“Nah.”

“Really.”

“Wouldn’t lie to ya,” Jamie said, “you’re also better company than that old man.”

“Roy is pretty good company.”

“You get along with everyone. That’s part of your charm.”

“Aww, didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

Jamie coughed awkwardly, glad that you couldn’t see his face.

“Let’s just give this enough go.” He said and without warning gave you a push

You let out a yelp of shock and pushed down on the pedals. To your surprised, instead of falling over you actually managed to ride it. You looked over at Jamie in a mixture shock and joy. Jamie’s face seemed to be the same as yours as he grinned at you. You rode the bike in a wobbly line as you circled shakily around him. You dismounted shakily and you stumbled towards him. Jamie held out his hands to steady you as you said,

“Did you see that?”

“Sure did.”

“Thank you!”

To Jamie’s surprise you flung your arms around him. He was used to getting hugs from his team mates but with you it was different. You were… you were mates. Well, slightly more than that but he wasn’t quite brave enough to take that next step. What if you didn’t feel the same way? What if he humiliated himself and lost a mate?

However, with your body pressed against his maybe he could image that you felt the same. Slowly, and slightly unsurely, he raised his arms and returned the hug. You smiled and rested your head against Jamie’s chest and his grip tightened instinctively. Fuck, he never wanted to let you go.

It was then that Jamie noticed that the two of you were unfortunately not alone. Standing at the edge of the green was Coach Beard and Ted. Ted was grinning at the two of you while Beard gave a nod of approval.

Fuck.

He was never going to live this down.

Ted gave Jamie a thumbs up and Jamie just rolled his eyes and flipped them two of them off. He was thankful that you back at facing them. Beard shook his affectionately while Ted gave Jamie a disapproving look. It was at this moment you looked up at him. For a second Jamie was concerned that you had somehow spotted Ted and Beard and would chose to hang out with them. Instead you said,

“Venchi is opening soon. Why don’t I treat you as a thank you?”

“Now then,” Jamie’s smirk return and for a second the grip around your waist tightened, “How can I a refuse an offer like that?”

“Great!”

You broke free from his grip and Jamie couldn’t help but miss the loss of your warmth. However, that was quickly replaced by you linking your arm with his.

“It’s a date?”

He could hear the question in your voice and Jamie quickly glanced down at you. You had a nervous look on your face similar to the one Jamie had on earlier.

“Yeah,” Jamie coughed and said, “It’s a fucking date.”

#fanfiction #ted lasso #reader insert #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader

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believesthings · 5 months

Text

How Can Anybody Stay The Same? // Ted Lasso x Reader

A/N: A story inspired by the JP Saxe song “Changed”

Warnings: a fuck ton of angst. A lot of mentions of Michelle

Ted had been trying to get used to calling London “home.” He rolled it around in his head, rolled it around on his tongue. The way he figured it, it’s like a new pair of boots. He needs to break it in. And he’s getting there, he can feel it a little more with the passing days.

His story has always been that he took this job as a way to give Michelle the space she needs; and of course, to a degree, it is. But whether he admits it, consciously or subconsciously, he’s also here for himself.

He’s spent so much of his life wearing different hats: Father, Husband, Coach. Each of which he takes great pride in, but in the shuffle of all of it he worries that he’s lost sight of just being Ted. He’s been learning the parts of himself that he never got to know. Being married to your high school love, growing up as a unit, it’s… different. He meant when he said that wouldn’t change a single moment of it. Of course, he did. It was a wonderful marriage and brought him Henry, the one part of his pedigree he could never find fault in. But since he and Michelle were in tandem for so long, it greatly affected his decision making. Every time he had to make a choice, she was his first priority. Number one, always. Then Henry. Then, and only then, after all the facets of their feelings were considered, he would consider himself.

With London, came a change in titles: Father, of course. Coach (although a different kind of football that he was still adjusting to) and now, freshly added to the list: ex husband. That was a pair of shoes that he never thought would fit. He thought he was good at it, it was all he had known for such a long time. Who was he when he wasn’t the husband of Michelle? That was part of what he came to London to know. While the title of husband fades, the focal point of Ted comes in sharper focus. Father, Coach, Friend, Tea Hater, possibly a functioning alcoholic, which is something that he really should stop and examine about himself one of these days but not now.

He’s growing into the shoes. And the word home is getting more comfortable on the tongue. The more he lets go, the more room he can make for himself.

Of course, this doesn’t all happen overnight. You gotta start somewhere. Ted was no exception. And lord, he started at rock fucking bottom.

When Ted first came to London, he could always tell if he was going to have a good day based on the temperature of his hands.

The two most common phrases about the weather that he heard growing up were, “it’s not the heat that gets you, it’s the humidity” and “it wouldn’t actually be that cold if it wasn’t for the wind.”

People told him that London wasn’t actually known for having super hot summers or frigid winters. One of the first interactions he had when he landed was a man shrugging his shoulders and saying “Mate, London is just London. All the time.”

Ted still wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

He figured the London equivalent was “it wouldn’t actually be that cold if it wasn’t so damp.” The rain often had a way of making it seem colder than it was. And it was a big adjustment for him when it came to trying to get over his wife.

“Aw. Heck.” Ted huffed, seeing his breath in front of his own face. It was early in the morning. He went to bed far too late and he awoke to snow blanketing the town. Now to top it off, he left his civics textbook in his car and he couldn’t seem to unlock it to get a hold of it.

“Um, excuse me?”

Ted jumped, looking up to see a blonde girl he had never seen before.

She looks at him expectedly before saying, “Is there a reason you’re trying to break into my vehicle? I can promise you, I don’t have anything interesting in there. Unless you’re looking for some loose change and some Sonic peppermints.”

“I’m sorry, you seem to be mistaken. I’m trying to get into my car. I left my textbook right there in the backseat.” He steps closer, peering into the window and finding… nothing. He looked back at this mystery girl like she had just performed a magic trick.

He looked around to find the parking lot full of cars, but they were the only two people in it, which seemed… odd. Maybe this was a dream. That had to be it, he was still in bed and he would wake up any minute.

The mystery girl pulled out her own set of keys and unlocked the car, reaching in to pull out a pair of gloves. He took a minute to examine her profile. Snow in her hair, cheeks flushed from the cold. She was beautiful. Ted couldn’t believe he’d never met her before.

“Come on now, you didn’t mention you had gloves in there. If I had known that, I wouldn’t have given up so quickly.” It wasn’t his best, but he was freezing, tired and still not entirely sure he wasn’t dreaming.

But, she laughed. And Ted thought it might have been the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Well, I’d offer to share with you but I only have one pair so we’d both have one gloveless hand.”

Ted figured that wouldn’t be so bad. He thought about saying something about holding their gloveless hands together to stay warm but that seemed entirely too much for a girl whose name he still didn’t know, so he kept quiet.

“May I?” She was holding her hand out to him. Oh god, was she actually going to try to hold his hand? He found himself nodding, dazed. Even though he didn’t really know what he was agreeing to.

He tried to stifle the jolt he felt in his stomach at the feeling of her skin touching his. She grabbed his own car keys out his hand, pressing the car alarm button and Ted practically jumped 10 feet in the air.

He whipped his head around to see his own car, the exact same color, make and model as this mystery girl’s vehicle, two rows over, covered in snow. “Huh. I guess in all the lack of sleep last night, I forgot where I parked. I promise I’m not the type of guy that would normally go snoopin’ around a woman’s car.”

There was that damn laugh again. “I believe you. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I believe you. You have a very honest face.” She holds out her hand again, “I’m Michelle.”

Michelle. The mystery woman has a name.

“I’m Ted.” He holds out his own hand, freezing fingers meeting freezing fingers, clasping around each other.

“Nice to meet you.”

What the hell were the odds that they would be the only two in this freezing cold parking lot, both driving the same type of car, both trying to get into said cars at the exact same time?

“Yeah, you too.”

So yeah, when he comes to London, he still misses her, but only on the days when his hands are cold.

———

Denial. That was what he felt the first time that Michelle told him he had changed. If anything, he figured she had changed. She was the one who didn’t laugh at his jokes anymore. She was the one whose smile didn’t fully reach her eyes when they were together. She was one who let his hand fall out of her grasp when they were out in public. He wished he had changed. He would have given anything to change into someone that she would continue to love.

You’re not the man I love anymore, Ted.

So teach me, Michelle. Teach me how to be the man you love again. I’ll fucking do it, you know I will.

————

The night in Liverpool, after his panic attack, the denial bled into goddamn anger.

It wasn’t the first time he had a panic attack, but it had been a long time since it had happened. They became a pretty frequent occurrence for him after the passing of his dad. And Michelle, the old Michelle, the woman she used to be before “he changed” would help him come down from it. She would hold his hands and tell him stories to distract him. Reminding him of sweeter memories like on their first date when it turned out that the restaurant he was going to take her to was actually converted into a shoe store.

The angers cools to depression at the thought of all the parts of her that he’ll never get to know. But it flares up into anger again at the sight of the divorce papers in front of him.

She wasted no time sending over the divorce papers. Throwing his phone down on the table and pinching the bridge of his nose, he was fucking angry. She liked to tell him he changed all the time, and even if they were true, how could she expect someone to stay the way they were in high school? Nobody ever stays the same. People change. People grow. That’s part of life. A big part of it. You spend your youth learning how to become a person, and your older years learning how to become a good person.

He hates it because when he’s like this, he wants to talk to someone that knows him. He would have to explain all this to Rebecca or Keeley. He laughs bitterly into his whiskey. The one person that could help him through his divorce is the very person he’s divorcing from. The goddamn irony of it all.

He could call his mother, but he knows that’s going to open up a whole plethora of questions. She’ll want to know how Michelle is doing, what she’s been up to. “Gee honey, don’t you think there’s a chance you’ll get back together?” He can’t stomach that line of questioning right now.

And it’s not like he can just close her out of his life forever. They have a child together. A child that has his mother’s eyes. Which he also doesn’t want to think about.

Obviously, pain is an aspect of life. But god, right now, he wished there was someone, anyone else that knew him as well as Michelle did.

He really wanted it to be her. Until he realized that she didn’t want it to be him.

—————-

Ted was nervously playing with the glass in front of him, avoiding going back home.

He knew you would be there, waiting for him. Wanting an explanation that he didn’t want to give.

He kept going back and forth with himself, he knew you probably wouldn’t be mad but there was a difference between logically knowing something to be true and emotionally believing it.

On the other side of it all, Michelle has become something that he explains to his new love. Why he reacts the way does, Why he doesn’t have confidence in himself, why he sometimes can’t accept the love you are so easily willing to give.

He still has some habits that you’re helping him to break. Constantly reminding him that he’s not a burden, that his optimistic nature is a feature and not a bug of his personality.

There is no secret alchemy, relationships just take a lot of work, something he’s learning with you.

It’s still odd for him, to have someone work through the struggle rather than break down and leave.

And when he does get home, you’re there. Like you always are.

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask. Leaning against the doorframe.

He shrugs sheepishly but doesn’t actually say anything.

“It’s okay if you don’t, you know. We don’t always have to be talking.”

He nods and makes his way to the couch. His fingers tapping on the tops of his thighs.

You make your way over and sit beside him. Not touching him, not speaking, just sharing the space.

The argument that broke out between the two of you earlier is playing in your heads.

“You gotta let me in, Ted. Just a fucking little bit. I don’t understand what you want me to do. Whether you realize it or not, you’re punishing me for things that she did and that isn’t fair to me. I’m sorry that she hurt you, I am. I truly believe you didn’t deserve it. But, I don’t deserve it either.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’” Ted reaches his hand out to yours and you intertwine them together.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too-“

“No. There’s no need for you to be. Everything you said was true.”

“It’s just something we’re gonna have to work through together, honey.”

“Yeah.” He whispers, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

You cuddle into his side, “so what do you think, time for bed?”

“Heck yeah.”

You don’t let go of his hand, keeping your fingers intertwined. His hands aren’t cold anymore and he’s found something new in himself, a man that you can love. Openly and easily. And he didn’t have to change a damn thing about himself to make it happen.

#ted lasso #Ted lasso x reader #Ted lasso angst #Ted lasso fluff #ted lasso reader insert #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fanfiction #angst #fluff

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peterpparkrr · 1 year

Text

Series: Banter

Pairing: Roy Kent x f!Reader

Summary: You and Roy try to pretend your almost-date never happened.

Masterlist:

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Ch. 5

Ch. 6 - coming soon!

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #roy kent #roy kent fanfic #roy kent x reader #roy kent drabble #roy kent reader insert #ted lasso reader insert #ted lasso series #roy kent series #keeley jones

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6rookie-writer0110 · 1 year

Text

Dating Rebecca Welton would include...

•In the beginning... You and Rebecca didn't get along at first.

•Slowly you and Rebecca started to get along.

•She noticed that you understood her sense of humor and her sarcasm.

•You would comfort her when she spoke about her ex-husband Rupert.

•Jamie Tartt did notice how you look at Rebecca and he tells you how to flirt with her.

•Sometimes, you didn't understand him because of his accent.

•The relationship would be a secret.

•The age difference won't bother you or Rebecca.

•Sometimes you don't understand Rebecca or the others because of their British slang.

•You misunderstood when Rebecca wanted biscuits. She meant cookies, not bread.

•She explained why it's called a biscuit.

•She thought it was cute how you got confused.

•If someone called you a wanker or twat, Rebecca would defend you.

•Keeley supports the relationship.

•Keeley caught you and Rebecca kissing each other in the office.

•Ted did figure out that you and Rebecca are dating, it took a while for him to figure it out.

•You and Rebecca would go away for the weekend.

•Rebecca does comfort you when you are feeling down.

•You and Rebecca do argue and ignored each other for days.

•Ted and Keeley would try to help you two fix the problem.

•She is very affectionate with you when she is alone with you.

•Rebecca always says she isn't a hugger, but occasionally she would hug you.

•Rebecca would make tea for you.

•The team found out that you are dating Rebecca.

•They are in shock but they support the relationship.

•Keeley did convince you and Rebecca to go on a double date with her and Roy.

•When Rebecca is sick, you would take care of her.

•You and Rebecca open up to each other on a personal level.

•Some nights, you would stay at her place.

•During the holidays you and Rebecca would buy each other gifts.

•For your birthday, she bought you an expensive gift.

•Always supporting each other.

•Rebecca does smile a lot when you surprise her with snacks.

#Rebecca Welton imagine #ted lasso imagine #x male reader #male!reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral insert #rebecca welton x you #rebecca welton x reader #Rebecca Welton x male reader #male reader

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thisismysecondrodeo · 2 years

Note

here’s a request if you have time: ted giving y/n a massage?

AN: @tedssweaters wrote a lovely little massage blurb that everyone should go read. I already had this request in my queue and of course, I went in a different (read: horny) direction lol s/o to @jarfishy for the encouragement to finish this one early 😛 two fics in one day, who am I?!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: AFAB!reader, One-Shot, Sports injury turned very sexy, Smut, Porn with barely any plot, facefucking, fingerfucking, General sexy things

Fic masterlist

You had been obsessed with football since you were little, your older brothers happily taught you every trick they knew while they dribbled circles around you until you were old enough to start playing against girls your own age. You had long since hung up your football dreams, though, focusing on a career in PR instead. But since you started working for AFC Richmond—and dating the head coach—you couldn’t help but want to get back on the pitch again.

Over happy hour one night you told the team how much you missed playing and they all tried to get you into a drunken round of footie on the Richmond Green, absolutely gutted when they couldn’t procure a football and the coaches told them it was too dark and they were too not-sober. But after that, the boys would occasionally drop by your office on a light practice day to invite you out and you started keeping some extra athletic clothes and boots under your desk.

“You sure it's okay,” you asked Ted each time you went to step out on the pitch, trying not to linger. Though your relationship had started completely unrelated to your employment, neither of you wanted anyone to get the wrong impression. The only people that were aware you were together were Rebecca and HR…and Keeley after that one time she had come back for something in her old desk and caught the two of you….indisposed. You had to admit the sneaking around was a little sexy, but it was a bummer in times like this when you wanted to drop a kiss on his cheek after he said, “of course! Go show those boys what-for.”

You were getting into the rhythms of playing, your lungs burning with exertion and a grin cemented to your face as you darted around. You raised a hand to Dani with a call of, “oi!” and sprinted to the ball to set yourself up for a corner kick. It felt good to score, even though you knew the boys let you have that one—granted they’d been out there for hours and you were fresh from your desk, no one could blame them for being a little slow.

You were taking the ball down the field when Sam called for a pass and you looked up for him just as O’Brien went for a slide tackle and you went down hard, with a pained grunt. Ted was hovering over you in an instant, you didn’t even know how he’d moved that quickly, and you rolled off of O’Brien and onto your stomach with a laugh.

“Jeez, I’m so sorry, you alright Y/N,” O’Brien asked with genuine remorse as he sat up on his knees, Ted right next to him his brow furrowed in concern.

“It was fair play, I’m perfectly fine Tommy Boy. Don’t apologize for that,” You went to get up but Ted stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t move yet, we should get you checked out,” Ted said and you looked at him like he was crazy.

“Ted, I’m fine. I’m a human woman, not a paper doll,” you laughed and Ted chuckled with you. “Just help me up, why don’t you?”

Ted held out a hand and you let him take most of your weight as you clambered up, took a step, and…shit that hurt. Not the worst you’d felt, but your thigh was cripplingly tight. You must have pulled your hamstring when you went down. Ted saw you grimace and his voice was frantic when he asked, “Woah now, what hurts?”

“Mmmf,” you grunted, “s’okay, just pulled my hamstring.” You gestured to your left leg and Ted’s hands were on you, squeezing with a pleasure-pain that made you groan as you braced yourself on his shoulder, not realizing how inappropriate this might seem to the players still gathered around. Coach Beard loudly and pointedly cleared his throat but it was too late.

“Coach, why don’t you work my hamstrings out like that, huh,” Jamie called out, his tongue sticking out of his mouth. Roy shoulder-checked him but even he smirked. Ted blushed and removed his hands immediately. You needed to get him out of here before he started apologizing and making things worse.

“Where were you when I tore my butt,” O’Brien teased and all the players laughed at that. Ted opened his mouth to say something, but you quickly cut him off.

“Ha ha,” you stuck your tongue out at Jamie and O’Brien mockingly, “come on, Coach, help me to the treatment room?” You wrapped an arm around Ted’s shoulders, your hurt leg in between so you could use him as a crutch as you limped off the pitch. He wrapped a hand around your waist to support you, being sure to keep his hand higher than necessary.

As soon as the treatment door clicked shut behind you, Ted had you wrapped tightly in his arms as if he had found you on the pitch half-dead. Thank god the actual trainer was out for the afternoon otherwise there was no way the two of you could explain this one away as platonic concern. You chuckled a little but let him hold you, his hands gripping your t-shirt as he took deep, soothing breaths.

“Ted?”

He didn’t respond but you could feel his fingers release just a smidge.

“Teddy, I’m alright sweetheart,” you whispered with light amusement and Ted sighed and let you go.

“I know, I know you just…gave me a bit of a fright seein’ you take a tumble like that. And I’m embarrassed on top of that for not keepin’ my hands to myself and almost blowing our cover. I should have told the boys to take it easy—”

“Woah, now, none of that,” you chastised, hobbling over to sit on a treatment table. “I may not have ever been a professional athlete, but I was an athlete. I know what it’s like to be knocked down, I know the symptoms of a concussion. Hell, have I told you my front incisor is an implant? Mum was pissed after that game.” You chuckled and looked over at Ted who was wincing. “Ah, come on now darling. You see people get hurt all the time. Scrapes and bruises are little badges of hon—”

“Not you,” Ted said, his voice tight and his hands fisted in his pockets. “I don’t see you get hurt all the time. It’s not because you’re a woman or because you’re not a professional or because I don’t think you can handle yourself, I just…I love you. And I don’t want to see the person I love in pain.”

Ted had never told you he loved you before and your eyes shot to his face, searching for any indication that he didn’t mean it, that he regretted saying it. But all you saw was the vulnerability of him offering his heart on a platter. You reached a hand out towards him and he stepped closer, allowing you to tug one of his fists from the pocket of his khakis.

“I love you too, Ted Lasso,” you whispered, holding his gaze as you leaned in and he met you halfway. It was easy to forget where you were and why when he kissed you like that, but when you shifted to widen your legs so he could step between them, the tug in your thigh reminded you and you grunted into his mouth, which was not the sexy sound he’d been anticipating.

“As much as I’m loving this very sexy turn of events, do you think you could get me an ice pack?”

Ted jumped into action with a smile and you slid off the table to remove your shorts so they wouldn’t get in the way, before leaning over and locking the door. Ice pack in hand, Ted turned and you could see the way his eyes lingered, but he remained focused on attending to your injury.

“Here, why don’t you lay on your stomach and I’ll hold this for you.” You did as he asked, and jumped when the freezing cold sensation hit your skin. “Did you stretch before you got out there?”

You gave Ted a sheepish look from where your head rested on your folded arms and he clucked his tongue at you. “Well if it’s alright with you, it might be helpful to massage your other leg while this one is healing to prevent this in the future. If you’re gonna be a member of my team, ya gotta be proactive in taking care of yourself, ya know?”

You smiled and nodded as he wrapped your ice-pack thigh in a towel so it wouldn’t move and stepped to your other side, rubbing massage therapy oil between his palms before he touched you. “Does that mean you’re letting me back out on the pitch, Coach?” You didn’t mean it to be seductive, but the two of you had somehow slipped into a mild coach-player roleplay, and the moan that slipped from your lips when he pressed down deep into the muscles of your thigh didn’t help.

“As if I could tell you no,” Ted responded affectionately, using both hands to grip your thigh and rub small, deep circles down the length of the muscle. He moved down to your calf, massaging slowly and humming a tune. He switched legs, skipping your injured thigh and going straight to the calf muscle and it felt like heaven, his hands warm and firm against your skin, his long fingers wrapping briefly around your ankle. He let go and you whimpered at the loss.

“How’s your back, love?”

“If I say ‘just awful’ will you keep touching me?”

Ted laughed, a full-bellied laugh that always made you giddy when you could pull it from him. You sat up and he helped you remove your shirt and bra before you laid back down, your arms to your side, and as he walked past your head for more massage oil you couldn’t help but noticed his tented khakis. You had of course felt like this was a rather sexy scenario, but you hadn’t realized how much it was affecting Ted too. He hadn’t made any untoward comments or touched you in any way that someone with a Sports Physiology degree wouldn’t. Knowing that his care for you was NOT centered on sex, that he couldn’t be distracted from looking after you just because you were mostly nude, only made you want to fuck him more.

Ted ran his hands over your back, gently first and then with more pressure. You sighed deeply when he hit the spot between your shoulder blades that always ached from working at a computer all day. He leaned closer so he could focus in on that spot but when his erection brushed your arm he quickly tilted his hips back. You wanted to tell him it was okay but you didn’t want to embarrass him, so you settled for letting him know how much you were enjoying the experience and maybe some not-so-subtle hints.

When his thumbs worked into your lower back, you spread your legs slightly and thanked your lucky stars you had picked gray underwear today. You knew he could see how wet you were by the sharp intake of breath you heard behind you.

“Feel good,” he asked, his voice a little strained, and you smiled over your shoulder at him.

“Very. What would you say if I asked you to get my glutes…Coach?”

Ted took a deep breath that he released as a groan. “I’d say we’d need to get these off.” If you could fist pump in this position you would. You were dying for him to touch you. Not that he hadn’t been, but there were certainly more sensitive areas that could use his attention. Ted removed the towel and ice pack first, letting his long fingers trail along your inner thigh and you shuddered in anticipation. He hooked his fingers in your waistband, slid down your underwear, and then…actually massaged your glutes.

It still felt amazing, but you wanted him to sink those very capable fingers into your core, to massage your clit until you were begging for release.

“Hey, Coach?”

“Hm,” Ted hummed. You couldn’t see him from this angle but he wasn’t tilting his hips back anymore and you could feel him hard against the side of your thigh.

“This is making me very fucking horny.”

Ted laughed. “Is that right? Is that you droppin’ hints that you’d like my hands…a little lower?”

“Well if you’re offering,” you joked nonchalantly as if you weren’t prepared to beg. Ted did slide his hands down but he didn’t immediately sink his fingers into you. Instead, he treated your vulva with the same care he had treated the rest of your body, a gentle but purposeful massage that made it hard to tell whether the growing slickness between your thighs was oil, arousal, or a mix of both.

“Fuck,” you whined as Ted’s middle finger parted you and made contact with your clit, but he pulled away and you grunted in frustration.

“Turn over for me darlin’.”

Ted helped so you didn’t bother your injured leg and though you were more than excited for him to go back to touching you, the real reason you felt heat pooling in your belly was getting to look at his sweet face, concern almost fully replaced with desire, his dimple deepening when his eyes locked on yours.

“Well, hello there,” you said softly and he grinned. “Appreciate the helping hand.”

“Anytime,” Ted responded as he ran his oiled hands up your belly to your peaked nipples, massaging your breasts and leaning forward to capture your moans between his own lips. You tangled your tongue with his, relishing in the slip of his fingers as he pinched at both nipples. He stood up as he trailed one hand back to its previous location. Done teasing, he wasted no time sliding two fingers into you and you tried to keep your reaction in check but you couldn’t help but whine, “Jesus, fuck Ted you feel so fucking good.”

“Shh, I’m glad, baby,” Ted said quietly, obviously not wanting to draw attention to what was currently happening in the treatment room, “just relax and let me take care of you.” He tilted his fingers up to find the soft spot inside of you that made your soul leave your body as his thumb found your clit, his other hand still alternating between your breasts. You were whimpering and whining and Ted was steadily trying to shush you but you didn’t know how he expected you to stay quiet when he was so expertly taking you apart.

“I…I can’t, fuuck, I can’t stay quiet baby.”

“You have to darlin’, you have to be good for me.”

“Mmm,” you complained but then you caught sight of his erection yet again and you ran your hand over it, smiling when he couldn’t help but press into your palm. You tugged him closer to you by his pocket, using both hands to work his pants open and Ted chuckled, “you’re just not going to let me take care of you, are you?”

You freed Ted’s length from his boxers and smiled up at him, batting your eyelashes. “I just thought something in my mouth might help me keep quiet.”

“Christ,” Ted whispered emphatically as you stroked him a few times. Somehow in all of this fingers had never stopped their slow fucking so you knew he was up to the challenge.

“You’re going to have to fuck my mouth since I don’t have the range of motion I normally do, think you can multitask?”

Ted choked on his spit and coughed, sputtering as he answered, “You’re going to be the absolute death of me.”

But it certainly wasn’t a no, and he did as you asked when you slipped the tip of him between your lips, moving slowly to match the pace of his fingers. You moaned against him, adoring the feeling of him heavy in your mouth, letting your tongue circle the seam of him when he pulled back and relaxing your jaw when he pushed back in. He picked up the pace of both his hips and his fingers and you were so close, your whole body pulsing with desire, your injury forgotten. And then Ted slid in a third finger and you were a goner, the stretch and pressure so overwhelmingly good the only thing stopping you from screaming was his dick in your mouth.

Thankfully, when he felt you clench against his fingers he stopped moving his hips, otherwise you surely would have choked. Your chest was heaving as Ted moved to pull out of your mouth but you shook your head no, leaning over to take him in hand before you released him for a gasp of air, stroking him swiftly until you could take him again. When you were ready you sat up slightly so you had more control and used both your hand and tongue to work him over, his chin tucked to his chest and his hand covering his mouth.

“I’m gonna…baby, I’m about to…” He tried to pull back, but you shook your head again and sank down as far as you could and swallowed, feeling him come down the back of your throat. Now it was Ted’s turn to gasp for air as you sucked him clean and released him.

“Can’t believe this treatment room is still haunted,” Ted said as he tucked himself back in his khakis, “you’re a goddamn succubus.”

You laughed as he helped you back into your clothes. The two of you had been missing from training for so long, you just cleaned up the treatment room and left the stadium hoping no one was suspicious. Ted shot Beard a quick text that he was helping you get home and got just a thumbs up in return.

A couple weeks later now fully healed, Colin stopped by your office and invited you out to the pitch again. You grinned and pulled on your athletic wear, tying up your boots before stepping out next to Ted. The two of you had decided it was long time to stop sneaking around, so this time when you asked, “you sure it’s okay” and Ted told you to get out there, you thanked him with a kiss.

Both of you looked around at the team confused when no one reacted and Ted cleared his throat, “Guess I should let y’all know that, uh, Y/N and I…”

“We know, Coach,” Sam called out with a smile. “And we’re happy for you both.” The team took to the pitch but you and Ted still looked at each other confused until Isaac came over and murmured, “Training room connects to the locker room. And it's not soundproof, bruv.” You’d never seen the color drain from Ted’s face so quickly, but you just followed Isaac out onto the pitch with a smile. It had been worth it.

And despite now knowing about you and Ted—way too much about you and Ted, it seemed—the boys didn’t take it easy on you for one second. Just the way you liked it.

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso x reader #smut #ted lasso reader insert #ted lasso smut

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