#jan maas fic

[axelsagewrites]

Hello. Could I request a fic with f reader working at Richmond and Jan Maas faling in love with reader. Just fluff. ❤️

Jan Maas*Sweet As You

Pairing: Jan Maas x f!reader

Word count: 1134

Warnings: pure fluff

Masterlist here

There were definite perks and draw backs of working at Richmond. On one hand as a receptionist, you got paid to do honestly not very much. However, on the other hand you had to deal with a weird amount of prank calls from football fans.

One recently developing perk was the free coffee you received every morning. No, it wasn't a company thing or from your boss or other colleagues. Every morning this week Jan Maas walked in with a black coffee in one hand and an iced caramel mocha latte with an extra shot of expresso in the other.

It all started when you happened to walk into work at the same time and he noticed the Starbucks cup in your hand. "Is that even coffee at this point?" He half teased half seriously wondered.

"It is coffee," you said, drawing out the words as you defended yourself as Jan opened the front door for you, "caffeine not enough for me. I need that sugar high to deal with you lot,"

Jan chuckled at you, walking you over to the desk where your coworker pretended not to be listening in. "Funny. I thought you were sweet enough. See you later," he said, walking away to leave you a blushing mess.

However as soon as he got out of sight Jan became equally as flustered as he realised what he'd said. What was worse was Sam hearing him muttering under his breath about it resulting in Sam telling all the guys who then set up a plan to teach Jan how to flirt.

The issue was he wasn't very good at it. Instead, every morning without fail he got your coffee for you. "Hey Jan," you called, rolling down your car window as you slowed down. It was 7am and he was walking to Richmond with two coffees in hand, "need a lift?"

Jan preferred to walk. He'd never really seen the big deal around cars. However, he was quick to accept your offer. "My coffees will bankrupt you," you joked as you accepted the drink before resuming your drive.

"Don’t worry about it," he laughed, "your worth the money,"

"Think you can buy my affection? “you teased as you were pulling into Richmond.

"Maybe," he said it quietly, his eyes darting away before back to yours. "Is it working?" He asked.

You turned the car off, taking a long sip out your coffee while pretending to think about it, "I think it might be," you finally said, a smile on your lips and a large grin on his. "Throw in a pastry next time and I'm yours,"

When people saw you get out the same car there were some rumours to say the least. Another drawback of the job. However, another perk was walking in right now with a coffee and a suspiciously sweet-smelling brown bag.

"I wasn't sure which to get so I picked whichever looked the sweetest," he said as he placed the bag down.

"You know me so well," you grinned, "thanks though. Take it you don't have time to have one before practise?" You asked despite knowing he didn’t, but you couldn't help but try.

Your smile plus the way your eyelashes batted had Jan Maas willing to pay the late fee. "I suppose one wouldn't hurt," he said as he moved to sit on the edge of the reception desk as you offered him a pastry, "You should make Stroopkoeken with me one day. You'd like them,"

"What are they?" You asked, not realising how adorable Jan thought your head tilt was in your confusion.

"They're like a Carmel biscuit. My mum would make them for me growing up. Better than any Starbucks pastry," he joked, “But you have to make them from scratch to get the best experience,”

“You’ll have to teach me some time,” you smiled back and is if on queue his phone began ringing.

Jan deflated when he saw his teammates call, “I’ll need to go now. I’ll see you later,”

As he began to walk away you cringed before taking a deep breath, “Wait!” you called making him stop in his tracks. “Are you free tomorrow night? Maybe we could try making those biscuits,” you offered with an awkward smile that he found insanely endearing.

A wide grin broke onto his face, “I’d love to. It’s a date,” he said before actually turning to go to practise, leaving you a grinning mess.

-

“A baking date is perfect!”

“Nah man you should go out to a restaurant for the first date,”

“Oh, what if you take her to Sam’s place for dinner first?”

“There’s a new bar up the street you could go to after,”

“What you gonna wear bruv?”

“Make sure you actually clean up. Chicks notice that kinda stuff,”

“Oh, you should get her flowers. Birds dig flowers,”

“And make sure when you go to kiss her- “

“Woah woah guys!” Jan said, standing up from the bench and pushing past his teammates who’d essentially jumped on him after practise when they found out why he was late, “It’s just a first date. Well, I think it’s a date. I said it’s a date, but people here don’t always mean date, oh god what if she doesn’t realise it’s a date?” Jan began to panic, turning to his equally clueless mates.

They were all panicking till a loud, “Oi,” stopped them, “Don’t listen to these pricks,” Roy told him after pretending not to care the whole time, “Shower, shave, tidy up, and calm down. She’ll know it’s a date since all you two do is flirt like some snot nosed teens,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Roy’s right,” Sam said, standing to put a hand on Jan’s shoulder, “You’ve got nothing to worry about,”

“Not what I said but alright,” Roy shrugged but this time he got ignored.

Well apart from Jamie who rolled his eyes before adding his own words of wisdom. “Yeah, mate just be yourself,”

-

The kitchen was now a mess, sugar spilt everywhere, and a pot that looked like it would never be clean again and of course a plate of perfectly made biscuits. “I don’t know how my mum made it look so easy,” Jan said.

You laughed as you reached up to wipe the flour off his forehead, “Yeah but they taste good so who cares,” you said, noticing the way his cheeks tinged pink whenever you touched him.

“They’re almost as sweet as you,” he smiled softly, brushing your hair out of your face making your own skin flush.

Enough was enough you thought, “So tell me something,” you said, Jan humming as he waited for you to ask, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” you nearly whispered.

“I thought you’d never ask,”

Pairing: Jan Maas x f!reader

Word count: 1134

Warnings: pure fluff

There were definite perks and draw backs of working at Richmond. On one hand as a receptionist, you got paid to do honestly not very much. However, on the other hand you had to deal with a weird amount of prank calls from football fans.

One recently developing perk was the free coffee you received every morning. No, it wasn't a company thing or from your boss or other colleagues. Every morning this week Jan Maas walked in with a black coffee in one hand and an iced caramel mocha latte with an extra shot of expresso in the other.

It all started when you happened to walk into work at the same time and he noticed the Starbucks cup in your hand. "Is that even coffee at this point?" He half teased half seriously wondered.

"It is coffee," you said, drawing out the words as you defended yourself as Jan opened the front door for you, "caffeine not enough for me. I need that sugar high to deal with you lot,"

Jan chuckled at you, walking you over to the desk where your coworker pretended not to be listening in. "Funny. I thought you were sweet enough. See you later," he said, walking away to leave you a blushing mess.

However as soon as he got out of sight Jan became equally as flustered as he realised what he'd said. What was worse was Sam hearing him muttering under his breath about it resulting in Sam telling all the guys who then set up a plan to teach Jan how to flirt.

The issue was he wasn't very good at it. Instead, every morning without fail he got your coffee for you. "Hey Jan," you called, rolling down your car window as you slowed down. It was 7am and he was walking to Richmond with two coffees in hand, "need a lift?"

Jan preferred to walk. He'd never really seen the big deal around cars. However, he was quick to accept your offer. "My coffees will bankrupt you," you joked as you accepted the drink before resuming your drive.

"Don’t worry about it," he laughed, "your worth the money,"

"Think you can buy my affection? “you teased as you were pulling into Richmond.

"Maybe," he said it quietly, his eyes darting away before back to yours. "Is it working?" He asked.

You turned the car off, taking a long sip out your coffee while pretending to think about it, "I think it might be," you finally said, a smile on your lips and a large grin on his. "Throw in a pastry next time and I'm yours,"

When people saw you get out the same car there were some rumours to say the least. Another drawback of the job. However, another perk was walking in right now with a coffee and a suspiciously sweet-smelling brown bag.

"I wasn't sure which to get so I picked whichever looked the sweetest," he said as he placed the bag down.

"You know me so well," you grinned, "thanks though. Take it you don't have time to have one before practise?" You asked despite knowing he didn’t, but you couldn't help but try.

Your smile plus the way your eyelashes batted had Jan Maas willing to pay the late fee. "I suppose one wouldn't hurt," he said as he moved to sit on the edge of the reception desk as you offered him a pastry, "You should make Stroopkoeken with me one day. You'd like them,"

"What are they?" You asked, not realising how adorable Jan thought your head tilt was in your confusion.

"They're like a Carmel biscuit. My mum would make them for me growing up. Better than any Starbucks pastry," he joked, “But you have to make them from scratch to get the best experience,”

“You’ll have to teach me some time,” you smiled back and is if on queue his phone began ringing.

Jan deflated when he saw his teammates call, “I’ll need to go now. I’ll see you later,”

As he began to walk away you cringed before taking a deep breath, “Wait!” you called making him stop in his tracks. “Are you free tomorrow night? Maybe we could try making those biscuits,” you offered with an awkward smile that he found insanely endearing.

A wide grin broke onto his face, “I’d love to. It’s a date,” he said before actually turning to go to practise, leaving you a grinning mess.

-

“A baking date is perfect!”

“Nah man you should go out to a restaurant for the first date,”

“Oh, what if you take her to Sam’s place for dinner first?”

“There’s a new bar up the street you could go to after,”

“What you gonna wear bruv?”

“Make sure you actually clean up. Chicks notice that kinda stuff,”

“Oh, you should get her flowers. Birds dig flowers,”

“And make sure when you go to kiss her- “

“Woah woah guys!” Jan said, standing up from the bench and pushing past his teammates who’d essentially jumped on him after practise when they found out why he was late, “It’s just a first date. Well, I think it’s a date. I said it’s a date, but people here don’t always mean date, oh god what if she doesn’t realise it’s a date?” Jan began to panic, turning to his equally clueless mates.

They were all panicking till a loud, “Oi,” stopped them, “Don’t listen to these pricks,” Roy told him after pretending not to care the whole time, “Shower, shave, tidy up, and calm down. She’ll know it’s a date since all you two do is flirt like some snot nosed teens,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Roy’s right,” Sam said, standing to put a hand on Jan’s shoulder, “You’ve got nothing to worry about,”

“Not what I said but alright,” Roy shrugged but this time he got ignored.

Well apart from Jamie who rolled his eyes before adding his own words of wisdom. “Yeah, mate just be yourself,”

-

The kitchen was now a mess, sugar spilt everywhere, and a pot that looked like it would never be clean again and of course a plate of perfectly made biscuits. “I don’t know how my mum made it look so easy,” Jan said.

You laughed as you reached up to wipe the flour off his forehead, “Yeah but they taste good so who cares,” you said, noticing the way his cheeks tinged pink whenever you touched him.

“They’re almost as sweet as you,” he smiled softly, brushing your hair out of your face making your own skin flush.

Enough was enough you thought, “So tell me something,” you said, Jan humming as he waited for you to ask, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” you nearly whispered.

“I thought you’d never ask,”

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[danistartt]

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.”

[jamiesfootball]

@whydoilikevillains14113

Waaaaauuuugh, thank you for this! It's so lovely when people ask for stuff, especially stuff that I haven't posted about in a while! Gives me the warm and fuzzies, that does

I didn't have a snippet to share that was really ready ready, so I made one! Then it got big.

From the longer version of this post, where Jamie stays with the team in Amsterdam, and after the pillow fight decides to share with them what happened the first time he was there.

No content warnings apply to this snippet in particular, but it does discuss some of what Jamie has just shared with his teammates

"I'm sorry," Jamie blurted, unsure of what else he could possibly add to- not excuse it, no, but to rescue some of the image of himself in Sam's eyes. The shadow of Sam hovering over him felt heavy with the potential of he didn't know what. He wished he could shrink, seep into the hotel carpet until he spilled out the other side, underground somewhere below the basement where only the bones and the rot would welcome him. He squeezed his eyes shut; forced himself to open them again. Blinked wetly at the shadows and the broken light spilled across the ceiling. "I know you don't- approve of that sort of stuff-" The angel that was Sam's shadow bristled, and Jamie swore he saw white feathers dance from his shoulders.

"Of course I do not approve-," hissed Sam, only for his words to come to a sharp stop. Jamie couldn't see what was happening on his face, but he could hear the air shift as something churned over in Sam's head, some great gears stirring through the muddied waters. With awful softness, he said, "Jamie. Are you under the impression that I am upset because you visited a sex worker?"

His ears burned. Stupid reaction, that, but hearing Sam put it so bluntly made a fresh wave of shame curl in his chest.

He shouldn't have said anything. He should've left it in the dark, under the waters with that skinny kid and his naively stupid heart and the footprints that stopped at the edge of the bridge.

"I dunno," he shrugged helplessly. His teeth ground together like stone, and if he twisted his fingers any tighter he might accidentally spark into flames. "You seemed pretty against it earlier when we were voting."

Sam shook his head, dislodging more feathers from the sky. "No, no, that's not-"

"That isn't a sex work problem," Jan interrupted. It was the first he'd spoken since Jamie started talking, and he'd never heard him sound so angry before. "That's illegal."

[laiqualaurelote]

Hello, dearest author,

Please write more of that cracky superhero au as an actual fic? It's really good, and made me smile and laugh.

Thank you,

Azadale, Independent

Dear Azadale! I am so sorry I missed this ask, which has been languishing in my inbox for ages. I am afraid I do not have any more of the cracky superhero AU written but I am happy to share what would have been the general plot, which I once brainstormed with @leupagus.

The superpowers of the AFC Richmond team are, respectively: - Isaac: can chop things in half with his hands - Zoreaux: elasticity - Jamie: invulnerability - Sam: healing - Dani: blazes light - Colin: chameleon, basically invisible - Bumbercatch: X-ray vision - Richard: incredibly sensitive palate - Jan Maas: is always right, or so he says

All the players manifest some kind of superpower, although it takes some time to figure out who has what, since some of them, like Richard's, are not immediately obvious. The sole exception is Zava, who brushes this off by saying that "Zava needs no superpowers for he is already God". It clearly bothers him, however, and he eventually quits the team.

None of the coaches, nor any of the other staff, manifests any powers. Trent, by elimination, speculates that the superpowers may have to do with the showers, since Zava does not shower with the rest of the team. Ted finds Trent standing in the showers, investigating, and their ensuing banter so flusters Trent that he turns on the shower while standing under it, fully-dressed, and is soaked through.

The team debate if it is ethical to use their powers to win the Premier League. They decide it is not and make a pact to refrain from using their powers on the pitch, or for that matter anywhere in public, to keep the whole thing a secret. The one person who does break this rule is Colin, who uses his powers of invisibility to become a vigilante after hours. He hangs around LGBTQ clubs, makes sure young queer folks get home safely, and beats up homophobes who harass them.

Trent's investigations lead him to discover there is an alien spaceship buried in the sewer under Nelson Road, from whence the shower powers spread. He attempts to warn the team during the home match with West Ham, only for the aliens to invade the surface and wreak destruction, forcing the team to use their powers to protect the crowd. Nate is almost exploded by an alien but saved by Jamie shielding him.

Though AFC Richmond save the day, they are subsequently disqualified from the Premier League because their powers are deemed an unfair advantage. As Nelson Road has now been taken over as a government black ops site, Rebecca rebrands AFC Richmond as a crimefighting superhero league and has Keeley handle their PR push. The team thrive at first in their new roles, but find that they miss football. Meanwhile, Ted's depression is worsening, as he feels he has no purpose in London any more and is spiralling more than ever.

Trent eventually works out that Jan Maas' power of always being right, which nobody took seriously even though he described it accurately from day one, means that he can in fact rewrite reality. They decide to have Jan erase everything that happened, so that they can go back to being normal footballers. Only Jan - and, mysteriously, Trent - retains any memory of the alternate reality.

At the end, it is finally revealed that this entire story is a novel written by Trent. The last scene of the fic is his book launch, which the players attend. Jan confronts Trent about whether he has a superpower of his own, since he was also in the showers. Jan suggests that Trent's superpower is metadiegesis - he can move between narrative layers and break the fourth wall. At this point, Trent addresses the reader directly to state: "Reader, I can neither confirm nor deny."

I hope this made you smile!

[providing-leverage]

Anyone have any Ted Lasso fic recs? I'm trying to reorient myself to it by rewatching the show and rereading my own fics but I'd like some others. Even ones I might have read before, and self recs. No Roy/Jamie or rjk though please

[jamtartandsunshine]

I really want to finish my untitled Jamie has a nightmare on the team bus fic tomorrow so I'm posting a snippet in hopes of summoning some good writing vibes / good brain thinky thinky vibes from the universe

🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞

He figured he’d be sitting by himself. Surely nobody would want to sit next to the guy that lost them the game so he couldn’t help but glance up when he felt a warm body settle beside him, quickly looking down again when he saw Roy looking at him. All eyebrows and disappointment. Jamie swallowed heavily as a cry rose up in his throat. He hated disappointing any of them, but Roy had sacrificed so much of his own time to train Jamie, to make him better and this is how Jamie repaid him?

[litrallytyrus]

jan x richard headcanons bc i have to talk about them somewhere or i will literally explode!

jan always sends richard stupid pictures of like a dog and a cat cuddling in bed with the caption “us” and richard will reply with something dumb like “you wish” but he secretly finds it incredibly endearing and takes screenshots of the messages <3

jan keeps at least one bottle of wine in his fridge at his place (even though he hates how wine tastes and thinks it’s obnoxiously expensive) so richard can have a drink whenever he comes over

also whenever they sleep over at each other’s places richard always finds a way to steal jan’s shirt/hoodie for the night

while we’re on the topic . every hoodie richard owns was jan’s at one point

they call each other pet names in their respective native languages :3 … most commonly jan calls richard “liefje” and richard calls jan “mon amour” or “mon ange”

in the beginning jan was insecure about being in a relationship with richard because growing up he was never really that romantic and just generally never connected that well with most people …. even after they’ve been together a while he still gets nervous about not giving richard what he deserves … richard thinks it’s a silly fear for jan to have :]

at away matches they always find a way to sneak into each other’s hotel room at night! one time colin catches richard coming out of what he thought was jan’s room in the morning wearing only boxers and an oversized tshirt but he doesn’t even second-guess it bc sometimes he would go to isaac’s room when he couldn’t sleep so he just shrugs and moves on

richard has a whole playlist of french love songs that remind him of jan and it’s titled like “blonde idiot” or something

which reminds me RICHARD FLIRTS BY BEING MEAN! and once jan catches on he is just indestructible to richard insulting him … once in the locker room jan saw that richard was struggling to get something from his top locker so he reaches to get it for him and richard just scowls at him and tells him he is freakishly unnaturally tall and that he’ll probably die young because of it and jan just gets this stupid lovesick smile on his face and dani is watching it all like ?

jan’s love language is either physical touch or quality time . . maybe both . . he is a huge fan of spending a quiet night in cuddling in bed with richard :>

richard’s love language is definitely physical touch like he takes any excuse he can to put his hands on jan …. but secondary to physical touch is words of affirmation i think … but like words of affirmation specifically from jan …. getting a compliment from someone who couldn’t lie to save his life really does something for richard

okay that’s it for now … the janchard brainrot is so strong tonight sorry

[babytarttdoodoo]

The Amsterdam Reveal (TM) is now on Ao3. Enjoy!

---

“14.” Jamie’s voice was too loud, too sharp in this safe space that on any other day felt like home. But his fingers were clenching and unclenching, and his shoulders were coiled tight, and there was a rushing in his ears.

The vitriol pooled like acid on his tongue and Jamie couldn’t help but spew it out before it began to eat him away.

“I were 14.”

[lunar-years]

Curious about your plan for the Jan Maas square on your bingo card. (I have him too!)

this is one of the hardest squares for me 😭 it all depends on how confident i'm feeling in my ability to write jan maas, LOL. which at the moment is not very, but my idea for it would involve him quite a bit.

so my initial concept is established longterm relationship royjamie have an anniversary coming up and Roy wants to plan a surprise trip for Jamie to Amsterdam. Jamie usually plans their travel because he loves doing the research and compiling fun facts about each place/culture to share with Roy when they're there, but this time roy just really wants to do something for Jamie. he enlists his travel agent as his old standby, but all of her suggestions/ideas aren't good enough. He doesn't even know why, or what exactly it is he's looking for, he just knows it needs to be perfect. so he turns to jan maas for travel tips! jan maas is back living in amsterdam playing for the amsterdam football team whose name i've forgotten. anyway, he not only helps roy plan out a great itinerary, he also invites them to a match and then back to his for dinner so they can all catch up.

at dinner Jan asks Jamie where his ring is, and Jamie is like ??? what ring, Jan Maas. what ring. So Jan says, "well this was an engagement trip, yes? I was under the impression Roy was planning to propose. I told him all the most romantic spots to do it?" Cue a bit of fun lowkey chaos because 1) RoyJamie's relationship has been a "secret" this whole time and they were not aware jan even knew they were together. (it was obvious to the entire team, and Roy's "i'm planning this trip for my Best Friend Jamie" text to Jan could be seen through about a mile away, lol, but royjamie are just kind of silly goofy (dumb <3) and think they've been sooo great at keeping this secret. so they're stunned. 2) Roy was in fact not planning to propose on this trip, but now he cannot stop thinking about it. 3) Jamie in turn Cannot Stop Thinking About It.

you see where i am going.

[sighonaraa]

“And we haven’t gone through a time machine,” said Not-Roy, and then, after an electric-wire pause: “But you might have.”

in the middle of a 33-year-old jamie tartt's retirement party, a fuckery of the universe occurs, and a 23-year-old jamie is suddenly standing up on that stage instead -- and he's got no memory of the last ten years at all.

[polikszena]

Just because I had the idea of writing something Easter-related today, here, have AFC Richmond players painting eggs for charity:

Eggs and Flowers

When Trent Crimm walked into the press room of AFC Richmond’s headquarters, he experienced something he had never witnessed there before: silence. The entire team was sitting around the table on the stage, all of them so immersed in their work that none of them spoke a single word which was extremely rare with this amount of young men being together in the same room. For a moment Trent thought they were giving him the silent treatment again, just like during his first days with the team, but then he saw the painting kits in front of them.

“Hi there, Trent,” Ted Lasso flashed a smile at the former reporter and got up from his chair to shake his hand, but since all his fingers had some paint on, in the end he decided not to. “Do you want to join us?”

“Is this a seasonal group therapy?” Trent asked, noticing the eggs on the table.

“Kind of,” Ted said with a little laugh, “disguised as a charity egg painting. They will sell these later to raise some funds to the children in need. Come on, grab a brush and take a seat!”

An apologetic smile touched the ex-journalist’s lips and he shook his head.

“I’d rather just observe first,” he said.

“As you wish,” Ted nodded, then sat back down to finish the egg he was working on.

Trent’s gaze followed the mustached man and stopped at the egg he had painted with AFC Richmond’s colours, then he looked around the table. Next to the team’s manager was Coach Beard carefully sprinkling paint on his egg that was already coloured purple. Next to him there was Sam Obisanya who was happily showing him his egg that was painted like a fish bowl with a goldfish inside, and then Dani Rojas who decorated his with ethnographic patterns, then Jan Maas who painted his orange, and Isaac McAdoo painting Santa Claus on his egg.

“That way it doubles as a Christmas ornament,” he explained, noticing Trent’s brows rising. “Genius. Oh, look, that’s a cute bunny,” he said, turning to Colin Hughes who was coloring the rabbit white.

Next to Colin, there was Richard Montlaur who was painting a French flag on his egg while Thierry Zoreaux, well, Van Damme was drawing a football’s pattern on the egg, although it was a struggle since the shapes were different. Moe Bumbercatch was painting a little scarf on his egg, and even Will the kitman was there, idly drawing flowers on his.

“Fuck!” At the other end of the table, Roy Kent burst out, holding a broken egg in his hand trembling with anger. He threw it away, got up from his chair and stormed out of the room. Sitting next to him, Jamie Tartt pressed his lips together to hold back his laughter.

“He just needs some fresh air,” Ted said, seeing Trent looking at the door where Roy left. “It was his third egg.”

“Fourth,” Jamie said.

“He’ll get better,” Ted assured him.

“He already made one,” Leslie Higgins said, gesturing towards a side table where the already finished eggs were drying. He was adding the last strokes to a blue one with a little greyhound on it.

“The black one,” Richard said.

“I believe it’s dark heather charcoal,” Trent said, walking closer to the side table, with his eyes on an dark-coloured egg with zero patterns.

Glancing at the finished works of the players, Trent spotted a few with Zava’s name and number written on them with different colours.

“Those were made by Zava,” Ted told him.

“Except for the one with glitter,” Dani Rojas said. “That’s mine.”

Trent also saw an egg with the yellow ‘BELIEVE’ sign like the one they had in the locker room, wondering who could have made that one. Whoever did, he drew a smile on the former reporter’s face.

“So, Trent, are you joining us?” Ted asked. “We still have lots of eggs.”

“We have some pattern suggestions if you need it,” Higgins said, ponting at some printed examples in the middle.

“Why not?” he shrugged his shoulders, and taking off his blazer, he sat down to an empty chair then rolled up the sleeves of his gray shirt.

Silence fell onto the press room as the team members returned to their work, until someone started humming. It seemed to be an involuntary action as everyone was so focused on painting that they didn’t even notice someone was doing it. Trent couldn’t tell who it was; it could be anybody. However, no-one said a word about it, no-one tried to stop it. Instead, the others began to join in and Trent could finally recognise the song: it was Flowers by Miley Cyrus; he had heard it from his daughter several times.

It was Sam who started singing it and the rest of the team continued:

“I can buy myself flowers

Write my name in the sand

Talk to myself for hours

Say things you don’t understand

I can take myself dancing

And I can hold my own hand

Yeah, I can love me better than you can.”

[jamiesfootball]

Six Sentence Sunday

“Apparently he was doing better,” Roy says with a bitterness so profound it shocks him, his fingers tingling now that he’s gone and touched the rage building up inside. Jan, completely unfazed by the unexpected vehemence, merely gives an unimpressed ‘hmph.’ He adds dryly, “But not so much better that he would respect Jamie’s boundaries and stay out of London.” To hear someone else give voice to what had been bothering him about loosens something in his chest that’s been stuck there for days. It sounds like music to his ears. It does nothing to relieve the urge to flip open the coffin and strangle a dead man.

[laiqualaurelote]

Ted Lasso fics masterlist

it’s not about the wins or losses, it’s about the fandom we made along the way - and that, I think, is what I’ll miss the most

meanwhile, a masterlist of all my Ted/Trent fics:

1. The Truth Shall Make Ye Fret (T, 20k)

“Thing is, though, you gotta love the questions themselves. I guess you journalists don’t get the luxury of that, seeing’s how you gotta rush your stories out - y’all just want your answers right off the bat. But I think you gotta live the questions first. Then one day you’ll gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

Trent takes off his glasses. “Ted Lasso, did you just quote Rilke at me?”

Ted shrugs modestly.

“I take it back,” says Trent. “You don’t need media training at all.”

In 48 hours, Trent Crimm lands a scoop, implodes his career and makes some drastic life decisions. And then there's the aftermath. And Ted, of course.

2. they will see us waving from such great heists (T, 21k)

“Well, like the Gambler himself says - you got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em. Know when to walk away, know when to run. And the latter would be about now, because I think this house is on fire.” 

In which Trent Crimm, Interpol, investigates the theft of Rupert Mannion’s painting by a mysterious thief dubbed The Greyhound. FBI Special Agent Ted Lasso gets in the way. Heist!AU

2a. Trick Plays (T, 6.4k)

Snippets from the Such Great Heists universe, including Crimminal Intent, The Prying Dutchman and We Provide Leverage.

3. constant as a northern star (constantly in the dark) (T, 10.5k)

“I just met Ted Lasso,” Sachiko Crimm says bluntly when her ex-husband picks up.

Trent is silent for a while. “And?” he says finally.

Sachiko gives it five seconds, and then she bursts out laughing.

“Stop it,” says Trent wearily.

The saga of Trent Crimm and his independent ex-wife

4. all the men and women merely players (T, 50k)

"So let me get this straight. You, an American whose career highlights consisted mainly of appearing on Saturday Night Live, decide in the wake of the apocalypse to lead a touring Shakespeare company across the ruins of England."

"Oh, I know. Heck, I said as much to Rebecca when she suggested it. I said, 'You could fill two Internets with what I don’t know about directing Shakespeare.' And she said, 'Ted, the Internet doesn’t exist any more.'"

Trent Crimm meets Ted Lasso by chance at a Shakespeare play. Five years and the end of the world later, they meet again at another. A Station Eleven post-apocalyptic theatre AU (no knowledge of Station Eleven necessary to read), WIP but updating real soon!

It’s been an honour to write for this fandom, I love you all so very much (on three!)

[asteria-argo]

I was tagged by the lovely lovely @sighonaraa for the last seven senteces I wrote wip game thing!

There another silence, contemplative and heavy. It wasn’t…surprising, for Jamie to still be hung up on Keeley. Keeley was wonderful, the whole team thought so, but Sam knew Jamie didn’t particularly like discussing his relationship with her. The few times Jamie had mentioned anything about it after his return to Richmond it had always been stilted, awkward and tinged with the barest hints of embarrassment. Not much of course, Jamie was nothing if not blissfully unashamed, even so it was obvious he didn’t like to linger on it at all, but especially not on it’s ending. “Jamie has been heartbroken.” Dani hums sadly, shaking his head. “we must help our friend!” “Dani’s right,” Isaac says definitively “it ain’t right, to just leave Jamie moping around. He’s our mate.” “I would not say he’s moping.” Jan says, brow furrowed “he seems quite happy as he is.”

uhhh I don't know who to tag that hasn't already been so like,, @altschmerzes @antitheticaally and whoever would like to participate!

[abubblingcandle]

Well now we all need to hear about the new fic idea!

So, I've been mulling over a Jamie quits football fic since my Jamie pisses off to America fic and it's changed iterations throughout that month.

But today I had an idea, what if he goes interrailing and finds himself settling in Amsterdam partially out of love for the city and partially out of making himself suffer.

This then merged into the idea of Jamie being the secret partner of a greyhound when they all still kinda hate him.

So final iteration - what if Jamie met Jan Maas after Jamie quit football for good and they hit it off. And the AFC Richmond himbos are so confused about why their new Dutch signing is so secretive about his relationship 🙈

[firstdegreefangirl]

There is a Mouse in This House!

Ted relishes the idle quiet at the Dog Track, when everyone is focused but there’s still proof of life in the locker room. Right now, everyone is getting changed out of their practice kits. The shower runs distantly, he can hear the players chatting while they get dressed, and there’s classical music playing quietly from Roy’s office while he reads over a list of player reports.

It’s enough activity that Ted knows he isn’t alone, but not so much that he’s distracted from the task at hand: reading the latest Telegraph writeups about Richmond, and trying to remember which British newspapers are actually news, and which are more about celebrity gossip than the truth.

He’s thinking through the list, counting off reporters by where they sit in the press room, when three things happen at once.

One: there’s an ear-piercing shriek from across the desk.

Two: Beard topples out of his chair, book flying through the air and landing on top of his foot.

Three: A gray streak flashes across the corner of his eye.

“Coach!” Ted jumps up and offers a hand to pull him up. “What the heck was that? I know what my momma always said about chair tippin’, but you’ve got better balance than that.”

“Oi!” Before Beard can answer, the door to Roy’s office swings open. “Who the fuck just died while they were playing a fucking recorder?”

“Ooh, very specific sound description there, Roy,” Ted gives him a thumbs up. “But you’re a little off the mark. Our good buddy Beard here fell off of his chair.”

“I did not!” Beard protests. “I just saw a mouse run across the floor and … wanted to examine it more closely.”

Ted opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, hubbub rises from the locker room. It begins with a scream to rival Beard’s. All three coaches go out to investigate; as they step into the room, Colin ducks in front of them and out the door.

“Bye, Colin! See you tomorrow!” Ted calls after him. He chuckles when Colin shouts something that sounds like “we’ll see” as he runs down the hallway.

Ted turns to the rest of the team. “Was that about the—”

“Mouse, yeah.”

Read the rest on ao3 here!