#off to the ted conference

[gifs-of-puppets]

The Muppets (2011)

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

it would be really funny if ted's internal monologue actually has a lot of swearing he just almost never says any of it out loud bc like, he's a polite midwestern dad

[maplegracefour]

Shut Up and Drive | Part Four

Summary: you have some pretty big shoes to fill in the event of someone having to take a break from work and it has some unexpected consequences

Warning: sexual themes, alcohol consumption, kissing

Word Count: ~2000

Author's Note: Here we go!

Masterlist with previous parts here!

If avoiding Ted was to become a sport, you’d be a world-class athlete. The next couple races have been and gone and it’s looking good for both drivers on the Ferrari team, you couldn’t ruin that. But it’s at the China Grand Prix that he gets the better of you and finally corners you just before you head to the track for the race.

“You’ve been avoiding me. C’mon, the sex really wasn’t that bad. Was it?” He asks. His hair is wet after spending a few hours in that helmet and he looks delicious.

You laugh nervously, leaning against the wall of the conference room. “No, no.” You say, blindsided by his sudden appearance in front of you. “I’ve just been busy.”

He frowns. “Too busy to just spend a little time with me?” He says, hand coming up to brush some hair from your face. “Come see me tonight?”

“Maybe… I don’t know…” Your eyes wander anywhere but where he is, accidentally catching Schlatt’s gaze from across the room, he’s talking to David and he looks tense. His jaw is clenched and eyes hard as he stares you down.

You can’t help but shift uncomfortably where you’re standing as you look back to Ted who has his eyebrows raised expectantly.

You hear a phone ring from across the room and it grabs your attention, giving you the opportunity to take the heated gaze from Ted away from you and not give him an actual answer.

David excuses himself before rushing off and leaving the room. “Sorry, Ted. I have to go.” You say quickly, the words coming out nonsensical as you push yourself off the wall and rush out to find David.

“Yeah, no. I understand.” David mutters into the phone. “How long do I have?”

You frown, looking at him from the doorway.

“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I love you.” David sighs, before ending the call and stuffing the phone into his pocket and pinching the bridge of his nose.

You give him a moment before speaking. “Is everything okay?”

“Just the person I wanted to see, actually.” David says, eyes opening when he realises you’re standing there. “Please don’t panic.”

“That’s what someone says before they say something that is going to make me panic.” You respond, clutching that notebook. It’s looking a lot more frayed as you have continued to take notes through the weeks.

He sighs, nodding. “Yeah, I can’t lie to you. I’m sure you’ve noticed I’ve been acting strangely.” You nod. “My father’s sick, really sick. I need to go home. Now.”

“But, the race? It starts in a few hours.” You say, not that it should be a priority. “Is there someone that could sub in for you?”

He looks at you pointedly, wondering how you haven’t put the dots together yet. “I was hoping you could sub in for me.” He tells you, his voice earnest. You shake your head immediately.

“No, I can’t. Is there no one else? Could Tucker not take over both radios?” You suggest, a fruitless attempt.

“You know that’s not going to work. You’re the best trainee. You know what you’re doing.” David tells you, placing his hands on your shoulder. “I trust you, okay?”

You take a deep breath through your nose, trying to ease the pounding in your chest as you stare up at the man ahead of you. “Okay.”

“I have to go. I’ll be watching on the flight. You’ve got this.” He gives you a small smile and a gentle squeeze of your shoulders. You nod up at him, giving him a nervous smile.

David rushes off almost immediately, leaving you standing alone in the corridor, or so you thought. 

“Where’s he goin’?” Schlatt asks from behind you, making you jolt and your hand comes up to your chest with the shock. He can’t help but chuckle at the fact he made you jump. “Sorry.”

I exhale deeply through your nose, your heart rate slowly returning back to a regular pace. “It’s fine. I, uh-...” You pause for a moment. “David… he… has to go.”

“What do you mean ‘has to go’? The race is in 3 hours.” He says, his eyebrows furrow and he stands a little taller.

You pause, looking up at him with a feared look. “He’s getting a flight, his father is sick.”

“So, who’s running my radio?” He asks, eyebrows still furrowed and arms crossing over his chest. He stares at you for a long time, analysing you almost. When you don’t respond, the pieces click together almost instantaneously. “No.” He shakes his head. “No fuckin’ way!”

You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. “David has asked me to do it, I’ve been training with him for weeks, I’ve been watching you race with him for weeks. Would you rather someone who doesn’t know-”

“Don’t pretend you know me. You hardly know me at all.” He glares down at you.

You sigh again. “Don’t make this harder than it already is, Schlatt. This isn’t exactly ideal for me either.”

He looks at you for a long moment again, arms still folded over his chest. “If you cost me this race, I will make sure it ends your career.” He then stalks off.

A couple hours later, you’re sitting at the pit wall, shaking like a goddamn leaf. Tucker gives you a sympathetic smile. Now the whole team has been briefed on your situation, they’re being much kinder to you, offering you a helping hand if you need it. But the adrenaline is kicking in and you’re determined to prove to Schlatt that you know what you’re doing.

“Alright Schlatt, you’re pole again so this should be an easy one, yeah?” You say, more just to test the radio is even working.

You hear a grumble through the headset but not much else, you roll your eyes. “Don’t be a baby.” You mutter back. “It’s gonna be an easy race.”

“Whatever.” He says back and you pinch the bridge of your nose. You’re already taking the mannerisms of David whilst sitting in his chair, like it’s meant to be.

The race begins and as predicted by you it’s going well. Apart from two thirds of the way, Schlatt struggles to keep his grip on the road.

“You need to pit and change your tires.” You tell him, chewing on the end of your pen and looking down at your notes.

You watch the cars as they fly past the pit wall before looking back up at the screen, waiting for him to reply. “I’m not changing my tires. These are fine.”

“You’re losing grip. We need to change to soft, just for the last few laps.” You tell him again and he practically groans through the radio. “Listen, I’m making the calls here and you’re changing your bloody tires.”

“I swear to god if you’re wrong-”

“I’m not. Now pit this lap.”

He wins the race. It was a close call but of course he won the race.

“Let’s fucking go!” You cheer into the radio.

You hear his deep laugh through the headset. “Holy shit, we did it.”

We did it. That felt good.

Your choice to change tires last minute doesn’t go unnoticed as Eduardo runs over and wraps you in the tightest hug you’ve ever felt, he practically lifts you off your feet.

“You genius!” He cheers. “Quick thinking.”

He lets you go and you can’t help but smile as the rest of the team cheers around you. Ted comes third, meaning both the Ferrari drivers make it to the podium so no one is leaving unhappy today.

As Schlatt and Ted make their way up to the podium, you can’t wipe the grin off your face, standing up and watching them both.

This after-party is probably the messiest one so far. Even Schlatt is having a few drinks this time, though he hasn’t spoken to you once at all. In fact, the only interaction you two have had since the race is a couple of glances across the room. But you don’t let that ruin your night.

The music is thumping and the drinks are flowing, people keep buying you drinks in congratulations and Jesus, you are feeling it now. You check your phone a couple times and notice David has text you.

David [23:04]

Knew you could do it, kid. Good call on the tires, proud of you

You [23:06]

David!!! Couldn’t jave don it wuthot you. Hipe your dad is okat!!!!

David [23:07]

I see the celebrations are well underway. He’s doing well. But don’t worry about that, enjoy yourself :)

You smile as you put your phone back in your pocket, leaning against the bar and stirring your drink with your straw.

“What’re you smiling about?” Ted asks, and you look up at the sudden noise.

You laugh, body swaying subtly as you look up at him. “Just David. His Dad is doing okay. Said he was proud.”

“I would be if I was him. Getting a man as stubborn as Schlatt to listen to you is no easy feat.” Ted chuckles. “You want a drink?”

You shake your head, raising your glass up. “I’m all fueled up, thanks.” You say. “Sorry about… earlier.”

He shakes his head, chuckling. “It’s no hard feelings. But, if you ever change your mind.” He wiggles his eyebrows, leaning forward. You roll your eyes, laughing.

The party continues into the early hours of the morning, you can’t help but keep searching for one particular person in the crowd, but he’s nowhere to be seen half the night, like he’s avoiding you.

In an attempt to make your departure back to your room, you stumble towards the elevators. But one slip of the ankle and you’re hurtling towards the floor. You brace yourself for impact but it never comes, and that’s when you realise a rather large arm is gripping your waist, stopping you from hitting the floor.

“Glad to know I’m not the drunkest here.” He slurs, slowly removing his arm from you. Schlatt, finally.

You blush a little, brushing your hair back as you use your other hand against the wall to stabilise yourself. “Had to celebrate my first winning race as a performance engineer, didn’t I? Even if it’s only temporary.”

You both walk towards the elevator, and as you step inside you lean against the handrail, looking back up at him with glazed eyes. He leans on the other one, standing opposite you. His body is swaying almost as much as yours is.

“I’m sorry.” He says as soon the doors closed. “For giving you a hard time. You did good.”

“Pardon?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

“I said you did good. Did you not hear me?” His eyebrows furrow in annoyance.

You smile. “No, I heard you. Just wanted to hear you compliment me again.” Your smile turns into a smirk.

He rolls his eyes at you, scoffing. “And I wanted to thank you.” He continues. He grimaces, like the words were paining him to say. “I was wrong about the tyres.”

“You were what?” Your smirk grows.

“I was wrong.” He sighs, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

You chuckle, looking up at him pensively. “One more time.”

“Will you shut up? I’m trying to be nice.” He groans, rubbing his temples.

“Make me.”

He looks up, raising an eyebrow at you. “What?”

“If you want me to shut up. Make me.” Now it’s his turn to smirk.

It’s like a switch flips inside him and suddenly his hands are cupping your face as he presses his lips against yours desperately. Your hands rest on his arms as his fingers thread through your hair. But it’s over as soon as it begins as you hear the elevator chime and the doors open. He pulls away from you quickly, lips swollen and chest heaving.

You both stare at each other for a moment, standing just a foot apart from each other, seconds feeling like hours as you just watch him and he watches you. Both of you seem to be having the same eternal battle.

Then finally, he breaks the silence.

“Your room or mine?”

[uneditedidiot]

i can see you - jamie tartt x reader

i can see you - jamie tartt x reader

jamie tartt x gn!reader

summary: Jamie can’t stop imagining you pressed up against the wall and his mouth on yours…will he act on it? Based off the song I Can See You by Taylor Swift from Speak Now Taylor’s Version.

word count: 1.4k

Warnings: COULD be considered NSFW so maybe MDNI (18+) just in case, implied smut, Jamie pining after you, language

A/N: I started this the day Speak Now TV came out, but I didn’t get the chance to finish it until now cause I was moving and didn’t have internet. This gets a LITTLE spicy, so enjoy. :) also THIS GIF 👀

’Cause I can see you waiting down the hall from me

And I could see you up against the wall with me

And what would you do? 

Baby, if you only knew

That I can see you

Well…Jamie was fucked.

You stood down the hall from him talking with Keeley about the big press conference coming up for the team, making sure you’d scheduled everything for the boys that you needed to.

Jamie couldn’t hear the conversation, just stood gazing at you with a soft expression by the water fountain. He’d told himself that staring probably wasn’t the best idea, as you had a rule that you didn’t date people on the team, but he couldn’t help himself. Everything you did, everything you said, even how you moved…he was hopelessly in love with you.

He had imagined this scenario at least a hundred times. You’d walk down the hall to him. He’d wrap his arms around you, one hand on the back of your neck, the other on the small of your back, and pull your lips to his. Then you’d slide your hands up over his shoulders, reciprocating the passionate kiss, and he’d walk you slowly backwards so that you were pressed against the wall at the mercy of his hands and mouth. And that’s where you would stay; bodies pressed together in a way that made you both want each other even more, ready to find an empty room at a moments’ notice. Then after you’d both spent at least an hour (if not more) drawing pleasurable experience out of pleasurable experience out from each other, you’d both confess your love for the other.

He shook himself out of this enchanting imaginary moment when he saw you laugh at something Keeley said, pat her shoulder, and start walking down the hall towards him.

“Fuck,” he hissed as he noticed you notice him staring. He spun quickly on his heel, pretending to fill up his already full water bottle.

He heard your footsteps approaching, then silence as you came to a halt in front of him.

“Uh, you realize your bottle is already full, right?” you teased.

He glanced up, stopping the spout from sending more filtered water cascading over his hands into the drain. He felt his cheeks grow warm.

“Erm, can’t ever be too hydrated,” he heard himself stutter. “Coach Lasso is always gettin’ on me to drink more water, so…here I am doing that.”

You wrinkled your eyebrows in a confused smile, which sent butterflies fluttering about in his stomach. You were just so cute…

“Ted wanted me to let you know that he’s going to call you up to talk about your assists this month,” you told him. “And Roy wants to talk to you in his office after the conference. Something about…” You checked your phone, frowning in puzzlement. “...Uncle’s Day?”

“Shit,” he cursed. He averted his eyes bashfully. “Yeah, I might’ve…intruded a little on Phoebe’s holiday with him.”

You rolled your eyes good naturedly. “Oh come on, you know Roy. He acts like he’s some untouchable, rough-and-tumble, aggressive bear, but on the inside, he’s like a cute, angry little duck.”

Jamie let out a huge laugh. He was afraid it might have sounded too eager or loud. The self-conscious, nagging voice in his brain told him that it was dumb to laugh like that at such a small joke.

But you clearly enjoyed that he found your joke amusing. Your face went slightly pink, looking almost a little embarrassed.

“Should I tell Roy you’ve just compared him to a duck?” he joked.

You feigned an attitude but your smile was evident. “Alright. Go ahead. What would he do? Yell at me? He does that anyways.”

“Yellin’ is that man’s love language, I swear.”

“What’s yours?”

His breath caught in his throat. “What?”

You held his gaze confidently, eyes darkening slightly as you asked yet again, “What’s your love language?”

Jamie’s heart was stuttering. His brain had needed a moment to catch up to what you were asking.

“I, erm…” he stammered. His eyes bounced around, not able to meet yours. “For meself, it’s probably…eh, physical touch and, uh, words of affirmation.”

He finally was able to make eye contact. You clearly were paying attention, nodding as he finished speaking.

Jamie decided to be just as bold. “I told you mine, so you tell me yours.”

You smiled back. “Physical touch and quality time.”

He smirked, flirting back. “I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”

“I’d hope so,” you grinned, patting him lightly on the chest. Then without another word, you walked back down the hall, glancing back a few times to make sure he was watching. His chest tingled where you’d touched him.

Oh MAN…Jamie was really fucked now. Had you been thinking of the same things?

He questioned the interaction over and over again in his mind throughout the rest of that day. He knew he was distracted, especially during the press conference. Ted had to get his attention multiple times so he could answer questions that had just been asked of him.

But after the conference was over and the work day had ended, Jamie decided to act on things.

He stood by the water fountain, waiting for you to come down the stairs to go home. He tapped the top of the cooler anxiously.

You’d both been very professional with each other up until that conversation earlier. He’d never been tempted this much to act on his feelings. He knew that if he had acted on them before, you’d have become an addiction for him, which he couldn’t afford at this point. But, again, that was before the flirty exchange about love languages earlier.

Footsteps.

There you were.

He inhaled sharply, butterflies in his stomach fluttering like mad.

He saw you appear, bag in hand, staring down at your phone as you stepped down from the last stair.

He called your name. You whipped around, puzzled. Your face lit up when you saw him.

“Jamie,” you said, “what are you still doing here? It’s like seven. I thought all the players had gone home.”

He smiled lightly, coming closer to you as he spoke. “There’s not many of us left. I think Sam and Isaac might still be here, but…I have something else I need to do before I leave.”

Your confused expression only grew. “And what’s that?”

He stopped right in front of you, faces inches apart. You made no effort to move away from him, just stared back at him. Your eyes flickered to his lips.

“This,” he replied softly.

Jamie crushed his lips to yours. The reciprocation from you was instant. You dropped your bag to the floor.

His hands wound around your body, hands caressing as much of you as possible. Your arms went up to his neck, one hand on the back of his head, the other over his shoulders.

Your mouths moved hungrily against each other, trying to feel as much of each other as possible. It was like rain had finally come after a drought. You both realized how much you’d wanted each other.

Jamie was licking into your mouth. You slid your hands to tug on the collar of his sweatsuit jacket. His fingers were tracing the sliver of skin between your t-shirt and jeans. Your whole body was on fire.

Jamie wasn’t thinking straight. He backed you into the wall of the hallway, pressing your body against his. There was no space between you at all. His knee moved between your legs, pressing up. You whined against his mouth. He smirked into the kiss and groaned.

This was exactly what he had imagined so many times before.

His lips trailed off yours down your chin and neck. He licked and bit and kissed his way to your jugular. His left hand went up the back of your shirt to trace your spine in an agonizingly delicious manner.

Your breathing was heavy, trying to find some relief on his knee as you ground down. His mouth was relentless on your neck. It was everything you’d wanted for so long.

You fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, pulling slowly down. His mouth was immediately back on yours, but he unzipped the jack quickly and slung it off.

He was only in a tank top, leaving his arms bare. You dug your fingernails into his biceps as he kissed over your jaw to behind your ear. He felt fireworks under his skin where you traced.

You let out an involuntary moan. He pulled away, grinning widely, lips still inches from yours.

“Shhhh,” he whispered. “Can’t have you alerting everyone here what we’re doin’, love. Not a sound...”

You pulled his lips to yours again. 

In between kisses, you suggested hoarsely, “boot room?”

Jamie pulled back again. You could feel his breath against your chin. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, blushing, still giving him some of your signature sass. “Obviously. I wouldn’t be suggesting it if I wasn’t.”

He pecked your lips once more, grabbing your hands and immediately leading you away to the boot room to act the rest of his fantasy…and yours.

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: Break My Heart

Plot: With Y/n and Jamie not speaking to one another, a trip to Manchester brings about opportunity and heartache.

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: f!reader, language, insinuated smut, mention of abusive parents

A/N: THIS is the chapter I’ve been looking forward to the most. Even though this isn’t the conclusion, I think it’s what the whole thing’s been building to. Well, this is part one of it, at least. I’m gonna shut up now and just let you read. Enjoy!!

—————

Sam Obisanya: Remember that movie we were looking forward to? It’s coming out on Friday. Want to catch it this weekend?

Colin Hughes: Haven’t seen you around lately. Everything alright?

Dani Rojas: We missed you at Isaac’s birthday dinner! Come visit us next time you are free!

Rebecca Welton: Your tea’s cold. Keeley’s confirmed you’re not dead. Several questions.

Ted Lasso: What’s shaking, Abe Lincoln? Don’t be a stranger next time you’re meeting with the boss.

There had been an onslaught of texts in the three weeks since Y/n had moved out of the Dogtrack. She hadn’t expected people to not notice she was gone, but she hadn’t thought so many of them would care.

She’d ignored every single one.

She wasn’t the only one who’d chosen to stick with Keeley. Barbara had stayed on as well. With Rebecca’s generous financing, the three of them were keeping their ship afloat all by themselves. Jack be damned.

True to her word, Y/n handled all Richmond business from afar, only popping in with Keeley for an occasional meeting with Rebecca and Higgins. She sorted press conferences and post-match interviews without ever stepping foot in the building. If it weren’t so unhealthy, it would have been impressive.

In her makeshift office, actually the conference room, Y/n paced around her computer. She eyed the screen each time she passed by. Roy had a presser scheduled for the afternoon. Sam and…another player were meant to join him. Sam she could handle seeing, though Lord knows she felt guilty for ghosting him. The other one…

“Oh,” Y/n waved herself off, feeling ridiculous. She was a grown woman. She could handle it, she thought, as she turned on the video feed.

Springing to life on her screen, Roy sat between Sam and Jamie, fielding questions.

Y/n’s insides locked up. Jamie.

They hadn’t spoken since the night he’d shown up at her apartment. Not a single text or run-in. It was no longer just Y/n avoiding him, Jamie was actively not speaking to her.

Y/n tried to focus on Sam’s answers, he spoke humbly about Richmond’s 15-game win streak. The last three had been unbelievable you-had-to-be-there kind of matches. Hiding in her apartment with a Sky Sports broadcast hadn’t compared to the real thing. Y/n missed the energy of the stadium and the joy of watching the boys.

Her eyes kept floating back to Jamie. He was hunched over the table, biting his nails, not making eye contact with anyone. He didn’t look like he wanted to be there at all.

Marcus Adebayo, though he answered to Roy’s nickname of ‘better Trent,’ stood and addressed Jamie. “On the heels of making your England debut, how does it feel to be named Premier League Player of the Month?”

“Eh, um, yeah. Yeah, it feels good, I guess,” Jamie answered hesitantly, “But it’s really the team making me look good. So, I should be doing a better job of making them look good, really.”

If Y/n had been in the room, Sam, Roy and her would have all shared the same puzzled look.

“So, yeah. Makes me feel bad,” Jamie finished with a pursed frown.

Roy leaned forward, “Uh, Jamie also led the league in assists this month so he’s done plenty to make his teammates look good.”

“Yeah, but they’re the ones who took all the shots,” Jamie corrected softly.

“He also scored a goal,” Sam interjected.

“T-that was meant to be a pass,” Jamie pointed out, his voice high with anxiety, “You shouldn’t count that. That goal is a lie. It should be retracted from the records.”

Y/n shook her head in confusion, whispering to the empty room, “What are you doing?”

“I apologize to everyone,” Jamie continued, “Especially to the kids.”

“Right, let’s call it there, everyone,” Roy decided at the exact second Y/n was internally stepping forward, “That was great. Thanks very much.”

Y/n stared at the screen, her gaze following Jamie until he was off camera. Whoever had been speaking wasn’t any variation of the Jamie Tartt she knew. He was so out of character it was concerning.

She glanced at her phone, the device silently begging her to type a message. Ask him. Talk to him. Find out what’s wrong. Help him.

Instead, Y/n took a deep breath, closed out the browser, opened her email and got back to work. No good could come from her reaching out. Jamie would be absolutely fine without her, better even. And she would be fine without him.

—————————

Y/n wasn’t a woman who ever thought a man’s presence added anything to a situation she couldn’t. But as she heaved the water jug onto the cooler, she wished that she hadn’t sent the delivery guy away under the assumption she could do it herself.

She returned to the main room to find Keeley in conversation with Roy, both of them turning to face her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Roy asked.

Y/n motioned to the space around them, “I work here.”

“No, you don’t,” he replied matter-of-factly, “You work at Richmond.”

“Y/n has been here the last few weeks,” Keeley answered, “Just to get things back up and running while we’re short staffed.”

Roy took deep pride in not interjecting himself into anyone else’s business. Sure, he’d helped Isaac through whatever the fuck had caused his meltdown last month. Yes, he offered Ted advice from time to time. But the other 99% of the time, he didn’t particularly care what choices the people around him made. Their lives were theirs and his was his.

But Jamie and Y/n were another fucking deal.

He wouldn’t have invited Y/n along to their 4AM training sessions if he hadn’t known she helped keep Jamie’s spirits up. He’d caught the two of them leaving the parking lot together more than a dozen times. He’d noticed Jamie be the first one on the pitch whenever Y/n was observing training and the first one off when she was waiting on him for lunch. He was well aware the two of them were attached at the fucking hip. Y/n’s disappearance had thrown everything off-balance. Maybe it wasn’t the reason for Jamie breaking down in Roy’s arms earlier, but it certainly couldn’t be helping.

“Oh,” Roy humored the answer, smiling at Y/n. “That’s very kind of her.”

Y/n grinned back nervously, Roy could see through everyone’s bullshit but his own.

“She could help too,” Keeley suggested.

“Help with what?” Y/n asked.

Keeley gestured to Roy for an explanation. “Jamie’s going through some shit. I asked Keeley to talk to him, but since you two are close, maybe you could too.”

Big fat flashing red sirens went off in Y/n’s head. “Oh, I really don’t think I’d help anything,” she struggled, “I-I think Keeley’s much more suited.”

“Not necessarily,” Keeley disagreed as Roy continued to stare Y/n down, “I mean, you two are really good friends.”

“We’re not that close,” Y/n lied, “I mean, we’ve hung out a couple of times but really,” she extended a hand toward her boss, “You definitely know him better.”

Unlike her ex, Keeley had no problem inserting herself in other people’s business. She hadn’t yet approached Y/n about the headlines she and Jamie had made after the England match or the fact that she didn’t want to go near Nelson Road. Since coming back from London, Y/n had pulled away from everyone and everything, Keeley included.

Roy was taking some sick joy in egging Y/n on, “Oh, no, I think-“

“I’ll take care of it,” Keeley jumped to say, ending whatever confrontation was about to take place. “Promise.”

Y/n and Roy held eye contact, challenging one another to break first. Eventually, Roy’s desire to look at Keeley won out and he turned away.

“Thanks,” he glanced back over at Y/n, “I’ll leave you two to your work.”

Stealing one more fleeting gaze at his ex-girlfriend, Roy left the way he’d come, leaving Y/n with a whole new bunch of unresolved feelings.

“He’s quite handsome.”

Y/n startled, she hadn’t even realized Barbara was seated at her desk for the whole exchange. She headed for the conference room, eager to get away from every part of the conversation.

Keeley hung back a moment before following her and gently knocking on the door. “Hi,” she entered slowly, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Y/n answered with faux cheeriness, seated once more at her desk/table, “Fine.”

“It’s just back there…you seemed a bit on edge when Roy mentioned Jamie,” Keeley broached the topic with care.

Y/n’s muscles involuntarily clenched, she tried to keep an even expression. “No, I’m fine.”

Keeley hesitated, nearly turning around and leaving before deciding to just go for it. “You know, if this is about the pictures of you two, I don’t think anyone thinks-“

Y/n sighed, “Keeley, I’m fine. I just think Roy should do his fucking job and take care of his players instead of pawning them off on one of us.”

“I’m not talking about Roy,” Keeley replied, “I’m talking about-“

“Jamie and I are not close,” Y/n said, her tone harsher than intended, “We are not friends. There’s nothing wrong with him, we’re just not as chummy as everyone seems to think we are. End of story.”

Keeley knew Y/n’s edges were sharp, but she hadn’t ever seen her snap so quickly. It only told her there was more to the issue than she’d guessed.

“Got it,” she gave a single nod, “I’m sorry I asked.”

Y/n regretted her words the moment she’d said them. Keeley hadn’t deserved her misplaced frustration. But the mere mention of that night triggered Y/n’s fight-or-flight response. Mixed with the knowledge that something was wrong with Jamie and that Roy clearly knew something, it was all too much.

She stared out the conference room window, landing on Keeley and Barbara’s desks they’d pushed together. She could have been with them, working together as a team. Instead, she was hiding away, once again deciding that the isolation could keep her safe from everything.

Everything except the gnawing fear that she was responsible for Jamie’s behavior.

—————————

Finally, the long awaited weekend arrived.

Man City versus Richmond.

Y/n left no stone unturned when searching for a new excuse not to attend the match. She’d had her period the first week of her three week absence, sick and exhausted the next two. If she’d had any family in the country, there would have been some fake emergency involving them.

She knew she couldn’t get away with a full month’s nonattendance. She had to go to Manchester.

Packing an overnight bag at 6AM and getting on the road by 7 had been her self-ruled terms. The last thing Y/n wanted was to be stuffed on a bus with everyone she was trying to avoid for four hours. Driving herself allowed not only space, but an escape route, if she needed it.

She was barely out of London when Keeley rang her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” the Bluetooth speakers of the car projected Keeley’s voice, “We’re loading the bus up. Just wanted to see where you were.”

Y/n sighed, she’d forgotten to tell someone she wasn’t coming with the team. “Actually, I’m already on the road. I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d get an early start.”

“Oh,” Keeley sounded a bit disappointed, but not entirely surprised, “That makes sense. Smart choice.”

“Yeah,” Y/n replied, feeling the familiar burn in her gut that came with each lie she told, “I’m a bit ahead of you guys so I’ll see you when you get there.”

“Alright. Drive safe, yeah?”

“You too,” she said before disconnecting the call.

Y/n tried to listen to music, tried to play a podcast, but she found that anything other than silence just didn’t feel right. Every song seemed to trace back to her situation and every spoken word seemed to be speaking directly to her, telling her everything she was doing was wrong.

The silence was no more comforting, it only gave her more room to ruminate about the weekend. How was she supposed to avoid Jamie in such close quarters? How was she supposed to keep away from Ted, Rebecca, Keeley, the rest of the team? It felt like a mistake to come and an equally massive one to stay behind.

A long four hours later, Y/n pulled up to the Hacienda Hotel. The Greyhound bus had yet to arrive. She actually stood a chance at getting up to her room and dodging company till the match.

Y/n gave her car to the valet and dragged her single suitcase through the lobby. She headed straight for the front desk.

“Hi,” she greeted the concierge, “I have a reservation under Y/l/n.”

“Let me just check,” the man replied, typing the last name into his computer. He frowned, “I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t seem to have that reservation.”

“No, that can’t be right,” Y/n calmly replied, “I called yesterday about transferring one room under the Richmond block to my name.”

The man scrolled through his list a second time, “Unfortunately, that request doesn’t seem to have been entered into our system. All the Richmond rooms are reserved under the name ‘Lasso.’”

Y/n sighed, she’d gone to extreme lengths to separate herself before even stepping foot in the city. So much so that she’d been willing to pay her own overpriced hotel rate.

“Fine,” she relented, “It doesn’t matter. Checking in to one room under the name ‘Lasso.’”

“Unfortunately, ma’am,” the employee grimaced, “Under hotel policy, we can’t check in individual guests if the reservation is under a different name. You’ll have to wait until the main guest has arrived.”

Y/n’s plan crumbled further, Ted had to check her in? Worse, she’d have to wait with the whole fucking team?

Just as she’d connected the dots, the hiss of a Coach could be heard outside. Y/n whipped her head around to see the AFC Richmond logo and the moving silhouettes of the boys through the dark windows.

“There,” Y/n pointed to the bus, “The main guest’s there. Check me in.”

The man hesitated, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I have to wait to confirm-“

“How many people named ‘Lasso’ do you think there are in this country?” Y/n whispered in a panic, “He’s right in there, he’s making shitty puns,” her hand bounced against the desk, “Check me in.”

Arguing would have been hard considering Ted was an anomaly in England. The concierge conceded to Y/n’s demand and began the process.

Y/n nervously drummed her fingers against the counter, glancing back to see Will emerging from the bus. Behind him were Isaac, Richard and Jan.

“You’ll be in room #601, ma’am,” the concierge reported and handed her a room key.

Y/n yanked the card out of his palm before he could tell her the bellboy would be happy to take her suitcase. “Thank you.”

She hurried across the lobby to the elevator, praying she could make a getaway without anyone see-

“Hey, Y/n!”

She stopped in her tracks, so close…

Y/n turned around and spotted Ted, hurrying across the lobby as one would after a long drive. She managed a smile and a wave, pressing the elevator’s button repeatedly with her other hand.

“Don’t forget,” Ted called as he made a beeline for the bathrooms. “Team movie, 7:30. I’ll give ya a hint; if you love Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, you ain’t gonna wanna miss this one!”

In three weeks, Y/n had dodged a lot of invitations. A lot. Another declination and she was convinced she’d develop an ulcer.

“Sounds good,” she shouted just as the elevator doors opened. She jumped inside and pressed her floor number before anyone else spot her.

Just before the doors closed, she caught the first of the boys entering the lobby. Just past Sam, Y/n glimpsed the sharp edges of Jamie’s face. Her heart caught in her throat, the mere sight of him was enough to startle her.

She wondered how long she could pretend everything was fine before she proved herself wrong.

—————————

Y/n hid in her room the rest of the day. She didn’t dare leave to get ice or see the city, sure that with her luck, she’d run into someone the second she stepped out.

Half-way through the afternoon, a knock at the door surprised her. She peeked through the peephole to see Keeley. Out of anyone, she was the one that Y/n couldn’t totally avoid.

The door swung open and Y/n put on a smile, “Hey.”

“Hi,” Keeley greeted, “You beat us here.”

“Yeah,” Y/n chuckled, “Trust me, I’d have rather gotten the sleep.”

“Right,” Keeley chortled, “Can I come in?”

Y/n opened the door wider and allowed it. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to steal your pillow chocolates,” her boss cheekily smirked but didn’t move to grab the candy.“And…to ask if you might reconsider talking to Jamie?”

“Keeley,” Y/n sighed in frustration, rubbing at her face, “I told you-“

“I know,” Keeley held up her hands, “But I just talked to him and…he’s really in his head. It’s bad, Y/n. I’ve never seen him like this.”

While she could pretend all she wanted that Jamie meant little to her, Y/n was growing more and more worried. Every one of his dreams were coming true, and the ones that hadn’t were on the horizon. He should have been on top of the world and instead, he was spiraling. She wanted nothing more than to bang on his door, wrap him in her arms and fix it all. Put him back together until he was his glorious self.

“Look,” Y/n pushed on one of her eyes, “Keeley, whatever you think I’m capable of doing for Jamie, I’m not. I’m not a footballer, I’m not his coach, I’m not his girlfriend,” she found the last words uncomfortably difficult to get out, “I’m half his publicity team. That’s it.”

“You’re more than that,” Keeley replied, she had the kindest way of arguing. “You two have been glued to each other’s sides since you got to Richmond. Jamie trusts you. If you just talk to him-“

Y/n pressed her hands against her lips as Keeley spoke. The panic was beginning to swirl inside her again.

“Keeley,” she cut her off and enunciated her words, “I can’t help him.”

After a whole season of working together, Keeley could easily tell when Y/n was lying, both to others and herself. She didn’t need to know what her and Jamie meant to one another, all that mattered was they did. If Y/n wasn’t ready to acknowledge it, there wasn’t anything Keeley could do.

“Okay,” she replied, once again resigned in her failed quest, “I’ll leave you be.”

Y/n didn’t move as Keeley’s furry jacket brushed past her, shutting her eyes to hide the tears. Only when she was alone once more did she let them streak her cheeks. Somewhere down the hall, Jamie was hurting, and that meant she was hurting as well.

—————————

At exactly 7:30, Y/n made her way down the hotel hall. Different conference rooms lined the walls and she followed their numbers till she found the one Ted had texted her. She slipped through the back door, the lights were dimmed and everyone had already taken their seats. Her version of perfect timing.

From her vantage point, Y/n had a perfect layout of the seating arrangement. The team were gathered in the first few rows. Keeley and Roy were at one end of the back row, with Ted, Beard, Rebecca and Higgins following. Y/n couldn’t help but let her eyes run over the players’ heads, spotting Jamie’s mop of hair in the front row.

After evaluating her options, Y/n chose the safest one at the nearest end of the back row, next to Trent Crimm.

“Just in time,” he whispered as she took the seat beside him.

“Yeah,” she replied, “Got lost.”

Trent nodded, waiting a few seconds before speaking up again, “You know, I’m sure anyone would be happy to switch. In case you wanted to sit with your friends.”

Y/n peered over at Trent, whose eyes gleamed suspiciously with knowledge.

“I’m fine,” she readjusted in her chair to prove the point.

Trent nodded, trying and failing not to smirk, “I’m honored to rank so high on your priority list.”

Y/n’s glance turned into a stare, the former journalist was smiling as if she were made of glass. Were her actions so obvious that even he had noticed?

Trent settled back into his chair, shifting his attention to the opening credits. Y/n did the same and focused just as the main title popped up.

You’ve Got Mail.

She groaned internally, if the universe was out to get her, choosing one of the most romantic comedies of all time was the greatest insult it could hurl.

For an hour and fifty-nine minutes, Y/n squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. She couldn’t go more than thirty seconds without sneaking a peek at Jamie, who hadn’t moved at all since the start. He was a fidgeting mess every waking minute of the day. Something was terribly off.

After Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks kissed in the New York garden and his golden retriever leaped to embrace them, the lights came back on. Y/n distractedly clapped along with the rest of the room, already eyeing her exit.

“All right. Listen up, you big softies,” Ted announced, “10PM, lights out. Then get yourselves some beauty sleep for tomorrow’s big meet-cute with Man City. You hear? Alright, Ephron on three. One, two, three-“

A few people, Beard being the loudest, chanted the filmmaker’s name.

“Lovely to see you again,” Trent said, a tease to his tone, as Y/n got up and out of her seat.

She hesitated, catching his knowing expression once more, and debated saying something. She decided it wasted energy and turned on her heel, making it only two steps before Keeley grabbed hold of her arm.

“Come on,” she ordered, pulling Y/n behind her.

“What?” Y/n asked, “Where the-“

Keeley didn’t answer, tugging her across the room towards the door Roy was holding open.

“Keeley, what-“

“Shh,” Keeley hushed, finally letting go of Y/n’s arm.

Y/n followed alongside her boss and Roy, unsure of where they were leading her. When they got to the lobby and she caught Jamie’s silhouette ahead of them, she came to a halt.

“No.”

“Y/n-“ Keeley began.

“No,” Y/n slashed a hand through the air, “I told you no.”

“Fuck your no,” Roy snapped, “I don’t care what the fuck’s going on wth you two, but your job is to make the club look good,” Roy pointed to Jamie’s fleeting figure, “And he makes us look good. So you’re gonna do your fucking job and you’re gonna help us fucking fix this.”

Y/n chuckled with deep annoyance, “You know what? Fuck you, Kent. I’m not one of your footballers you can boss around any time you’re in a shit mood,” she stuck a finger out at Roy, “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Oi!” Keeley exclaimed, her heels slapping against the floor as she marched back, “Both of you, stop it. Come on!”

Roy and Y/n broke their stare, Jamie was rounding the corner and heading out the hotel’s doors. Sparing each other one more hardened glare, they followed Keeley.

The three of them exited the hotel, Keeley spotting Jamie passing the Richmond bus, and they traced his path. Against all she told herself, Y/n went on her own free will, chasing him through the Manchester evening.

Keeley’s stalking technique involved scurrying behind cars and lampposts, while Y/n clung to building walls. Ever the least subtle of any group, Roy simply walked the street, not using much caution to mask his presence.

They followed Jamie through neighborhoods and into the inner part of the city. They crossed bridges, climbed stairs and finally ended up on one side of a florescent lit tunnel. On their descent down the steps, they lost sight of him.

“The fuck is he?” Roy asked.

“I don’t know,” Keeley answered, “You’ve lost him.”

Roy glanced around them, “You said he went down here.”

“I did not,” Keeley argued, “You said that.”

“No, I said he’s in a tunnel,” Roy corrected as the three of them marched down the way, “I didn’t say he was in this tunnel. She’s the one who thought it was this one.”

“He did come down this one,” Y/n said sternly.

“Well, there’s no other tunnel, is there?” Keeley reprimanded them, “I don’t believe it. You’ve lost Jamie Tartt.”

“We didn’t lose him,” Y/n argued, silently worried. The second she’d lost eyes on Jamie was the second their surroundings suddenly became unsettling.

“You can’t lose Jamie Tartt,” Roy replied.

“Well, you have,” Keeley fired back.

“OI!”

Roy, Keeley and Y/n jumped at the exclaim, spinning around and shouting various expletives.

“Fucking hell!”

“What the fuck?!”

Jamie stood, hood over his head and hands in his pockets. “Why are you following me?”

“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you prick,” Roy spoke kind words with contrasting anger.

“What’s going on, Jamie?” Keeley asked, “Are you buying drugs?”

Jamie’s confused stare turned to Y/n, he locked up. The three weeks of not seeing her made her sudden presence feel like a hallucination.

Any face Y/n had been wearing dropped the second her eyes met Jamie’s. This was the closest they’d been since that night outside her apartment.

They came back to themselves quickly, hiding whatever they were feeling for the sake of Keeley and Roy being present.

Jamie nodded towards the path ahead of them, “Come on.”

Roy, Keeley and Y/n followed without question as Jamie guided them through the tunnel. It led up to a crowded neighborhood, a council estate that looked like it had seen better days.

Y/n made an effort to follow Roy, keeping as much distance as she could between her and Jamie. Her presence would probably mess with his head even more so than her absence might have. She was starting to wonder if the choice to come had been a selfish one.

They passed a group of kids kicking a football against a brick wall.

“Oi,” one of them called, “Are you Jamie Tartt?”

Jamie pushed back his hood, “Yeah.”

“More like Jamie Fart,” the youngest taunted.

“Screw you, dickhead,” the tallest one shouted, “Prick!”

“Yeah, who are you?”

“City’s gonna fuck you up tomorrow!”

Through the haranguing of insults, Jamie smiled, glancing over to Keeley, and sneaking one at Y/n. He led them away towards the row of houses.

Roy stuck around, turning to stare down the kids, who’d gone dead silent. Y/n readied herself to drag Roy away kicking and screaming from unloading on them.

Instead, he held up his hands in an ‘ok’ sign, “Good lads.”

While the kids were clearly thrilled at having been complimented by the Roy Kent, Y/n slapped his arm as hard as she could. Roy grasped it and silently protested before Y/n pointed to where Jamie and Keeley had gone off to.

They arrived on the doorsteps of one of the houses. Jamie rang the doorbell and they waited till a pair of eyes popped through one of the door’s glass bits.

“Hey,” the man exclaimed before opening the door, greeting them with a wide grin, “Jamie!”

“How you doing, Simon?” Jamie smiled and pointed to the group, “This is Keeley, that’s Roy, and that’s Y/n.”

“Come on in, come on in,” Simon waved them into the home.

Jamie entered first, shaking Simon’s hand, “How are you, mate? Good seeing you, man.”

“Yeah, great,” Simon replied as he ushered his guests in.

Keeley, Roy and Y/n all gave various greetings as they crossed the threshold. None of them knew quite where they were.

“Georgie,” Simon called up the stairs, “We’ve got visitors!”

A female voice called back down, “What was that, love? Someone at the door?”

Jamie made a beeline for the bottom of the staircase, just as a woman stopped at the top, frozen by what lay in front of her.

“Hello, Mommy.”

Y/n’s eyes widened.

Georgie screamed as she ran down the steps, leaping into her son’s arms. “Jamie!”

“Mommy, I’d like to introduce you to Keeley,” Jamie turned to face his friends, “And this hairy prick’s Roy,” his smile dropped an imperceptible inch, “And that’s Y/n over there.”

“Hi,” Keeley greeted in her normal bubbly tone.

“Hi,” Y/n managed to eek out, holding up a nervous hand.

“Hey, you,” Roy said smoothly.

“Hi,” Georgie greeted them all while hugging Jamie once more, “It’s lovely to finally meet you all. I’d come and give you a hug,” she squeezed the sides of her son’s face, “But I’m not letting go of this one!”

Jamie lifted his mom into the air and spun her around.

“There they go,” Simon observed, “Right, who wants some sweet treats?”

Simon slipped off deeper into the house while Georgie and Jamie stayed in their embrace.

“Look at your gorgeous face,” she exclaimed as Jamie carried them both down the hallway, “I love it. How have you been? Look at you.”

Run. All of Y/n’s instincts told her to run right back out that door and take her chances with being abducted in the sketchy tunnel. Roy and Keeley must have sensed her unease because Keeley reached back for Y/n’s hand and Roy kept behind her, forcing her inside.

Georgie and Jamie had managed to separate long enough for Jamie to snuggle up against his mom on the living room couch. Keeley, Y/n and Roy stood at the entrance to the room, unsure of where to go.

“Oh, come and sit down,” Georgie gestured to the rest of the room.

Keeley and Roy entered less hesitatingly than Y/n, who took up a seat on the arm of the couch. To say she was uncomfortable was an understatement of epic proportions. Here she’d gone to every effort to avoid Jamie, and she’d ended up in what was clearly his childhood home with his mother.

She glanced over at the shrine to Jamie on the far wall, various pictures of him from different stages of life proudly displayed. Baby pictures all the way to league headshots. Y/n wanted to evaporate into thin air.

Simon popped back into the room with a plate of baked goods, dishing one out to each of his guests as Georgie and Jamie talked.

“It was just poopy,” Jamie quietly vented to his mom, his thick accent changing the word entirely, “You know, it really upset me. This guy on Twitter, he kept saying that it was blonde, but I’m like, ‘It’s fucking walnut mist, mate.’”

Y/n nearly spit out the bite of scone she was chewing. If this whole debacle was about his vanity, she’d march out the door. They’d argued several times over the exact shade of the highlights.

“Yeah, obviously,” Georgie agreed, stroking her son’s hair, “He’s done a lovely job, it’s dead natural.”

Simon finished pouring the tea, looking up expectantly at the party. “What do you think?”

Keeley smiled, “It’s really yummy.”

“Yeah, it’s wonderful,” Y/n managed to find her voice.

Keeley elbowed Roy, who was lost staring at the sight of his former nemesis cuddled up with his mother like a lost child. “It’s fucking delicious,” he said distractedly before returning.

“Well, it’s a Paul Hollywood recipe, but I’ve gone a little bit rogue on it,” Simon explained.

Allowing herself to slip back into a world where Jamie was damn near the center, Y/n wondered who Simon was. He clearly wasn’t Jamie’s biological father, he was the complete antithesis of the man she’d heard horror stories about. Jamie had never mentioned having a step-dad.

“Babes,” Georgie said softly, “Do you wanna give Roy, Keeley and Y/n the grand tour? Show them around a bit?”

“Yes,” Simon agreed, catching the signals his wife was throwing at him. “Good idea. Thank—“ he stood and hit his head on the overhead light, “Oops! Right, follow me. We will start in the kitchen, aka my laboratory.”

Y/n was the first to stand, but fell behind Keeley, making her a buffer. When Roy hesitated to leave, she tugged him harshly out the room.

“Fuckin’ grip you’ve got,” he complained as they walked to the kitchen.

“Oh, bite me,” Y/n retorted. Keeley had good intentions, but she was ready to kick Roy for dragging her into this.

Simon took them on a full tour of the house, showcasing his kitchen and its appliances off as if they were his most prized possessions. All along the walls of the house were pictures of him and Georgie on various trips and holidays. Scattered between them were childhood pictures of Jamie.

Eventually, Simon led them up the stairs and down a short hall. “And here is the main attraction,” he announced, opening a door and flipping on a light, “Jamie’s room.”

“Oh, sweet Lord,” Y/n muttered under her breath. This was way too deep in.

The room seemed untouched since the day Jamie had left it. Both childhood toys and teen paraphernalia were stacked on shelves and dressers. The bedding had a football pattern to it and there were various trophies for the sport nearby. On the walls, there were school certificates and diplomas and-

“Fucking hell.”

Y/n turned to see a poster of Roy, sporting a Chelsea kit and a very shaggy haircut tacked to Jamie’s wall.

“Ah, yes,” Simon looked to the footballer, “Many posters have come and gone over the years. Henry, Gerrard, Ronaldo…but Roy Kent, always remains.”

Y/n slapped a hand over her mouth and snorted, ignoring the daggers Roy was sending her way.

An phone alarm went off and Simon pulled the device out of his pocket. “Oh! Meat pies are done,” he said, “Excuse me.”

As he shut the door, another poster was revealed. This one of Keeley during her more risqué modeling days, holding two footballs against her breasts.

“Fucking hell,” she grunted.

“Yep, no, can’t do it,” Y/n finally found her voice and the doorknob. She wasn’t sure she could spend another second in Jamieland without her head exploding. “Simon!”

Their friendly host had barely made it down one of the stairs, “Yeah?”

“Let me help you with the pies,” Y/n jogged down the hall.

“Oh, no, you go ahead and look around,” he said kindly.

“No, really,” Y/n followed him down the staircase, “You’re kind enough to deal with three strangers barging into your house. It’s the least I can do.”

Simon scoffed lightheartedly as he led them into the kitchen, “No friend of Jamie’s is a stranger in this house,” he slipped on a pair of oven mitts, “Right, if you want to place these on the cooling rack.”

Simon pulled out the tray of pies and set them on the stove. Y/n went about setting them on the racks, wondering if she’d made the better choice. Now, instead of sitting in Jamie’s bedroom, she was cooking with his step-dad.

“So,” Simon spoke as he moved about the kitchen, “I can gather what brought Jamie here, but what made you three tag along?”

“Oh,” Y/n searched for an explanation, “He’s been a bit…off…lately and we were just worried about him.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” he replied, “Coming home’s a big deal, especially in this case.”

Y/n furrowed her brows, “How do you figure?”

“Well, if you were playing against your hometown in your hometown,” Simon wiped his hands on his apron, “Might stir up some feelings.”

Said out in the open, it all sounded so obvious. Of course Jamie was struggling with playing Man City. Not only that, he hadn’t spoken to his dad in ages and it was almost guaranteed the bastard would show up to cheer against his own son.

Y/n sighed, she felt like an idiot.

“Speaking of home,” Simon broke her out of her head, “Your accent doesn’t suggest you’re from around here.”

“No,” Y/n returned to their conversation, “I, uh, moved here for school and never left.”

“Oh, fascinating. What made you stay?”

Y/n shrugged and placed the last of the pies on the cooling rack. “I was just settled and didn’t want to leave.”

“That must’ve been awful for your parents,” Simon said, “When Jamie moved to London, Georgie was devastated, and that’s only a half day’s drive. I can’t imagine a whole ocean’s worth of distance.”

If Y/n thought the night couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, the mention of her parents proved her wrong. Between the location, a vulnerable Jamie in the next room, and her family being brought up, she thought she might burst into tears.

“They’re okay with it,” she answered.

“Gosh,” Simon commented, stood at the island, “That can’t be true.”

“It is,” Y/n replied quickly and spun around, attempting a smile, “But I’ve got a lovely life here.”

“Of course,” he grinned, “Working for a football club’s got to be exciting. Jamie’s mentioned you plenty.”

Y/n wasn’t moving, but she could feel everything inside her stop. “Jamie’s…mentioned me?”

“Loads,” Simon nodded, “He calls round every once in a while. Obviously he keeps busy, but the name Y/n has come up nearly every conversation. I thought I might break into hives when Georgie told me about the Christmas dinner you two cooked.”

Simon began to recount all the memories shared between Jamie and Y/n that he and Georgie had become privy to. It wasn’t just the more notable moments like their chaotic Christmas or helping Y/n move to Richmond, but the little ones too. Sneaking into the stadium for lunch breaks in the seats. Post-match interviews Y/n oversaw and how Jamie would try and make her laugh with his answers. Y/n making Jamie decorate his house because the bareness of it drove her crazy. Jamie showing up on Y/n’s doorstep on her birthday right at midnight. Trying to learn how to cook together after the disastrous Christmas dinner and kind of, almost, sort of succeeding. Picking one another’s songs at team karaoke nights. Conversations in the hallways of Nelson Road. Movies and shows suggested to one another and the reactions that followed.

The whole of Jamie and Y/n’s relationship was played back for her in his parent’s kitchen.

She was speechless.

“I, uh,” she managed, her eyes beginning to glisten, “I didn’t know Jamie talked that much about his friends.”

“His friends?” Simon looked to Y/n before ducking his eyes away when he saw she was serious, “Oh, yes…his friends.”

The small slip was enough to confirm what Y/n already suspected.

“Um,” she said, her throat suddenly thick, “It’s getting late. Would you mimd telling Roy and Keeley I took a cab back to the hotel?”

“Of course,” Simon smiled, “Can I send you home with a pie?”

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” Y/n was already crossing the kitchen, “But thank you so much for the scones. Please tell Georgie thank you for letting us interrupt your night.”

Simon waved her off, “Nonsense. Get back safe.”

Y/n speed walked down the hall, not sparing so much as a glance in the living room’s direction. She threw the front door open and hurried down the way. With shaking hands, she pulled out her phone and ordered an Uber.

Her breath came in quick puffs, the anxiety creating quite a home in her chest. She was on the verge of having the worst anxiety attack of her life, all because she’d come to the conclusion that she was cared for. No, this wasn’t care. This was something else entirely.

Little did she know, the second he’d heard her brush through the hall, Jamie was on high alert. He’d looked up from his mom, jumping to a seated position as the door slammed shut.

“Was that Y/n?” He asked Simon as he passed by the living room.

“Yes, she said she had to get back to the hotel,” Simon answered, grabbing the plate of half eaten scones from the coffee table.

Jamie was up and off the couch in an instant, hurrying down the hall and out the front door. Y/n was stood on the sidewalk, her hand pressed to her chest as if she was on the verge of collapsing.

“Hey.”

Y/n’s head whipped around, Jamie was jogging down the steps to her. He kept a fair bit of distance between them at first, unsure of how she felt about his presence. All she could do was attempt another breath.

“Hey,” Jamie crossed the space, deciding to reach for Y/n’s arms, “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head and avoided meeting Jamie’s concerned eyes.

“No, what’s wrong?” Jamie’s thumbs stroked over her sweater.

For all her fight, Y/n couldn’t bring herself to battle the warm grip Jamie had on her. She’d missed it.

“I’m fine, Jamie,” she lied once more, “I just want to go back to the hotel.”

Jamie scanned her face, finding the tears in her red eyes before she could hide them. Just as much as there was something wrong with him, there was something eating away at Y/n.

In the three weeks they’d stayed away from one another, Jamie had found life to be unbearable. The anxiety about playing Man City and the possibility of seeing his father once more had manifested in his playing. He’d struggled through training more and more, slowly becoming paralyzed by the lack of his usual fire. Without Y/n there to go and vent all his fears to, someone who understood without him ever having to explain a thing, it had all snowballed. Breaking down in the boot room and sobbing into Roy’s shoulder could have been avoided. His panic attack when Keeley had come to his room to check on him would have never happened.

But it wasn’t just that. Jamie found himself missing Y/n in the dullest of moments. Making dinner for himself, searching for something on television, driving home from work. Sleep was nearly impossible now that he’d gotten to fade out with her in his arms. The vacancy she’d left in his life was overwhelming. Jamie had never wanted to share such insignificant moments with someone in his life. He’d never felt as unsettled without someone.

This wasn’t some infatuation. He couldn’t live without her.

“Look,” Jamie tilted her head up, her eyes finally meeting his, “I know everything’s wrecked a-and we fucked it all up but…” his breath came out trembling, “But I love you.”

Y/n cries began to shake her chest.

“And I know this is the worst fucking time to say it,” Jamie bit back a laugh, but he felt ten tons lighter with the words finally spoken, “But I don’t regret what happened. If I could go back and do it a hundred times over, I would.”

A single cry escaped Y/n.

“And I need you,” Jamie spoke urgently, dragging a hand to Y/n’s cheek, brushing a thumb over the wet skin, “I need you with me ‘cause I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’ without you. I don’t. You’ve fucking ruined me.”

Y/n was caught somewhere between a frown and a smile. Her worst fear and her greatest wish.

“Don’t leave, please,” Jamie pleaded, slipping his free hand around Y/n’s waist when she didn’t recoil at his touch. “I wanna be with you.”

Y/n’s sobs caused her whole body to shudder, which only made Jamie to pull her closer. She ended up enveloped in his arms, the only place she’d truly desired to be since the moment she’d left them.

Jamie pressed a kiss to Y/n’s forehead, trying to ease whatever pain and pour out his sentiments. The relief of holding her again was all-consuming and he reveled in it.

For a moment, they both realized what they could have. They could put the whole horrid separation behind them and let themselves be happy. They could come home to one another. They could hold nothing back from each other. They could build a life together and give each other all the love they’d ever been deprived of.

Where Jamie felt hope, cradling the girl he loved, Y/n felt panic, fearing the risk more than the loss.

“Jamie,” she whispered, “No.”

Jamie pulled back, fearfully gazing into her bloodshot eyes. “What do you mean?”

“No,” Y/n repeated, “We can’t.”

“Wh-“ he stammered, she was slipping away from him, “What are you talking about? We can.”

Y/n whined, “I can’t, Jamie. I can’t.”

“You can, you can,” Jamie insisted, holding Y/n’s cheek with purpose. He caught the headlights of the Uber coming down his street, “Why? Why can’t we have this?”

“Tell me,” Jamie softly begged, “Tell me why. Why can’t we have this?”

Finally, Y/n’s emotions burst, everything flooding out in a mess of terror.

“Because I don’t want this,” she exclaimed tearfully, “I don’t want this, Jamie. I don’t want y-“

She caught herself before she could finish it, but it was still too late. The damage had been done, and the wreckage spread across Jamie’s face. His lips parted in shock and his touch lost its urgency.

In her blind panic, Y/n hadn’t expected such a lie to come out of her mouth. But there was no taking it back, and the fear of all Jamie was ready to give was possessing her. This was the only way to keep herself safe.

Behind them, the Uber driver had pulled up to the house. “Oi, one of you Y/n?”

Y/n blinked up at Jamie, who was searching her eyes for the dishonesty in what she’d said. He found it so easily, but her determination to run was visibly clearer.

“Please let me go,” Y/n asked, her voice barely audible. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes as she spoke.

Jamie knew there was no more fight to give. He’d poured the contents of his heart out to her fruitlessly. He couldn’t force her to face the truth, that she might love him back, or that she even cared that he loved her. He was out of plays to make, all he could do was let her walk away.

He dropped his hands as slow as he could, savoring the last feel of her he’d get. Y/n trembled as his fingers left her face, committing his touch to her memory. This was the end before they even reached the beginning.

“In or out, love,” the driver interrupted.

Summoning the last of her strength, Y/n sought out Jamie’s eyes, glistening with tears now. She’d dealt the ultimate blow to an already wounded soldier. Slowly, she backed away from him, fighting every urge to run back into his arms and take it all back. If he took one step towards her, she knew she’d do it.

Jamie obeyed her wishes and didn’t move.

With one final gaze, Y/n turned away, climbing into the backseat of the Uber. He didn’t wait to drive, pulling the car away from as soon as she’d shut the door.

Y/n watched Jamie in the rear view mirror before it became too much. She dissolved to silent wracking sobs, caving in on herself. Not only had she walked away from the man she knew she surely loved, but she’d broken his heart doing so. The self-destruction was no longer only affecting her, she was destroying those around her.

Jamie wiped a shaking hand over his face as he watched the car carry Y/n away. He struggled to comprehend all that had just happened. He’d lost her.

Somehow, he carried himself back inside. He shuffled robotically back into the living room. His mum and Simon were seated on the couch, speaking in hushed tones.

Georgie looked expectantly to her son. Jamie had never needed to talk about him and Y/n in so many words. She knew exactly what he felt. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Jamie stared ahead at the carpet.

“Did you talk to her?” Georgie asked, asking something far deeper.

Jamie nodded.

“Does she feel the same?”

There was the true answer, and there was the easy answer. Jamie chose the latter.

“No.”

——————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[freeuselandonorris]

I wish you’d write a fic where lando tries different antics to get oscar to lose his cool a bit (both in the bedroom and out ig)!

HELLO ANON thank you for this delicious prompt! i actually ended up going off in a slightly different direction to what you asked for because it sort of ran away with me, so i hope you still enjoy it ❤️

The first time he does it, it’s an accident, although Oscar doesn’t seem to think so. 

It’s a couple of minutes before the start of FP2 and the garage is a hive of activity. Ted Kravitz is stood about ten feet away, pointing energetically at something from the mouth of the garage. There are at least three cameras within shooting distance. So Lando doesn’t think much of it when he squeezes past Oscar, shifting him out of the way by the hips to get to his cubbyhole, because there’s no thought behind it other than Oscar is standing in the way and it’s too loud to say excuse me. When Lando’s hands make contact with his racesuit, Oscar jumps. Lando laughs, pats his back and carries on, thinking nothing more of it.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Oscar asks accusingly, after the session when they’re waiting to leave.

Lando squints, mystified. Racks his brains to figure out whether he’d accidentally cut Oscar up on track or blocked him on a fast lap. “Do what?”

“In the garage,” Oscar says. He’s watching Lando with a funny expression, eyes locked on his face. He wets his lips. “When you—” He stops, eyes snapping to his feet. 

“What?” Lando says. It’s funny — for all Oscar looks supremely unbothered by basically everything, reacting to stress and joy alike with little more than an eyebrow raise, he does have one tell. He blushes more easily than almost anyone Lando’s ever met, except maybe Morgan, who’s got the excuse of being ginger.

“Never mind,” Oscar says. He’s so red. “I just thought — when you came past me. I thought you were too close on purpose.”

Huh. Lando tilts his head, studying Oscar. “Nope. Sorry, mate. Won’t happen again.”

“No,” Oscar says hastily, before Lando’s even finished speaking. “It’s fine. It wasn’t — It’s fine.”

His face is scarlet now, the flush spreading right across his nose and cheeks. Even his ears are pink. 

Interesting. 

The second time he does it, they’re alone. In a lift, to be exact, which means Lando only has about fifteen seconds. By virtue of being in the executive suites, they’re both posted to the top floor, and the lift that had been full of various team personnel empties out suddenly on floor seven, leaving them leaning against the back handrail, alone. 

Lando leans over, tips his head onto Oscar’s shoulder and yawns exaggeratedly. “Wow,” he says airily. “I’m beat.”

Their heights don’t match up properly for this at all. Lando’s ear is squashed against Oscar’s shoulder. He feels Oscar go still for a few seconds, and then, abruptly, his shoulder drops. Like he’s listing deliberately to one side, lowering his shoulder for Lando’s head to fit.

Lando bites back a smile, nestles into the curve of Oscar’s throat. Twists his head so his breath gusts out against the soft skin. Breathes in deep. “Wow, Osc, you smell good. New cologne?” 

His head jiggles as Oscar swallows hard. “No. Nope. Same one as always.”

“Hmm,” Lando says, and presses his nose into Oscar’s shoulder, revelling in Oscar’s shuddery inhale. “Maybe I’ve just not been close enough to notice before.”

The third time, they’re being filmed. They’re in a conference room downstairs at the hotel, sun streaming through the windows, backing out onto some tennis courts Lando quite fancies getting onto later, if he gets chance. They’ve been positioned next to each other on an uncomfortable sofa, answering quickfire questions for some YouTube channel Lando’s never heard of. His back is killing him, or at least that’s the excuse he’ll use if anyone asks why he he swings his feet up off the floor and drops them into Oscar’s lap. 

Oscar stops halfway through a sentence, stammering to a halt. His hands hover in midair, awkward. 

Lando wriggles his feet, feeling the muscles in Oscar’s thighs. They’re so firm, even through the rubber of his soles.

“Sorry,” Oscar says to the interviewer, who’s looking at them bemusedly. He turns to Lando. “Really, mate?”

Lando shrugs, doesn’t move his feet. Smiles the smile that let him get away with being a little shit at school. After a moment, Oscar’s hands settle on top of his trainers, curled tentatively around his feet.

“Okay,” the interviewer says. “Let’s go again.”

Afterwards, Oscar stands up quickly, dislodging Lando’s feet so fast his trainers squeak on the polished floor when they land. He yanks his hoodie down over his hips, but not before Lando sees it. Hard not to, really, given that he’s still sat down at crotch height. The front of Oscar’s jeans, stretched out, just a bit. 

“Oh,” Lando says stupidly. 

“Shut up,” Oscar says tightly, out of the corner of his mouth. “Swear to God.”

Lando nods and struggles to his feet. Prays he hasn’t taken it too far. He’s half-expecting Oscar to make his excuses and disappear, but he sticks around to exchange pleasantries with the team. Makes jokes like nothing’s up, beckons Lando when they’re dismissed and strolls out alongside him, whistling between his teeth. Lando’s just starting to think that maybe he’d imagined the whole thing, when Oscar turns to him.

“Come to my room,” he says. Just like that, no preamble, no beating around the bush. 

Lando nods, falls into step alongside him.

Lando’s barely got the door shut before Oscar’s shoving him up against it. Pinning Lando back with his hands bracketed around Lando’s biceps, staring down at him. And then he stops. Uncertainty flickers across his face.

“What is this?” he says, quiet and tense. 

Lando blinks. “What do you—”

“No,” Oscar cuts him off. “Don’t bullshit me.”

He doesn’t look angry. His gaze flicks between Lando’s eyes and mouth. His lips part. Goosebumps break out all down Lando’s arms, starting at the point where Oscar’s warm hands wrap around him. 

“Do you like it?” Lando says, squirming against the doorway. Looking up into Oscar’s dark eyes. 

Oscar kisses him. Same way he’d asked: no fucking about. His teeth click against Lando’s with the force of it, tongue dipping inside Lando’s mouth and retreating, a maddening tease. 

Lando’s gasping for breath by the time they break apart. His skin burns, prickly like he’s starting with flu, only good. He grabs Oscar’s wrist, wrenches it away from his arm and shoves it under his hoodie. They both gasp when Oscar’s hand touches skin, Lando sucking in his belly involuntarily. 

“You’ve been driving me fucking mental,” Oscar says, a low growl. Lando shudders and lets his head thud back against the door. Oscar’s fingers curl into the soft space below his ribs. “You know that? Can barely think straight, sitting there wondering when you’re gonna do it again.”

“Hardly even done anything,” Lando mutters. 

Oscar scoffs, but his eyes are soft. He grips the bottom of Lando’s hoodie and the shirt underneath, pulling them up far enough to expose his stomach, and looks at the skin on display. Lando arches his back, squirming under the scrutiny.

Holding the fabric up, Oscar scrapes the nails of his other hand in one long line down Lando’s stomach, letting them snag in the waistband of his joggers at the end of the trail. His nails leave streaks of fire down Lando’s skin. He can’t help but imagine it, even though he can’t see past his clothes: pink lines, marks on his skin, put there by Oscar. 

Oscar ducks in again, kisses him for a few destabilising seconds. This time, when they separate, he stays close enough that Lando can see the tiny, distorted reflections of himself in Oscar’s dark eyes. He brings one hand up, cupping the back of Oscar’s neck, where the hair is short and soft. 

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes. Abruptly, Lando realises he’s trembling, his entire body shivering with desire. He might have wanted this for a lot longer than he’s let himself think about. “Yeah, I like it.”

[caslutz]

canon divergence tedtrent au where instead of ted sleeping with sassy in liver pool, ted sleeps with trent. it’s not a stretch to say trent would be there to watch the game as many other reporters were, and not even that far of a stretch to say he was staying in the same hotel. they run into each other soon after the team gets there and of course ted lights up seeing trent and trent blushes about 10 different shades of red. after the game and singing the divorce papers ted goes down to the hotel bar where he finds trent, and ted’s just vulnerable enough to act on that little part of his brain that has always been attracted to men (especially trent, since he had met him.)

ted freaks out after they hook up, much the same in canon, however it’s for a few more reasons. for one, trent is probably the first man ted has ever been with that seriously, and the first time since like college, and secondly it is right after he divorced michelle so there’s that guilt, and third, he really really likes trent. ted talks to the newly formed diamond dogs about his predicament (using very vague terms as to keep both his and trent’s privacy) and decides that he is allowed to want things, especially this.

ted doesn’t see trent again after that until the next press conference. (the next one that is shown in the series is 1x9, which is probably about a couple weeks after 1x7) ted, excited to see trent again makes a point of answering his questions with a smile, and catches trent after the conference to officially ask to see him again. I just love the idea of ted and trent having been hooking up since season one and having a messy on and off again relationship because they’re middle aged divorced dads and they’re figuring it out!!

now i probably won’t write this but if any tedtrent writers got inspired by this, by all means you should write it lmao, that would be very fun, i would read 100%

[itsclydebitches]

We've all rightly been gushing over Trent listening in on the parent-teacher conference and there are a lot of cool interpretations for why he'd eavesdrop: a crush on Ted, a tendency towards gossip (as seen in "International Break"), the fact that you just can't take the journalism out of the boy, Trent is clearly picking up personal tidbits for the book if the group's initial "Don't print that" worries are any indication, etc. So yeah, it's clear why he'd want/be okay with the door staying open.

Meanwhile, I'm slightly feral over Ted letting the door stay open and what that conveys to Trent.

Based on what we've picked up about his personal life and the direction of this season, we have good reason to believe that Trent was a deeply isolated man prior to Ted arriving. His job makes enemies simply by virtue of the profession itself, especially when you "bring the heat" as hard as he did. Roy flipping the press off at the gala in Season 1 and Nate sneaking out at dark this last episode shows us how journalists are treated on the regular: ignored, dismissed, told to "fuck off" as a matter of course. That's often well deserved, as Roy's two personal stories (Trent's article about him + the response to Isaac's attack) attest, but the end result is still a profession that alienates you from anyone other than your peers. When you're a "colossal prick" in your articles, people hate you all the more.

So Trent at least has other journalist buddies, yeah? Well, not that we've seen. I always think back to that chorus of "--The Independent" in the press room when everyone knew what Trent was going to say and how it... wasn't entirely fun ribbing. I think there's a fair bit of mockery there. Even if others disagree, I doubt that was received well by someone who wears their professionalism as an armor, who takes off his glasses as soon as they're complimented, who was, notably, closeted into his 40s. Trent is a man who is deeply aware of how others perceive him (pointing out his "vibe" feels quite calculated now: highlight what you want people to notice rather than waiting for them to find something on their own) and he is likely to read the worst of most interactions. Cue his shocked, "You really mean that, don't you?" when faced with someone like Ted who is not only genuinely nice, but blunt about it in a way that Trent can't misunderstand, or brush off via denial.

What's his home life like? Married to a woman when he's gay and that's putting a serious strain on them both. He tries to come out and isn't believed. The only other family members we know about are a toddler (who, while lovely I'm sure, can't provide Trent with the kind of emotional support an adult needs) and a father who, if we read the series through Lance's headcanons, may not have been very supportive of his son. Who else does Trent know? Uhhh... other subjects who hate him? Owners like Rebecca who want to use him? A random, potential date that he felt so little for he ditched to get a quote?

(EDIT: I can't believe I forgot to mention the strong implications that Ted was bullied in childhood/as a teenager, based on how he reacts to the whole of the club ignoring him -- resigned but unsurprised -- his reaction to Roy telling him to fuck off after he tries to mend that relationship -- disappointedly awkward "I can't believe I even tried that. What was I thinking?" -- and his body language during the locker room scene -- jumping, furtive glances towards Ted, backed up against the shower stall because shit, he's been in this situation before.

So uh, yeah. Trent may not have had a lot of friends growing up either! That was not the response of a social butterfly, but rather someone who is already very used to being ignored/dismissed/cursed out/threatened, not just within his profession, but within the school-like atmosphere of Richmond's family too.)

I'm by no means reinventing the meta wheel here, but Trent has truly undergone a STAGGERING transformation in Season 3 and the result of that is the reframing of his Season 1 and 2 scenes as, frankly, more depressing than they originally seemed. Seeing him now smiling, singing, gossiping, dressing just in t-shirts, casually snacking, making jokes, letting go enough to be a complete, hyperactive "dork" in front of others... it just hammers home how deeply unhappy Trent was before. How closed off. How closeted--in more ways than one.

So what must it mean to someone like Trent for Ted to leave the door open?

It's not just an open invitation towards community--sit near me, listen in, quietly participate, there's literally no barrier between us--but a staggeringly personal one too. I don't care if a 10-ish year old failing science is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, the fact remains that letting anyone hear a parent-teacher conference with your ex is a hell of a show of trust. That would mean a lot to Trent in general, this acknowledgement that someone trusts the ex-prick journalist with that amount of personal information, but Ted in particular? Oh boy. Ted is the one Trent betrayed with that article! And yeah, Ted forgave him the instant he learned of it, but Trent himself was obviously feeling a lot of guilt, hence him burning his source and orchestrating a firing. Toss in the fact that Ted, despite being a VERY open man on the regular (I still laugh at his "I don't mind" to Rebecca when over-sharing about Michelle) has in fact denied Trent information in the past. No, I won't tell you that was a panic attack. Yes, I will continue the lie that it was food poisoning. Perhaps for Ted it was less about Trent knowing and more about anyone getting at the truth, but at the end of the day it amounts to the same: there was a time when Ted did not fully trust him and Trent justified that fear by writing the very article Ted was looking to avoid, even if Trent approached that situation with as much grace as he could.

So this moment, beyond the humor, just makes my brain go !!!!!! for Trent. Ted Lasso, of all people, has left the door open for Trent Crimm, also of all people, to hear the messy details of his, Henry, and Michelle's life. He is not at all afraid that this information will be spun in a bad light--Local Gaffer's Son Suffers While Father Plays at Coach Across the Pond--despite the fact that Trent is actively writing a book about him. Trent himself is so unguarded in this moment, dressed only in a t-shirt, playing around with his orange, making little quips. The Trent of Season 1 would NEVER. I mean, I think we see small glimpses of the real Trent back then, especially when Ted amuses him enough to coax his guard down for half a second (Trent's reaction to “Make like Dunst and Union and bring it on, baby!" comes to mind. That's a gesture we're seeing a lot now that he's comfortable around the club), but on the whole he was still so, so, so isolated. No one knew the real him: gay, funny, dorky, inquisitive, longing for companionship and using the artificial 'closeness' of journalism to cover that ache up.

Now? Trent is fully a part of the Richmond community and he knows he's a part of it because everyone--Ted, Beard, Roy, Colin, Rebecca--are going out of their way to tell him that, notably in very overt ways. Trent strikes me as someone who wouldn't fully believe it when he's told someone enjoys his company; the kind of wounded, anxiety-prone person who, if casually invited to participate, would assume they're just being polite and he'd actually be an annoyance to them. Trent needs overt, obvious, beat-you-over-the-head-with-it reassurance, which is why Ted is so very good for him because Ted is composed of THE most over-the-top positivity you've ever seen. (Compare that need of Trent's to Michelle thinking that Ted is too much...) When faced with a defensive journalist Ted says explicitly that he liked spending time with Trent. When faced with a still unsure writer who thinks of himself only as an observer--never a part of the team himself--Ted literally begs with monkey noises to hear Trent's opinions. He's blunt to the point of absurdity and someone like Trent who has likely spent the majority of his life hiding/being told that his true self is inadequate needs that level of constant, neon-light reassurance.

So Ted leaves the door open to a personal conversation, refusing to literally bar Trent from his life. The best part? Colin re-opens the door because he understands Trent and he knows his coach; of course Ted wants him included. Colin asks permission to CLOSE the door, not open it, and Trent is seeing this openness again and again over the course of several months, with each episode bringing him further out of his shell as he slowly unlearns that self-doubt. Yes, please stay, please tell us what you think, please offer your advice, please join our Diamond Dogs, please ask us questions (they're no longer perceived as a threat), please become an integral part of our lives. We trust you and we like you and we want you here.

Everyone's waiting for Trent to catch the door again because, you know, the rule of three, but what if he doesn't need to? What if he's past slipping a hand or a foot through the crack and scraping by on what that gets him? He caught the door before it could close to get closer to Colin. He caught the door before it could close to get closer to Ted. Now they've both kept the door open for him, his presence welcomed from the get-go.

Trent doesn't need to sprint for that opening anymore.

[beardedmrbean]

Biden supporters are raising Trump's associations with Jeffrey Epstein — again.

Recently-released docs in the Epstein investigation make no mention of Trump.

Democrats have tried deflecting concerns about Biden's age by bringing up Trump's past.

Some Joe Biden supporters are employing a tried-and-true strategy to fend off rampant debate over the President's age and mental acuity: deflection.

On social media — and even in the halls of Congress — certain Biden supporters are using Donald Trump's associations with disgraced financier Jeffrey Epstein as an argument to disqualify him.

Discourse about Trump and Epstein was reignited after documents from Epstein's first Florida investigation in 2006 were released last week.

But the 158-page document — a grand jury transcript showing prosecutors heard testimony that Epstein raped girls as young as 14, then still cut him a sweetheart plea deal — makes no mention of Trump himself.

Still, some seized the news cycle as a way to counteract doubts about Biden's own fitness to run for office in 2024.

Why no one's writing about Trump and Epstein

During a press conference on Tuesday, Rep. Ted Lieu of California urged more media coverage of the "Epstein files," adding that a "highly disturbing" hashtag about Trump and Epstein was trending on X.

Trump had previously been photographed with Epstein, Lieu said, had flown with him on planes with young girls on board, and the two were listed on call logs together.

"It shows that Donald Trump is unfit for office," the congressman said, adding Trump was also convicted of sexual abuse in civil court.

Ben Meiselas, the cofounder of liberal news network Meidas Touch, also posted on X about "the release of new Epstein files with Trump's name on it." Other Biden boosters have suggested a coordinated media cover-up to boost Trump's chances or doom Biden's.

But Trump isn't named in the latest records, a fact reiterated on X by Julie Brown, the Miami Herald investigative journalist who helped break the Epstein story.

Media outlets haven't reported on Trump's connection to the new Epstein files because there isn't one.

What we know about Trump's relationship with Epstein

Trump has appeared in previous unsealed and uncovered documents connected to the Epstein case.

Trump was also connected to 14 different numbers in Epstein's little black book of contacts that surfaced before the financier's arrest on sex trafficking charges in 2019. Among the contacts were Trump's wife, Melania; ex-wife, Ivana; and daughter, Ivanka.

The contact book also included the names of high-profile celebrities like Courtney Love, Alec Baldwin, and Naomi Campbell, as well as politicians and dignitaries like John Kerry, Michael Bloomberg, Henry Kissinger, and Prince Andrew.

Unsealed flight logs in 2019 revealed Trump took a flight on Epstein's private jet in 2017; billionaire couple Glenn and Eva Dubin joined him on the flight from Palm Beach to Newark.

And in January, a Business Insider analysis of then-unsealed court records determined Trump appeared in the documents multiple times under the moniker "Doe 174."

However, the mentions in those documents weren't all damning for the former President, BI's Jacob Shamsian reported at the time.

In one instance, a woman denied in a deposition that she'd massaged Trump. In another, a woman claimed — then recanted — that her friend had had sex with him. And Virginia Roberts Giuffre, one of the key accusers of sexual abuse by Epstein and his associates, said in one document that she didn't think Trump was involved.

Trump had previously faced allegations by an anonymous woman that claimed he had violently raped her at an orgy when she was 13 years old. The woman — who went by the pseudonym "Katie Johnson" — even filed a lawsuit against Trump, twice.

The first was a civil rights suit in April 2016 that was thrown out on a technicality. Vox noted that the original suit listed the woman's apparent address as an abandoned home.

She filed a second lawsuit that removed some of the lurid details. Still, the case was connected to strange characters, including a Jerry Springer producer who tried to sell a video of the purported accuser to news outlets for $1 million and an anti-Trump activist who promoted the lawsuit — and had a history of spreading untrue gossip.

The woman abruptly dropped the lawsuit in November 2016, just days before the election that Donald Trump would win. Her lawyer didn't share a reason for why the lawsuit was dropped at the time.

Trump had publicly praised Epstein before his sexual abuse allegations came to light. He called Epstein a "terrific guy" in 2002, adding, "It is even said that he likes beautiful women as much as I do, and many of them are on the younger side."

But the Washington Post reported the two men had a falling out in 2004 after they both wanted to buy a prime Palm Beach property.

After Epstein's arrest, Trump told reporters, "I was not a fan of his, that I can tell you." Trump has also said he barred Epstein from Mar-A-Lago.

Four Pinocchios from WaPo for congressman Lieu's claims about Trump in the epstein files, that's gotta hurt both wapo and lieu

Guy must think everyone else is a idiot and will take him at his word instead of actually looking,

[junikicker]

The Proposal - Rebecca Welton x fem!reader (Part 1)

The Proposal Part 1 - Rebecca Welton x fem!reader

note: you want it, you get it. rebecca welton x reader au based on the movie the Proposal with Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock. also, this is pre ted arriving at Richmond.

warnings: language

The sun was shining through the curtains of your Richmond flat, coaxing you awake gently. Instinctively, you turned around to shut off the alarm that usually woke you at five every morning. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You groaned as you scrambled to get out of bed, the alarm reading 6:22 a.m.

After quickly getting dressed, you came rushing out into the streets with your tie loosely around your neck and toothbrush still in your mouth. You started running down King Street and Old Palace Place, discarding your toothbrush into the closest bin as the trees around you were blurry due to your fast pace.

It had barely been two months since Rebecca Welton took over AFC Richmond after her rather nasty divorce from Rupert. You had been Mr. Mannion’s assistant for three years and Ms. Welton seemed to like you at least to the point where she felt bad about firing you, so she let you keep your job. She also felt like she owed you for telling her about her, now, ex-husband’s affairs with other employees.

You reached Nelson Road just moments before Rebecca’s arrival, fixing your appearance in the first mirror you found. “Oh, Y/n. Great to see you!” Higgins greeted you as you rushed your way up the stairs to the office you were sharing with Rebecca until accommodations were made. “G’morin’ Leslie!” You greeted back with a smile. “Someone’s in a rush.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Consider waking up twenty-three minutes ago in a rush.” You agreed easily, trying to catch your breath.

Your conversation was then interrupted by the sound of heels echoing through the halls and then up the stairs. “Well, here she comes.” You said to yourself and Higgins shot you an understanding look.

“Good morning, Boss. You have a conference call in thirty minutes.” You informed her as she gracefully strode on into her office. “Yes, about the auctioning of the art Rupert, oh so graciously, left me. I know.” She replied and sat down at her desk as you rushed over to make her a cup of tea. “Staff meeting at nine.” You added.

“Did you call, uhm… what was her name again?” She asked you absent-mindedly, opening her laptop and typing away. “Janet?” You offered, placing the cup on her desk. “Yes, Janet.”

“Yes, I called her and I told her that if she doesn’t get her hands on the matter immediately, there will not be any matters for her to get her hands on in the future. Also, your lawyer called. The one you hired for the divorce. He said that it is imperative-” You informed her but she cut you off immediately.

“Cancel the call, push back the meeting to tomorrow, and keep the lawyer on the sheets. And also get a hold of PR and have them start drafting an interview with Coach Lasso as soon as he gets here.” Rebecca ordered. She had always been quite distanced, it was just what you thought she was like.

“Nicely done.” You replied in a monotone voice. “If I shall want your praise, I will ask for it.” She replied coldly, picking the cup up and taking a big sip out of the mug. Her phone rang. By now you knew that if she was occupied, it was your task to pick up for her. “Morning. Ms. Welton’s office.” You answered. “Hello, Bob.” You replied at the sound of a voice that you were, involuntarily, very familiar with and rolled your eyes.

At you mentioning the name, Rebecca just waved her hand, but you knew her well enough to know what she meant by the gesture. “Actually we’re headed to your office right now… Yeah.” You hung up the phone before turning to your boss with a confused expression. “Why are we headed to Bob’s office?” You asked as Rebecca came to stand again. It never failed to impress you how she always seemed to have her shit together, acting rational all the time. She gave you a look. The look. The look that meant someone was going to get fired.

As the two of you left her office, you once again noticed that you had a hard time keeping up with her pace. “Have you looked over the list of international players in interest I gave you?” You asked her, continuing your walk down the halls. “Uh, I read a few pages. I wasn’t that impressed.” Rebecca replied, keeping up her pace.

“Can I just say something?” You asked her. “No.” She replied instantly as you came closer to reach Bob’s office. “I’ve been looking over hundreds of lists of players and this is the only one I ever gave to you. There are some incredible players on there.” You explained.

“Remember, you’re just a prop in here.” Rebecca reminded you. Ah yes, there it was again. As if you didn’t hear that at least twice a day from her. You opened the door for her to step in without knocking.

“Ah, our fearless leader and her liege. Please, do come in.” Bob joked, his American accent coming through as he got up from his desk chair, glasses on his nose.

“Beautiful shelve you got here, Bob. Is it new?” Rebecca asked, turning around, her face in disgust at having to interact with the man. “It is English Regency Egyptian Revival, built in the 1800s but, yes, it is the newest addition to my office. Rupert gave it to me.” Rebecca’s face seemed to scrunch up in disgust even more but she shook it off before turning back around.

“Bob, I’m firing you.” She then stated, getting straight to the point. The tall, tanned man looked at her as if she was delusional. “Pardon?” He asked. Rebecca sighed.

“I asked you more than a million times to get Chelsea to transfer us Reece James and you didn’t do it. You’re fired.” She calmly explained and you closed the door. “I have told you that this is impossible. James is not transferring for the next years.” Bob tried.

“Now that’s interesting, you see because I just got off the phone with Chelsea and he’s in. You didn’t even call them, did you?” Rebecca asked, walking up closer to the mahogany desk. “But-b.” Bob tried to find his voice again. “I know, I know. They can be a little scary to deal with… For you. Now, I am willing to give you a month to find a new job. And then you can tell everyone you resigned. Fine?” Rebecca offered. Oh, how she always knew how to play her cards.

And with that, the two of you left his office just the way you had come in. Rebecca didn’t bother to look around. “What’s he doing now?” She asked you and you turned around for her. “He’s moving, He has crazy eyes.” You observed, continuing to walk. Rebecca came to a stop and sighed.

“You poisonous bitch!” Bob yelled and suddenly all eyes of the people around you are on the three of you. “You can’t fire me! You don’t think I see what you’re doing here? Sandbagging me into this Chelsea thing just so you can look good to the board? Because you feel threatened by me! And you are a monster!” Rebecca remained calm. “Bob. Stop.”

“Just because you have no life outside of this office, you think you can treat everybody here like your own personal slaves! You know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you’re gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one.” Rebecca took a deep breath in, she was acting like the words didn’t get to her before she formed a reply.

“Bob, I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened by you. And I don’t need to look good to ‘the board’ because I am ‘the board’. And I fired you because you’re lazy, entitled, incompetent and you spent more time cheating on your wife than my ex-husband did, cheating on me. And if you say another word, Y/n here is going to have you escorted out of this building, hands tied to your back, alright?” Rebecca spoke, still somewhat calm as Bob went to speak again. “Another word and you’re going out of here with an armed escort. Is that what you want? Didn’t think so. Y/n. Spit spot, we’ve got work to do.” Rebecca said, spinning on her heel and walking back toward her office.

“Have security take his breakfront out of his office and put it in the conference room. And I need you around for this weekend to review his files and other work.” Rebecca informed you, picking up her pace from before. “This weekend?” You asked her, a frown on your face. “Is there a problem, Y/n?” She asked you, stopping in her tracks. “No. I… just my grandmother’s 90th birthday so I was gonna go home and...” You started but she already went back to making her way to her office. “...it’s fine. I’ll cancel it.” You unwillingly agreed.

Once you were back in the office, you called your family to cancel your visit. You tried your best not to let it get to you but were pissed, to say the least. “I know, I know. Tell Babcia I’m sorry. Okay? Satan is not gonna let me outta here for the weekend… No- I – Listen. I’ve worked too hard for this job to throw it all away, okay?” You Explained to your mother, starting to lower your voice as you heard heels clicking over the floor. “Oh, I’m sure Tata is gonna be pissed… but we take all of our submissions around here very seriously.” You hung up the phone as the office door opened and Rebecca walked in.

“Was that your family?” She asked immediately, standing next to your desk. “Yes.” You replied. “They tell you to quit?” - “Every single day.” The phone rang again. “Ms. Welton’s office, Y/n speaking.” You answered. “Oh… Yeah. Okay. Alright.” You replied before hanging the phone up again.

“Your lawyer is here and wants to see you immediately.” You told Rebecca who groaned in response. “Okay. Come get me in ten minutes. We have a lot to do.” She ordered and left again.

As she left the room, your eyes were trained on her hips, swaying as she walked. She definitely knew how to dress. Everything she wore looked perfect on her and fitted her body in a way that never ceased to impress you. You had caught yourself checking her out on more than one occasion but never really thought anything of it.

Exactly ten minutes later, you knocked on the door to the main conference room, before letting yourself in. “Excuse me, we’re in a meeting.” Her lawyer, a tall, blonde man, in his thirties, addressed you with disgust in his voice as he saw you in your suit. “What is it?” Rebecca asked in a displeased tone, playing her part as perfectly as always.

“Marina Granovskaia from Chelsea’s office just called. She’s on the line.” You informed her. “She needs to speak with you right away, I told her you were otherwise engaged.” You rushed out, eager to get Rebecca out of whatever this was as fast as possible. Her eyes lit up at your words and she silently urged you to come in with all sorts of weird hand gestures.

“Uh… Mr. Swan, I understand. I understand the predicament that we are in. And, uhm… And there is, well… I think there is something you should know.” Rebecca stuttered, getting up from her seat at her desk, walking over to you. The way she stumbled over her words seemed suspicious to you. What was going on? “We’re...getting married.”

“We’re getting married?! What the fuck is going on?! You’re my boss!” You whisper-yelled once her lawyer left and you closed the door behind him. “What?” She asked, sitting back down at the table all calm and collected. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Relax, this is for you too.” She stated as if it would explain anything that had just happened. “Do elaborate.” You joked. “They were going to sell the club.” She started. “So naturally I would have to marry you.” You deadpanned.

“And what’s the problem? Like you were saving yourself for someone special?” She asked, looking down at some paperwork, green eyes skimming over it. “I’d like to think so. Besides, isn’t that illegal?” You asked. “The point?” She shot back, looking up at you again. “We’re no terrorists.” Her eyes went back to the paper in front of her.

“Rebecca.” You tried again. “Yes.” She sighed. “Rebecca, I’m not gonna marry you.” You told her sternly, standing straight. “Because of what? You don’t ‘fancy the ladies’? Because you obviously do. The amount of times that I catch you checking me out is higher than the amount of looks any man, including my ex-husband, ever gave me.” She smirked up at you, leaning back in her chair. “I- I do, in fact, ‘fancy the ladies’…” You agreed under your breath. “Sure you are going to marry me. Because if you don’t marry me, your dreams of becoming our transfer manager will be shattered into pieces.” She stated, pleased with herself.

“They’re gonna fire you the second I’m gone. Guaranteed. That means you’re out on the street, alone, looking for a job. Which means all the time that we spent together, all the tea cups, all the canceled dates, the midnight Tampon runs, and all the shit you did under Rupert, were all for nothing, because he won’t take you back after telling on him, your dreams are gone. But don’t worry after all this is settled, we’ll get a quickie divorce and you’ll be done with me.” Rebecca explained and it started to make at least some sense to you. “But until then, like it or not, our wagons are hitched to the other’s. Alright?”

[abubblingcandle]

I would love to hear more about your thoughts on Jamie’s loan being terminated

You do not know the box you have opened my friend. I've been talking about this a lot today as fic may be coming but the one word summary is that it is all about the ✨optics✨

Because if we step outside of the AFC Richmond bubble and just look at the sequence of events that goes on, it looks so bad for our boy.

He fights with his teammate on the pitch over his treatment of another teammate. They are both booked for this fight. Jamie is then yanked in the first half of the game very close to half time. This looks like disciplinary action. It looks like the blame is being placed at Jamie's feet and he is being pulled off the pitch as 'punishment'. Because if it is a tactical change, if it is a problem with the play on the pitch then you wait until half time so it can be a more thought out decision. And looking at the quality of Jamie's play during the match, he's not playing badly so it can't be because of that. So it must be disciplinary.

Then, in the press conference post match Ted makes the comment "Jamie knows what he needs to do". Which is just so Ted but I'm not going to get into the Jamie side of that now because that's not relavent to this argument. SO from a press POV, that sounds an awful lot like this being a recurring problem, internal disciplinary action had been threatened and Jamie continued with this behaviour and so it would be taken further. It also places the blame for problems squarely on Jamie's shoulders.

Next couple of days, Dani Rojas. Dani would be plastered all over social media about his return. Running around training, scoring goals, being hugged by his teammates. And who's missing from these scenes ... Jamie Tartt. The striker brought in when Dani got injured who has been walking a fine line. Whispers will start proper now, where is Tartt? He wasn't injured at the game, Kent didn't even touch him. Is this disciplinary as in being barred from training in which case that is ten times worse than anyone thought or is he choosing to miss training in which case that shows a major break down and potential breach of contract. Bad news.

Then ... Jamie's loan is terminated. Now from all the vagueness about Ted not being told, no one knowing if it was City that called him back or Richmond that terminated it that likely means there was a vague as fuck statement likely just saying "Jamie Tartt's loan has been terminated, all of us at Richmond wish him well". Which screams (say it with me now) disciplinary issues. The rumour mill would be going a mile a minute but what conclusions do we expect them to draw with that being the image that was painted in the lead up.

Jamie then barely plays for City the rest of the season which doesn't fill anyone with confidence that Jamie has been 'forgiven' for his transgressions.

SO - the point being, if any other team looks at Jamie during the summer loan/transfer window after S1, his record screams DISCIPLINARY ISSUES which for basically every team out there is a deal killer. Why would you want to spend premier league salary and transfer fees for a player that might come into your team and be hostile, refuse to train, fight within the team ... you just wouldn't.

Being returned from a loan for disciplinary issues is a career killer and it adds so much to beginning of S2 Jamie because what if he had looked for a footballing way out of Manchester but no one wanted anything to do with him for the money that Man City were asking and so ... what else was he to do? But then in running away to LCA ... he just proved all of those issues right and gave Man City a real opportunity to void his contract

... for ... disciplinary issues

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Nine

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: i love angst and i love it when roy acts like a middle aged white woman at a wine party where he laughs too loud and pretends he's having a great time just to get through it all

Word count: 6.5k

Chapter Nine

After a few weeks, you’d already got used to the tube journey from Richmond to Somerset House. You reluctantly found out that, despite London being one city and the tube routes being easy, it was so fucking huge that it took you almost an hour to get to work. Maybe that was your fault for staying in Richmond instead of moving, but you didn’t mind a longer commute into the City of London if that meant you got to stay put.

Pluto Press was unique, and you felt proud to have a position there. Your desk was by the window, looking over the Strand outside. Your colleagues were nice, and you got to work alongside artists and writers wherever you went. It was like a dream come true. Which was why, as you arrived home on the Friday of your second week, you couldn’t understand why you felt so… shit. You felt lonely, isolated, and so overtired that you were certain your brain wasn’t working at full capacity. You missed the team at AFC Richmond, talks with Keeley and Rebecca, Ted’s american jokes– Roy.

Since his last game, Roy had gone off the grid. You were lucky if you randomly saw him out and about in Richmond. You’d attempted to meet up with him after his retirement press conference, a month after the end of your placement and his injury, but to no avail. And even now, staring at your phone, glass of wine in your hand as you settled in for another Friday night alone, you had the urge to text him. You downed your wine before you did, and dropped the glass onto your coffee table as you opened up Roy’s and yours text chain. Then, you typed:

Are you coming to the game tomorrow? I’d love to see you!

Enthusiasm wasn’t the key to Roy’s heart, but you’d run out of options to get him to respond. It was only a friendly match, anyway, since the season was still a few months out. You wanted to imagine him there tomorrow, black shirt and black leather jacket donned, hands stuffed in his pockets, as he settled into his seat at the Dogtrack– not as a player, but as an admirer, maybe. 

When you sat in the owner’s box the next day, with the whistle about to be blown, you couldn’t stop calling yourself an idiot. Why the fuck would Roy want to come back here, of all places? The pitch where he played his last game, the stadium where he trained for his last season ever, surrounded by the people who got to keep playing after he all but faded away. 

You settled into your seat with a sour taste in your mouth and a frown on your face. Keeley squeezed your hand affectionately. “You okay, babe?” she asked. 

You shook your head, trying to get yourself out of this hole. “I asked Roy to come,” you told her. “Stupid, really.”

Keeley frowned at you empathetically. “ You tried, babe, but I think that’s all we can do right now after his retirement.”

You nodded, feeling sick. “Yeah.” You forced yourself to perk up, to focus on the positives, and abruptly shot up from your seat. “Come on, Richmond!” you screamed into the void, in some attempt to make you feel better about it all. 

That feeling only lasted so many days. By Tuesday of the next week, you were back to feeling overwhelmed, overtired, and so lonely that you genuinely didn’t know what to do with yourself. Most of your colleagues at work didn’t live anywhere near the west, so you were forced to leave after work drinks early, or not go at all, just to get home at a reasonable hour. 

The walk from Richmond station to your flat was becoming so dull that you could hardly stand it. One Thursday in the beginning of July, you elected to cut through Richmond Green and travel a longer route home, just to stop your brain from imploding. You left the station in the complete opposite direction to your flat, and said fuck it in your head. You passed over the green, treading along the concrete paving around the edge, until you reached Mae’s pub. 

To your surprise, inside you saw the unmistakable moustache of one Ted Lasso, sitting opposite the familiar hat donned by one Coach Beard. Your heart soared, and you bound into the pub before you could tell yourself to slow the fuck down. Ted spotted you as soon as you entered the bar, and stood up immediately. You realigned your direction of movement and took a hard right, heading straight towards the coaches.

“Well, howdy–!” You wrapped your arms around him before he’d even finished speaking. The happy smile on his face quickly dropped to a confused frown. Ted embraced you warmly, and it was clear to see that something was very wrong. “Hey–” He was going to ask if you were alright, but he stopped himself. “It’s okay. It’s alright.”

Beard peered up at the two of you, his face stoney and thoughtful. His finger tapped on his chin in subtle curiosity and concern. Ted didn’t urge you to say anything, not for those few moments where he held you tightly. Beard gestured to Mae at the bar, and whispered “One lager, please, Mae. On our tab.” She brought it over in a matter of seconds, and you finally pulled away from Ted long enough to suck in a breath. 

You glanced at the beer on the table for you. “Thank you, Mae,” you croaked, turning to look at her as she strolled back to the bar. She smiled at you warmly, and you finally took a seat alongside the coaches. “Sorry, Coach. Didn’t mean to ambush you,” you breathed out. 

“I don’t mind it, not when it’s you who’s doing the ambushing,” Ted said, taking a sip of his beer and waving it off like it was nothing. 

“Seems to me like there’s something going on,” Beard chimed in, and took a sip of beer to mimic Ted before him. His eyes seemed mischievous, like he was looking for gossip, but that was generally what Beard looked like when he wanted to know something. He was like an old, wise owl. He placed his beer back on the table. “It’s either that, or I just haven’t noticed that you’ve always looked like you’re in the middle of an existential crisis.”

“Very funny,” you let out, tapping your glass anxiously. “I’d go with the former over the latter, Beard.” 

“I know,” he said, before he smiled at you knowingly. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You frowned at the table while Ted and Beard waited patiently for you to open up. You felt silly. How could you put your loneliness into words when it felt so unnatural? You had no reason to feel so terrible. You had a great new job, lived in a gorgeous neighbourhood, and had everything you could possibly want in life. You had the guys, and couldn’t wait until the season started up again in a few months, despite them being relegated to the Championship. You had Keeley and Rebecca, two strong and powerful women who you could confide in and rely on if you really needed to. You had… Well, that was just it. 

Did you really have Roy anymore? 

“It’s so stupid,” you started, trying to keep yourself steady, but all composure went out of the window as soon as those three words left your lips. “I have no reason to be this way. My new job is fucking fantastic, and I still get to live in Richmond, in my flat that I love so much, and I still get to go to games and see the guys and walk to Nelson Road across the green. This is all so fucking stupid.” You smacked your hands over your face in frustration. “I have no reason to feel this alone.” Your words were muffled beneath your palms, but Ted and Beard still glanced at each other with concern. 

“You’re feeling lonely?��� Ted asked gently. 

You dragged your hands down your cheeks and sniffed through your snotty nose. “A little bit.” 

“A little bit.” Beard mimicked you. You scoffed abruptly, and it felt good just for a second.

Ted shuffled next to you, and readied himself to speak. “Lemme tell you something about loneliness,” he started. “When you feel it, you always feel silly. You feel like a dang moron, because all it does is make you think about all the people you have in your life that are there to listen to you, yet when you reach out, you pretend not to feel that loneliness, am I right?” 

You remembered the text you’d sent to Roy. So over enthusiastic in some attempt to hide how awful you’d been feeling. When he didn’t respond, or give you any indication that he’d even read your message, it just made you feel even worse. If you’d been honest, maybe he would have been more inclined to reply.

You nodded at Ted in understanding. “It’s hard sometimes. To tell people close to you that you’re struggling.” 

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Ted said. “That’s the catch, ain’t it? You wanna keep things light, you wanna keep things happy, but sometimes you can’t. And that’s alright. It’s okay to feel lonely, and tired, and tearful. Don’t beat yourself up for any of that.” 

You held onto Ted’s words for dear life. You’d never understand how he was able to be so optimistic, so constantly happy. No one was truly like that, so you bet it was all a bit of an act. Even so, Ted had a way of getting through to you. His words resonated, and you found yourself listening to him more than shrugging him off. He was good to you. You had the small green, army man that he’d given you for good luck, in your pocket or your bag constantly, moving it around like a chapstick from garment to garment. 

Even now, as you gently stuck your hand into your jacket pocket, the army man was there. Gun raised, knees bent in a defensive stance, ready to protect you. 

“Have you… heard from Roy?” you asked. 

Beard looked at Ted sullenly, almost, and you understand immediately. “Roy will be Roy,” Ted said, smiling at you halfheartedly. “His retirement press conference, though– jeez, it didn’t half tug on my heartstrings, here.”

“The end of an era,” Beard said, widening his eyes with grandeur. 

“I haven’t seen him since the Man City game in May,” you said. “Two months.”

“He’ll come around eventually,” Ted said, trying to reassure you, but you were sure that nothing but seeing Roy’s face in person would be able to do that. Ted suddenly perked up. “Anyway, how’s the new job! Got some new friends? Got some new besties? Oh– have you met anyone special yet?”

If you didn’t already know Ted, this would be incredibly out of the blue. But, you did know him. He was sweet, and kind, and capable of distracting you from your sadness. He made you feel welcome, and loved, and thought about. And– he made you roll your eyes to oblivion. 

You did just that, rolled your eyes into your skull with a smile on your face. “Job is great, but the dating pool is still very much dry, Ted.”

“Dang it!” he exclaimed. “Maybe the guys were right, all those months ago, huh? You should get on some dating apps, just for funzies.”

“Keeley has been wanting me to try out one, to be honest. It’ll only be a matter of time before she forces all of you guys to get on it,” you said, pointing at Ted and Beard in warning. “It’s called… um– something with a B. Like, Bantz, or Bumz. I don’t know.” You waved your hand in front of your face, giving up on remembering. 

“Might be worth a try all the same?” Ted said, egging you on. 

You sat for a moment, thinking, before you nodded. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I should put myself out there, yeah?”

“Heck yeah,” Ted said enthusiastically. “No harm in it, right?”

Was there any harm in it? Surely not. You were a single woman, you were free to branch out. But, underneath it all, there was still something that held you back. Without meaning to, Roy’s head popped into the back of your mind. All that you’d shared over your year at Richmond, that unspoken thing that fluctuated between you. 

You thought back to his final game then, as you remembered it all. The gentle way you held each other’s faces as you knelt on the floor beneath him, just to be close, just to let him know that you were there. The soft way he’d draped his arm over your shoulder as the team gathered after relegation. Despite the loss, and the end of his career, Roy had still laughed alongside the guys. His fingers had skimmed over your knuckles under those fluorescent lights, noticed by everyone, but it had all gone unsaid. It didn’t need to be mentioned, not when everyone had known this was bound to happen eventually. 

You and him, him and you. It fit, didn’t it? 

But, with the silence of the past few months, you didn’t know anymore. Maybe it was just the proximity, the familiarity of being around each other, that had made you believe it all to be so. Roy hadn’t said a word to you in months, hadn’t tried to. Had it all been in your mind?

As you finished your pint with Ted and Beard, talking about the new season, you forced yourself to stop thinking about Roy. You’d let him know you were there, and it had gone unreciprocated. As much as a part of you still yearned for him to be near, you had to stop putting in effort when he wasn’t trying to do the same to you. 

The name of the dating app was Bantr, and as soon as you messaged Keeley to say you were doing it, she replied with a winky face. You scoffed to yourself as you filled out your profile, and within an hour had got chatting to a guy from Richmond. 

The thing about Bantr; it was anonymous. You knew ages, and usernames, and location, but not actual names, or looks. It was a refreshing change from other apps, and you found yourself having a great conversation. Within a week, you’d already arranged to go out for dinner in the town.

As you walked to your date, a week or so after seeing Ted and Beard, you spoke to Keeley on the phone for a pep talk. 

“What if he’s ugly? Or boring?” you said. 

“Give it a chance, babes, you haven’t even met him yet!”

“I know, I know. I don’t think I was made for dating apps, honestly,” you let out, laughing to yourself to avoid a proper anxious meltdown. You thought you looked quite good, as you wore the same jumpsuit that you had for the charity ball last year. It was amongst the only fancy clothes you fucking owned. 

“You’ll get used to it. How long has it been, anyway?”

“Since I’ve got some, or since I’ve been on a date?” you joked. 

Keeley cackled down the phone. “The date. No– both.”

“A long time. For both, unfortunately.” You could practically feel Keeley grimacing.

“Go and get some then, babes,” she urged you on. “You never know, he might be your soulmate.”

You felt sick immediately, and frowned in disgust. “Ew, stop talking like that. Soulmates aren’t real. And if they were, I doubt I would meet him on Bantr.”

“Stop being so cynical,” she said, like a teacher telling off a student. “Take it from me– even if he’s not your soulmate, still try and have a good time, alright?”

You laughed softly. “Alright,” you gave in. 

“You deserve some fun! Promise me you'll have fun,” Keeley said sternly. You would never be able to deny her. 

“I promise,” you let out, alongside a smile. 

“Tell me everything. Love you.”

“Love you too, babes,” you said, before you hung up. 

You dropped your phone into your bag, and inhaled sharply as you made your way into the restaurant. Maybe this would be a good thing. A change of pace, something to get you back out there into the real world. As you waited at the bar, you shoved away the thought of Roy from your head. He didn’t belong there anymore, not when he’d made no attempt to stay close. 

Rebecca had been right. Footballers were dangerous. Especially the ones who pretended not to care. 

You spent the first twenty minutes of your date wondering if you were being pranked. There had to be a camera crew round the corner, there had to be some presenter who would pop out and tell you it was all a massive joke– because he was gorgeous. 

Lucas was his name. He had a face that lit up a room, and a voice that whacked you in the chest. For a week, you’d been discussing books, films and all the things you enjoyed over text. That didn’t change when you were face to face, but the accompaniment of seeing his face was definitely a plus. He bought you drinks, and was interested when you spoke, and all the things you’d been dying for over the past few years of being chronically single. 

“You’re new to the area, aren’t you?” he asked, as you finished your main courses. 

“Partially,” you said, tapping your wine glass. “I moved here last year for a masters degree.”

“Oh, fantastic. In what?”

You let out a breath. “It’s sort of a long story.”

“We’ve got time,” he said, smiling. “We still haven’t had dessert.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he was utterly perfect. You told him everything. The mix up from the university, the placement being at AFC Richmond, of all places. You spoke about your time there in depth, not even realising that you’d been whittling on about the guys, and Ted and Beard, for a while. By the time you were done, your dessert plates were thoroughly devoured, and you’d both moved onto something a little stronger. Lucas swilled a whiskey, and you clutched onto a gin and tonic. 

“That sounds like an awfully big adventure,” Lucas said, awestruck, when you were finally finished. 

“It was a blessing in disguise, really,” you said, smiling to yourself as all the memories of the year came flooding back. “I still got a position at Pluto Press, and I got to know some of the best people I’ve ever known. Luck was really on my side for this one, I think.”

“Definitely sounds like it,” Lucas said, gawking at you with eyes that only made you feel one thing; heard. “So, you’re still friends with them all?”

You nodded. “Absolutely. I saw Ted and Beard last week, actually. They convinced me to get on Bantr, funnily enough.”

“Well,” Lucas said softly. “You’ll have to thank them the next time you see them. I wouldn’t have met you otherwise.” Your heart lurched in your chest. You fought the urge to look away and cool your face down by fanning your hands. “Also, you need to do me a favour,” he continued, and you smiled questioningly. 

“What’s that?”

“I was a big Chelsea fan growing up, the biggest, if you can imagine it,” Lucas said. “My favourite player of all time was number six, Roy Kent.” Your heart dropped into your gut. When before it had been pumping happily, it was now a stone in your stomach, ready to be ejected through your windpipe. “The next time you see him, can you get me his autograph?”

You stopped breathing for a moment, from a lack of what to say. As soon as Lucas saw your face, he changed his demeanour immediately. 

He leant forward and looked at you with a gentle smile. “I’m totally joking,” he said quickly. You could breathe again, and found yourself stuttering out some chuckles of relief. “It was a joke, truly,” he repeated himself. 

The two of you shared some awkward laughter, but you were thankful it was all a bit of fun. “You scared me,” you said. “You don’t know Roy. If I asked for an autograph he’d fully think I’d gone mad.”

“You seem to know him quite well,” Lucas figured out. “I’m probably barking up the wrong tree, but he doesn’t seem like the friendly type.”

Your chest burst with the need to defend him immediately. “That’s not true at all. Don’t believe what the press says,” you said quickly. “Roy is… he’s… well– an arseshole, completely, but…” You swallowed, allowing yourself to think of him, just this once. “He’s also one of the kindest people I know.”

Lucas smiled, satisfied. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said. 

He paid the bill, and batted away every attempt you gave to pay half of it. As the two of you left the restaurant, Lucas put his arm out for you. You took it graciously, and the two of you walked back into town together. He walked you to your door as you continued your conversation, and when he rose up the steps to your building, he gently let your arm go. 

“I had a really lovely time tonight,” he said. 

“Me too,” you smiled. You meant it. 

“I’d really like to see you again,” he said strongly, before he backed up slightly. “Only if that was something that you wanted, as well, of course.”

You were already laughing by the time he’d finished. “I would love that, yes.”

“Great,” he said. “I’ll call you?”

You nodded, and he nodded too, both of you smiling like two school children who’d just discovered crushes on the other. As he left, you watched him walk away and around the corner. You felt giddy, you felt content, and you couldn’t believe it had all gone so well. Part of you was certain it was all too good to be true, but you followed Keeley’s advice as you entered your flat. You told yourself not to overthink it, to let yourself have a good time, to embrace something going well for once. 

Even so, as you got ready for bed at home, your mind kept flashing back to Roy. He was part of you, and it was impossible to ignore it all. As much as you shouldn’t have, you felt guilty. You and Roy had never been a thing, never gone there, yet you felt like you’d betrayed him, almost. The happiness from your beautiful evening quickly descended into sadness. You’d never felt more lonely than this, despite having a lovely meal with a gorgeous man. 

You dropped yourself onto your sofa, and brought out your phone. Quickly, you clicked on Roy’s name and began typing out a message. You sent it before your slightly drunk self could take it back, choosing to be honest with him for once in your life. 

I miss you. 

As the season kicked off, you focused on work. You applied yourself generously, and were hanging out with your colleagues in the city even more so. You took Keeley’s and Ted’s advice on board– you opened yourself up to more. You went on a few more dates on Bantr, including a second date with Lucas, over the next few weeks. 

None of them had worked out well, apart from Lucas himself. He’d kissed you after your second date, and you’d had to tell yourself not to invite him into your flat for a drink. You didn’t want to rush it all, didn’t want to dive into something that you were enjoying at this pace. Despite being in need– desperately, if you were being honest– you held yourself to a higher standard than that. Not that there was anything wrong with having fun and sleeping around, but you were out of practice. You’d rather sleep with someone you knew a bit more, before jumping straight in. 

Lucas seemed fine with that, too. He made an active effort to call you occasionally, and you’d both talk about work or your plans or your friends and family. He made you laugh, and that was a big green flag in your eyes. 

“So, when are you going to fuck?” Keeley said, and you scoffed abruptly. You both sat in the owner’s box at the Dogtrack, watching Richmond’s third match of the Championship season. July was well and truly over, as the second week of August had just begun. 

Still– nothing from Roy. You’d stopped caring to count the days. 

“Not everything has to be about sex,” you hit back. 

“Sure, I know that. But if he’s really as gorgeous as you say, why the fuck haven’t you yet? Are you playing hard to get?”

“Absolutely not. If anything I probably reply too fast to his messages,” you said. “I just… I don’t want to rush. We’re having fun, and he’s lovely, and– I just don’t need to worry about when sex is going to happen or not happen.” You made yourself believe the words you were saying, but you were definitely lying.

Keeley saw straight through you. “It’s going to happen on your next date, isn’t it?”

“God, I fucking hope so,” you burst. “It’s been over a year for me, you know.”

“A year? Like– a calendar year?”

You nodded severely, like it was the worst thing in the world that you hadn’t been dicked down in over 365 days. Since moving to Richmond, you’d never had the opportunity to, if you thought about it. You had your work colleagues, who overlapped as your friends. Shitting where you ate was always a bad idea, especially with a bunch of footballers. As much as they were all gorgeous in their own ways, you couldn’t imagine sleeping with any of them– well, except…

“What about Roy?” Keeley’s tone changed to something much softer. Her gaze hit you gently, and her eyes told you it was okay to open up to her. “You didn’t ever… you know.”

You frowned as soon as she brought him up. You shook your head, not knowing what else to say. When Roy was brought to your attention now, all you felt was anger. Red, burning rage, penetrating deep into your bones. Your prior loneliness and sadness had turned to being pissed off. 

“No. We never did.” Your voice was blunt, plain, so devoid of anything other than severity, that you hated the way you sounded. You let out a sigh, and told yourself to push forward. “He’s a footballer, Keeley. And you know exactly what he’s like. Maybe I thought something was there, but it’s been three fucking months. He hasn’t contacted me at all, and honestly– I’m done with it.”

Keeley quickly dropped her hand into your lap, clutching her fingers over your own. She smiled at you. “Screw him. You’re so much better than you were last month, so fucking screw him.”

You smiled at her, feeling your anger dissipate. You were lucky to have her, Keeley, because she wholeheartedly understood you. She supported you, and held you when you needed to be held, and yelled encouragement at you when you needed it, too. It was then, as Richmond failed to score a goal, and subsequently performed their third tie of their season so far, that you couldn’t wait for her to meet Lucas. Maybe this would turn into something great, if you only let yourself fall into it. 

A week later, across the green and beyond his neighbourhood, Roy stared at his phone for the umpteenth time that day. He had no new messages, no missed calls, not even any notifications from Dominos or Pizza Hut. He counted the days in his head– thirty-four– since you’d last contacted him. That message, the last one you’d sent him, saying you missed him; he still found his gut coiling and his chest compressing when he thought about it. 

As he oversaw his under 9’s girls football team on the pitch, he slotted his phone back into his tracksuit. This was all getting to be too much for him– missing you, avoiding Richmond, growing out his fucking hair– but he couldn’t seem to shake himself out of this after-retirement slump. 

He regretted the conference. Putting his heart on the line at the end of his career, bursting into tears behind the microphone and in front of the press. You’d messaged him about that, too, saying that you were proud of him, that you wanted to see him, that it’d been a while. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to respond. He was a prick, he knew that more than anyone, and the fact that he was actively avoiding you and other people who gave a shit, made him feel even worse about it all. 

It only made him want to stay away more. 

Maybe he could coach these under 9’s for the rest of his life, and live in seclusion, only interrupted by his yoga mums and an occasional glass of rosé. 

He entered his house that evening, grabbing a beer as soon as he did. He popped off the top, and glugged back a few gulps. The evenings were bright in summer, and it only made his house feel emptier. He glanced around his living room, skimming his eyes over his overflowing bookshelves, when he caught a look at your article. 

He’d framed it, and placed it in the middle of his homemade cards from Phoebe. As much as it stung him to look at now, it was a reminder of you. Those months together at Richmond, his final game, all of it. He thought of it all more often than he wanted, as his mind roamed and landed upon things that only made him feel worse. Going from playing football everyday to this was a big change. It hurt his heart profusely, but he knew it was partly his own doing.

He’d cut himself off from everyone, shut himself away for the foreseeable future. In some ways, he felt he deserved it. He’d battered away every attempt at people to reach out. You, Ted, Keeley; their names sat in his phone with messages from over a month ago that he’d never responded to. He gulped back more of his beer as he started getting angry at himself, and a split second decision had him finishing his drink and grabbing his house keys. He left his empty house and headed into town, as the sun still shone high over Richmond. 

You hugged Lucas as you approached the bar, and your table outside. He kissed you on the cheek affectionately, before he pulled out your chair. You sat, and he confidently waved over a waitress to take your drink orders. 

This was nice. Your third date, and neither of you could get enough of the other. You sipped on wine and talked about your daily lives, sharing jokes over some olives, as the sun skittered across the lush outside space of a central Richmond bar. 

“How are they doing?” Lucas asked, popping an olive into his mouth. 

“Not good,” you said. “They’ve tied three games in a row. Not the best after relegation, really.” You shrugged, picturing Sam’s sullen face after the game last week. 

They were all so tired, all so capable, but they’d lost Roy. It was doing a number on all of them. They missed their ex-captain.

“Hm, that’s a shame. What do you reckon is holding them back?” he asked. 

You often felt giddy when Lucas asked you about football. He listened to what you had to say, took on board your points, and thought you knew a lot more about the sport in general. It was a welcomed change from what the guys at the club had thought of your knowledge. 

“Lots of things, I suppose,” you said, taking a sip of your drink before you started. “Having Ted and Beard was always going to be a learning curve, but that wasn’t the reason for their relegation. Jamie Tartt was taken back by Man City a few months before the end of their previous season, which drastically made things worse, amongst other things.”

Other things being Roy. 

“Other things?” Lucas said, and you wished he hadn’t. 

You were trying this thing where you didn’t bring up Roy when you didn’t need to. It had helped you a lot so far, over the past few weeks, and kept your moods happier in general. When you thought of him, it was often difficult to get him out of your mind again. It only ever reminded you of the past few months of silence, and no one needed to be in the firing line for that– except him. 

Nevertheless, you sucked in a breath, and drank a large gulp of your wine, before you forced yourself to continue. “Well, their final game of last season. Other than the loss, and the relegation itself, they were definitely shaken up by–” You stopped, but not because of anything in your mind. 

Your heart catapulted into your throat when your eyes focused on him. Black t-shirt, black leather jacket, black jeans. His hair had grown out. He looked scruffy, and unkempt, and all the things that he hadn’t only a few months ago. You noticed his limp first, next to the steely gaze that he shot to the world around him. 

“Roy.” His name burst from your mouth.

He was fast approaching, about to pass the bar, and you didn’t want him to spot you. You weren’t in the mood to see him now. You wanted to enjoy your date, and get laid afterwards, and not think about him ever. 

Lucas hummed and nodded. “Oh, yeah. Losing Roy must have been a big change for them, you’re right.”

“No– uh,” you said, suddenly leaning forward to clutch onto Lucas’s arm. “Can we go inside? I suddenly have a really bad chill.”

Lucas widened his eyes at you in concern, but he didn’t seem to catch on. “Really? It’s still quite warm. I can grab you a blanket, would that help?” he suggested. God dammit he was so considerate, and kind, but you didn’t think a blanket would fix this. Panic set in tenfold.

You rethought your escape plan. “I– I’ll go to the loo, and grab one on my way out,” you said frantically, standing up far too quickly. 

Your leg hit the table abruptly, sending a sharp pain through your kneecap. You squeaked, and your glass toppled over suddenly. It was too late to be stopped, as it fell from the table and smashed upon the floor. Glass shards littered the concrete, and your presence was alerted to everyone at the bar, and beyond. 

Lucas got up swiftly, and clutched your arm. “Are you okay?” he asked, worried. 

“Yeah, I just–” You looked up, and you froze. 

Roy Kent stopped walking, as his eyes focused on your face. You felt your blood boil uncomfortably beneath your skin, as his gaze took in the panicked expression on your brow. The jig was up. He’d spotted you, due to your utter clumsiness, and a wave of upset ravaged in your chest. 

The first thing Roy thought when he saw you, was how much you were glowing. You hadn’t glowed like that in a while, not unless he counted the night of the charity ball, or when you’d interviewed him in his dining room. The sun settled over your shocked expression, a look that should have made you look scary, like a deer in headlights, but it only made his heart lurch. 

There was a man before you, clutching onto your arm as he asked you if you were okay again. He rounded the table and held you close, and as he did you finally looked away. You smiled at him, clearly embarrassed that you’d broken a glass and whacked yourself. That look was one that Roy recognised– you’d looked at him that like many times before.

This is what he’d allowed himself to pass by. You, and drinks in the summer, chatting over a bowl of olives as you swished a straw into a spritzer or got froth on your upper lip from a beer. He was a fucking idiot. Roy told himself this was it. He could either go over, and get you back– get it all back– or he could miss this opportunity and never fucking try. When he started walking again, you snapped your gaze back at him in warning. 

Roy chose to ignore it.

You could’ve punched him.

“What was that all about–?” Lucas said, as he followed your gaze. He stopped short as soon as he saw Roy, and smiled excitedly as he looked back at you. “Is that… Roy Kent?”

You inhaled sharply, deeply, trying to calm yourself down as a wave of anger rose from within you. “Yes. Yes, it is,” you said, giving up. There was a look on Roy’s face that you knew well, that fake smile that he put on for people, when he was pretending to be a joking version of himself.

“What a coincidence!” Lucas exclaimed. 

You hummed, trying to keep your tone light. “Massive,” you said bluntly. 

As Roy stepped towards you both, you felt your chest crumble ever so slightly. Lucas peered at him like an awestruck kid. This was the last thing you’d ever wanted to fucking happen. 

Roy gestured to the broken glass on the floor. “Think you dropped something.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” you said, as you inhaled his words for the first time in three months. Alongside your anger, you felt your throat start to close. Seeing his face again after so long was a hit. 

“Roy Kent,” Lucas said happily, sticking his hand out. Roy shot you an amused look as he leaned in and shook it. “Big fan. I’ve heard a lot about you from this one,” he said, gesturing to you affectionately. 

“Have you now?” Roy said. The sweet way he was talking was all a farce. He was playing nice for your sake, but you had a horrible feeling that he was going to go overboard. 

“Yes. All bad things,” you said, smiling sarcastically. Lucas laughed loudly, and Roy smiled overenthusiastically, like someone at a pantomime performance. It was incredibly off-putting, and made you feel slightly sick. It was probably overlaid from the deep panic you felt in your gut, amongst other things. 

Roy and Lucas parted. As they did, Lucas peered down at you. He took one look at your face– your gaze stuck on Roy bluntly and trying not to scream– and utterly misinterpreted your emotions. “Would you care to join us for a drink?” he asked Roy. 

You sucked in a breath. “Oh, no, he’s–”

“You know what,” Roy cut over you. “I’d love to.”

After a year of knowing him, you knew this was it– this would finally be the time you punched Roy Kent in his fucking face. 

CHAPTER TEN

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes @20th-centu-fairy-girl @royalestrellas @weakmoony-stuff@ironmanmagnetfridge @lemonpiegurll @hellomagicalsouls @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld @old-enough-to-know-better73 @djarindroid @afraidofshrimp @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses @sogoodtoheritsvicious @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke @onceuponaoneshot @jamieolivia27 @dadbodfanatic-x @kelp-dreaming @harrypedro465 @lonely-escape-artist @abeeabeeabee @nicklet94 @libsybum  @cha0sdreaming @toomany24s @kashee-h @infinetlyforgotten @secretnook @cluelesslilsharkie @callmecasey81 @deepdarkvelvet @twiceinabluemoon @cardeegans @golden-hoax @kingleahhh @hoalkk1 @sunderland-6 @ellouisa17 @thesestrangerslikeme @elissaaa @scrumptiousroadponymoney @confessionsofatotaldramaslut @ysmmsy @seacactusplant @pedritosgirl2000 @loveslide @ryleyrooroo @hanybunch @tweasley20 @witchyanya-7

[everyday-is-uncle-day]

Keeley is the only person Roy told right? Off camera did he tell Ted his concerns or what happened in the boot room?

I mean *everyone* could obviously see Jamie was off. Especially Sam after that press conference. Sam would tell if he was worried. And he should be worried. But for Roy I think it’s very sensitive. Jamie is his responsibility. And he broke down with him. The trust factor and BFF status make it private.

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter 13 I The Man

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football prodigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Chapter Summary: Reader is given an award. Jamie is supportive

Word Count: 5.2K

Warning: Some sexism hehehe

A/N: Plot plot plot! But there's some of my favorite jamie x reader moments in this one. Next is Amsterdam!!!!

Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

I woke up alone. Now this was something I was used to at this point. Ever since Jamie had started doing his early morning runs with Roy, we hadn’t been spending as many nights together. Not that I liked it, but it was something I was getting used to.

My alarm went off at 6:00, as per usual. I did some yoga, showered, then was brushing my teeth when I got an unexpected text from Rebecca. It read:

            Please come to my office when you get in today.

Hm. That was an unusual text to get from your boss at 7:30 in the morning. I racked my brain trying to think of something I’d done to get a talking to. Yeah, it hadn’t been a great month for us, but it wasn’t anything I’d particularly done.

I finished up with my skin care and decided to head into work early to get whatever this was over with. I arrived at the club not much later, waving at the caretaker as I walked in. The walk up the stairs to Rebecca’s office felt excruciating.

But when I arrived there, it wasn’t just her. I opened the door and there was Higgins, Keeley, and Ted sitting in front of her desk.

            “Good morning, guys,” I entered approaching the group. “I didn’t know it was a party.”

            “(Y/N)!” They all greeted in unison.

            “Ah, that wasn’t creepy at all!” I laughed, trying not to show my nerves.

Rebecca motioned to a third seat. “Please, take a seat.”

I took off my backpack as I sat, holding it in front of me. “I’m not getting fired, am I? Oh my god, you’re firing me?”

            “What? Oh heavens, no!” Rebecca dismissed, shaking her hands. “Why on earth would you think that.”

            “Well, its all of you here, and I just walked in and thought it, I don’t know!” I shook my head. “If you’re not firing me, what are you doing?”

They all exchanged looks excitement filling their eyes.

            “Oooo go on! Tell her!” Keeley insisted, clapping her hands.

            “Tell me what?”

            “The anticipation is killing me!” Higgins chimed in.

            “What anticipation?”

            “She doesn’t even know what’s about to hit her!” Ted added.

            “Please just tell me what’s going on before I kill someone!” I was practically shaking at his point.

            “Oh, alright,” Rebecca addressed me finally. “(Y/N), the league is honoring you with Coach of the Month!” 

The group all cheered as I took in the information.

            “We have a press conference this afternoon,” Keeley told me. “We’ll brief you on everything you’ll need to do but we are just so excited for you!”

            “Couldn’t be happier for you,” Ted smiled. “You’re part of what makes this team great!”

            “Of course, she is! I hired her!” Rebecca hummed proudly. “I always knew you’d be great.”

I frowned. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.  They kept talking at me about what was going to happen. An interview, a photoshoot, a magazine cover but all it sounded like I was underwater. I had to get out of this room.

I stood up, grabbing my bag and leaving without so much as a word. I hurried down the stairs and outside into the car park. Why was I so upset? Why couldn’t part of me just be happy about this? I heard the door open behind me and I knew one of them had followed me.

            “Look, now I know emotions are a subjective thing, but I don’t know usually there’s at least a smile when you get a cool award.” Ah Ted. Just the person I didn’t want to see right now.

I shook my head. “Please, Ted. I don’t want to do this right now.”

            “Now, I’m confused. What exactly aren’t we doing?” Ted asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

            “This!” I shouted, pointing between him and me. “You giving me some anecdote about how I’m good enough and how I earned this because you and I both know that isn’t true.”

Ted furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

            “I know why Rebecca hired you.” The statement hung in the air. The truth behind the whole operation at Richmond. The secret I’d overheard in the coach’s office at the end of Ted’s first season with us. “And it’s the same reason she hired me.” Ted paused, nodding his head. I couldn’t help but let out an ironic laugh at the situation. “We both know that I was hired because she thought it would make us lose.”

Rebecca, so overcome with her hatred of Rupert, hired Ted and Beard and I because she thought it would make the worst coaching team. We would drive the team into the ground ruining Rupert’s favorite team. This was something I tried to ignore but since finding out it seem to legitimize some of people shouted at me on the internet and what Max had said to me before I left. I wasn’t meant to be here. I wasn’t saving the league. I was just a girl pretending to know what I was doing.

            “Now, (Y/N), I don’t know what you think you heard but-“

            “Please cut the bullshit, Ted,” I snapped, cutting him off. “I’ve worked really hard to get past it, but I don’t deserve an award when I’ve done nothing to earn it.”

Ted’s mustache twitched. “You’re right. Rebecca hired both of us to make some point to Rupert. That is true. But something else that’s true is that you’ve consistently proved her wrong at every turn.” I opened my mouth to say something, but Ted held up his hand. “Now, you might not see it, but Beard and I and even Roy, we all depend on you to keep this whole thing afloat.”

I let out a breath and wipe at my lips as I stare at him. I certainly hadn’t been feeling like that recently. Since the West Ham match, we’d been on a losing streak, and I’d been so in my head about all of it that I couldn’t do my job.  

            “I just…” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore Ted. And this Coach of the Month is just another bullshit excuse for me to know that I’m not meant to be here.”

All I could hear in my head was the sound of my failed dreams and Max’s taunts and the paper missing the bin over and over and over again.

            “Hey (Y/N),” Ted’s voice appeared much closer than I thought he would be. “Do you remember that puzzle metaphor I told you about?” I scrunched my face up, nodding my head. “Well, that metaphor has a lot of different meanings. Maybe you should try to put it together again.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Can’t you just tell me what you mean for once, Ted?”

            “I mean,” He chuckled at my frustration. “You’re stuck in a rut, yeah? So, instead of trying to put the puzzle back together the same way over and over again… maybe you were putting it together the wrong way. Maybe you need to… try something new. And maybe…” He nudged me, forcing me to look over at him. “Maybe you should let someone help you put that puzzle together.”

I still didn’t get it. Well not fully. But I think I understood the gist of it. The funny thing was as we were staring at each other, Roy and Jamie came running up. Jamie smiled at Ted and I coming to run in circles around us.

            “Mornin’ Coaches,” He smiled, starting to run in place.

            “Tartt! You’re not done yet! Get to the training room and start lifting.” Roy followed up; a bit slower.

Jamie groaned loudly. “I ain’t even stopped or nuthin’. I were just sayin’ hi.”

            “Go!” Roy barked, pointing towards the door.

Jamie rolled his eyes dramatically before shooting Ted and I a wink. Roy shook his head as Jamie made his way inside, seemingly off to the training room.

            “Mornin’ Roy, good training with Jamie?” Ted asked Roy.

            “As good as it can be,” Roy grunted. “What are you two doin’ out here?”

Ted looked over at me, motioning for me to tell him. I shook my head at him, grunting that I wouldn’t. Ted hummed back that I absolutely would and that we wouldn’t leave until I said it. I let out a huff.

            “The leagues giving me some bullshit title of Coach of the Month that doesn’t actually mean anything but they’re making a big deal out of it,” I informed Roy finally.

He grunted is a way that sounded vaguely positive. “Good for you.”

            “Fuck off.”

            “Alright.”

The day was filled with Keeley throwing me through the PR wringer. What to expect, what to say, what not to say. I wasn’t super excited about it, but Ted’s words were rolling around in my head. I hated puzzles. I’d never liked them. I thought I’d figured out Jamie’s puzzle but now there was another puzzle. When would it end.

            “Okay, the most important bit is the press brief we have this afternoon. They’ll bring in you and some of the lads to talk about you as a coach,” Keeley told me, writing down some notes.

            “What will they be asking?” I questioned, trying to look over her shoulder.

            “Oi don’t be looking over my shoulder,” she reprimanded, shouldering me away. I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest. “They’ll ask you probably your normal annoying questions about being a woman, but also about the team and such.”

I grumbled. “I didn’t hear them asking Pep what it was like being bald why do I have to talk about being a woman.”

            “That’s because no one cares what it’s like being bald,” Keeley pointed out, giggling. “Being a woman is actually interesting.”

            “Is it really?” I rolled my eyes. “So, uh… what guys will be coming to talk about me?”

Keeley hummed as she flipped her notebook shut. “I dunno, I was gonna ask to see who wanted to later. Do you have anyone in mind?”

Yeah. Yeah, I did. “No, I don’t want to force anyone to do it.”

            “Sure. And Ted is gonna introduce you, of course.”

            “And this is all happening tomorrow?” I pushed out of my chair. I’d already waisted the whole day, I at least wanted to get to the end of training.

            “Yup!” Keeley smiled at me. “Don’t stress, you’re gonna be great.”

I shot her a sarcastic smile. “Oh yeah, I’m gonna love it. It’s gonna be amazing.”

…

Later that night, I was resting in Jamie’s lap. I felt goosebumps spreading over my body as Jamie’s hand stroked my stomach lazily. On the TV, an episode of New Girl that I’d seen hundreds of times played but I wasn’t really paying attention.

            “Jamie…” He hummed, letting me know he was listening. “Did they tell you about this… Coach of the Month thing?”

His face broke out into a smile as he looked down at me. “Yeah, it’s great, innit? So, fucking proud of you.” He tightened his grip around my waist, shaking me proudly.

I found myself blushing at his praise. Even though I thought it was kind of stupid, Jamie being proud of me was affecting my happiness a little too much.

            “Yeah… I guess… I don’t know what I think about it,” I admitted, rolling so I was looking up at him. He cocked his head, motioning me to continue. “I guess, I just don’t know if it’s because I’m a good coach or if it’s because I’m a woman or whatever.”

Jamie scrunched up his face pursing his lips in confusion. “What… why would they do that?

            “I don’t know to make themselves look better?” I sighed, lifting myself off his lap and leaning forward. I ran a hand through my hair. “I just… I’m not sure I’m ready to go out in front of all those people and talk about myself.”

Jamie leaned forward so his shoulder was touching mine, stretching his neck so he could try and rest it on my shoulder.

            “What are you doing?” I asked, looking over at him.

            “’m trying to comfort you, you daft idiot,” he explained, rubbing his cheek on your shoulder.

            “You’re acting like a cat,” I crowed, trying to push him off of me. But he wrapped his arm around mine arm pulling me into him, rubbing his cheek all over my shoulder and neck. “Stop!”

He grabbed my legs and pulled them up into his lap, pulling me so I was sitting on him.

            “Look, whatever happens tomorrow, just know that me,” he pressed his cheek into mine. “And the rest of the lads know how amazing you are. Not just as a coach but as a person. But especially as a coach.”

I giggled, pressing back into him. “What about you Jamie? How are you feeling about playing Man City this week?’

He shrugged. “My stats level up against Man City. They’ve played well this year but we’ve got the ability to win.”

            “No, Jamie… I mean,” I turned around, so I was facing him, my legs now straddling his waist. “How do you feel, like you.”

He frowned, his nose scrunching up in a way that was far too cute for one man. “I feel… uh… I feel fine.”

I reached up and rubbed the space between his eyes. “I don’t think you do babes, you’re gonna give yourself wrinkles.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning his neck back. His neck was so exposed, it was so tempting to just… lean forward and kiss his Adam’s apple. I looked up and decided to play a little bit. I leaned forward and kissed him, right on the bottom of his neck where the skin sunk in a little bit. He hummed, the vibrations tickling my mouth.

            “Jamie, baby,” I murmured, kissing up his neck, finally finding his Adam’s apple. He groaned in response. “C’mon, I want you to talk to me.”

            “Can’t talk when you’re kissing me like that,” he croaked, his voice deep and gravely. So, I stopped, pulling away from him completely. “Hey! Wait!”

I started to slide off of him, but he wrapped his hands around my waist and yanked me closer to him. He buried his head in my neck kissing me furiously. I shrieked grabbing onto his hair to tug him back.

            “Jamie, if you talk to me I’ll give you the best blow job of your life,” you waggled your eyebrows at him.

He whined, cracking his neck back and forth before slouching back. “I feel… fine. I guess. Haven’t heard from me dad in a while. It’s not like… I’m afraid he’s gonna be there but not knowing is worse.” I nodded at him, rubbing his collarbones. “But fuckin’ Zava’s probably gonna take the attention anyways.”

I gave him a sympathetic smile. “Well, it’s okay to be worried about your dad but… we’re at home. We’re on your turf. He doesn’t even need to be allowed in if you don’t want.”

            “I’m not gonna ban me dad,” Jamie grumbled. “I just… want to know.”

I nodded again. I gave him a satisfied smile before pulling him down into me to make good on my promise.

He wanted to stay over that night, but I insisted that I wanted to maintain my regular routine for the next day. But laying in my bed that night, staring up at the fan, I wished he was there with me.

I arrived at the club early. Like 6:30am early. The groundskeeper had barely arrived by the time I got there. But I was nervous. I’d been able to avoid press conferences, manage photo events and stay in my lane for the most part but today it was all on me. And why was I wasting a day doing this when we had out Man City game this weekend, I’ll never know.

            “Oh, my god, how long have you been here?” Keeley asked, handing me a coffee as she walked into the press room.

            “Since 6:30, I couldn’t sleep,” I told her accepting the drink gratefully.

Keeley clicked her tongue at me soothingly. “It’s gonna be alright, you’ve got this. I just want you to be yourself up there, yeah? We’re starting with the photo shoot first today, the press conference will be this afternoon, when the boys are free.”

And that came faster than I expected. After a long day of cameras and poking and prodding I was left staring at the door of the press room. I could practically hear it, the flashing of the cameras, I could feel it, the stares of the journalists waiting for me to slip up, waiting for their next scoop. Ted was in there right now, talking me up. I picked at my thumbs, trying to steady my breath but I was struggling to find it. I felt like my head was buzzing, and that my heart was moving at a thousand beats per second. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to drown out the now blinding florescent lights.

Suddenly arms were wrapping around me, holding me so tight. “Hey, it’s okay, I got you.”

Jamie. I immediately latched onto him. I didn’t care if we were in public, I didn’t care if someone from the press room got a peak at this, all I cared about was Jamie’s steady heartbeat helping me regain my control.

            “There you go,” He murmured, lips brushing against my temple. “Just breath, love.” I did as he instructed, finally finding the control of my breathing. I let myself blink my eyes open and look up at Jamie. He smiled at me, brushing some of the hair out of my face. “There she is.”

            “Hi, Jamie,” I squeaked at him, resting my chin on his chest.

            “You know it’s kinda nice seeing you be the needy one for once,” he said to you.

I gaped at him, scoffing. “Don’t say that, I’m having a panic attack and you’re gloating?”

            “I gotta take it where I can find it,” He chuckled. Then he leaned down and kissed my temple, his lips lingering there. “You’re gonna be amazing in there.”

            “What if I’m not… what they want?” I croaked. “What if I mess up or do something stupid.”

            “It would be right funny if you did that!” You gasped and hit his chest. “Hey! That hurt. I’m just sayin that you could become a meme.”

            “Jamie!”

            “Alright, alright, jus’ there’s no way they won’t want you cause… I mean you’re everything there is to want,” Jamie noted, as if it was easy, as if it was simple.

I felt that breathless feeling again but this time it wasn’t because of panic, it was because of Jamie. I smiled with my lips tucked, looking between his eyes before reaching up and kissing him. He kissed me tenderly, softly. In a way that made me hum in contentment. I probably would have stayed like that if it weren’t for the next intrusion.

            “Oi!” Roy’s voice made us jump apart. “If the two of you want to keep this a secret, then you better stop kissing in the fucking hallway.” He growled as he marched towards us. “Tartt, go get changed you’re gotta be in there in 5 minutes.”

I looked over at Jamie surprised. “You’re coming to talk about me?”

            “Obviously?” He stated, rolling his eyes. “Even if we weren’t dating, you’d still be my best friend.” I just about melted at that one.

            “Uuuuuugggggghhhhhhhhh,” Roy groaned loudly, grabbing Jamie by the arm and starting to drag him down the hallway. “Good luck, (Y/N).”

I laughed, covering my face as I watched them go. Then the door to the press room opened and Keeley poke her head out.

            “You ready, babes?”

I watched Jamie disappear into the locker room and I felt that tell-tale flutter in my chest. I felt okay. I was going to be okay.

            “Yeah, let’s do it.”

She pulled me into the room as Ted was finishing up his speech.

            “(Y/N) (L/N) has overcome incredible odds. And she has done it with a smile. So, without further ado, it is my honor to present you with (Y/N) (L/N)!”

I walked up on the stage to scattered applause. I waved hesitantly sitting down in front of the microphone. As I did, they all flooded the stage putting up their own recording devices. My eyes darted around the room at the different reporters until they landed on the back of the room where Rebecca, Higgins, Trent, and Keeley stood. I nodded at them, glad to have some friendly faces in the room.  

            “Uh… hi! I’m (Y/N) (L/N)…” I started, looking around to focus on someone. How did Ted do this? “I’m happy to be chosen as the Premier League’s Coach of the Month. Uh… does anyone have any questions?’ Immediately the room exploded as all their hands raised up. “Um okay you, in the front row.”

            “Hi Ms. (Y/N)-“

            “It’s Coach (L/N).”

            “As a woman, what do you think the league can do to work on intersectionality across the teams?”

I furrowed my eyes brows. “That question doesn’t even make sense.”  

Again, the hands raised, everyone calling out my name. I pointed to someone in the back.

            “Coach, do you think being a woman has enhanced your ability to coach men or made it more difficult to understand the difficulties of being men in sports?”

            “That’s like two questions shoved into one and the answer is no.”

            “Coach (L/N), when you applied for the job here at Richmond did you do it to prove a point?”

            “What? That’s not-“

            “Where do you think the feature of the league is in terms of gender equality?”

This was going about as well as I thought it was going to be. I let out a frustrated sigh as they continued to shout questions at me. In the back of the room a door opened and in walked Colin, Sam, and Jamie. Colin waved at me, crossing his arms at his space in the back. I looked across the back of the room, at Ted and Keeley, Colin and Sam, and Jamie. The people in my life that made this possible. That made me possible.

            “Okay, okay, everyone listen up,” I announced, hitting my hand on the table. The room went quiet. I shot Keeley an apologetic glance before taking a deep breath. “Listen, I didn’t take this job because I wanted to make some big statement about feminism or gender inequality or intersectionality. I took the job because I wanted to play football for money, just like any of the lads on the team.”

“And if you really cared about gender equality, you’d be talking to the many female coaches that coach the women’s league. Or the many female players? Why don’t we talk about the wage inequality when the women win more games? That’s what you should be asking me about!”

I leaned back in my chair and looked around the room. The reporters were all silent until one, Marcus Adebayo, raised his hand.

            “Yeah, Marcus,” I called on him.

            “Coach (L/N), how do you feel about Richmond’s chances against Man City on this weekend?” He asked, pen at the ready.

I paused for a second, let out a huff. “Thank you, you know Man City has kept us down for a long time, but I think our chances look good.”

…

Our chances were not good. The game was bad play after bad play, the boys were just not at their best. You wanted to blame it on Zava, the bastard decided to retire without telling anyone and didn’t even show up to the game. It was depressing and everyone felt it.

            “Yeah… it was tough out there today,” I said to the reporter after the game.

            “You are Premiere League’s Coach of the Month; do you feel like there was something more you could have done to secure this win?” The reporter asked bluntly.

            “That’s somewhat of a redundant question. I’m an assistant coach. I do the best I can, but the boys are the ones who need to win, and they just didn’t have it today.” I replied, shrugging. “That’s all I have time for, sorry.”

I left the reporters with a small smile and started towards the locker room running a hand through my hair. This had been tough, and Keeley hadn’t been able to show up. Something about Shandy and a baby lamb and a lot of poop. I’m sure I’d hear about it more later.  But for now, I walked into the depressing atmosphere that was the locker room.

I looked around the room, the boys sat silently in their despair. Jamie sat on the floor in front of his cubby like he did when he was upset. I glanced over at Bead and Roy who gave me a pair of sad smiles back. I looked over at Zava’s empty cubbies and frowned. I hated Zava. To come here and bring these boys hope then abandon them without a word I’d never be able to forgive him for that.

            “Gentlemen, Hey,” Ted Emerged from the office. “That was a tought on tonight. Okay? Man City has still got our number. That… that’s all right.” The boys murmured a sad response. “We’re gonna get another crack at them later in the season. Uh-huh. Coach,” He addressed Beard. “No practice tomorrow yeah?”

            “That’s right”

            “Okay, well, I’ll see y’all on Monday,” Ted finished starting to turn around.

            “Hey, hey. Hey Coach!” Sam spoke up. “What about Zava? He quit the team.”

I looked back over at Ted, wondering the same question myself. Ted sputtered a moment before answering. “Technically he retired from the whole sport, which does make it feel a little less personal, yeah? You know, like if, uh, your girlfriend runs off with some dude and it turns out they were soul mates.”

Again the boys grumbled a response, something about Gina Gershon was in the mix but it was mostly positive. I thought Ted might end it there, but he didn’t.

            “Look. I hear you, okay? Zava is gone. And You what? I think it’s a good thing.” I perked up, interested to see where he was going with this. “Well, I do! Okay, look. Do I wanna win? Heck yeah? But I also wanna do it with folks that wanna be here.” I nodded, agreeing with his sentiment. “It’s not like we could handcuff him to his locker and make him love us.”

            “We could have tried,” Dani cried from his spot. I could help but let out a chuckle, knowing that he really meant it.

            “Hey, guys, look,” Ted regained their attention. “We got a good thing going here. Alright? We didn’t need Zava. Yeah?” Ted looked over at Jamie who nodded. I felt my heart warm knowing Ted was using Jamie’s words to encourage the team. “All we need to win are the fellas in this room right now. And all you fellas need to do is believe it.”

Just as he spoke the believe sign behind him fell, the torn pieces revealing themselves. The boys all starting clamoring shouting in fear.

            “It’s a sign!” Bumbercatch shouted.

            “That’s it. We’re doomed,” Colin agreed.

In the moment it was hard to disagree with them. Things hadn’t been great recently. And this just felt like the final nail in the coffin.

            “Hey, knock it off, okay? We’re not doomed. No one is doomed,” Ted putting his hands up to calm everyone. “But, Bumbercatch, yes, you’re right. It is a sign. I agree.” He took down the two pieces and ripped them in half. I felt myself reaching out to stop him, not even knowing I was doing it, but surprisingly, Jamie’s hand on my leg stopped me. I looked down at him and he nodded towards Ted. “Belief doesn’t just happen cause you hang something up on a wall. Alright? It comes from in here.” He pointed at his chest. “And up here,” at his head, “ and down here.” At his stomach.

“Only problem is, we all got so much junk floating through us, a lot of time we end up getting in our own way. You crap like envy, or fear, or shame.” I swallowed hard, biting my lip. I knew he was right, I’d been letting my fear and shame of who I was get in the way of my happiness. Of my abilities as a coach. “I don’t wanna mess around with that shit anymore. Do you?”

We all shook our heads, some of the lads responding with a ‘no’, or a ‘no, coach’

“No, me neither. Hell no.  Well, you know what I wanna mess around with? The belief that I matter, you know? Regardless of what I do or don’t achieve. Or the belief that we all deserbe to be loved. Whether we’ve been hurt or maybe we’ve hurt somebody else.”

“Or what about the belief of hope? Yeah? That’s what I wanna mess with. Believing that things can get better. That I can get better. That we will get better. Oh, man. To believe in yourself. To believe in one another. Man, that’s… that’s fundamental to being alive. And look. If you can do that, if each of you can truly do that…” He ripped the sign in half again. “Can’t nobody rip that apart.”

With that he walked over to the middle divider and slapped the ripped-up sign down on top of it.

“See y’all, Monday?”

The whole team responded with a ‘Yes, Coach’ before turning back to their cubbies to get ready to leave. But I stayed there. Staring at the broken sign. I wanted to believe. I needed to believe. And this team, these people, they helped me believe. Come what may, this whole room had my back.

…

I was still thinking about it as I arrived home that night. I didn’t expect Jamie to come over, it’d been a long day and he was waking up early still to do extra training. So, when he knocked on my door, I was surprised.

            “Jamie? What are you doing here.” I asked him, pulling him inside.

            “I wanna tell people about us,” He answered quickly. My eyes widened. “I know why you’ve been wanting to keep it a secret and I get that; I do. But… what Ted said today I just… I believe in us. I believe in you making me a better person and I don’t… I don’t want to hide that anymore.”

I stared at him, unsure of how to respond. I didn’t know if I was ready yet for the whole world to know. For ours to become theirs. I loved Jamie, I really did but what if it changed too much. Or worse, what if people tore us apart. Luckily Jamie continued speaking before I could answer.

            “You don’t have to decide right now. I just wanted to put it out there.” He nodded at me before leaning down and kissing my cheek. “Alright, I’m gonna go now.��

And he was out the door.

Fuck.

Tag List: Taglist:@heletsmelovehim @higherthanheroes @ajax-petropolus-wife @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @kno-way-home @sleepy-time @wigglegiggle @skewedcherries @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @snubug @rana030 @ems-alexandra @jaymum @sokkigarden

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: All That You Are

Plot: A chaotic press conference precedes a match that ends in violence.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: f!reader, language, minor violence

A/N: I’m gonna chalk this week’s chapters up to having some free time and also being really motivated to get to the next few. Phew, let me tell you…this is the last chance I’m giving y’all to breathe. The final act kicks off in the next chapter and we don’t stop till the very end…so everybody enjoy the fluff and the jokes while you’ve got them 🙃

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged and, as always, enjoy!

————————

AFC Richmond’s hot streak just…kept…going.

They were killing it, both at matches and training. More importantly, they were happy. Joyful, even. Which meant everyone else was too.

More and more fans started showing up to watch training till eventually, the stands were packed. Y/n had begun to come out more often, genuinely enjoying watching the boys practice, and had found a way to make it a PR matter. She helped get the crowd riled up, engaging with them and encouraging them to cheer and chant for their players. She’d collected whatever merchandise they had a surplus of, pens or coffee mugs usually, and made a game of handing them out to the fans that came. Ted had encouraged her to keep doing it, it only further fostered the atmosphere he wanted to create.

Y/n hurried upstairs one day in particular, having missed the alarm set on her phone while she was hauling a bag of freebies from the gift shop to her office. She was never late and felt like she was going to burst into flames for being so.

“Whoa,” Ted called, just a few steps behind her, “Someone call Allyson Felix. Let her know she better watch her back.”

Y/n hung back on the landing to catch her breath, falling back in step once Ted caught up. “We ran out of the mugs the other day but I’ve got coasters and coozies for this afternoon.”

“Ooh,” Ted exclaimed, “You’ve been killin’ it in the swag department, missy. Everyone’s a little more hyped knowing they get a prize just for participation.”

Y/n grunted, “Trophies for doing nothing is also why my generation hates work, so don’t applaud me yet.”

They entered Rebecca’s office laughing only to find the atmosphere contrasting their good moods. Spread out on the couch, Keeley had her face buried in Rebecca’s lap.

“Uh-oh,” Ted announced his presence, “When girl-talk turns into girl-hug, you know that either means something horrible’s happened, or absolutely nothing at all.”

“Please say nothing at all,” Y/n set her purse down and grabbed the takeaway box Rebecca had ordered for her.

“Jack’s ghosting Keeley,” their boss explained.

“Oh, no,” Ted frowned.

Y/n sunk into the cushion beside Keeley, rubbing her shoulder as the blonde snuggled back under Rebecca’s arm.

“First, she wants to go on a break,” Ted recounted, “And now the old digital Irish goodbye. Which is a term I never really understood. ‘Cause I got a buddy back home named Seamus O’Malley, and that son of a gun hugs folks goodbye for, like, twenty minutes before he leaves anywhere.”

Y/n smiled down at her salad. The last few months may have softened her, but decades could pass and Ted would remain the same.

“Yeah,” he looked to Keeley, “Sorry to hear about that. Hey, I did make you some biscuits, you know, just to soften the blow.”

“Oh, thanks Ted,” Keeley took the pink package from him and opened it. Her eye blew open, “What? There’s like forty quid in here.”

“Well, I didn’t know you were gonna be here till this morning,” Ted explained, “No time to do anything special so I just tossed a little cash in there.”

Keeley nodded, “That is very sweet. Thank you, Ted.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to it but to do it,” he shrugged, turning to Rebecca, “Hey, boss. You mind if I skip the press conference today? Michelle and I got these parent-teacher meetings I don’t wanna miss.”

Rebecca shrugged and smiled, “Of course, Ted. Family first.”

“I appreciate it.”

“So…” Y/n trailed off, “Who’s next in line?”

A metaphorical lightbulb went off over Keeley’s head. “We could have Roy do it,” she suggested, “I know he hates that stuff, but he is really good at it.”

Y/n struggled to see the “good” part of how Roy handled the press. On her last count, he’d cussed out no more than six reporters.

“I mean, you know, fine by me,” Ted replied.

Rebecca agreed, “Great idea.”

“Look at you,” Ted smiled at Keeley, “Heartbroken, but still kickin’ butt.”

“I mean, I’m not heartbroken,” Keeley fidgeted in her seat, “It’s more like heart-bent.”

“Heart-bent,” Ted mused, “I like that. It’s a great title for a country song. You know, like,” he began to sing, “I’m heart-bent, in my apartment, ‘cause all that you left, was your fart scent.”

“Alright. Goodbye, Ted,” Rebecca cued him up to leave, though Keeley was laughing and Y/n was smiling through a bite of spinach.

“And now that you’re gone,” Ted continued on his way out to the hall, “I wrote this song, ‘cause all you left was, the smell of your farts.”

Y/n pointed to the door with her fork, “Speaking on behalf of our homeland, we can do better than that.”

Rebecca snorted and Keeley rested her head on Y/n’s shoulder.

“Right,” she held out her hand, “Show me.”

Keeley handed it over and Y/n bore witness to the mile long chain of texts her boss had sent their boss. It was embarrassing to say the least, but Y/n wasn’t about to kick Keeley when she was already laid out.

“Wow,” she strained as she scrolled.

“I know,” Keeley moaned.

“It’s like a river,” Y/n mused as she surfed the rest of the blue bubbles, “Can you promise one thing?”

Keeley hummed.

Y/n handed her phone back, “No more. She’s the one that stomped on you, she gets to do the groveling.”

And grovel she should. From what Keeley had told Y/n, Jack had handled their conversation regarding the video leak and the so-called “statement” horrifically. Jack seemed offended that Keeley had dared to have a meaningful relationship before her. It was jealousy where jealousy didn’t belong.

Whereas Y/n was still struggling to comprehend Jamie and Keeley ever having been together.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Keeley threw her phone on the other side of the couch, “I’m done.”

“Good,” Y/n nodded firmly.

“And that’s all you’ve got to say?” Keeley asked with a raised brow, “Nothing else?”

Y/n purposefully filled her mouth with a far-too-large bite of lettuce. She had plenty to say on the matter, Keeley knew damn well, but she was determined not to do so unless there was a confirmed break-up. After all, Jack was still their boss.

“Nope,” she mumbled.

Rebecca and Keeley descended into a fit of snorts.

Later, the three women were were seeing Keeley out to her car. Roy was just coming down the hall when they came off the last step.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Rebecca said.

“Okay,” Roy replied before looking to his ex. An awkward silence came about for three seconds, though it felt like much longer. “Keeley.”

“Roy,” she nodded back to him.

Rebecca, blissfully, pulled them out. “So I need you to fill in for Ted at today’s press conference, if that’s okay.”

Roy didn’t hesitate in his reply, “Fuck no.”

Keeley, Rebecca and Y/n were just as unflinching as they waited for the answer to change.

“I mean,” Roy backtracked, “Why can’t Ted do it?”

His eyes went from woman to woman, waiting for one of them to answer or crack or…something.

Or nothing.

“I mean,” he pasted an unnatural grin to his face, “I’d love to.”

Y/n pointed a finger and nodded.

“Wonderful,” Rebecca replied, looking to Keeley and Y/n, “Shall we?”

The three of them left Roy in the hall, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

“Fuck,” he said rather loudly.

“I heard that,” Rebecca smirked.

“You still have my word,” Y/n remarked to her boss, “Send me up there, I’ll give them all they want to know. Sell everybody out. We’ll be on every front page in the country.”

Rebecca laughed, though Keeley missed it entirely. She was too busy glancing back at Roy.

—————————

Later in the afternoon, with the press conference a few minutes away from starting, Y/n swung by her office to pick up the notes she’d jotted down for Roy.

As she grabbed her notebook, she noticed there was a tea sitting next to her laptop.

She picked it up and examined it. It had come from the café, her name was written on the side in the big loopy handwriting Delilah, the barista, used. Assuming she wasn’t being set up to be poisoned, she took a sip and accepted the anonymous kindness.

Y/n made it down to the press room, meeting Higgins in the back and waiting for Roy to enter.

The door opened, and Beard walked through.

Y/n’s face dropped, “Um…”

“Where’s Ted?” Higgins asked.

“Where’s Roy?” Y/n corrected, “He’s supposed to be filling in.”

Beard took his seat at the desk, “Good afternoon. I know you all were expecting Ted, but he couldn’t make it today. I, however, will be happy to answer any and all questions, so,” he gestured to the desk filled with recorders and phones, “Fire away.”

Y/n took a breath, it wasn’t so bad. Beard, while not always the most sociable, was well-spoken and highly intelligent. He might have even been a better choice than Roy for his mood alone.

She regretted every thinking such a thing within two minutes.

“Look, man,” Beard sat back in the chair, “We can debate all day, Zeppelin versus Eagles, but one thing that is absolutely not up for debate is Walsh versus Page.”

“Oh, come off it,” the man fired back, “You honestly think it’s Walsh over Page?”

Y/n whispered to Higgins, “How did this go so far off the rails this fast?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

She handed him her tea, “Hold this.”

Y/n quietly and calmly exited the room, breaking into a light jog in the hall and up the stairs. She knocked on Rebecca’s open door but didn’t bother to be invited in.

“Hi,” she greeted quickly, “Um, did something happen to Roy in the two hours since he was last seen?”

Rebecca’s brow lowered, “No, why?”

Y/n thinned her lips to a line, “You might wanna come downstairs.”

Without question, Rebecca followed her down and into the press room. Things had taken another turn in the minute Y/n had disappeared for.

“That is not what I said, Gary,” Beard angrily pointed to the reporter in question.

“I have your quote right here,” Gary chuckled.

“You did say it, Coach,” another on agreed.

“Stay out of this, Lloyd,” Beard snapped.

“Don’t shout at Lloyd,” Sarah, another reporter, said.

Y/n flattened her palm against her forehead.

“You said, and I quote,” Gary looked down at his notes, “‘Joe Walsh is a better guitarist than Jimmy Page.’ That’s what you said!”

Beard leaned back in his chair, exasperated by the fight he’d started. “Fine! I said it,” he spread his arms out in defeat, “But what I meant was that Joe Walsh, underrated. Jimmy Page,” he got stuck on the last word in his rage, “Overrated!”

The room was arguing amongst itself.

“I mean, Joe Walsh is a poet,” Beard went on, “Jimmy Page is a fucking court stenographer on Adderall.”

As the room digested the answer in shock, and amusement, Y/n reached out to Higgins, retaking her tea and taking a large swig as if it were wine.

“Are you out of your mind?” Gary laughed, “Page could beat Walsh with one string.”

“What do you mean, beat him?” Beard replied angrily, “It’s not a competition, man. It’s art, you fucking Neanderthal!”

Y/n, Higgins and Rebecca surged forward at the same time.

“Hello,” Rebecca cheerily announced, trying to draw the attention to herself while Higgins grabbed Beard, who was still arguing with Gary. “Hello! Hello!”

Y/n acted as a shield for Higgins as he walked Beard out of the room, dropping him in the side hall. But not before Beard could get in one last insult.

“‘Stairway to Heaven’” is a glorified fingering exercise, and you all know it!”

Higgins smiled at the press as he shut the door, Y/n blindly reaching behind to help him push against Beard’s weight.

“I can’t think of the last time I was able to be here with all you absolutely…” Rebecca spoke loudly over the noise of Beard still yelling into the door. Y/n and Higgins blocked his face from view. “Just brilliant members of the press down here in the pressroom. So with that in mind, I would love to take some questions. Come on,” Rebecca spread her arms welcomingly, “Absolutely ask me anything.”

“Oh, shit,” Y/n mumbled. This wasn’t any better.

Marcus from The Independent announced himself when Rebecca nodded towards him.

“Hello there, Marcus,” she greeted, “How are you?”

“Very well.”

“Good, good.”

“Miss Welton,” Marcus asked, “In your opinion, who’s the greatest classic rock guitarist of all time?”

Rebecca stuttered a bit, stuck on the question that had her blanking out on any rock she’d ever listened to.

“The, uh…” she struggled, “The…guy from Cream.”

Higgins snorted, Y/n buried her head in her hand as the pressroom quietly and collectively laughed.

“Uh…” Rebecca began.

“I think,” Y/n came to stand beside her boss, grinning abnormally large, “That in the wake of our recent wins, we’re all still a bit hazy from the excitement. I think we’re going to call this for the day, but we’ll be ready and waiting for you after the match this Sunday against Brighton. Thank you so much!”

Y/n placed her hands on Rebecca’s back and marched her towards the door.

“Uh, Ms. Y/l/n,” Marcus spoke up, “Care to comment on who you think the greatest guitarist is?”

“Keith Richards,” Y/n answered, “Purely because he’s still standing.”

Whatever reaction she’d caused, she didn’t hear them. Her and Higgins had gotten Rebecca safely out into the hall.

“Sorry about that,” she shuddered.

“You’re alright,” Y/n patted her shoulder.

“‘The guy from Cream,’” Higgins giggled.

“Yes, all right,” Rebecca twisted to face Higgins, “Don’t start with me, Leslie! I panicked,” she took a seething breath, “I’m going to murder Roy Kent.”

“If you don’t, I will,” Y/n exhaled.

“Look, Roy not doing press is just Roy being Roy,” Higgins stated.

Y/n gestured to the door they’d just come out of, “And look where it got us.”

“Well, I am sick of Roy being Roy,” Rebecca spat, hands on her hips, “So it’s time for Rebecca to be Rebecca.”

Without another word, she marched off in the direction of the training room. The boys would nearly be done with their afternoon workout.

“Oh, yes,” Higgins agreed, “Absolutely- I couldn’t,” he turned with Y/n to watch Rebecca strut away from them, “Yeah. There you go. Yes! Ooh!”

Y/n breathed a laugh, if anyone rubbed off on her from Richmond, she hoped it was Rebecca. There was a fierceness inside her that Y/n had never possessed in her life, but she’d have liked to.

“Stay for the aftermath?” Higgins asked.

“Oh, definitely,” Y/n nodded. She wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to stare down Roy.

Quick enough, Rebecca marched back up the stairs, Roy following thirty seconds later. While Higgins’ best frown was still his worst smile, Y/n glared at the coach unflinchingly. He did his best to ignore them both on the way up to Rebecca’s office.

“Another day,” Y/n mumbled, her and Higgins heading their separate ways for the rest of the afternoon.

As she walked down the hall, some of the boys came out of the training room. She high-fived them before coming up on Jamie, bringing up the rear.

He flicked the cup of tea, still in Y/n’s hand, and smirked. “Cheers.”

Y/n looked back and met his waiting gaze, the two of them sharing a smile. The days at Nelson Road grew more unpredictable the further into the season they got, but some things were as constant as breathing.

——————

The day of the Brighton match started as normal as any other. Y/n made the familiar trek to the owner’s box, taking a seat between Keeley and Higgins, and braced for the ninety minutes of nerves she both hated and loved.

“Oh, it’s Jack,” Keeley announced as she scrolled her phone. The three of them sat to attention as they waited to hear the text, “She’s saying that she’s in Argentina…for the next couple of months.”

“Ouch,” Higgins commented. Y/n scoffed while Rebecca pulled Keeley into her side.

“Well,” Keeley took a breath, “I think our break is actually an ‘up.’ So now that Jack is officially my ex,” she looked between the group, “Please feel free to say any of the things that you didn’t like about her.”

Rebecca sighed, “Well-“

“Ooh,” Higgins chimed in, “Her handshake was way too firm. You know-“ he groaned and grunted as he imitated the action, “I get it. You’re friendly. Good riddance.”

Y/n bit down on her bottom lip, trying to keep the comments from flying out her mouth.

“Something you’d like to say, Y/n?” Keeley asked knowingly.

Shaking her head, she tried to go the diplomatic route. “Just want to watch some football.”

Keeley slowly nodded, staring out at the field with her.

“And she’s a fucking asshole,” Y/n muttered as low as she could to let only Keeley hear it. They smiled to one another.

Right off the bat, the Greyhounds were struggling. Isaac, usually so focused, was off his game. He cost them a goal kick and earned Brighton a corner instead. It wasn’t like him and the fans were letting their displeasure be known.

Even worse, when Colin lost an easy goal, Isaac went after him. The two of them argued until Jamie and Sam, playing peacemaker, held Isaac back from following Colin any further.

Y/n frowned, something had to have happened before the match. The boys were far more in sync than this, and they sure as hell didn’t fight each other.

The first half ended on the heels of Dani just nearly making a goal, only for Brighton to block it. The score was 1-nil as the Greyhounds trudged back to the locker room.

Higgins, Y/n, Rebecca and Keeley went silent as the fifteen minute break began. There wasn’t anything to say.

Y/n’s eyes were glazing over the crowd on the opposite side of the stadium when a commotion started. She followed the noise to the tunnel to see Isaac, leaping into the stands and grabbing one of the fans.

“Oh my gosh,” she mumbled. Keeley, Rebecca and her all rose to their feet.

With the distance, the scene could hardly be seen properly, but it appeared that Isaac was holding the fan by the shirt and yelling in his face. The ref had never pulled the red card out so fast. It was unprecedented and unacceptable.

Higgins rushed out his seat, the women moving to make room for him down the aisle. Y/n’s eyes followed Roy as he helped Isaac down and started shouting something to the security guards.

The scene died down as quickly as it began. The fan was escorted out of the stadium and the Greyhounds disappeared into the tunnel.

“What the hell was that?” Rebecca finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Keeley breathed.

Internally, Y/n began to feel some sort of panic build. She couldn’t decipher the complexities of it, all she knew was she had to move.

“Where are you going?” Rebecca asked as Y/n slid past them.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled Keeley’s same answer, already climbing the stairs.

She hurried through the suite, past all the fans opening social media to post that they’d witnessed the fight themselves. Past all the fans in the concourse exclaiming how McAdoo was about to fucking kill the twat. Y/n couldn’t hear any of it as she made for the personnel-only entrance into the building.

When she made it to the empty hall outside the locker room, she faltered. Her immediate reaction would be to run in, but she knew it was far from appropriate. Her hand instinctively reached toward the door, even with feet of space between her and it. She couldn’t.

Nearly as soon as she’d thought it, Isaac came bursting through the door, unaware of her presence as he stalked to the boot room. He slammed that door shut and Y/n flinch at the sound.

Ten seconds later, Roy came out much more peacefully, but still with purpose.

Y/n stepped forward, her movements and her voice hesitant, “Hey-“

Roy could see the concern etched deeply in her face and touched her arm as he passed. “I got it.”

It wasn’t often that Roy wasn’t scowling, wasn’t speaking like he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. For him to speak softly, to voluntarily comfort someone, he had to have meant it.

Y/n stood frozen as he shut the door to the boot room, all the pieces of her reaction making sense suddenly. After Isaac had attacked the fan, her first thought hadn’t been about PR. It hadn’t been about the clean-up her and Keeley would have to do, the stress of it all. It hadn’t had anything to do with what the internet would think or the fans or anyone.

Her first thought was to wonder if Isaac was okay.

She knew by now she cared about AFC Richmond. She had a special affection for Rebecca and their weekly tea. Keeley had cracked her way past Y/n’s gates simply by being herself. Ted was the nicest slice of home she could have gotten.

This was different. This was caring so deeply for the team that she was standing in the hall, unmoving until she knew they were all alright.

It was no longer about letting them in, Y/n knew, it was about how deeply etched in her heart they were.

She waited, waited, the whole fifteen minutes, hearing only the muffled mumbles of the team’s conversation through the doors. When they cheered and exited the room, their spirits seemingly lifted, none of them even noticed her against the wall.

Y/n moved to stand outside the boot room, catching Colin and Trent as the last ones to exit the locker room. Trent threw her a small salute that she matched, before heading out to his own seat. She still wasn’t leaving until she knew all was well.

Eventually, Roy came out of the boot room with Isaac in tow. The disgraced captain glanced up at her as he passed, Y/n made a point to squeeze his arm. He didn’t flinch at her touch, but didn’t make a point of lingering as he headed to the locker room to wait the game out.

As Y/n inhaled, Roy nodded, “He’s alright.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

The two of them walked back to their separate paths, Roy heading out to the pitch and Y/n heading back to the owner’s box.

The match turned around after that, tremendously so. The Greyhounds had hit the pitch united once more, particularly Colin, who’d assisted in both goals that had led them to victory. Balance seemed to have been restored, and while Isaac would still be the most memorable part of the game, Colin’s efforts wouldn’t be forgotten.

And, as always, Y/n’s work began the moment the ref called it.

There were strict instructions from both Keeley and her to Higgins not to grab any of the players. They’d no doubt be asked about their captain’s actions and none of them needed to deal with that stress. Ted was the only one who could comfortably handle it.

They waited with Rebecca in the back of the room, Higgins and Trent joined them at the last minute.

“He’s on his way,” Higgins said.

“Thank you, Leslie,” Rebecca replied before turning to Keeley and Y/n, “You gave Ted some talking points?”

Keeley frowned, “No. I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Not for a while,” Y/n added.

The side door opened before Rebecca could truly begin to worry. Where Ted should have strolled in, Roy did instead.

“Fuck,” Y/n whispered, punctuated by a gag from Higgins.

Roy took a seat at the desk, staring down the entire room. No one was wearing their surprise well.

“Yeah, alright, you got me today,” he growled, “Any questions?”

Every reporter’s hand went up, all of them shouting to get Roy’s attention.

“Fucking hell,” he mumbled before pointing to one of them, “You. Five-o’-clock shadow head.”

Gary, self-proclaimed Jimmy Page fan, stood up. “Coach Kent, do you or the organization condone what Isaac McAdoo did today?”

“What a stupid fucking question,” Roy was quick to reply, Rebecca, Higgins and Y/n all screwing their eyes shut. “‘Course we don’t. What Isaac did was awful. He was lucky he only got a red card.”

“Okay,” Gary relented, “So why’d he do it?”

Roy chuckled, looking like he was nearly about to say something before stopping himself. Instead of cursing or snarking, he settled back in his chair.

“When I was first coming up through Sunderland, there was an old-timer on the team,” Roy began, “Local guy. He and his wife were about to have their first kid. So during training one day, I made a joke that statistically, I was probably the real dad. And the boys fell about laughing, but he went fucking nuts. He battered me. Properly. I had a black eye, chipped tooth, three broken ribs…I couldn’t play for six games. He got booted off the team. After that,” Roy shook his head, “No club would go near him.”

“Then in the summer, after I could breathe again,” he went on, “I bumped into him in a pub. And I got the chance to say sorry for my stupid fucking joke. And he got to tell me he and his wife had lost the baby a month before all that went down. He hadn’t told anyone. Kept it all inside.”

The room had fallen hush, save for the occasional click of a camera.

“Look, I get that some people think if they buy a ticket,” Roy’s voice regained its strength, “They’ve got the right to yell whatever abusive shit they want at footballers. But they’re not just footballers. They’re also people. And none of us,” he dragged his finger across the room, “Know what is going on in each other’s lives.”

“So for Isaac to do what he did today, even though it was wrong,” Roy pointed to his chest, “I give him love. And as for why he did what he did,” he leaned closer to the microphones, “That’s none of my fucking business.”

That was it. There was nothing left to say. Roy had handled it with more grace and patience than anyone could have expected.

Y/n smiled to herself, “Okay.”

“Next question,” he called to the room, which erupted back into shouts and flashes, “Yeah, new Trent.”

“Coach,” Marcus spoke up, “Let’s talk about Colin Hughes.”

“Yeah, he’s a hell of a player,” Roy answered, “And a great man. I think we’ve underused him.”

“I think you’re right,” Marcus said.

“Glad we agree,” Roy replied, “I prefer you to old Trent.”

The room laughed before Roy called on the next reporter. Rebecca and him shared a look of acknowledgement, this was making up for his ditching of the last presser.

Roy went on answering questions a few minutes longer before abruptly calling it. As everyone was saying their goodbyes for the evening, Y/n caught him in the hall.

“You did good,” she complimented.

Roy grunted a little, still bad at taking praise about anything other than his professional abilities. “Sorry if I…made your job harder the other day.”

She shrugged, “No more so than anyone else. You’re just more of a dick about it.”

Having said it with a smile Roy knew Y/n wasn’t serious…totally. His lips quirked up ever so slightly.

“Night, Roy,” Y/n said, hitting his arm as she walked past him.

“Cheers,” he replied, heading his own way.

—————————

While the day was a victory, Jamie was exhausted. Some of the boys had gone out to celebrate, he was one of the ones who decided heading home was more appealing.

A ring of the doorbell dragged him off his couch and into the entryway. He opened the door, his chest both filling and draining at the sight.

Y/n was leant against the frame, a soft smile on her lips. She held up a paper takeaway bag.

“I won’t tell Roy if you don’t,” she promised.

Jamie chuckled under his breath and moved to let her in.

It wasn’t just the match that’d worn Jamie out. Colin’s confession in the locker room was…heavy. Weighing most on Colin, of course, but when the celebratory noise had died down and Jamie was left to his own thoughts, he found they were louder than normal.

Y/n showing up only acted as an amplifier.

Here was Colin, hiding away one of the biggest parts of himself. Forced to keep the person he loved in the shadows for fear of the public’s reaction. He couldn’t hold them, couldn’t be seen with them, couldn’t claim them. The person who meant everything to him.

And here was Jamie, with the woman he cared about most standing before him, feeling the weight of his privilege.

“Samir was working tonight,” Y/n announced as she slipped off her shoes, “He kept asking me if I was buying for us both. I think he slipped in some extra-“

She was cut off by Jamie, wrapping his arms around her in a full embrace.

Jamie wasn’t good with words. He was barely good with feelings. And expressing them was a whole other matter. What he did know to be true was that Y/n was the singular most important person in his life. Whether he’d realized it before or not, he wasn’t sure. But it was suddenly crushing him, he was overwhelmed by his affection for her. She was the best part of his worst times, the highlight of his days. The literal sunshine lighting up the darkest parts of him, the parts everyone else looked at and ran from. But not her, never her.

Y/n stumbled a bit, Jamie steadying her as he tugged her to his body. It wasn’t like they never hugged, but this felt different. The whole day had been so emotionally charged, she wasn’t surprised that he was feeling some of it. She wasn’t sure what had happened in the locker room between halves or after the game, but whatever it was had done something to him, and she apparently was the solution.

The truth was, Jamie was the first person Y/n hadn’t tired of being there for. She wanted to save him at every possible opportunity. To be there for him in whatever way he needed her. Lord knows he had done it enough for her. He’d looked at her ugliest parts and matched them, the two of them somehow growing together through their horrible histories. Some relationships were easily replaced, but there could never be another Jamie.

Y/n slid her arms around Jamie’s back, stealing some of the comfort for herself.

Jamie rested his chin on her shoulder, shutting his eyes and letting the moment wash over him. The world could stop, just for a moment, and it would be there when they broke apart. But for now, Y/n was all he wanted to feel.

They stayed in the hall, clinging to one another, having only unwrapped the first layer of what all they felt meant.

—————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Cruel Summer (Superstar Chapter 7)

I'm drunk in the back of the car

And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar

Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

New faces at Nelson Road cause quite a stir.

Roy Kent x Reader

7.5k words

Warnings: Language, angst, drinking, Roy flirting hard, my heart breaking if you listen closely

Thank you so much for all the love! This chapter was probably the hardest for me to write so far, so I hope you enjoy- even if it hurts!

~

Bzzz!

My phone vibrated in my hand as I sat in Rebecca’s office. It was packed: Rebecca, Ted, Beard, Keeley, Higgins, Roy, me. We were a tense party as we waited for word that Dario Vargas had arrived at the Dog Track, staring at our phones in anticipation. All eyes turned to me the moment my phone went off, wondering if this was the signal.

Looking fucking fit in that skirt. Think anyone would notice if I dragged you into the boot room later so I could show you how much I like it?

Heat flooded my face. “Just my Mum. Wants to wish us luck with the big announcement today,” I lied. My eyes flickered across the office to Roy, who stood in the far corner of the office, hands in his pockets as he gazed at the ceiling, acting as if he hadn’t just made me blush through a text message. With the amount of time I’d spent looking at his face over the past few months, it was easy for me to spy the tiniest smirk hiding under his bored expression.

It was nice that Roy noticed the difference in my appearance, though. Usually, I wore jeans and a sweater to the office, often Richmond ones, especially on match days. Today called for something a bit different though; it was press conference day. We all knew that meant to look camera-ready, even if we weren’t the ones behind the microphones. For me, that meant a pencil skirt, blouse, and heels. And apparently Roy didn’t mind the change of wardrobe one bit.

Leaning back so Ted, who sat on the couch beside me drumming out a beat on his thigh, couldn’t see my screen, I switched my phone to silent and quickly typed a response.

Honestly? Once Vargas is in the building I doubt anyone would notice if we went at it in the middle of the changing room.

I eyed Roy discreetly as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it. His jaw twitched as his thumbs flew across the screen.

Thanks for the new fantasy.

My face burned. This man is going to be the death of me.

Before I could figure out some clever response, Rebecca let out a sound, a loud, high-pitched mix between a laugh and a gasp. We all turned to look at her.

“He’s here,” was all she said.

Everyone stood and filed out of the office; Rebecca and Ted to the parking lot, the rest of us to the changing room, where the team would be waiting.

“Down, boy,” I whispered to Roy as he walked just a smidge too close, letting his hand softly graze my skirt. In response, he smirked and nudged me playfully, but returned to a respectable distance.

Unlike Rebecca’s office, the air in the changing room was filled with a tense excitement as the guys chattered amongst themselves. They all waved and called hellos to us as we entered, their expressions contrasting ours. Of course, it was different for them than for us; they were excited, even thrilled to have a new teammate to help the team succeed and push them to be better versions of themselves. For the rest of the staff, there was a shared sense of anxiety. Would this player be that “thing” Richmond needed to win? Would he mesh well with the guys? Would he be easy to get along with, or a prima donna even worse than Jamie used to be?

“-and here is the changing room,” Rebecca was saying as she held open the door.

Everyone straightened up as Dario Vargas entered, followed by a small entourage made up of Ted and a photographer. He was exactly the way I remembered him looking in the magazine: light brown hair just past his ears, blue eyes, clean-shaven, and a megawatt smile. If he was as exceptional on the field as he was to look at, Richmond’s prospects looked great.

Ted led Dario around the room, introducing each player to him with a fun little fact; Sam owned a restaurant, Isaac loved the movie Age of Innocence, Jan was into true crime, Dani “hablas Español!”.

“And this here’s some of our staff,” Ted continued, turning his attention to the rest of us. He quickly introduced Dario to Beard, who tipped his hat, and Roy, who scowled. Then Ted turned to me, proudly presenting me as “the glue that keeps this whole operation together”.

Ted went on. “Seriously, though. This right here is the nicest gal you’ll ever meet. Goes infinity and beyond for this team like she’s Buzz Lightyear. Hell, even grumpy ol’ Roy here’s got a soft spot for her.” My cheeks warmed as I refused to look anyone in the eye. “Anything you need, Dario, you just ask this one. She’ll take care of ya.”

I blushed at Ted’s praise as I faced Dario Vargas. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Dario took my hand and planted a small kiss on it; the team whistled like boys on the schoolyard. “Mucho gusto, belleza,” he purred.

Beside me, I could feel Roy cross his arms and stiffen. Great. As soon as they moved on to Keeley and took the attention with them, I gave Roy a miniscule bump. He glanced down at me out of the corner of his eye, his mouth curved down. I raised my eyebrows, hoping that just looking at him would be enough to calm him down.

Keeley cleared her throat, catching everyone’s attention. “Alright, well now that introductions are out of the way, why don’t we head to the pi-”

“Hello, Richmond!”

A knot formed in my stomach as soon as that syrupy voice reached my ears. Bursting through the doors looking like she’d just stepped out of a magazine was Brittany Brett. She sauntered up to Dario, who grabbed her and kissed her, dipping her slightly as the photographer’s camera click click clicked and the guys tittered. I inched closer to Roy, barely brushing my arm against his, as if the feather-light touch would somehow brand him as mine, mine, mine.

Apparently, my brilliant plan didn’t work, because, while Keeley ushered Dario and Ted out so they could head to the pitch for some quick photos before the press conference, Brittany Brett strolled in our direction. My fingers were trembling as my throat dried up. There she was. Brittany Brett. Standing in my changing room, with my team. Staring at my Roy.

A smirk played on her glossy lips as she gazed up at Roy through the longest, thickest lashes I’d ever seen. “Coach Roy, aren’t you happy to see me?” She opened her arms as if for a hug and raised a playful eyebrow, a pout on her pump lips.

Arms still crossed, Roy grunted and rolled his eyes. Without a glance in her direction, he turned around and grabbed my arm gently. He looked down at me, mouth set in a straight line. “I’ll be in our office. Tell me when it’s time for the shit show.” He stalked off, slamming the office door behind him.

Brittany Brett’s eyes fell on me as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. She smirked. “Roy’s always been a bit of a wanker, hmm?”

Oh, fuck you. I stood up a bit taller, still nowhere close to Brittany Brett’s statuesque height. “Actually, I think Roy’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

“Hmm.” She looked me up and down, her cool expression making me question each article of clothing I’d put on that morning, right down to my knickers. “You work for Roy, don’t you? As his assistant, was it? I saw you hanging around him at Rebecca’s darling little charity gala.”

Heat surged through my whole body. “I’m the coaching staff’s administrative coordinator.” No one would correct the slight promotion I’d just given myself. “Roy and I work together.”

Her eyes narrowed microscopically for a moment, her smile never fading. “Guess we’ll be seeing loads of each other then. Nice to meet you.” She icily turned on her ridiculously high heel and strutted out of the changing room, taking several gazes with her.

“Wow, she does not like you.” Jamie had appeared at my side. “You alright?”

I glanced around at the guys, milling about and chattering excitedly about their new teammate as they prepared for the day’s training. “Just annoyed at how pretty she is,” I grumbled. “And that she used to shag Roy.”

Jamie snorted. “I get that. I hate every guy Keeley’s ever been with.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “But just remember.” He looked over his shoulder before lowering his voice. “Roy loves ya.”

“Thanks, Jamie,” I muttered, giving him a soft punch in the arm. “See you in a bit, yeah?”

I quietly walked into the office, where I found Roy leaning back in his chair, head tilted back, eyes closed. He opened one at the sound of the door opening and closed it again when he saw it was me.

“She gone?” he growled.

“Back to the pits of hell I hope,” I answered, closing the door and the blinds that looked into Ted’s office. “I kind of hate her,” I mumbled as I sank onto his lap, tossing my phone onto his desk.

Roy grunted and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Just my fucking luck that of all the footballers in Europe, she’s shagging the one we sign.” He buried his face in my neck. “Wanna fucking quit our jobs?”

I snorted. “I actually quite like my job. I can’t quit just because a model is rude to me.”

“At least Vargas seems to like you. A little too fucking much, I might add,” Roy grumbled, his scruff rubbing against my skin.

“Oh hush.” I lifted his chin so he could look at me. “I only like cranky retired footballers-turned-coach, alright?”

That earned me a smile from Roy. “Alright.” He kissed me gently, his hand finding its way into my hair, ignoring the fact that we were in the middle of our office on a day where the press was crawling about. His lips against mine was enough to make me forget until I caught sight of my mobile screen lighting up with a text alert.

Heading to the press room, the text from Keeley read. I reluctantly removed myself from Roy.

“Time for the shit show.”

~

I smiled as I watched Roy lay on the floor with Phoebe after dinner. From the look on his face, the ongoing drama between Phoebe’s dolls was the most fascinating thing he’d ever heard in his life. His eyes flickered to me for a brief moment, his face softening into a look of complete fondness before turning back to his niece.

I wasn’t the only one to notice.

“I have never seen my brother love someone so much,” Roy’s sister murmured, handing me a glass of wine as she joined me at the table.

I nodded. “Oh, he adores Phoebe. Talks about her all the time.”

She let out a soft chuckle. “Not Phoebe. You.” She smiled. “You’re really good for him, you know that?” Before I could deflect the compliment, she held up a finger. “Don’t play humble. He’s really happy. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. He’s got a dog, he’s swearing less around Phoebe, he smiles all the time now.” She paused. “At least, all the time by Roy standards.”

“He makes me pretty happy too,” was all I could think to say. After a heavy silence, I added, “Thanks for inviting us over, by the way.” I smiled.

She shook her head. “I’m really glad we could finally do this. You’re so important to him. Which means you’re important to us.”

My heart swelled at her words. “I love how much time he spends with Phoebe,” I said, attempting to redirect the attention. “She’s great.”

“She thinks pretty much the same thing about you,” she chuckled. “Absolutely obsessed with you. Every day she asks if she can go over to Uncle Roy’s so she can play with you and Oscar.”

Right on cue, Phoebe bustled over, squeezing herself into my arms; I obliged and pulled her into a hug.

“Will you come to my ballet recital?”

The recital in question was still a couple of months away; for weeks now, Phoebe had asked me the same question every time she saw me. And each time, I answered the same.

“Of course. And I’ll bring you pink roses, alright?”

Satisfied with my unchanging answer, Phoebe gave me a small squeeze, took a sip of her juice that sat on the table, and ran back to her Uncle Roy, who was now wearing a tiara and holding a wand. He rolled his eyes lightheartedly as the small girl tackled him, roaring like a dragon.

I chuckled and turned back to his sister. “Alright, where’s that album you were telling me about?”

“Right here.” She nudged the bright blue photo album towards me with a sly grin. “Don’t let Roy see,” she stage-whispered.

“Don’t let me see what?” Roy called, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as Phoebe pretended to breathe flames out of her mouth.

I waved him off as I opened the book. “Never you mind.” My eyes were glued to the page before me. “Oh my God, he’s adorable,” I gushed, pointing at a picture of a young Roy hugging a football, mop of thick black hair on his head. “How old was he here?”

His sister squinted at the photo. “About five, maybe?” She pointed to another photograph. “That’s the first time our grandad took him to a match. He came home babbling nonstop about becoming a professional footballer when he grew up.” She rolled her eyes. “And of course, he was right, the bastard.”

I laughed and turned the page, pointing at photos and letting Roy’s sister tell me the stories behind each one. My eyes travelled with joy from image to image, watching Roy grow from an adorable child with a football at his feet to a surly teenager with his arms crossed to a grumpy adult only smiling when he was with Phoebe. His whole life right here, between the pages of a book. Despite spending an embarrassing amount of years with his face plastered on my walls, I could feel an intimacy as I looked at these photos; I was glimpsing the Roy Kent that no one else got to see, the Roy that looked at me tenderly and wrapped his arms around me at night. And a not-so-small part of me couldn’t help but wonder if I’d make it into that photo album someday.

“You are not looking at that thing,” Roy growled as he sat at the table, picking up the beer he’d left there.

“’course I am,” I scoffed, turning another page. “You never know when blackmail is going to come in handy.”

He shook his head and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close so he could plant a kiss on the top of my head. “You can fucking keep her,” he offered to his sister.

She laughed, taking a drink of her wine. “If you were smart, you’d keep her.” She shot me a wink.

Another kiss landed on top of my head. “I plan to.”

~

“What d’you want for lunch today?” Roy raised his thick eyebrows at me while slipping on his leather jacket.

“Hmm…” I tapped my pen against my desk. “We haven’t had gyros yet this week. Kinda been craving one lately.”

He nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“Oh, is this your office? How cute.”

I whipped my head around. Brittany Brett. Of course.

Roy scowled and looked back at me. “’ll bring you two gyros. Be right back.”

A silence settled over the office once he left. I glanced at Brittany, who was looking at Roy’s desk with far too much interest. For a few minutes I tried focusing on my work, hoping she’d take the hint and go away. Instead, she leaned over Roy’s desk to pick up the photo I’d taken of him and Phoebe at The Sound of Music. Finally, I cleared my throat.

“Need something?”

She looked up at me, her expression telling me that she’d completely forgotten I was there. In my own office. “Oh, nothing really. Just waiting for Dario to finish training.” Her gaze fell back to Roy’s desk; apparently, she was not going away anytime soon. I saw her do a double take at the simple heart I’d drawn on a sticky note and stuck to his desk a few weeks back. “So, Roy Kent’s grabbing his own lunch then?” She let out a small laugh. “Wow. On every job I’ve ever been on, it’s always the assistant’s job to grab lunches. They do all the little jobs, you know.”

My eyes narrowed. “Well, that’s not how we do things at Richmond.”

Brittany smiled at me- one of those smiles that horribly beautiful people have perfected, the one where you know they’re laughing at you on the inside- and nodded. “Clearly.” Her eyes flickered to my work area now. “What’s this?” She strolled over, eyes skimming my orange sticky note, mumbling the words To my biggest fan. XOXO Roy Kent. “Well, isn’t that just cute, you made him sign an autograph.”

I crossed my arms across my chest with a huff. “It’s an inside joke between Roy and me.”

“Oh, you have inside jokes together, hmm?”

“Yup. Coworkers sometimes do.” Go away, go away.

She remained in place, gazing at the photo of my family that suddenly felt juvenile. “Bet you just love working here. Being surrounded by all those footballers, fit and handsome and rich.”

I snorted at the implication. “Surrounded by the smell of their sweat is more like it,” I muttered, feeling riled up by the absolute condescension in her voice.

She knew she was getting under my skin. “Oh, do you prefer grumpy coaches?”

Alright. She won. “So did you need something, or can I get back to work?”

Before Brittany could answer, Dario Vargas poked his head into the office. “There you are,” he said to Brittany. His face lit up when he saw me. “Hola, belleza,” he greeted. While I didn’t love the attention he paid to me, I couldn’t help but enjoy the slight annoyance it brought to Brittany Brett’s face whenever she heard him call me beautiful. He turned back to his perturbed girlfriend. “Ready?”

She tossed a little smirk in my direction as she took Dario’s outstretched hand. “I’ll see you later, Roy Kent’s biggest fan,” she called over her shoulder in a sing-song voice.

“Freaking cow,” I muttered under my breath as I returned to my laptop.

“Who’s a cow?”

Keeley bounded into the office, ponytail swinging behind her. She perched herself on my desk, curiosity playing on her face.

I hesitated a moment; I still wasn’t sure how Keeley felt about Brittany Brett. But the earnest interest in Keeley’s eyes encouraged me. “Brittany Brett,” I muttered.

“Ooh, really?” She leaned forward, that devilish smile on her face. “Hmm, you don’t like Roy Kent’s ex-girlfriend. Why would that be?”

“You know, if I did fancy him- which I’m not saying I do- you’d be doing a shit job of helping me keep it secret,” I pointed out.

Keeley shrugged. “What if I wasn’t interested in helping keep it secret? What if I’m interested in telling him all about how hot you are for him so he can stop being a knob and ask you out already?”

Why is my office being bombarded by models intent on annoying me today?!

“Keeley-”

She shook her head. “Babes, stop denying it already! I’ve seen the way you go all red every time the man walks into the room. And on press conference day, his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw you in that little skirt.”

I blushed at the memory of the way Roy had looked at me that day. “Keeley, are you in here for a reason?”

“I was just popping in to say hi,” she admitted, glancing at her impeccable nails. “And you still haven’t explained why Brittany Brett is a cow.”

I winced. “She’s not a friend of yours, is she? Because I know you’ve done a couple shoots together and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if you like her and-”

Keeley wrinkled her nose. “Nah, she is a bit of a cow. She once tried to hit on Jamie at a wrap party when I was standing right next to him.”

“See, that absolutely sounds like her,” I scoffed. “I know everyone’s excited about this Vargas thing, and I am too. I want to win, but shit, what do we have to put up with to get there? She’s here all the damn time, and Rebecca says she can’t exactly tell Dario she can’t hang around when you’re always here, but you work with us, so I think it’s a shit excuse because we all just want to make Dario happy. And she just hovers and flirts with the boys and I dunno what business she has in my office, looking at my things, touching Roy’s shit. Like, fuck, doesn’t she have a camera to go stand in front of?” I paused. “Shit, no offense, Keeley. Scratch that last comment, I’m just being a grouch.” I let out a deep breath. Ranting felt good.

Keeley stared at me with wide eyes. “Wow. You’re really jealous of Brittany Brett, babe.”

I sighed. “It’s not that. I just hate that she called me Roy’s assistant.”

“Um…” Keeley cocked her head at me pitifully. “You are his assistant.”

“No, I’m the coaching staff’s administrative coordinator or assistant or whatever the fuck you always call me,” I grumbled. “Assistant makes it sound like I spend my time picking up Roy’s lunch. Everyone knows he brings me lunch.”

A softness appeared on Keeley’s face. “And everyone knows you are an absolutely essential part of this team, babe.”

I nodded. “Exactly. Those idiots wouldn’t be able to function without me.”

“What idiots?”

Roy stood in the doorway, takeaway bag in one hand, and a cup with a straw in the other. He took a sip, looking at me expectantly.

“Ted. Beard.” I nodded in his direction. “You.”

He furrowed his brow. “’m not a fucking idiot.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please. Roy, you’re just as useless as Ted and Beard. Maybe worse.” I could feel Keeley’s eyes bouncing back and forth between us like a tennis match. “Like, what time’s that interview Keeley set up for you?”

“Whatever time you drag me out of my chair and tell me to go to my fucking interview,” he answered, shrugging as if it were obvious.

“It’s at three. And what is the interview about?” I raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Roy took another sip of his soda. “Whatever the wanker journalist asks me about.”

“It’s for a piece on the football club you founded for underprivileged children in your old neighborhood. Also, in about fifteen minutes, you’re going to get cold and go looking for your jacket. You left it in the weight room when you were screaming at Jamie.” I reached my hand out. “I’ll take my gyros now.”

Even with Keeley right there watching us, Roy couldn’t hide the small grin on his face as he handed me the bag of food. “Here, you bossy thing. Let me know when I’m allowed to eat.”

“Fuck. You two are like, work married or some shit,” Keeley giggled. “Now, kiss.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “You can leave now, Keeley.”

She hopped off my desk, shooting me a wink. “Aww, do Mr. and Mrs. Kent need some alone time?” She giggled as she passed by Roy, giving him a soft nudge. “You two make a lovely couple,” she called over her shoulder as she left.

Roy slumped into his chair, swiveling it around to face me. “I do like the sound of alone time,” he hummed.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Then hurry up and eat your lunch,” I retorted. “I’ve got you scheduled for a quick snog before your interview.”

~

Richmond wasn’t supposed to beat Man City. Everyone knew that.

So, when the final whistle blew on a 2-1 Richmond victory, everyone went berserk. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought we’d won the whole “kit and kaboodle”, as Ted would say, rather than a regular season match of little consequence. On the pitch, the boys leaped into each other’s arms, laughing and shouting at one another. In the dugout, Ted, Beard, and Roy shook hands, smiles all around. I stood off to the side, clutching my tablet and shaking my head, a laugh trapped in my chest. Normally, I’d have watched this game with friends at home or in a pub, beer splashing all over us with the final whistle. Instead, I now stood on the pitch at Nelson Road, feeling the roar of the crowd and players burrow beneath my skin.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind. When I looked up, Roy was grinning down at me. “Get the fuck out there!” he yelled over the noise. Without warning, he grabbed my tablet and tossed it to Will, then lifted me off my feet and carried me out to the pitch as I squealed with laughter, Ted and Beard running just ahead of us to join the team.

In an instant, I was swallowed into a sea of bright blue as the boys jumped up and down, shouting with the fans in the stands: “We're Richmond till we die. We know we are, we're sure we are, we're Richmond till we die! We're Richmond till we die. We know we are, we're sure we are, we're Richmond till we die!”

A pair of hands reached out and took mine; it took a moment to realize it was Jamie. He pulled me into a tight hug before I was grabbed by Sam, then Isaac, and in time I had been embraced by each member of the team, pats on my back and kisses on the top of my head. Eventually, I found my way through the throng back to Roy, who pulled me into the tightest hug of all, his embrace letting me know that he would give me a proper celebration kiss the moment we were alone. For a brief moment, I didn’t care where we were; I wanted that kiss now.

Before I could lift my face to Roy’s, Ted grabbed me and wrapped me in a bear hug, babbling about how happy he was and something about a pig and slop. I nodded and smiled, the way I always did when I wasn’t quite sure what he was saying, as we took the celebration into the changing room. Over my shoulder, I could see Roy and Jamie chattering and walking together with springs in their steps, Roy’s bright eyes on me.

In the changing room, the boys continued their celebration, blasting music and dancing around. Somewhere in all of it, the decision was made to move the festivities to a local club. I eyed Roy, who I knew hated clubs even more than I did. He met my gaze with a defeated shrug; he knew we really had no choice.

That’s how I found myself in a dark club, drink in hand, surrounded by Richmond players and staff. Keeley had insisted I go home and change out of my Richmond jumper and into “something you’ll look fit in”. In the back of my closet, I had found the little black dress I often wore when my girlfriends took me on a night out. With a little extra makeup and a pair of heels, I felt strangely confident as I arrived at the club. My confidence amplified when Keeley shrieked at the sight of me.

“Fuck, you look great!” she gushed, squeezing me. “Roy’s gonna drag you out of here all caveman-style.”

I rolled my eyes, pretending that wasn’t a very real possibility. “You act like my world revolves around the man.”

She smirked. “I bet his revolves around you. Look.” She nodded across the club, pointing out Roy, who stood with Jamie, beer in hand, eyes fixated intensely on me. “That is a man planning on getting lai-”

“I’ll go with you to say hello if you don’t finish that sentence,” I promised, linking my arm with Keeley’s. The offer seemed good to Keeley, apparently, because she kept her mouth shut as we made our way over to the guys.

While Keeley threw her arms around Jamie, I turned to Roy. He smirked down at me as he took a sip of his beer.

“You wanna dance?” he asked.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

He shrugged. “It’s a celebration. Everyone’s fucking sloshed. No one’ll notice, ’cept maybe Keeley, once she removes Tartt’s tongue from her throat.” Sure enough, Keeley and Jamie were locked in a pretty intense embrace against a wall.

“Then let’s dance,” I agreed.

Roy set our drinks on the bar and slipped his hand into mine, guiding me to the dance floor. Normally, I hated clubs; too loud, too crowded, too lonely. But when Roy planted his hands firmly on my hips and pulled me closer to himself, I found myself wondering if maybe I’d misjudged clubs. Part of me again wished I could just reach up and kiss him, the way other couples like Jamie and Keeley did. Maybe the time was approaching to rethink the whole “keeping things quiet” thing. Maybe Roy felt the same way. After all, this was something serious. We’d met each other’s families. I had my own key to his house. There was a dog that I had named that slept at the foot of Roy’s bed. We were building a life together. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep it a secret anymore.

A buzz of chatter interrupted my thoughts. I craned my neck and saw what- or who- had caused such a commotion: Dario Vargas and Brittany Brett had arrived, looking more like they were going to a movie premiere than celebrating a regular-season win with the team. As I took in the sight of Brittany in her cutout dress that was more skin than dress, my outfit suddenly felt like something a uni student would buy for her first night out with her girlfriends.

As if he could feel my insecurities bubbling to the surface, Roy grunted to get my attention. “You look gorgeous, by the way,” he called over the music. “Can’t believe I haven’t seen that dress yet.”

I offered Roy a tight smile, my heart not quite in it. It had been exhausting since Dario- and Brittany- had arrived at Richmond. The paparazzi were hanging around much more than usual, Dario was constantly trying to find an excuse to talk to me, the players I loved turned into drooling children when Brittany would walk in the room, and I had to have this constant reminder about the kind of girls Roy usually went for and how vastly different I was from them.

Trying to ignore the growing pit in my stomach, I danced with Roy to a few more songs before I finally suggested we grab drinks. We found Jamie and Keeley still at the bar, but at least now they had come up for air. We had just settled with beers when someone- probably Isaac- suggested the whole team take shots. It wasn’t long before someone else- maybe Dani this time- suggested another round. And on and on until the night started to become a blur of alcohol and music and Roy’s smile and Brittany Brett hovering on the periphery.

I was on shot number who knows when Roy stood from the couch we’d been sitting on and announced that he’d be right back with another drink and some water. I had been alone for all of two seconds when I felt someone sit on my other side. Fully expecting Keeley or Jamie or literally anyone else, I froze when I saw it was Brittany Brett.

“Having fun?” she hummed, her eyes travelling over my dress, the dress Roy had assured me he liked.

I cleared my throat, determined to be nice. “I am, actually. Yourself?”

She shrugged, a bored expression on her too-perfect face. “I guess. Getting a little tired of all the papps following Dario and me around, you know?” She scrunched her nose. “Or maybe not.”

Cow.

She continued. “You and Roy seem very chummy,” she observed. “If I didn’t know his type, I’d think there was something between you.” The fakest smile I’d ever seen appeared on her face. “Not that anyone could blame you for having a crush on Roy Kent. He’s fit and famous, not to mention loaded. Quite a catch.”

The number of shots I’d taken didn’t let me resist. “That’s not why I like him,” I disputed. “I like him because he’s kind and he’s funny and he takes care of the people he loves. I like him because he’s a fantastic uncle, and he’s passionate about coaching, and he sings along to Julie Andrews movies.” I shook my head. “Sure, I had a crush on him before I knew all that, but that’s not why I’m dating him.”

Fuck.

If this was news to Brittany Brett, she did not show it. Instead, her lips formed a tiny smirk as her eyes flickered somewhere behind me. “Oh. You are shagging Roy Kent then?”

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the way Brittany Brett made me feel so fucking small. Maybe it was the months of pretending that Roy and I were just friends. Maybe I just wanted to see what would happen.

“Yeah,” I confirmed, sticking my chin out. “I’m shagging Roy Kent.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And let me guess. He’s sweet to you, even though he’s an arse to the rest of the world. He lets you wear his Richmond shirts to bed. He tells you all about Phoebe and their little uncle-niece dates. He likes to sit and read together on rainy days. He lets you pick the movies, even if he knows he’ll hate them.” She quirked an eyebrow at me. “Yeah. I know what it looks like to be with Roy Kent. Hell, I know what it looks like to have Roy Kent want to marry you.” She tilted her head, her voice dripping with condescension. “Do you?”

My mouth was dry as I tripped on my words. “That doesn’t- we’ve only been- he’s-” I swallowed hard, taking in only air. “He loves me.”

Brittany nodded patronizingly. “I’m sure you think he does. But let’s be honest, you’re just there to fill time until I take him back.” She sipped her drink. “Which may be sooner than you think,” she added with a smirk.

The pit in my stomach grew. “You dumped him,” I said dumbly. “What makes you think he’d want to be with you again?”

She leaned in close, her smile now completely evil. “Love, stop kidding yourself that you matter to him. You’re just a distraction. You just remember that, hmm?” She stood, leaving her empty glass on the low table. “Why else would he not tell anyone about you?” With a tiny wave of her fingers, she was gone in the crowd.

It was a good thing I was already sitting, because my legs were weak. The entire club was spinning as the pulsating music attacked my ears and confused the rhythm of my heart. As I debated just running out of the club, Roy came back, smile on his face and drinks in his hands.

“Sorry,” he called out, sitting back beside me and slipping one of the drinks into my grasp. “Lasso insisted on fucking ‘coach shots’ with him and Beard. He sent me to find you so we could do a round together all four of us, but I was actually wondering if you wanted to get out of here.” He raised his thick eyebrows at me. “It’s about Oscar’s bedtime,” he joked.

“I want to tell people about us,” I blurted out.

Roy blinked a few times, clearly taken aback by my sudden demand. “Oh. Wow. Fuck.” He leaned back onto the couch, eyes still on me. “Alright, well I guess tomorrow we could talk about-”

I shook my head. “No. Roy, I want to tell people right now.” I gestured around us. “Our families already know. The whole team’s here. Hell, there’s even reporters wandering around somewhere. All we’d have to do is kiss-”

The frown on Roy’s face was deeper than I’d ever seen. “Reporters? You want to tell fucking reporters about us?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Roy, I didn’t mean that-”

“Well then what the fuck did you mean?” His face was so twisted that his eyebrows nearly touched. “You know I fucking hate the tabloids. We can talk about how to tell the gits at Richmond, but fuck reporters. Fuck photographers. Fuck all of that.”

My grip tightened on the untouched drink in my hand. “Because I’m a nobody, right? Because you’re scared of all the shit they’re going to say about me, your measly little assistant?”

Roy shook his head incredulously. “The fuck are you on about? I don’t want fuck all to do with them because I find them annoying as shit. They’ll just go on and on about me being an old geezer shagging some twenty-year-old girl. You don’t know what it’s fucking like to deal with all that bullshit.”

“No, I guess some twenty-year-old girl isn’t worth all the hassle,” I spat back.

“What the fuck is this about?” He set his glass down and held his hand out to me. “Come on. Let’s go home. We can crawl into bed and talk about this without some shitty strobe lights making my night vision worse.”

“Because you’re embarrassed to be seen with me?” My voice was tiny, so tiny I wasn’t sure if Roy even heard me.

But he did. “Embarrassed?” he repeated. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I want to go home because I’m fucking old.” He stared at me in disbelief. “Why the fuck do you care about anyone knowing about us? I mean, fine, let’s fucking tell Keeley and Rebecca and the gaffers so we can stop sneaking about. I don’t mind telling Isaac and them. But why the fuck is it anyone else’s business but ours?” The panic in his eyes made it clear: He still doesn’t want anyone to know about me.

I slammed my glass down beside his. “Because I’m fucking tired, Roy. I’m sick of the sneaking and pretending and of feeling like some shitty little secret.” Fuck. There were tears forming in my eyes now. “I feel like fucking nothing. Like, I’m invisible and everyone knows who you are. Fucking ‘He’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where’, fucking Roy Kent Effect, fucking Chelsea legend with his thousands of models and shit.”

Even in the shitty club lighting, I could see Roy’s face turn red. “Hey. You knew exactly who the fuck I was when we met. How could you not with all those fucking posters plastered here, there, every-fucking-where?”

His words knocked the wind out of me. The posters. It was a joke between us, one we shared fondly. An embarrassing story I felt sure he would tell at our wedding someday in the future. The adorable meet-cute we’d share with friends, colleagues, maybe even our kids someday. But now it was being thrown in my face like something to be ashamed of. As if I was still nothing but that stupid little fan I’d felt like the moment Roy had first seen those fucking posters.

“If that’s how you feel.” I stood, rummaging through my clutch until I found my keys. “Here, don’t want a fucking stalker like me having this.” I yanked off his house key and dropped it on the table. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the press about how you love Julie Andrews or about your dog being named after a Sesame Street character or that thing you do with your hips or any of the nice shit you deigned to do for a fucking nobody like me.”

Roy’s face crumpled as he looked at the key on the table. “Is this really what you fucking want?”

No. I want you to fight for me. I want you to tell me how much you love me. I want you to tell me we can figure this out. I want you to tell me that I matter to you. I want you to tell me that I’m not just some fan you had a good time with. I want you to want everyone to know you love me. I want you to be proud of me.

“Yeah,” I heard myself say. “It’s what I fucking want. ’m sick of being some slag assistant shagging her boss.”

I turned and stumbled away, forcing myself to keep looking ahead; a glance of Roy would have me losing my resolve. As I made my way to the exit, a hand landed on my shoulder.

“Alright there?” Concern covered Jamie’s face.

Tears threatened to fall as I nodded. “Yeah. No. Jamie, could you get Keeley for me?”

“’course.”

It was the longest minute of my life before Keeley hurried to me, her pitiful expression similar to Jamie’s. “What’s wrong, love? Jamie said you looked completely freaked out.”

I shook my head. “I… I need to go. Can you come home with me?”

A smirk played on her face. “Don’t let Roy hear you say that, he might get jeal-” Her eyes widened when the first tear finally fell down my cheek. “Oh. Oh shit. Okay, hold on.” She disappeared and reappeared with Jamie in tow. “Stay with her,” she hissed before turning back to me. “I’ll get a car. Be right back, babes.” She hustled off towards the exit.

Jamie turned to me, placing his hands on my arms. “You alright?” he repeated. When I didn’t answer, he sighed. “Is it Roy?”

More tears fell at the sound of his name. “I think we just broke up,” I whimpered.

“Oh fuck. Shit.” Jamie pulled me in close for a hug. “You’ll be alright,” he assured me, speaking directly into my ear. “I know you’ll be alright.” He held me like that until Keeley returned.

After Jamie released me, Keeley took my hand and led me outside, where a taxi waited for us. She loaded me in, gave the driver my address, then turned her attention to me.

“You ready to tell me what happened?” she asked as she wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “Something with Roy?”

I took a deep, shaky breath. “Promise you won’t be mad?”

She shook her head. “Babes, I could never be mad at you.”

“Roy and I have been dating,” I admitted, burying my head in my hands. “For months. The only people that knew were my folks and his sister and Phoebe. Oh, and Jamie. He walked in on me in Roy’s kitchen while I was wearing nothing but one of Roy’s old kits.”

“Hot,” Keeley noted, trying to make me laugh.

Despite the aching in my chest, I snorted and lifted my head. Almost immediately, the pain came back to me. “Keeley, I fucking loved him. Roy. And I think I just fucked things up beyond repair. And I don’t even know if I’d want to fix them if I could.”

“How d’you mean?”

I sighed. “Roy had asked me about keeping things a secret when we started dating. And I didn’t really mind. Kind of agreed with him, actually. Didn’t want shit from everyone. And honestly, I liked him so much, I would’ve done just about anything he asked anyway. But things just got fucking hard and then Brittany fucking Brett told me all about how I’m just into Roy because he’s Roy fucking Kent and that I’m basically a placeholder til they get back together.”

“Fucking cow,” Keeley hissed.

I continued, “And when I told Roy I was ready to tell people, he freaked out a bit. Made me realize that maybe there’s some truth to all the shit Brittany Brett was telling me. That I was just another one of Roy Kent’s girls. I just happened to last longer than most.”

“Oh, no love,” Keeley murmured, stroking my hair. “No, no. I don’t know anything about your relationship, but I’ve seen the way that man looks at you. You’re not a placeholder. You’re special to him.”

I shook my head, sobs in my chest. “Then why have I been just a secret all this time?”

Of course, Keeley couldn’t answer that. What she could do, however, was hold me while I cried in the back of the car. What she could do was walk me up to my flat and grab me some pyjamas to change into. What she could do was crawl into bed with me and hold me until I cried myself to sleep. And for the now, that would have to do.

~

Taglist: @optimisticsandwichgladiator @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @sonyume @djarindroid @reading-blogs @thezimi @benedictscanvasmain @wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff @puckyou-forpuckssake @old-enough-to-know-better73 @ladygrey03 @soundofboots @justsomefunshit @geekgirl1996 @tedssweaters @queen-of-dumbasses @miaalltheway @di-essere-amato @shakespeareanwannabe @mal-adaptive-dreams @allthetroubleiveseen @netflix-addict