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illiterateaffairs · 1 year

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DISTRACTIONS III | YOU’RE KINDA CUTE

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 5,528

summary: so you’ve just had a one night stand with one of the star footballers on the team you work for. you can be totally normal about it, right?

A/N: ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS READING AND LEAVING THE NICEST AND FUNNIEST COMMENTS, I ADORE YOU ALL! this is kind of a long one, and i finally dip into jamie’s POV, which I’ll do more in the upcoming chapters. also as you can tell, this series takes place in season 3, but very loosely. like, roy is just going to have to deal with sharing jamie with the reader and not hogging him for training :)

distractions masterlist | previous chapter

Waking up the next morning is harder than you thought it would be. It's not because of the champagne flutes you were knocking back at Sam’s restaurant. In fact, you feel the most comfortable and well rested you have in a long time. It’s because of this that you absolutely loathe the idea of opening your eyes and getting out of bed when your alarm goes off at 7AM. Instinctually, you’re quick to turn off the grating noise, but when you begrudgingly try to sit up, you’re held down by a weight you don’t recognize. Opening one eye, you see it’s a person and their arm is wrapped securely around you. And not just any person; Jamie fucking Tartt.

After pushing through your grogginess, you’re able to recall the events of last night; driving home with Jamie, kissing him and inviting him inside, sleeping with him. It was so out of character for you to hook up with a guy you barely knew. Sure, Jamie wasn’t a stranger and he wasn’t a complete jerk, but normally you wouldn’t even consider having sex until at least the third date. Not that you were planning on dating Jamie. That would be absurd.

You didn’t regret it though. If there was one thing about Jamie’s reputation that he could be proud of, it was that he was indeed good in bed. Excellent even. It's probably why you slept so well last night. Even if Jamie came off as a bit self-centered, he definitely wasn’t when it came to knowing how to please you.

Your eyes narrow, flashing back to a brief moment last night after the two of you finished round three. Did you say…thank you? God, you hope it was just something you thought in the haze of it all before falling asleep.

Brushing past that, you angle yourself toward him more, as well as you can pinned under his left arm. Your eyes scan his face as he sleeps soundly beside you. He didn’t seem at all disturbed by your phone alarm a few moments ago. You’re not used to seeing the man so relaxed, because when you’re with him he’s either focused on playing football or annoyed with Zava. But right now he looks at peace. Glancing over, you also take note of his sleeve tattoo for the first time, tracing the designs on his arms lightly with your fingers. You’re once again confronted with the fact that you know so little about this man, and yet here you were in one of the most intimate situations you can be with a person. Observing his face again, you wonder what the two of you will do now. Jamie’s probably done this a million times, but you certainly haven’t. And you work together; you’ll see him everyday.

You’re momentarily pulled from your anxious thoughts as Jamie lets out a long, quiet breath, but doesn’t wake. For a second, you’re distracted by how cute you find him in this moment. No. No. You are not getting attached to Jamie. This was a one time thing. That's all you wanted. That’s probably all he ever wanted. And you’re in no shape for a relationship right now.

You take the risk to test just how heavy of a sleeper Jamie is, sliding out from beneath his arm. You mentally cheer when he just rolls over and continues sleeping. You quickly throw on a robe and some clean underwear before tiptoeing out of the room. In an effort to calm your nerves ahead of an impending conversation when he does wake up, you decide to make breakfast. Normally on work mornings you’d settle for something light, like toast or oatmeal. However, those meals will not take long enough to provide ample distraction from your racing thoughts. So, you decide in addition to toast that you’ll make some omelets. And bacon for good measure; Jamie probably likes bacon. You also wash some fruit because why the hell not.

Everything is plated on your kitchen table when you hear movement from back in your bedroom. You’re pouring yourself a glass of juice when Jamie wanders into the room, buttoning up his shirt from last night. Before turning to face him, you psych yourself up and plaster a smile on your face. Be casual. However, once the two of you make eye contact, you both freeze and say nothing.

After a few seconds of silence that feel like hours, you force words to come out of your mouth.

“Apple juice?” Nice.

Jamie’s head jerks back in surprise, but a barely there smile forms on his face. “Apple juice? That’s what you’re offering?”

You shrug, deciding to push past how bizarre this is and try to roll with it, “What? It's the superior juice. Sorry I don’t have tea. I don’t really know how to make it- or care to- since, you know, it's disgusting.”

Jamie laughs softly, but gives you a curious look. You must’ve not done a good job at acting normal, because it seems he caught onto your nervousness, “You alright?”

You let your shoulders drop and decide to be honest, “I’m sorry, I just…I’ve never had a one night stand before.”

Jamie quirks an eyebrow, “You don’t say?”

You smile in spite of yourself, “I know, such a shocker, right?”

The footballer takes a moment to glance at the table behind you, “Well, first thing you should know is that most people don’t make breakfast for their one night stands.”

Despite saying that, Jamie takes a seat at your table and starts chewing on a strip of bacon. You roll your eyes playfully, but join him.

“I cook when I’m nervous,” not letting him linger on that admission you question him, “What about you? Do people usually stay the night after a one night stand?”

Jamie smiles through mouthfuls of egg and cheese. “Are you kicking me out?”

“No!” You assure too quickly, “I guess I’m just wondering what you’re thinking. And wondering how I’m going to look you in the eye at work to be honest. Like I said, I don't usually do this kind of thing.”

“I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. And I promise it won’t be weird. We can just carry on and keep making fun of how annoyed Roy gets at Ted’s jokes.”

You let yourself laugh as you push a grape around your plate with your fork.

“But last night was okay?” Jamie asks, showing his first hint of unsureness, “It was good for you, yeah?

“Oh yeah,” you nod eagerly, touched that he was a little nervous too, “Last night was…really great.”

“Good,” he smiles again, “Just want to make sure it was at least a step up from the last guy.”

You snort, “Try five steps. At least.” You turn back to Jamie and a satisfied smirk is growing on his face, “Oh, don’t let that go to your head. That is not a difficult accomplishment, trust me.”

“Well, like I said, it’s good you left him.” You nod in agreement.

The two of you chat for a few more minutes as you finish up your breakfast. You get up, wanting to grab a shower before work.

“Can I walk you out?” you ask.

Jamie shakes his head, “I think I remember the way.”

You nod with a tiny smile as he heads toward the kitchen doorway, “So, I’ll see you at the club then later, probably?”

“You will.”

You bid each other a goodbye, but as you turn to put your dishes in the sink, Jamie speaks up again.

“Oh, and one more thing. You’re welcome.” Jamie shoots you a wink before leaving you alone.

Fuck, I did say that out loud.

You know you’re being paranoid but it feels like everyone is staring at you when you arrive at the club later that morning. There is no reason anyone would know that you hooked up with Jamie last night but you can’t help but feel your face get hot as you pass coworkers on your way through the halls. You’re so in your head that you fully run into Sam on the way to your office. You can hardly meet his eye as he enthusiastically greets you.

“I hope you slept well last night.”

“What?” your eyes bulge in panic and you laugh awkwardly, “Why would you ask that?”

Sam gives you a weird look, “When you were leaving, you said you had been exhausted so I was just wondering if you were more rested today.”

You relax; you did say that. “Oh, right. Yes, thank you, I slept great last night. Amazingly. Not too amazing. Just a normal good night's sleep. Snug in my bed. Alone.”

Sam still seems confused by your energy, but nevertheless smiles again. He seems none the wiser as he jogs off to the locker rooms before training. However, once he’s out of your view, your eyes lock onto Rebecca’s who had been watching on from behind him. Her expression lets on that she’s definitely onto you.

“Good morning,” she greets pleasantly, with a mischievous look, “Can I walk you to your office?”

You don’t even try to argue as you lead her down the hallway in silence. You try not to roll your eyes as she makes a show of getting comfortable on the couch in your office.

She wastes no time once you shut the door. “So, you had sex last night.”

You groan, lightly pressing your head to your office door, “How could you possibly know that?”

“I always know,” Rebecca shrugs, “You look a lot less tense today.”

You turn to her sharply, “You’re saying I looked tense before?”

“Not in a bad way. You just look lighter today. And very suspicious.”

You walk over to her, crossing your arms. “Okay fine. I slept with someone. But I’m not telling you who it was.”

Rebecca stares at you for all of five seconds before she says, “Jamie?”

You let out an exasperated sigh as you plop down on the couch, burying your face in a cushion, “How do you do that?”

The blonde woman gasps and sits up a bit straighter, “I was going to say it's a gift, but maybe it's a curse. Jamie was just a hunch, since he left the restaurant last night a couple minutes after you did. You actually had sex with Jamie Tartt?”

You peek out at her from behind the pillow, “Yes?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she sighs.

“What's so wrong about that?” you move to sit up, hugging the pillow to your chest. “I haven’t been with anyone since Mason, and the opportunity presented itself with Jamie. Don’t I deserve a good time every once in a while?”

“Of course but with Jamie?”

“He’s not that bad,” you protest softly.

Rebecca nods, “I know that. Jamie is a good guy. I just wonder if he’s good for you. When he was with Keeley-”

“Oh, my God, he dated Keeley?” you gasp, covering your face with the pillow again. Muffled you murmur, “Is she going to hate me?”

“No, Keeley will not hate you,” Rebecca assures, playing with a few pieces of your hair to coax you back up to her, “I’m sure she could care less what Jamie does. That’s my point - he was not a good boyfriend when they were together.

“Well, that’s my point. I’m not looking for a boyfriend. It was just a one time thing. I just needed to distract myself from spiraling over Mason.”

Rebecca still feels unsure, but she gives you a tight smile and nods. “That's fair.” She reaches out to take your hand, “I know you don’t like talking about it, but if you ever need to vent or talk through anything regarding your breakup, I’m always here. You know that I get what all that's like.”

You smile, giving her hand a squeeze. “I know. I appreciate it, but I think I’m alright for now.”

“Good.”

“One more thing though. Can you not tell…”

“I promise I will not tell Ted.”

You grimace, “Okay, him too. I was actually going to say Keeley. I know that's asking a lot since she’s your best friend, but I don’t want to risk losing her friendship over a dumb one night stand.”

Rebecca gives you another reassuring smile, “I won’t tell her either.”

“Thank you.”

“Just call me Rebecca Welton: keeper of your secrets.”

“Oh, my God, I am so sorry.” you sigh, “I need to stop doing things I don’t want other people to know.”

Rebecca laughs, squeezing your hand one last time before standing up, “You are fine. You’re young. You’re allowed to be messy and have secrets.” She smooths out her attire as she grabs the doorknob. “But you need to relax and stop acting so weird around the office. You had sex, so what? That's not a bad thing. You don’t need to shout it from the rooftops but you can be proud of it.”

“I’ll do my best,” you laugh. She nods encouragingly before heading out the door.

You do feel yourself walk with your head held a bit higher after that.

The rest of your work day goes a lot better. You help Rebecca with some paperwork, shadow the team during training, and round out the evening by having dinner in your office with Ted. The only time you saw Jamie was during their practice. He didn’t act out of the ordinary, so you didn’t either, both of you exchanging polite smiles like you always did.

You don’t notice the way he looks over at you a few times between drills.

Now you and Keeley were headed to the locker rooms, with coffees in hand, to assist Shandy with the Bantr video shoot. You’re proud that you play it totally cool and don’t manage to accidentally confess you’d hooked up with her ex last night.

As if Father Time knew when you were coming, Jamie is the next player to hop in front of the camera. You smile unconsciously as he gets touch ups, before snapping yourself out of it to refocus on the conversation Shandy and Keeley were having. It was about Jamie of course.

You start to find your cardboard coffee cup really interesting when Shandy comments on how attractive Jamie is. And you try not to sweat as Keeley starts listing off his red flags, only to follow up with comments about how he’s grown recently. You peak over at her as she looks at him on the monitor. Please, please don’t still have feelings for him. If you get back together I really won’t be able to look either of you in the eye.

“He only thinks with his dick,” Keeley muses jokingly before continuing thoughtfully, “Yet, I don’t think he’s seen anyone in ages.”

You busy yourself by taking a sip of coffee so you don’t pull a face.

Shandy gives Keeley a look, “I just want to know if I can bang him, babe.”

You almost choke on your drink.

“Oh,” Keeley manages a laugh, “I don’t know, you should probably ask him. It’s his dick.”

Shandy laughs along with her, nudging your arm. “What do you think?”

You try not to let your eyes become saucers. “Who, me?” She nods as if that's a dumb question - which it is. “I hardly know the guy. But like Keeley said, it's his dick. Consent is key.”

Shandy smirks, “Alright works for me. I’ll have to see what he’s doing later.”

You try not to be bothered by that.

Later, Keeley and Shandy let you head out while they close up shop on the shoot. Most of the team has cleared out, but you say goodnight to the few players you pass on the way back to your office to pick up your things. You’re caught off guard when you find Jamie waiting in one of the chairs in front of your desk.

“Hey, what’s up?” you ask curiously, shutting your door behind you. “Thought you left after you shot your promo.”

Jamie shook his head, “Nah, wanted to check on you first.”

That makes you feel nothing.

“Oh? Why?”

“I dunno. I knew you were feeling weird about everything this morning. Wanted to know how your day went.”

You smile softly at him, “I appreciate that.” You recall Rebecca’s pep talk this morning, “But, I’m feeling a lot better. In fact I feel great.”

“Good, you should,” Jamie smirks standing up, “And just so you know, I had a good time last night, too. You were also much better than the last girl I was with.”

You almost feel flattered, before your face twists in disgust, “Please don’t tell me that girl was Keely. Not that I need to know where I stand in comparison to Keeley, because I really do not, but I do feel weird knowing you two used to date.”

While Jamie is amused by your nervous rambling, he also appears a bit dejected at the mention of his ex, “No, Keeley was not the last person I was with. You also do not need to worry about that. Keeley could not give less of a shit what I do anymore, I’m sure.”

Both he and Rebecca made a similar comment to that effect. You’re dying to know more but you know it's none of your business. So you give him a reassuring smile instead, “Okay, cool. How was the rest of your day?”

Jamie shrugs, “Not as good as it started,” he winks, “but alright I guess. Roy has me doing extra training between practices now.”

You ignore his cheeky remark, “Really? That sounds awful.”

“S’not so bad. If I want to be the best player on the team, I got to put in the work.”

You nod thoughtfully, “Well if it means anything, and I'm sure it doesn’t since I don’t know shit about football, but I think you’re already pretty great.”

An unfamiliar expression casts over Jamie’s face as he blinks at you. He awkwardly breaks eye contact before responding, “Um, thank you.”

“‘Course,” you let the silence blanket the room for a bit before you’re making a comment you know you’ll regret later. “So, I think you were right. Shandy definitely does want to take a bite out of you.”

Jamie lets out a surprised huff, looking back up at you, “What? Why do you say that?”

“She was really enjoying your promo video earlier.”

Jamie hums, nodding. “And what did you think?”

You shrug innocently, “I thought it was fine.”

“Uh-huh. And if you saw me on Bantr, would you swipe right?”

“Not how that app works,” Jamie gives you a look and you give him one right back, “I think you already know my answer.”

“Hmm,” he smiled, pleased with himself.

“Would you-?”

“Swipe right on you? Thousand percent.”

“No,” you roll your eyes but bite back a smile, “On Shandy?”

“Oh.” he pauses, “Would it bother you if I did?”

You shake your head semi-quickly, “I’ll remind you, we just had a one night stand. I have no jurisdiction over any of your other nights.”

The side of Jamie’s lips quirk up, “Fair enough. Well, I will leave you to it then. I’d offer to drive you, but I have to meet Roy soon for another training session and he’ll be even more grumpy if I’m late.”

“You’re going to train again?” you ask in disbelief as he opens your office door.

“Yeah.”

“God, I can’t even get myself to work out once a week.”

“I dunno, you were pretty athletic last night.”

You groan, shoving him through the door, “Okay, get the fuck out of here, Tartt.”

“I’m really glad we can joke about this.”

“Get out!”

He laughs as he strolls down the hallway and around the corner, you unable to not watch as he goes.

You can’t help but note he never confirmed or denied interest in Shandy. Once again, you try not to be bothered by it.

When you leave a few minutes later, though, you catch Shandy and Keeley in the parking lot, and note that Jamie’s car is already gone. This time, you try not to be pleased with this information.

On Saturday, you join Rebecca and Keeley in a suite for Richmond’s match against West Ham. You learned this match was a big deal for two reasons.

One: Rebecca’s ex-husband, Rupert, owned the club. As soon as Rebecca introduces him when you run into him and his new wife, Bex, a chill runs down your spine. Even through forced pleasantries, he just oozes sliminess.

Two: Their head coach used to be an assistant coach for Richmond; Nathan Shelley. A few weeks after you moved, Beard informed you that the man blew up at Ted for some reason. That was only after he leaked information to the press about Ted having a panic attack during the game. Beard made you swear you wouldn’t tell Ted that he’d told you this. Not because Ted wouldn’t want you know about his anxiety; you’d actually had a sweet conversation with him after the news broke last year, even confiding in him about your own mental health struggles. But Beard knew that Ted wouldn’t want you worrying about the Nate situation. So you promised his best friend you wouldn’t mention it.

That still didn’t stop you from rooting for his- and Rupert’s- imminent demise. On the field, of course.

You sneak away from Rebecca and Keeley to grab some locker room footage for AFC Richmond’s socials. When you arrive in the doorway, you look to Ted for a signal that everyone is decent before entering. The energy in the room immediately feels different than usual, especially following their win streak. You know they’re going into today’s game with something to prove. You knock on a locker softly to grab their attention and two dozen pairs of eyes land on you.

“Hey boys. I don’t want to keep you, but would a few of you be open to doing some videos for our stories?”

A few team members including Sam, Zoreaux (who’s going by Van Damme now), and Jamie for some reason kindly volunteer, and you pull them off to the side. One by one, you have the boys record a video on how they’re feeling about today’s match, that you’ll post to Instagram. You don’t know if you do it on purpose or not, but you save Jamie for last. You hope he doesn’t notice the cadence. Now, just the two of you, he flashes you a grin before you record his segment.

“Can I see?” he asks after you’re done, “Got to make sure you’ve got my angles right.”

You snort, but nod him over to look at your phone. You hold your breath momentarily as he leans in next to you. Nodding after the video replays, he turns to look at you, your faces inches apart.

“Looks good.”

“Yeah,” you breath out, “You’re a one take wonder.”

His lips turn into a smirk. Neither of you say anything for a while, as your eyes study each other's faces. You wonder what he’s thinking. You know what you’re thinking; his eyes are somehow really pretty in this terrible fluorescent locker room lighting.

You blink for maybe the first time in sixty seconds as you hear Ted calling for the team to huddle up for a pre-game pep talk.

“That’s my cue,” you whisper. “Good luck out there today, Jamie.”

His smirk melts into a genuine smile, “Thank you.”

You return the gesture before pulling yourself out of his orbit. You skip past the rest of the team, wishing them all luck. Beard and Ted give you nods and you high five Sam on the way out.

Back in Rebecca’s suite, you join her, Keeley, Higgins and some of Keeley’s coworkers. One of them turns out to own the company that finance’s Keely’s PR firm, Jack. After sipping on some drinks, your group settles into your box seats. You clock Rupert a couple boxes over. Glancing at Rebecca, you see that she’s noticed the same thing. You subtly squeeze her hand and lean over.

“No matter what happens today, he’s still going to be the only loser between the two of you.” you quip softly.

You’re pleased when you see her visibly relax. She gives you a grateful smile and squeezes your hand back.

Unfortunately, her relaxed state doesn’t last very long. At half time West Ham is up by one. The match had been tough to watch. At one point, Richmond had the opportunity to score, had Jamie passed to Zava, but you felt your stomach twist when Jamie went for the goal himself and ended up missing. You could understand why he did it, but you wanted to see them win this game. You knew he and the whole team must be feeling the pressure three times as much as you were. You never thought you’d care this much about sports.

You and your friends try to make small talk while the teams regroup in the locker room, but everyone’s still feeling the stress of the game. Rebecca had even left to go who-knows-where to shake off her anxieties. Although, you get a moment of reprieve when Keeley asks Shandy if she’d gone out with Jamie yet, and the girl exasperatedly informs everyone that he turned her down. You manage not to outwardly smile.

Everyone in your section is immediately alert a few minutes later when both teams start making their way back to the pitch. West Ham enters first, energy high, followed by the Greyhounds who look…less than thrilled. You can feel the tension radiating off of them from your seat, as they all seem to throw death glares at Nate.

You’re not sure what happened in the locker room to cause this shift in attitude, but you hoped it meant they’d play tougher this half.

Oh how wrong you were.

The team was practically feral, pushing, shoving and literally throwing the West Ham players to the ground. You found yourself wincing on multiple occasions at the violence. You were shocked that even Sam was engaging in the aggression. By the end of the game, Richmond was down half their players and lost the match 4 to 1.

You can barely comprehend what you just witnessed. After digesting everything, and hopefully giving everyone time to cool down, you let Keeley know you’d meet her and Rebecca out front, Rebecca having already vacated the suite, mumbling expletives in her wake. You head down to the locker room again to find the team in what could only be described as different states of denial. They also looked a bit…ashamed.

As if sensing your presence, Jamie’s eyes snap up and land on your figure. Despite the fact that he feels like absolute shit right now, seeing you alleviates half of his stress. He nearly stands to meet you in the doorway, when Sam approaches you and you engulf him in a hug. Jamie’s nervous energy shifts into a feeling he doesn’t recognize. All he knows is he wishes there was someone that could comfort him after this loss, or any loss, really. But he doesn’t have the relationship with you that you do with Sam. Maybe if you got to know each other better, you’d consider him a closer friend; one you’d go to when you knew he felt shitty. One he could go to when he wanted to talk about something. Anything. But you weren’t those kinds of friends yet. He briefly wonders if you even consider him a friend, but he’s not lingering on that thought right now.

He tries not to stare as you continue talking to Sam, before Sam leaves to hit the showers. You exchange what he imagines are words of affirmation with Colin and Isaac, too, before you’re heading back to the door. You pause and turn around again, eyes scanning the room before they land on his, as if that were their destination. He lifts his head out of its place in his hand. You only give him a sad smile and a head nod before you’re turning around again. You nearly run into Ted when you do. He watches as you and Ted exchange words briefly, before you squeeze the coach's arm and disappear around the corner.

Jamie sighs. You’ve had sex with him and all he gets is a fucking head nod, while Ted Lasso gets a pat on the arm.

He doesn’t think the day can get much worse, until Zava sashays into the room, with a disappointed look plastered across his face. He doesn’t waste any time hiding his frustrations with the team for their actions in the second half, as if he’s never done anything wrong in his life. Jamie rolls his eyes and heads to the showers himself.

Jamie slugs through the rest of the evening in a daze. He barely registers going from the match to the bus, and then back to his home. He tries to find something on TV to distract himself from his anxious energy, but he can’t focus on anything. He briefly considers going out to some bar or club, but he’s really not in the mood. He settles on texting Roy to see if he’s up for a late night workout, but for some reason the guy chooses tonight to be a reasonable human being and tells Jamie to take the night off.

He’s pacing around his living room when he gets one last idea. It's not a great idea, and he’s definitely going to regret it, regardless if it went well or not. But before he can talk himself out of it, he’s grabbing his keys and slamming his front door shut.

You’re camped out on your couch as one of your favorite The Nanny reruns plays on the TV. You find yourself zoning out, though, replaying the events of the match.

Sam had given you insight on what went down with him and the team. He informed you during half time, they learned that Nate had destroyed the Believe sign that hung in their locker room. While ripping a piece of paper hardly seemed like a reason to go full attack-mode, you understood when Sam explained that the sign, and Ted’s belief system, had been what began to unite them as a team a couple years ago. Your heart warmed at how much Ted clearly meant to Sam and the team, and while their methods may have not been perfect, you admired how protective they were over your uncle.

You wonder how Jamie’s taking it. Even though you’ve become a lot more comfortable around him, you still felt awkward approaching him in the locker room in front of the team. But you secretly longed to ask how he was. Despite not knowing a whole lot about him, he always seemed especially attached to Ted, so you could only imagine how he’d taken everything this afternoon. Although, you don’t remember him participating in most of the fighting. He’d just played a bit more aggressively.

You’re typing and retyping a text to Jamie, figuring out the best way to check in without seeming invasive. Before you have the chance to debate your words any longer, there’s a knock on your door. Your heart rate spikes. Who the hell would be knocking on your door at 10PM? You slowly approach the door, your mind making up some crap about London being a crime-free city to put your anxieties at ease. You quietly peek through the peep-hole. Letting out a loud sigh of relief, you unlock the door and pull it open.

“Jamie, what are you doing here? Are you okay?”

The footballer gives you a once over before shaking his head decidedly, “No.”

Worried, you part your mouth to respond, but don’t get the chance when he’s suddenly cupping your face and kissing you, firmly but gently. Your hands automatically find his arms to steady yourself, as the two of you stumble further into your apartment. You kiss him back for a few more seconds, before parting slightly.

“Jamie,” you whisper in question against his lips.

“I’m sorry, I know you wanted this to be a one time thing but do you think you can make an exception tonight?” he breathes heavily, nestling his forehead to yours, “Today was shit and I just, I need…”

You nod furiously, not needing him to continue, “I know, it's okay.” You kiss him once, twice. “I can do a two-time thing.”

He huffs out a laugh in relief before pulling you closer for an even more passionate kiss. He kicks your door shut before pushing you in the direction of your bedroom.

Later that night when you’re both coming down from your highs, and Jamie’s laying on top of you, with his head buried in your neck, you hear him whisper cheekily, “Thank you.”

Leave it to Jamie to make you flush with embarrassment and laugh out loud, as your naked bodies tangle together.

What a fucking prick.

A/N: CAN’T WAIT TO HEAR WHAT Y’ALL THINK! also this gif, hello??

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #mine #distractions series

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inbloomwriting · 10 months

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If I had you II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. Reader thinks it's the easiest thing in the world. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Notes: This is inspired by the song "a daydream away". It's 5.2k words of pure friends-to-lovers sweetness. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. It’s a chore to love him, the real him not the overly confident golden boy he portrays on the pitch. Just look at his track record, that just proves his point. Sure his mom loves him, he never questioned that, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for her. He’s convinced he’s made her cry more than once with yet another stupid decision. Then there’s his father who loves nothing more than to belittle him and lay out all his flaws for him and the world to see. And if even your own dad doesn’t love you, how can you expect others to.

So maybe that’s the reason he doesn’t let anyone close enough to even begin to love him. Sooner or later they’ll figure out how much of an effort it takes and that he, of all people, truly isn’t worth it.

And maybe, perhaps, that’s also the reason he doesn’t allow himself to explore the feelings he harbors for his best friend. He tried to deny them to himself for so long. Tried to pass it off as pure, unfiltered friendship. That’s bullshit though. He knows the feelings are there and there is no use in denying them. That doesn’t mean he can ever allow himself to act on them though. He’d just fuck it all up, the way he usually does with everything he touches.

The shiny hardwood floor feels cold and smooth as he sits leaning against the kitchen counter, legs stretched out before him. A smile is permanently etched onto his face as (Y/N) talks about something that happened at her work today. He should listen, it’s probably a fun story judging by the way her giggles make her stop talking every few seconds. He should listen but he is so enamored with her that he can not pay attention to anything else. In a perfect world, in a world where loving him was easy, he’d lean over and kiss her. He'd kiss her silly and she’d kiss him back and life would be sweet and it would make sense. In that perfect world, she would love him back the same way he loves her and it would be easy and he’d deserve her.

But that is not the world he’s living in. That is not his reality. Just a beautiful daydream he allows himself to escape to every once in a while. Loving her in a daydream is safe. It’s secret and quiet and there is no hurt there and no rejection.

“Why are you grinning like that, huh Tartt?”

She asks before taking a sip from the beer bottle clasped tightly in her hands. It’s an unusually hot summer’s day. One that makes it impossible to do anything but sit on the floor in as little clothing as possible and drink one cold drink after the other. Even if that means getting a little tipsy on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Nothing. Just happy to have you here. Missed you.”

“We didn’t see each other for a week and you already missed me?”

He misses her the minute she leaves. It’s like his heart isn’t complete if she isn’t there but he can’t really say that can he? Friends don’t tell friends things like that. And a friend is all she is. His best one but still. Telling her any of this could jeopardize their friendship and Jamie doesn’t think he could handle life without her. Not when a week already felt like torture.

“Well yeah, I’m proper shit at cooking. I need you to feed me.”

“Oh, is that so? Thought Mr. Bigshot footballer could get free food at any restaurant he fancies.”

She’s teasing but never mean and never hurtful. That’s something he cherishes so much about their friendship. His feelings, his fears — all of it is safe with her. There is no hurt or pain or fear. Just her and her friendship and warmth. And a pair of open arms ready to catch him whenever he stumbles and falls.

“True. But some fancy place in Mayfair will laugh at me if I ask them to make me dino nuggets, won’t they?”

Her laughter, he decides then, is his favorite sound in the world. It makes everything feel alright even if it’s just for a fleeting moment. He needs to keep his feelings locked up in that beautiful daydream because he can never lose this melody her laughter creates. And anyway, he wouldn’t even know what to do if he ever really had her.

— It’s not like she’d say yes anyway.

“You’re probably right about that,” she says and leans her head against his shoulder. And though it’s muggy and hot and he’s sure he can feel their skin stick together, he doesn’t shake her off. She’s part of his heart already, might as well melt into one completely. “You want me to make you some nuggets?”

“Nah,” Jamie replies and places a soft kiss on the top of her head. Friends kiss friends on the head all the time, everyone knows that. Right? "That's okay. Already had a Kebab with Roy earlier.”

“You guys are becoming friends then? Should I be worried I’m gonna lose my best friend status?”

Jamie lets out some mix between a chuckle and a scoff. As if anyone in all the world could ever replace her. What a ridiculous thought.

“Well he doesn’t make me nuggets, does he? No alphabet soup either. So no. Not yet.”

The little shake of her fist she does in victory makes him grin even bigger. He must look like a damn fool.

“I should probably get going sometime soon, I need to finish up some work and do laundry and do all that boring adult stuff that’s waiting for me at home.”

There are lots of things he should be doing instead of sitting on his kitchen floor on a Tuesday afternoon getting half drunk on cheap beer and half on his overwhelming love for her. He’s sure there are a bunch of texts and emails waiting for him to sort through. Keeley might be popping a blood vessel soon if he doesn’t answer her about that brand requesting to work with him on some ad campaign. And he will get back to her — soon.

Right now it doesn’t matter. Right now all that matters is him and (Y/N) and their little corner of safety and — home.

“But I don’t want to.”

“Yeah, me neither. Just want to sit here with you and — “

“ — hang out?”

“Mh. Hang out.”

That was not what he wanted to say but none of the words ghosting through his head are meant to be spoken out loud. They are his to feel and think and keep hidden and quiet.

“Good, we can hang out a little longer I think.”

And he’ll take what he can get. All the precious minutes she grants him he cherishes.

Right now could last forever and he wouldn’t mind at all.

Not as long as he’s with her.

Some early 00s pop song is blasting from the speakers of the bar. Everyone’s in good spirits and drinks are flowing freely.

(Y/N) is leaning against the bar talking to Colin, laughing about something he said, radiating joy and happiness.

She loves his friends, his boys, his family. Jamie loves that she loves them so dearly, so fiercely as if they are her own family. At this point, they might as well be. She remembers all their birthdays, drops by unannounced with cookies for everybody, cheers them on louder than anybody else. Hell, she even gets Roy to smile and that’s quite something. She’s as much a part of the AFC Richmond family as she is a part of his life.

“Jamie-Jam-Jam what are you sulking over here for,” her voice cuts through the crowd and the music as she slides into the booth next to him. She looks gorgeous in the hazy neon lights. Then again, she always looks gorgeous.

“Not sulking. Just — thinking.”

“About what?”

You. He’d say if he was honest and not such a coward. You and how much I adore you and how hard it is not to tell you any of this and fuck up our friendship.

“Was considering getting me nipples pierced. I’d have to take them out though and I imagine that would be quite annoying.”

“Probably,” she agrees and nods her head before adding “It would look sick though.”

“Right? I reckon it would.”

She laughs at that and once again it shakes his entire world. Like little earthquakes inside his heart.

Her voice is quieter after her laughter subsides, soft and gentle, and with the loud music it feels like her words are only meant for him. “I like this,” she says almost wistfully.

“The song? Who’s that, Rihanna?”

“Not the song, silly boy. This — “ she gestures around the room towards all their friends, dancing and laughing and having the time of their lives. And then she motions to the two of them, secluded and safe inside their own little bubble. “escaping our busy lives for a moment.”

“Lot of journalists would disagree with you there, love. That my life was busy.”

“They don’t know you like I know you.”

There’s a sincerity in her eyes, a warmth, something he can’t quite explain. It’s familiar and foreign all at once.

“No one knows me like you do. You had pity on Jamie Tartt, messy little prick from math class. They just know Jamie Tartt, the footballer from Richmond.Still a prick but now with better hair.”

Before he knows what’s happening, her hands take hold of his face and gently rest against his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. Really look at her.

“I never had pity on you, Jamie. I thought you were funny and exciting and infinitely cool. That’s why I wanted to be your friend. And I was right! About the funny part, not the cool part.”

“Obviously.”

“But I never took pity on you. I don’t think you realize how highly I think of you. Now let me get a sip of that drink.”

He’s still in some sort of haze brought on by her words when a groan coming from her shakes him from his thoughts. Her face is all scrunched up in disgust as she places his glass back on the table. “Ew, what the fuck is that?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. Barkeeper said she’d mix me a Jamie Tartt and I was like fuck yeah, a drink named after me.”

“It’s disgusting. Did you shag and dump her at some point? Like, is she mad at you for some reason?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman before in my life … so yeah maybe.”

Shaking her head with a smirk on her face she grabs a hold of his hand and pulls him out of the booth and towards the bar on the other side of the place, the one with the older male bartender with the impressive beard.

“You ever had a thing with him?” she asks as she leans against the counter, trying to get the man’s attention.

“Nah, I’d remember that facial hair.”

From then on the night tastes like tequila and beer and it feels like a warm hug. She doesn’t join in on all his drinks, stops herself after a beer and a shot, but she does join him in all the other shenanigans. Like when they make up ridiculous backstories for strangers and have a laugh about some corporate douchebag trying desperately to get with some woman who clearly has no interest in him.

“Henry from accounting.”

“Nah, that’s Charlie from HR.”

“Well, either way, Maisie from South Shields is not interested.”

He could stay here forever, laugh the night away. Drunk on happiness, on love — and also on quite a lot of booze.

“Come on, Jamie-Jam, “ she says and hands him his jacket. She’s all gentle hands and gentle eyes. “Let me give you a ride home.”

“We’re going home?”

“I think it’s time. Think someone had a little too much.”

“I’m sorry.”

He is but also not. He’s sorry for being a burden — again. He’s not sorry for letting himself enjoy a night of unadulterated happiness with the people that mean the most to him.

“No need to apologize, Jamie. I’m glad you had fun. Now come on, silly boy. I’m tired.”

And when they step out of the place and into the night, all sweaty and hair a mess, he thinks that of all the things his eyes have ever seen, the best by far is her. Then and always.

London passes by in a blur as (Y/N) drives them towards his house. All the bougie buildings and the iron fences and the trees in the parks, it’s all one kaleidoscope of color, a smudge of light and shadows.

It’s not like he can really focus on that though. Partly because all he can think of is her and partly because he’s absolutely wasted. Mostly her though. Definitely mostly her.

“Did you have a good time?” his voice slices through the comfortable silence.

“I always have a good time when I’m with you, silly boy. Did you?”

He rests his cheek against the smooth leather of her car seats and regards her with an infinite sense of wonder and adoration. In any other situation, this position would be deeply uncomfortable but he’s numb to anything but the beating of his heart and the strings that pull him towards his best friend.

“Obviously. Had my best girl with me. “

“Keeley?”

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “Keeley? No you numpty, you!”

“Me?”

“Why would you think I was talking about Keeley?”

He wishes he could see the look on her face. This is not a car conversation.

“Uh, she’s the only real adult relationship you ever had and you had a poster of her on your wall. Makes one think things. In fact, I believe that poster is still up.”

Jamie can’t help but scoff at her words. Not in a dismissive way necessarily but this whole conversation seems so silly to him. Yeah, he loved Keeley in a way and yeah she’s still one of his best friends but never has she come close to (Y/N). Keeley hardly ever got to see the real Jamie, the one that didn’t hide behind this larger-than-life footballer persona. (Y/N) met him before that persona even existed.

“Stop thinking things then. You’re my best girl, always.”

He still can’t see her face since she is looking at the road in front of them, but he can see the smile pulling the corner of her lips upwards, and for the moment that’s good enough for him.

Her car comes to a stop in front of Jamie's house but while he drags himself out of his seat, she stays put.

“What are you doing, love?”

“Dropping you off?”

“Are you not coming inside then?”

“Do you want me to come inside? We spent pretty much all week with each other, I thought you might be sick of me by now.”

A ridiculous thought if he’s ever heard one. He could never get sick of her. They could be glued to each other for the rest of eternity and he wouldn’t mind one bit.

Even in his drunk state of mind though, he realizes that’s not something he can tell her. That crosses out of friend territory. So he just chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Do I want you to come in? What a dumb question is that? Of course, I do. I have a bag of those disgusting spicy crisps waiting for you in my kitchen.”

“In that case —”

10 minutes later they’re sitting on his couch, her legs across his lap, munching away at those god-awful crisps as some overly dramatic American home renovation show flickers across the TV screen.

In moments like these, love lives here. In these walls and on this couch. And it’s terrifying because thinking about love also makes him think of the possibility of losing it. But every once in a while, Jamie lets himself feel a tiny bit of it. Just enough to keep him going.

“Hey Jamie,” she speaks up, her face only illuminated by the light coming from the TV. She’s wearing his shirt and he wills himself not to focus too hard on that because that will cause images to ghosts through his mind that he can’t allow himself to ever think about. Images that cross every line ever drawn when it comes to friendships.

“Yes, love?”

“You’re my best boy too. Not sure I ever told you.”

He doesn’t answer, not in words at least. But he squeezes her legs as they rest on him, and he hopes she knows. Oh god if only she knew.

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. (Y/N) knows he thinks so because he let it slip once or twice when he was drunk and his words were all jumbled and his mind was all hazy.

And every damn time it breaks her fucking heart. Because loving Jamie Tartt is the easiest thing she ever did. It comes as natural as breathing. It feels like a nice ray of summer sun on her skin, sizzling and exciting and warm.

Loving Jamie is a gift.

Now if only there was a way she could make him realize that. But every time he lets himself be even a little vulnerable he is so quick to cover the cracks with stupid jokes or misplaced arrogance before a real conversation can happen.

She needs him to realize it though. To understand that loving him isn’t difficult. Because how can you tell someone you love them and make them understand just how much they mean to you when they deem themself unlovable?

Turning her head to the side she looks at his sleeping face. Somewhere between Fixer Upper and House Hunters, he fell asleep, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He’s snoring something awful but she still thinks he’s adorable. Jamie has a mischievous, lovable quality to him that just makes you open your heart to him whether you want to or not. Yeah, sure, he’s let people down, he’s done shitty things, but he’s trying. He’s learned and he’s changed and the price for being young and stupid and cocky should not be a life spent questioning if you deserve other people’s love.

Jamie Tartt is not hard to love. But loving him and not being able to tell him because he doesn’t love you in quite the same way, that’s just fucking cruel.

The air is loaded with static. Everyone is on the edge of their seat. (Y/N) is huddled in between Rebecca and Keeley, holding their hands and nervously biting at her lip. Emotions are running high as Richmond is playing Manchester. Correction — they’re not only playing them, they are kicking their asses.

It’s 2-0 for Richmond and they’re already 1 minute into the 3 minutes of additional time. If Manchester doesn’t get a miracle, Richmond wins. The thought of that makes a fluttery feeling spread in (Y/N)’s stomach. If this is how she feels, she can only imagine what Jamie must feel like.

1:30

2 minutes

2:30

3 minutes.

“Blow the whistle. Come on. Blow the fucking whistle.”

And as if he heard her pleading, the referee blows the whistle giving Richmond their win.

Laughter and cheers and songs fill the air as every Richmond fan is on their feet celebrating a win they so desperately wanted and that the team fought so hard for.

The win Jamie fought so hard for.

She tries to find him across the pitch but there are too many people, hugging and celebrating, too much noise. She just hopes he knows how proud she is.

And she hopes that somewhere out there his dad is watching. Sees him win, with the team he doesn’t approve of. Watches him succeed and be the man he never was and never will be.

She hopes somewhere deep in the inky black pit that is his heart, he finds a glimmer of pride for his only son, even if it comes entirely belated.

Jamie has won quite a few matches by now and it’s always a great feeling but some wins stand out. This is one of them.

His heart is filled with gratitude and pride, and his entire system is flooded with adrenaline and utter euphoria. He’s positively buzzing as the team gathers in the hallway leading toward the locker room. Some of them have been whisked away to give short post-match interviews — as if there is much to say other than how fucking awesome it feels to win — while the others are waiting for them to come back so they can all meet up at the locker room for some after match briefing.

“Superstar, you did it!”

Her voice carries through the hallway above the rest of all the noise. Like a siren calling out to him, she can’t hear anything but her, it all shifts into the background.

She weaves through the crowd like a fucking goddess in blue. He always thought she looked good in the Richmond colors and seeing her with his name on her back never fails to make his heart shutter with delight. But there’s something about today that makes this even more special.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline of winning. Of making his mom proud and proving his dad wrong. Of proving himself wrong. Maybe it’s seeing her in his kit, with his name and his number smiling that radiant smile of hers. Maybe it’s a combination of all these things. But something makes his brain short-circuit for a moment. Just a fleeting moment but long enough to make him push through the crowd until he’s standing in front of her, matching smiles on their faces. Just long enough for him to softly place one hand on her waist and pull her closer, so unbelievably close. Just long enough to cradle her face in his other hand, gentle and careful, like the most precious thing in the world. Long enough for him to place his lips on hers in a kiss so sweet, so long in the making, it feels surreal. It feels like he’s still stuck in his saccharine daydream.

And then reality snaps back and he pulls away, opening his eyes to a smiling (Y/N) staring back up at him through curious eyes.

“Silly boy, what was that?”

She doesn’t sound upset, in fact, his delusions might even make him think she sounds delighted.

“I — “

“Jamie, locker room. Let’s go, boy!”

Ted’s voice calls out to him all full of glee and jubilation. The guy sounds even more chipper than usual and that says a whole lot.

Pulling away from her feels like having a bubble suddenly popped. Every what-if that has been clouded by post-win euphoria suddenly bears their ugly head again. Sometimes Jamie wishes his thoughts weren’t so fucking loud all the time.

“Go, your coach is asking for you. I’ll see you at the after-party. We’ll talk then, yeah?”

Only they don’t because, for some inexplicable reason, Jamie avoids her like the plague.

Everyone is gathered at the bar for celebratory drinks, it’s a private function, just the team and family and associates. Spirits are high, everyone’s excited. And all things considered this night should be magical. Only it’s not, because once again Jamie refuses to let himself be loved.

Rejection tastes bitter. It’s sharp and metallic. Rejection also tastes quite a lot like tequila.

The salt, the lime, the liquor — it’s supposed to make her feel better. It’s supposed to mend the cracks in her heart, if only for a night.

It doesn’t do any of that, it only makes her fucking sad.

How foolish of her to believe that he’d feel the same, that he’d finally pick up on the hints she’s been dropping for over a decade and reciprocate the feelings. Maybe they never stood a chance anyway. Maybe —

No, actually fuck that.

He can’t do this, it’s unfair. You don’t kiss someone, not like that at least, and then ignore them for the rest of the night. Especially not when that person is your best fucking friend.

Bumping against people left and right, she makes her way across the room to stand next to a smiling Jamie deep in conversation with a pretty girl, who (Y/N) is quite sure is the sister of one of his teammates.

“I need to talk to you.” It’s not a request. Not this time. This conversation has been a long time coming. It’s time, she thinks, to finally be brave. One can only swallow down their feelings and emotions for so long, until they come bubbling to the surface like a fucking volcano rolling over Pompeii. She just hopes that once the dust settles there will be hope instead of death and destruction.

“Uh, kind of in the middle of something here.”

She can’t stand this part of him. This fake, unbothered cool guy who has no empathy for her or anyone other than himself. She hates it mostly because this is not the real Jamie, just some cardboard cutout version of him.

“Too bad, that'll have to wait.”

She doesn’t give him another second to resist or shake her off, just grabs onto his arm and pulls him through the crowd and towards the exit.

The nightly London air feels cold against her skin, making her shiver as goosebumps appear on her arms.

“What the fuck is going on with you?”

“What the fuck is going on with me?”

He can’t be serious.

“Yeah. I had something going there. She was well fit too.”

The urge to smack him across his stupidly handsome face is seriously fighting her desire to kiss him again right about now.

“Good for her but you owe me a conversation.”

“(Y/N), I — “

The way he rolls his eyes so dismissively, so suave and cool, it’s like a dagger straight to the heart.

“No, you know what — fuck you, Jamie. I know you have a hard time letting people in completely, and I get that that’s something you have to work through on your own time but the way you're treating me right now is really shit. You can’t kiss me like that and then run. I’ve been waiting for that fucking kiss for over a decade.”

“What?”

He looks at her with the signature Jamie Tartt look of confusion and innocence. Like a damn puppy or something. And if she wasn’t so annoyed, so hurt, maybe she’d find it endearing.

“I’m in love with you, Jamie. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. I’ve been in love with you since I was sat next to you in class and you asked me if Pythagoras was that French guy. I’ve loved you when you were just a chaotic teenager. I’ve loved you when you won your first game and when you lost. I’ve loved you when you signed your first contract and when you made a complete fool of yourself on that ridiculous tv show. And I love you now. So to think you finally picked up on it and reciprocate my feelings was — I was so happy, Jamie. Only for you to completely ignore me for the rest of the night. I don’t deserve that. Not from you of all people. “

“Will you let me talk?”

“No, I’m not done yet.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I love you, Jamie and I know you think I shouldn’t and that you don’t deserve it, but guess what? I don’t care. I love you anyway and I am not asking for permission to love you. That’s not how it works. And I don’t love you despite your flaws, I love them too. Even your stupid 2003 looking haircut and your ridiculous clothes that make you look like a male Bratz doll sometimes. Sorry people in your life made you feel like you had to earn it just because they couldn’t see how phenomenal you are. Just you, Jamie Tartt, messy little prick.”

Silence wraps around them like a thick blanket as a moment passes, then two. Jamie raises his eyebrows in question.

“Can I?”

“Yes, you can!”

“Jesus, alright. Stop yelling at me.”

“Well, I’m upset!”

“And I’m sorry about that. I never meant to upset you. Ever. I just — do you remember that one birthday, I think I turned 12, when me dad showed up and he was just being his usual asshole self and he made me play against him and then yelled at me in front of all the guests when he won? “

She sure does. Even at 12, she wanted to put her tiny little fist straight between Mr. Tartt’s eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You sat with me when I went to my room to escape. Refused to leave my side. Called my dad a wanker and you made me laugh. Then you got me a piece of cake and we ate it on my bed while watching Spongebob.” A smile plays on his lips as he reminisces about that day.

“I was 12 and I didn’t know a lot but I knew that night that I was in love with you and I immediately promised myself I wasn’t gonna do anything about it. Losing you is the scariest thing I can think about and my track record with people is pretty shit, honestly. So yeah I didn’t want to even risk fucking up with you. Rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.”

“So why did you kiss me earlier after all?”

“For one, you looked so fit in blue, with my name on your back. I was full of adrenaline and just so fucking happy. I uh — I think my mind was telling me that it’s finally time to be brave for once.”

Hearing him say it, it’s something she never expected but always hoped for. She’s played this scene out so many times in her dreams and yet she doesn’t know what to say or do now that it is actually happening.

“So what now?”

“Well, if you let me, I was gonna kiss you. Because if you think that other kiss was great, this next one is going to change your life.”

As those words fall from his lips, (Y/N) can’t get close to him quick enough. Pulling him towards her by the front of his shirt. Closer and closer until there is no room left between them and he gently nuzzles his nose against hers.

“Jamie Tartt?”

“Hmm?”

“Change my life!”

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thought so. And maybe a part of him still does and always will. But kissing (Y/N), his best girl, the fucking love of his life, it feels quite easy to let himself be loved.

Feels as easy as breathing. And for once in his life, the reality is so much sweeter than the daydream.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt imagines #jamie tartt oneshot #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #I dont know what else to tag this as my friends ....#inbloomwriting

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pandorasprongs · 10 months

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JAMIE TARTT | it's nice to have a friend.

MASTERLIST:

i've already mapped out this story, so until further notice, this is the length of the whole fic! as i post the chapters, i'll gradually update the titles here :)

PROLOGUE - hold on to the memories. CHAPTER ONE - nothing good starts in a getaway car. CHAPTER TWO - you'll always know me. CHAPTER THREE - so inviting, i almost jump in. INTERLUDE - are we still friends? CHAPTER FOUR - come home to my heart. CHAPTER FIVE - this is what it feels like. CHAPTER SIX - it all makes sense when i'm with you. EPILOGUE - you and me, always and forever.

PLAYLIST:

some songs that helped me along while writing and the lyrics of some of them are actually where i got the title chapters from! i didn't put the songs in order, but you can try and tell what direction the story is going to go based on them (insert evil laugh)!

1. it's nice to have a friend by taylor swift 2. mess it up by gracie abrams 3. new year's day by taylor swift 4. dorothea by taylor swift 5. you & me by the wannadies 6. 1, 2 by mxmtoon 7. bite the hand by boygenius 8. still into you by paramore 9. feels like by gracie abrams 10. angels like you by miley cyrus 11. cardigan by taylor swift 12. daylight by taylor swift 13. are we still friends? by tyler, the creator 14. first time by lucy dacus 15. gold rush by taylor swift 16. true blue by boygenius 17. promise by laufey 18. two people by gracie abrams 19. bags by clairo 20. miss me by zeph 21. just because by sadie jean 22. two weeks ago by maisie peters 23. back to december by taylor swift 24. supercut by lorde 25. fool by frankie cosmos

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt angst #jamie tartt x f!reader #it's nice to have a friend series

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ofstarsandvibranium · 5 months

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I Live For You

Fandom: Ted Lasso

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: You and Jamie have a baby girl, Olivia, and she is the light of your lives. Every time she's feeling fussy or having trouble sleeping, Jamie sings her a song and it always works. Inspired by my imagine.

It's 2am when you hear Ollie's cries from the baby monitor. Jamie grunts as he sits up, "I got 'er," he mumbles, rolling out of bed in just his underwear. You immediately fall back asleep.

You're woken up again when you hear singing. You look at the baby monitor in confusion and see Jamie sitting in the rocking chair in the nursery, Olivia in his arms.

Please believe me, don't you see The things you mean to me? Oh, I love you, I love you I love, I love, I love Olivia

I live for you, I long for you, Olivia I've been idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia I live for you, I long for you, Olivia Don't let me go Don't let me go

You sleepily smile to yourself. Olivia by One Direction was how you and Jamie decided to name your daughter.

Both of you grew up with the band's music, although Jamie would admit that to very few people. Nonetheless, you both loved to listen to their music together, dancing around your shared home, singing at the top of their lungs.

When Olivia came on during one of these times, Jamie said, "Ya know, I wouldn't mind callin' our future kid that."

"Really?" you looked at him in surprise.

He shrugged, "It's a cute name. Olivia Tartt. Ollie for short."

"Oh, she's taking your last name?" you asked with a smirk.

He smiled at you as he said, "Well, you're gonna be takin' me last name too, yeah?" he said as he decidedly pulled a ring out of his pocket and knelt onto the floor.

So yes, the song Olivia is a very important one in regards to your relationship with Jamie.

You continue to listen to Jamie softly sing Olivia to your daughter, his voice lulling you back to sleep.

_______________________

It seemed that that song never failed to put Olivia at ease. Hearing yours or Jamie's voice singing how much you love her ceased all her fussing and crying. Time and time again, you and Jamie found yourselves singing the song even more now, but in a more calmer, softer tone.

More often than not, it was Jamie singing the song to her. It happened so often and yet it never seized to make your heart swell with so much love for him and your daughter.

One night, you decide to secretly film Jamie and Ollie in the nursery. Jamie is in the rocking chair, feeding Ollie her bottle while he sings the song you're both all too familiar with now.

Say what you're feeling and say it now 'Cause I got the feeling you're walking out And time is irrelevant when I've not been seeing you The consequences are falling now There's something I'm having nightmares about And these are the reasons I'm crying out to be with you

Please believe me, don't you see The things you mean to me? Oh, I love you, I love you I love, I love, I love Olivia

He presses two kisses onto your daughter's head and continues to sing:

I live for you, I long for you, Olivia I've been idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia I live for you, I long for you, Olivia Don't let me go Don't let me go

He nuzzles his face into her tiny neck and she gives a little giggle, which brings a smile to his face.

You stop recording and proceed to post the video on your socials with the caption: Ollie's lullaby sung by her dad.

Jamie has no idea you posted that until he put Olivia down for bed and checked his phone before joining you in bed too.

"Did you film that just now?"

You nod, "Yup. You two are so cute. I had to show off my loves," you peck his lips and he pouts, "What?" you ask with a giggle, swiping some of his walnut mist hair out of his face.

"Everyone's callin' me soft like."

You snort, "Lovey, you are soft and a wonderful dad. That's why I posted the video. To show people that side of you...ut if the video bothers you, I can delete it."

He shakes his head, "Nah. It's fine. It's gonna make me more likeable and shit with the fans, yeah?"

You snort, and shove at his shoulder, "There's that prickish behavior." You giggle and settle into his arms.

_____________________

One year. How did it go by so quickly? A year flown by since you've had your little Ollie. She's already so grown.

Sam insisted her first birthday be held at Ola's and there was no room for you to refuse.

Everyone there adored Ollie. Each Richmond team member coming in with big wrapped boxes of toys. Even before she was born, you knew that your children were going to be spoiled by their uncles.

Ollie had them all wrapped around her little fingers. But the one who was the most attached to her was Roy.

Jamie liked to joke that, by extension, that meant Roy was attached to Jamie. To which Roy responded, "As if I'm not around you enough."

But you knew that Roy was fond of Jamie. Like a big brother is with his younger siblings.

"Alright, babes," Keeley plucks Olivia out of Roy's arms, "There's a special performance that the boys put on for you." She carries your daughter where you and Jamie sit. The Greyhounds gather towards the area where they pushed all the chairs and tables back.

"We are gathered here today for Miss Olivia Tartt's first birthday," Sam announces.

"She's very special to us," Dani adds.

"So we decided to show her how special she is." Colin says.

Roy presses play on his phone and an all too familiar song booms from the bluetooth speakers and the Greyhounds sing:

Remember the day when we've given up When you told me I didn't give you enough And all of your friends were saying I'll be leaving you She's lying in bed with my t-shirt on Just thinking how I went about it wrong This isn't the stain of a red wine, I'm bleeding love

Please believe me, don't you see The things you mean to me? Oh, I love you, I love you I love, I love, I love Olivia

I live for you, I long for you, Olivia I've been idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia I live for you, I long for you, Olivia Don't let me go Don't let me go

As the guys, (yes, including Roy), sing to Olivia she's moving in Keeley's arms, dancing and clapping her hands. She's smiling wide in amusement as some of the most important people in her life dedicate a performance to her.

During a music break, the guys move into a very adorable and well choreographed dance. You and Jamie are laughing in amazement.

Don't let me go Don't let me go Don't let me goooooo!

The song ends and everyone in the restaurant burst into applause.

You grab Ollie from Keeley and bring her to the boys, who all crowd around her, giving her hugs and kisses.

"Lads, that was incredible. Can't believe you even got grandad there to participate," Jamie nods to Roy.

"And that's the only time you'll be seeing me do that, you prick."

"Seriously, guys, it was great. Ollie loved it. Didn't you, baby?" you kissed your giggling daughter on the cheek.

"Love, should we do the cake now?" Jamie asks, coming up to your side, hand on your hip.

"Oh yes!" You hand Olivia to Jamie and rush to the kitchen to bring the cake out. It's Bluey themed to match the theme of the party.

Jamie holds Ollie in his lap as you set the cake in front of them, lighting the candles. In unison, everyone sings Happy Birthday to her. At the end, Jamie helps her blow the candles out and a cheers erupts, which has Ollie smiling.

It warms your heart to see her so loved by everyone there.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #f!reader #fem!reader #female!reader #ted lasso imagine

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aroaceleovaldez · 1 month

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emo Nico x scene Will Solace...

#pjo #riordanverse #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #i need them to be cringe (affectionate) teenagers okay #give me Will with a hardcore homestuck phase and streaks in his hair dyed with kool-aid and striped armsocks #date night is Will teaching Nico how to make kandi bracelets #if youve been here awhile you may know i am a scene Jason believer and the same concepts apply here #listen i just think. emphasizing Nico being emo and giving him a scene boyfriend #its very important though that only certain riordanverse chars fit the vibe to be scene kids #like i dont think Percy would be as much as i want him to be #its antithetical to his character (internalized ableism/bad self-loathing/keeps his head down)#Will and Jason on the other hand would use XD unironically and have a total ball making sparkledog fursonas #Alex Fierro. DEFINITE scene kid. Magnus is already just kind of a little emo. Sadie is a definite yes. Carter. maybe.#i think he'd be adverse at first but kinda get into it casually yknow. he'd dig kandi bracelets at least.#probably get really into linguistic breakdown of xD rAnDoM speech just for fun #Walt no but he could. like. i think he'd be open to trying it. but its not his default state.#Zia. doesnt have the energy but i kinda wanna see it regardless. i think itd be fun for her but on her own she'd lean more goth #Leo? maybe. depends. he's more into doing stuff ironically. Piper. yes. but specifically as an f-you to conventional fashion #Reyna no. Frank maybe. Hazel yes. Thalia maybe. Annabeth hmm. maybe #i think thats all the main casts. Alabaster? YES and i wanna see it.#anyways thank you for coming to my emo x scene ted talk and character evaluations in the tags

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97keanu · 7 months

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*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳Red denotes smut!

John Wick

Shotgunning a Cigarette with Young!JW

Jealousy (JW is jealous of you and the garden boy)

Mob boss!JW x Wife!Reader

Bubble bath with JW

John Wick + Russian pet names/dirty talk

Kevin Lomax

Kevin x Secretary!Reader 1, 2

Demonic!Kevin x Angelic/Intern!Reader

Kevin x Wife!Reader Imagine

Demon!Kevin x Intern!Reader

Neo

Digital Angel (Neo x Goth/Hacker!Reader) 1, 2, 3

Stalker!Neo x Reader 1

Pred!Neo x Prey!Reader

Constantine

See Halloween 2023 section

Jonathan Harker

See Halloween 2023 section

Ted Logan

Dating Ted Imagine

Boyfriend!Ted x Virgin!Reader

Evil!Ted Logan

Evil!Ted x Reader Imagine

Rupert Marshetta

Rupert x Reader

Rupert x New Girl!Reader

Dave Lizewski

Dave x Goth!Reader Saga: 1, 2, 3, 4

Dave x Demonic!Reader(Jennifer's Body AU) 1, 2, 3

Dave x Popular!Reader imagine

Halloween 2023

Neo x Goth(?)!Reader

Halloween Couples Costume in the Keanuverse

Vampire!Jonathan Harker Imagine

Witchhunter!Constantine x Witch!Reader Imagine

You and boyfriend!Ted attend a 90s Halloween party

Vampire!John Wick x Slayer!Reader imagines

Vampire!John Wick x Innocent!Reader (Dark Fic)

Dave Lizewski x Succubi!Reader

Dave Lizewski x Vampire!Reader

Winter 2023

Dave Lizewski x Reader cyber smut

Bill and Ted x high!reader

Updated as of 11/28/23

#masterlist #keanuverse #keanu reeves #ted logan x f!reader #evil!ted logan x reader #john wick x reader #kevin lomax x reader #neo x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #my writing

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thewintersoldier · 2 years

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The Evil Dead (1981) - dir. Sam Raimi Evil Dead II: Dead By Dawn (1987) - dir. Sam Raimi Evil Dead (2013) - dir. Fede Álvarez

#filmedit #horroredit #**#*tb #*ted #*horror #f: the evil dead #horror tag #*1k

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eddievedders · 1 year

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TED LASSO — 3.09 “La Locker Room Aux Folles”.

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clumsycapitolunicorn · 11 months

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"No, this is that time of year when I come down here and reveal something to you." "Oh snap. That's right. Okay. Well, here we go."

TEDBECCA + TRUTH BOMBS | TED LASSO

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #rebecca welton #ted x rebecca #tedlassoedit #tedlassosource #dailytvsource #dailytvfilmgifs #nessa007 #otpsource #i'm fine i'm fine i'm fine i'm f-#*screaming*

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illiterateaffairs · 1 year

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DISTRACTIONS PROLOGUE | THE EXIT

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T (language)

word count: 4,806

summary: after breaking up with your long time boyfriend, you realize how much of your life was tied to his. if only you knew someone with a cool job and even cooler boss across the pond who could help you out.

A/N: hello! here is the first official part of my jamie tartt series. although i should warn you that jamie is not in this part :( this was mainly to cover the back story in order to get the reader to london. but i promise he will be in the next part. please please please let me know what you think! would love any comments and feedback <3

distractions masterlist

“I think that’s everything.”

You’re shaken from your trance by the sound of his voice for the first time in 30 minutes. You’ve been pretending to watch an old episode of Grey’s Anatomy but really you’ve been staring at the wall just above the TV, wondering how you got to this point.

This point being you sitting idly by as your ex-boyfriend gathers the last of his things from your once shared apartment. Normally you’d make yourself scarce when he’d come by to move things out but he popped over unexpectedly after work for a few last things he’d left behind. You’re wondering if he did that on purpose to torture you for a little while longer.

But why would he do that? He was nice enough to let you keep the apartment. Only after you found him tangled up with some red-headed woman on top of your couch when you’d come home during your lunch break a few weeks prior. You graciously accepted keeping the apartment - but you insisted he take that godforsaken couch.

Picking at the worn fabric of your lone arm chair, you don’t meet his eyes. “Okay, great.”

“So, I guess this is it then,” he sighs, looking around the apartment almost wistfully, “The end of an era.”

You look up at him with narrowed eyes. He was making your almost three year relationship that he imploded sound like something casual. Like he didn’t completely break your heart and prove those years a waste.

“Yup.” You shake your head and force yourself up from your seat, walking to the front door so he’ll hopefully get the hint to make his way out of your apartment and out of your life once and for all. You open the door as he meanders over, as slow as humanly possible.

Once he’s in front of you, he lingers in the doorway. You wish you were stronger than you were, but you’re not, his gaze forcing you to look down at the hardwood beneath your feet. He rests his hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch. “It was really great seeing you. I hope…I hope one day we can be friends again.”

You fight the urge to projectile vomit on him and plaster the fakest smile you can muster. “Goodbye, Mason.”

You can tell he’s about to say something else but you’re already slamming the door in his face. You think being free from his presence will immediately restore your sanity, but your stomach feels even queasier. It must be reality sinking in. You guess Mason was right - it was the end of an era. You had no idea what the hell you were supposed to do now.

You’ve been living in Chicago ever since you graduated college at Brown University. That’s where you’d met Mason. He’d fallen first and once he’d convinced you to go out with him at the start of your senior year, you’d fallen harder. He was a computer science major, while you were studying creative writing, with hopes of becoming an author one day. Your plan was to work at a publishing house or literary agency in New York city while you wrote anything and everything on the side. But after graduation, Mason had an offer at an emerging tech company in Chicago that he couldn’t pass up. So he begged you to follow him there; said you could write from anywhere. He even knew someone at a marketing agency in the city that could get you a job as a copywriter. You’d explained that was a little different than the writing you hoped to pursue, but he told you it would be temporary- just something to help pay the bills while you got settled.

He was persuasive. Very persuasive. And next thing you knew, the two of you were shacking up in a studio apartment in downtown Chicago, with a view of the river and a short commute to work where you wrote copy for cereal brands and clothing companies. Not exactly the dream, but somewhere along the way you found comfort in the idea that he was your dream. He’d swept you off your feet with words of affirmation and lavish gifts as his company started growing more successful. But after a year and a half, the novelty started wearing off. You realized all of your friends were his friends, you shopped where he shopped, you lived and worked where he wanted you to, and you had so little sense of self. You only came to this conclusion when on a rare night out with coworkers, they’d asked you where you went to school.

“I got a bachelors in creative writing from Brown.”

“Then what the hell are you doing at a marketing agency?” Kara, a bubbly advertising strategist you could only hope to be as confident as, had inquired.

You shrugged, “Just something to pay the bills so I can write on the side.”

Her eyes widened excitedly, “Ooh, what’s something you’ve written recently?”

You had opened your mouth to answer before realizing you hadn’t written anything in a while. In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you wrote something that wasn’t an Instagram caption for Cheerios.

When you got home that night, you brought that up to Mason, but he didn’t think it was a big deal. He’d only shrugged and said that you made an honest living doing what you did now. Why did it matter that it wasn’t what you’d originally set out to do?

You’d only nodded and let the topic go for the night. But the more you thought about it, the more the whole thing bothered you. You liked your job. But you didn’t love your job.

Still, you didn’t do anything about it. You went through the motions of your job and your relationship, spending time with Mason at his work events and with his tech buddies and their significant others. But as more time went on, you only felt more and more lost. You tried not to let it get to you. You were young. You had plenty of time to figure things out: who you were, who you wanted to spend time with, what you wanted to do. You were at least still sure that you loved him, though.

You only started to question that a few months before your untimely breakup. You’d finally gotten the courage to consider a career change. You’d been thinking about leaving the marketing agency to look for a literary job- a publishing house, or even a book store- anywhere they would take you. When you brought the idea up over dinner with Mason, he’d scoffed. Why would you want to leave your well paying job for one that could potentially be minimum wage? He’d asked why you couldn’t just write after work or during the weekends while you kept making a salary at your current job. You tried explaining it was because you weren’t happy there - that it sucked the life out of you and you wanted to work somewhere that inspired you everyday. But he just rolled his eyes and told you to try giving your job another chance; that maybe a vacation would clear your head and reinspire you.

You looked at him differently after that - like he was a different person. Now you’re able to see it was a wakeup call to who he’d always been, but at the time you were in denial. Instead of facing the issues popping up in your relationship head on, you’d push them away or avoid them. You’d started spending more time at your office or with the few coworkers you started considering friends. On some evenings, you’d even manage to write a few paragraphs of fiction- they were nothing of substance, but they were something.

This went on for a few months. Long enough that you’d successfully convinced yourself that everything was normal even if your once all-consuming relationship was hanging by a thread. Until one day you came home to grab the lunch you’d forgotten during the workday to find Mason kissing someone else. He’d somehow managed to twist the blame on you during the argument that broke out once the woman had left the two of you alone. He said it was because he’d felt you pulling away and that he was lonely. And for a moment, you felt yourself believing that you were in fact the bad guy for not being honest with how you were feeling. You shook those intrusive thoughts away, refusing to let him manipulate you one last time before declaring that you two were done.

That was weeks ago now, and while you were still confident in the decision to part ways, you were less confident on what you were to do now. Your lease was up at the end of the month, and if you wanted to stay you’d need to find someone to split rent with. Your odds of that were slim. A) you’d have to wrangle someone in the next two weeks and B) Everyone you knew was either Mason’s friend first or Kara who had just moved in with her longtime girlfriend. And God help you if you were going to live with a stranger.

And then there was the whole job thing. You still weren’t thrilled with working there despite you holding out for Mason’s sake. He was no longer around to guilt trip you into staying, but now you had no idea where to go, especially without a sure place to live.

You’re beginning to spiral as these thoughts race through your mind. You can barely even decide what to eat for dinner let alone what to do with the rest of your life. On that note, you force yourself to throw a frozen pizza in the oven and push all thoughts of impending doom to the side as you sink back into the world of Seattle Grace Memorial. The lives and problems of Meredith Grey and her fellow doctors were decidedly less stressful than what you were dealing with. And that was saying something.

You’ve nearly fully disassociated from everything, when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You’re perturbed when it doesn’t stop after one vibration, anxious at the thought of answering a call right now. But all anxiety melts away when you see the mustachioed face on the caller ID smiling back at you. You smash the green answer button faster than you’ve done in your entire life.

“Uncle Ted,” you breathe out in relief.

“Hey-o Kiddo,” the warm voice of Ted Lasso instantly soothes you, “Have I told you how much I appreciate you still calling me that?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you smile even though he can’t see you, “But you know I’ve never considered stopping.”

Ted was your uncle, by ways of marrying your biological aunt Michelle. Her brother, Joseph, and his husband, Ryan, adopted you when you were five. Dad and Pops, as you affectionately called them. As soon as Ted Lasso entered your life, he was like a third father. When he went off to England to coach a soccer- football- team and eventually separated from Michelle, you were devastated. You had no idea they were having problems. You could blame it on the fact that you’d scarcely seen your family since living in Chicago with Mason, and that he’d commandeered holidays and vacation time to spend with his family and friends. But you knew you could have worked harder to be a part of their lives. Especially now that Henry was growing up so quickly - or so you’d seen on social media.

Even then, you reached out to make sure he knew he was still your favorite uncle. “I was your only uncle, Kiddo.” “And you still are.”

He doesn’t think you understand the weight that that sentiment held. And now, you know he doesn’t realize how pertinent it is that he’s reached out to you tonight.

“What time is it there?” you ask, “Isn’t it like midnight? You should be asleep, big important Premier League coach that you are. Did I get that right?”

You hear him chuckle, “I’m impressed. Wasn’t sure you’d watch much of football over there.”

“Of course! I have to support your team. Besides, Mason was obsessed with anything that has a ball involved so you know he was all over it.” That last part came out before you could even process what you were saying. You know Ted can hear the hitch in your breath when your brain catches up with your mouth.

“That’s actually why I called, Kiddo,” Ted says softly, “Joe told me about your breakup.”

Despite yourself, you feel your lips quirk up in almost a smile, “I didn’t know you two still spoke.”

“Yeah, sure. We chat on Facebook from time to time. Give each other a like, a share. A poke? Do people still poke nowadays?”

“I think HR told Mark Zuckerberg to eliminate that feature.”

“Makes sense,” he snorts, “Can I take the fact that you’ve still got your signature sense of humor as a sign that you’re handling everything okay?”

You feel the urge to say that you’re fine - that everything is great. But for some reason the idea of lying to Ted makes you feel even worse. Before you can stop it, you feel tears start to pool behind your eyes. In an effort to try to prevent yourself from full on crying, you end up just producing the most heinous, choked up sound. You manage a scratchy, whispered, “No I’m not.” before you start sobbing into the phone.

You’re surprised when Ted doesn’t immediately start trying to cheer you up with jokes or something positive to focus on in effort to stop your crying. Instead, he lets you get everything out, all the while reminding you that it's okay to be upset.

“But God, it's so pathetic. I shouldn’t be this upset, he’s just a stupid guy!”

“It's not just a guy; you built a life with him. It’s a lot to mourn.” he says reassuringly.

“But it's not even a good life! I hate my job and I have to find a new apartment and I don’t have any friends to vent to. I don’t know what I’m doing!” you know your words must hardly sound coherent but Ted seems to get it.

“Michelle mentioned she’d heard you were considering making the jump back to writing? Do you still want to do that?”

“Yes, ideally, but I don’t know if I'd be able to immediately get a job and certainly not one that would afford me my rent. And I have a good paying job now but I honestly think if I stay there much longer I’ll lose my goddamn mind.”

You don’t mean to put all of this on him, but in a way it's cathartic. You hadn’t said most of this out loud to anyone.

“I just wish I could run away to the countryside, turn my brain off for a few months and not have any responsibilities while I figure things out.” You huff out as your sobs begin to slow.

Ted hums softly, “Now wouldn’t that be something. Where would you go?”

As your breathing finds its way back to normal, you consider. After a beat, “Iceland.”

Ted can’t help but snort, “I hear it's lovely there this time of year.”

You laugh a little but resign yourself back to the situation at hand, “What do I do, Ted?”

“I don’t know, Kiddo. But I know you’re going to be okay. You always are. You were okay in 8th grade when that volleyball smacked you right in the face and you cut your lip, and you’ll be okay now." He's proud when he hears you laugh again, “Maybe you should take some time to yourself. Play hooky tomorrow and sleep in.”

“I can’t just not go to work,” you sigh, “I’ll have to fake being sick and forge a doctor's note.”

“That-a-girl.”

“But seriously thank you, Uncle Ted. I think I really needed to get that out. And you’re always a great listener.”

“You know you can call me anytime.”

“Preferably not when it's nearly 1AM over there though right?”

“Yeah, I guess I should be getting some rest myself. Sleep tight, Kiddo.”

“Good night, Ted.”

Despite the sob fest you just went through, you feel yourself smiling after hanging up. It was usually hard not to be in a better mood after talking to Ted Lasso. And you know what? You were going to play hooky tomorrow. What were they going to do? Fire you? You wish.

Across the pond, Ted spent the better part of the rest of his night and next morning thinking about how you wished you could escape life for a little bit to figure things out. This leads him to begin plotting an idea that may or not work out, or even make sense. Nevertheless, he’s walking into Rebecca’s office with a plan in place.

“Afternoon, Boss,” he greets her as he sets the pale pink biscuit box on her desk in front of her, which she eagerly opens, “Hope those biscuits taste especially good today. I made them extra special.”

Rebecca raises an eyebrow, already halfway through one biscuit. “Should I ask why?”

“Just figure the better the biscuits, the happier the boss, isn’t that the saying?” Before Rebecca can chastise him further for his suspicious attitude, he’s barreling on, “Say, you haven’t found someone to be Keeley’s replacement yet, have you? Not as another PR person; I know Keeley’s company has that covered. But as another set of hands around here, or fingers rather, to post tweets or Instagrams? Or even just to assist you with whatever you’ve got going on around the office?”

Rebecca sighs, resigning to the fact that he’s going to need to finish his thought and tire himself out. Once he seems to reach a natural stopping point, she inserts herself.

“Ted,” his eyebrows raise innocently, “Let me guess, you have someone in mind?”

“Yes,” he nods point-blankly.

“And who might that be?”

“My niece,” before Rebecca can even open her mouth, he continues, “I know, I know you can’t hire just anyone, but she’s incredible. She’s a hard worker, she’s super nice, and she’s also going through some stuff right now and I think a fresh start would be good for her.”

Rebecca takes the information in, but isn’t immediately opposed. “And she wants to move halfway across the world to work for a football club?”

Ted sits up, taking her interest as a good sign. “That’s a great question, let's ask her!”

Before Rebecca could even process what he meant by that, Ted is whipping out his iPhone and facetiming you.

“Ted, you haven’t even asked her if she wants the job?” she whispers sternly.

“Uh- uh,” he shakes his head before your face pops up on his screen, “Good morning, Kiddo! Shoot, did I wake you? I forgot about the time difference.”

You’re attempting to sit up in your bed all the while rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, “Nope, all good, it’s almost 8 here, but you’re the one who told me to skip out on work today and sleep in.”

“That’s true, I did tell you to do that,” Ted glances up from his phone to lock eyes with Rebecca, “So that’s on me and in no way should reflect her work ethic.” He holds up his right hand and Rebecca chuckles, shaking her head.

Your eyes narrow, “Uncle Ted, what's going on?”

“Well, I was just sitting with my boss Rebecca over here when we realized Rebecca has been in the market for a new assistant-slash-social media person and I thought of you!”

You blink at him for a few seconds and then, “What?”

“Yeah, I mean, I was thinking about what you said last night about wanting some time to figure things out. With this, you can quit that job you hate, try something new and have time to write. And while England might not be Iceland, I’d say it still offers a pretty great change of scenery.”

You bite your thumb and find yourself surprised that you’re actually considering this - as crazy and out of the blue as it is. It's appealing. A new town, country- no, continent. An opportunity to leave your dead end job while also still making a livable wage. Time to clear your head and potentially fall back in love with writing. And most importantly, never having to see Mason’s face again.

“This is serious?” you ask, “Is there actually a job opening there or are you just making your boss do this for me.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t make this up and Rebecca is a very serious person.”

“Wouldn’t I have to interview?”

Ted looks up again at Rebecca who looks just as caught off guard. “Of course you’d interview. In fact you can do it right now, over Facetime. Isn’t technology incredible?”

You can hear Rebecca whispering protests, as you call out your own hesitancy, but before you know it, Ted’s face is being replaced by an overwhelmingly gorgeous blonde woman’s. Ted makes introductions, and while you can tell Rebecca isn’t in this situation willingly, she smiles kindly which manages to relax you a bit.

“It's nice to meet you, Ms. Welton. I’m such a fan of yours.” you tell her kindly.

She blushes, “That's sweet of you to say, but please call me Rebecca. Ted’s told me great things about you as well.”

You smile back, before narrowing your eyes at Ted, who is peaking at the phone over Rebecca’s shoulder. “Does Ted have to be here for this?”

Rebecca turns to face the football manager, and nods toward her office door. “Mind giving us the room?”

Ted straightens up, “Of course. I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He starts towards the door before shouting back, “I believe in you.”

“I know you do,” You call back, shaking your head humorously.

Rebecca mirrors your expression, “It's fun to see someone else dealing with his antics.”

You give her an apologetic look, “I’m sorry if he put you up to this, you really don’t have to give me a job. I don’t know what he’s told you but I promise I can cope.”

The blonde woman can’t help being curious as to what you mean by that, but she doesn’t pry. “The only thing he’s told me is what an exceptional worker and person you are. I can’t imagine you’d be anything but an asset to the club.

“Still, you can’t just hand me the job.”

“Why not?” Rebecca smirks, “Men give other men jobs all the time.”

You snort, “Sure, but I like earning my place.”

Rebecca admires this, “Fair enough. Alright then, why don’t you tell me where you went to school?”

“Brown University.”

“And what did you study?”

“Creative writing.”

“Oh, so why would you want to work here?”

You sigh, but can’t help being amused by her confusion, “Well, right now I’m a copywriter at a marketing agency.”

“You got a degree in creative writing to write advertisements?”

“Well no. I wanted- want to be an author someday, but needed something to get me by while I actually started writing. My boyfriend, sorry, ex-boyfriend, suggested the job when we moved to Chicago together.”

Rebecca hums at your fumble, “Am I right to guess that this ex of yours might have a little to do with this big life change?”

You take a deep breath, “Yes, and no. Sure, I’d love to not live in a city where I could run into him. But I also want a change for myself, so I can figure out who I am without him and what I actually want out of life.”

Rebecca smiles, almost proudly, “That’s great.”

You let out a laugh, “And all it took was him cheating on me to finally get out of my own head.”

Rebecca’s eyes widen, “He cheated on you?”

“Oh shit,” you groan, rubbing your forehead, “I haven’t had my morning coffee and don’t know how to censor myself yet.”

“What a wanker!”

“I am inclined to agree with you, even though I do not know what that means,” you sigh, pausing for a second, “Rebecca I know we just met but can you…not tell Ted that? I actually haven’t told anyone why we broke up. I really don’t want an extra layer of pity.”

The older woman nods, “Of course. I won’t say a word.”

Despite having only spoken upwards of three minutes, you feel like you can trust her with your life. “Thank you. Do you have any more questions for me?”

“Yes,” Rebecca nods, “When can you start?”

Your eyes turn into saucers, “Rebecca, I told you I want to earn this job!”

“Well in my eyes you have,” she insists, “I know that you’re a good worker and literate, that's important. You’ve got a sense of humor; that’ll get you far with everyone. And I like that you’re taking charge of your life. It feels like you’ll be a good fit here.” That brings a smile to your face. A good fit. You wonder what that feels like. “Besides, you’re related to Ted. If that doesn't tell me what kind of person you are, I don’t know what does.”

You snort, “Technically, Ted and I aren’t blood related.”

Rebecca shrugs, “Either way, you’ve got that Lasso spirit.”

While the compliment warms your heart, it also brings another pool of anxiety into the pit of your stomach. “Rebecca, I have another request before I can accept this job, but it’s for Ted, too.”

Rebecca nods curtly, before calling out a loud, “Teeeeed.” that makes you jump slightly.

Ted pokes his head back in the doorway, “How's it going?” he sing-songs.

“Your niece has a demand before she will take the job.” She winks at you, which alleviates only some of the nerves.

Ted jogs back to his spot behind Rebecca and leans closer to his phone screen, “What's up, buttercup?”

You take a deep breath, “If I were to come there,” Ted’s eyes light up, “If,” You emphasize, “I need you both- and Beard I guess-”

“Oh, Beard’s gonna be so excited.”

“I need you three to promise me,” you say flatly, “That you won’t tell anyone that I’m Ted’s niece.”

Ted frowns, “Why not? I know it's hard to believe, but I'm actually one of the popular kids around here.”

You roll your eyes in jest, “It's not because I'm embarrassed, I just…don’t want anyone to think I only got the job because of you.”

Rebecca gives you a look, “I told you you’ve already proven you deserve this job.”

“I know, but nepotism is one of the most cancelable offenses these days,” You argue, “And Rebecca, you get it. In a club full of men, I don’t want to be known as the girl who got a job because I’m related to the coach. Despite what you said about men doing the same thing, you know they look down at women for that.”

“She’s not wrong,” Rebecca says, glancing over at Ted, “But if it helps, none of our boys on the team would treat you like that.”

You shrug, “Either way, I’d just prefer to show up, work hard, and prove my place.”

A smile starts growing back on Ted’s face, “So are you saying you’ll do it?”

You bite your lip but can’t help but start smiling yourself, “I think so?”

Ted claps and starts doing a celebratory dance. And while you and Rebecca can’t help but laugh, she still demands a formal acceptance. “I’m going to need a more confident answer.”

You smother the smile and put on a business-formal face, “I graciously accept your offer.”

You two share a smile and you’re already looking forward to spending more time with the woman. Ted grabs the phone from his boss and starts cheering you on, “Heck yes, now you get to put in that 2-weeks notice, baby!”

You quietly cheer along with him, trying to process Rebecca’s words at the same time as she lets you know she’ll email you your contract and begin getting you set up with a visa and housing. “Wait, I get free housing?” You don’t let yourself linger on the absurdity of the situation. For the first time in probably your whole life, you are doing something you want to do. Nevermind that it's a huge leap and maybe not what you foresaw for yourself in this next era of your life. It was the perfect opportunity to get to know yourself again and you could figure out everything else later.

In the wise words of Joey Tribbiani: London, baby!

A/N: Please let me know what you think <3

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #distractions series #mine

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inbloomwriting · 10 months

Text

a calm surrender II Roy Kent

Plot: Roy doesn't love her. In fact, he finds her irritating above anything else. And yet he manages to tell her in so many different ways.

Pairing: Roy Kent x female reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Reader takes Keeley's spot in some plot points - no disrepect to her though she's my favorite.

Notes: This is inspired by a "100 ways to say I love you" List. It’s 8.3k words, It's a big one.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

"It's enough for this restless warrior Just to be with you"

Take my jacket, it’s cold & You can have half

She’s irritating. Everything about her manages to get under his skin. The way she’s always smiling that big radiant smile of hers or the perpetual scent of jasmine and vanilla that seems to follow her anywhere. She laughs too loud, she’s a terrible driver and even worse at parking. The music coming from the physio room is mostly cheesy 80s and 90s pop songs that make Roy want to give himself a lobotomy. She’s irritating in every which way you look at it — and maybe that’s the exact reason why Roy can’t keep himself from looking at her.

Tonight is no exception. For some inexplicable reason, his eyes manage to find her across the room and in the crowd, every single time without fail. It’s not like it’s a conscious choice on his part either. It just happens. That sparkly green dress of her’s just seems to call out to him like the damn light across the bay at the Buchanan’s dock.

And the worst part is that she noticed. She caught his eyes on her more than once, even had the audacity to smirk back at him. During the auction, for a small moment, he thought she might bid on him when her hand just barely twitched and her eyes held a sense of infinite mischief. She didn’t though and for a second he could feel a string of disappointment pull at his heart. Not because he wanted her to bid on him or anything, he just wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of having to spend time with Cheryl Barnaby.

He managed to find her across the room all night — except for right now. Everyone’s on the dance floor. Keeley, Jamie, Ted, even Beard. But not her.

No one’s paying attention to him right now, if he were to just slip out of here, no one will notice.

It’s not like he wanted to be here in the first place. Sure, raising money for underprivileged children is something honorable and he would never let his own disdain for overly glitzy social events get in the way of doing the right thing. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though.

Emptying his glass with one last sip he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and steps out into the chilly air of a London night.

It’s funny, really, how the moment he stops searching, the green light calls back out to him and she steps into his vision. A glowing beacon of refuge, guiding ships through dark nights to safe shores.

The cold air nips at her skin, sharp and vicious and Roy doesn’t even have to get any closer to her to notice that she’s shivering. He can barely suppress the urge to roll his eyes at her. Of course, she’s cold, she’s only wearing the dress and some flimsy chiffon scarf thing around her shoulders. That’s gonna do fuck all to shelter her from the cold. Irritating. She’s so irritating.

The most irritating part though, is that he can’t help but slip out of his suit jacket. The most irritating part is that he can’t help but care.

“Take my jacket, it’s cold.”

There it is again, that smile of hers. The one he sees sometimes when he’s about to fall asleep. How ridiculous, he thinks, how foolish of him. How absurd it is to fall asleep to the image of a smile belonging to a girl that annoys him more than anything and anyone. (Except maybe Jamie).

“Are you — are you talking to me? Little old me? Are you being nice to me?”

“Jesus fuck, don’t make it weird. I’m always nice.”

She giggles and it’s bloody adorable. So adorable that a smile threatens to pull the corners of his lips upwards. See? Fucking irritating.

“You hardly talk more than 3 words to me when you’re in the physio room but — okay. If that’s your version of nice.”

“Take the jacket or not, I don’t care. I’ll let you freeze out here if you’re trying to be difficult. Means fuck all to me.”

That’s not true. They both know it. No matter how much Roy tries to deny or hide it, there is a soft heart buried inside the rough exterior. He just can’t risk showing that to everyone. Can’t have people getting the wrong ideas.

“No, please I — sorry I’m just — you make me nervous and when I’m nervous I talk a lot and then most of what comes out is just stupid nonsense or deflecting humor or something. I would really appreciate that jacket. It really is fucking freezing.”

Roy has been in the public eye for years now, he’s used to people being intimidated, nervous. Usually, it’s strangers though, people who don’t know him. Those that do, that work with him, usually lose that feeling pretty quickly.

“Why the fuck would I make you nervous?”

She just glances at him before turning her face back towards the street “Have you seen yourself?”

He’s not sure how to take that. Is it a compliment? Does she think he’s handsome? It’s not like it matters to him really. In fact, the thought that she might find him attractive is — say it with me — fucking irritating.

He contemplates asking her outright if this is something she does on purpose. If she’s deliberately trying to rile him up. The words are on the tip of his tongue when he notices her shiver once again and all that was on his mind vanishes against the desperate need to keep her warm.

“Jesus. Let me just — “

Jasmine. Vanilla. He smells it when he slips the jacket around her shoulders. He wonders if his jacket will smell like that, like her, when he gets it back. Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Not because it’s her or anything — just because it smells fantastic and Roy is not one to deny himself the simple pleasures in life.

“I really appreciate it, Roy.”

And the gratefulness with which she says it is not irritating at all. It’s endearing. It’s flutters-in-his-tummy kind of wonderful.

Instead of reacting like a normal, reasonable person with a simple “you're welcome”, he gives her one of his signature grunts. That’s as good a normal reasonable reaction as anyone can expect from him, really.

“What are you out here all by yourself for anyway? Trying to get kidnapped or something?”

“No,” there it is again, the giggle. Ugh. “ I’m waiting for my Uber. He’s — “She checks her phone, illuminating her face with the harsh blue light. He thinks she looks wonderful either way. Then scolds himself for thinking it. Some simple pleasures he has to deny himself. “ 12 minutes away.”

Roy isn’t quite certain whether or not he considers himself a good person. He tries to be, it’s a conscious effort each and every day. He helps out his sister, he gives in to all of Phoebe’s wishes even if it means having to play the princess yet again and never getting to be the dragon. He donates more money to charity than the press is aware of, leaves hefty tips whenever he goes out to eat and though he does swear a lot, he still tries to be polite if he can.

He tries to be a good person and a good person doesn’t let a woman wait outside in the cold dark night by herself. No matter how infuriating she is.

“Do you mind if I keep you company? Couldn’t live with myself if you got snatched up and I was the last person to see you alive.”

A laugh tumbles from her lips. A step up from a giggle and god does it send shockwaves through his traitorous heart.

“The press would have a field day if that happened. I can see the headlines, ‘Football legend Roy Kent involved in the disappearance of Richmond sports physio’ and then they use a picture of you from like 10 years ago with the really bad long hair that makes you look a little sketchy.”

“I didn’t look sketchy.”

“You looked a little sketchy.”

Roy glances at her through the corner of his eyes. She really is a dream in forest green, the sequins, and rhinestones reflecting the street lights like little kaleidoscopes. He’s almost certain he’ll dream in shades of green tonight. He’s sure he’ll see her smiling face.

“You look beautiful.”

The words fall from his lips before he can stop them and it makes him want to put his head through a wall. Fuck.

“Thank you —” she replies bashfully, “do you want some sausage roll?”

In all the scenarios running through his head of how this conversation could’ve gone, this is not one of the outcomes he expected.

“What?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Do you want a part of my sausage roll?” she chuckles and pulls a brown paper bag from her sparkly clutch bag. “I wasn’t sure if they were gonna actually feed us or just serve us rich people portions so I brought backup. You can have half if you want.”

She breaks the flaky pastry in two and holds one piece out to him. Even her nails are painted to match the dress. If he was any worse a man he would risk it all for just one taste of her and whatever black magic she possesses that gets so deeply under his skin. He is a better man than that tough, so he settles for a taste of the sausage roll.

“You’re a strange woman”

“Strange or smart?”

Taking a bite from the sausage roll, buttery and flaky and greasy, he must admit she has a point.

“Bit of both.”

“I can live with that.”

Silence settles upon them, well as silent as a London night can be. It feels weirdly comfortable. No expectations to be someone or do something. Just her and the city and the fucking Greggs sausage roll.

And — Elton John?

“Oh, I love that song!”

A string of pink lights adorns the top of the rikshaw as it turns the corner, loudly blasting Can you feel the love tonight. The driver catches sight of them and Roy can’t suppress the annoyed groan slipping its way out.

“Good evening can I interest you lovebirds in a — “

“No, fuck off!”

Elton’s voice gets quieter and quieter as the startled driver rides his rickshaw further away and back into the inky black of the night.

Lovebirds, he called them lovebirds. Thought the two of them were anything other than acquaintances. People pushed together by circumstances and coincidence. As if anything between them could ever happen. She’s already getting under his skin, sticks around his thoughts, and ghosts through his head without him ever giving her permission to do so. She’s all he can think about lately and yes he knows it sounds repetitive but god it’s so damn irritating.

“I would’ve liked to hear the rest of the song.”

Roy scoffs “Figures.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He turns to face her and, for the first time since he’s stepped out of the building and into this tiny bubble they’re sharing for just this fleeting moment, he looks at her. Really looks at her. With her sparkly dress and her lips painted a deep red like candy apples. With flakes of the pastry sticking to her lower lip and his jacket wrapped around her looking almost like this is where it’s always belonged.

He’s never had a heart attack before, he wonders if this is what it feels like.

“You play the worst fucking music when you’re working in the physio room.”

“Uh — are you insulting my taste in music? Are you really out here insulting the legend, sir Elton John? The Lion King soundtrack is a religious experience, okay?”

He hates that he can clearly tell by the glimmer of mischief in her eyes that she is joking more than anything. He shouldn’t be able to tell. Mere acquaintances can’t do shit like that.

“No, in fact, it’s a pretty fucking great movie. It came out when my sister was a kid though and I had to watch that shit a million times. You know how traumatizing it is having to watch Mufasa die over and over again?“

She grants him a look of understanding and shrugs her shoulders in agreement “At least it’s not Frozen, eh? “

“I have a 6-year-old niece.”

Roy Kent has a lot of things in his life that he takes pride in. His career and talent, all the hard work he put in to be where he is today. He takes pride in being a good brother and a loving uncle and maybe even a good friend and leader.

Making her let out a snort as she laughs at his Frozen-induced misery? That might be his proudest achievement to date.

“I’m glad you find my suffering amusing.”

“What can I say? You’re a funny guy, Roy Kent. So funny in fact that I almost bid on you at the auction.”

He wants to let out the most guttural scream in the existence of mankind. She can’t just go ahead and say stuff like that. Not when he is trying so hard to keep their interactions at the most basic level. Not when she already haunts his dreams. She’s irritating, Roy. Not charming or lovable or — beautiful. Or maybe she is all those things but most of all she’s annoying and infuriating and — oh he’s so fucked.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Oh, well I’m just a measly sports physician. Don’t get me wrong, it's good money but I don’t really earn quite enough to throw thousands of pounds at a man to have him spend time with me.”

He’d do it for free. Hate every second of it, naturally. But he’d do it for free.

Can’t tell her that though. Never. So once again he just grunts.

A silver Toyota pulls up to the curb, effectively bursting their little bubble of comfort as the driver leans down to look out the window. “You (Y/N) ?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

She makes a motion to slip out of the jacket, only for Roy to step in and hold it closed, keeping it in place, wrapped around her, and shielding her from the cold.

“Keep it,” his voice comes out all rough and husky. More than usual. It’s probably the jasmine scent getting to him, clouding his every sense. “Don’t want you to freeze on the way home. Just give it back another time.”

“Oh, okay. Well, thanks again. Goodnight, Roy.”

He opens the door for her and closes it softly once she’s settled into the car. Roy tries so hard to be a good man, a good person but in that moment all he wants to do is be a little bit worse, just a little bit. Just enough to rip the door open again, pull her out of the seat and kiss her stupid.

Instead, he wishes her a good night and sends her off before stepping out into the night himself. There is a smile playing on his lips all the way home and it’s so fucking irritating.

I was in the neighborhood & It’s okay I couldn’t sleep anyway

The door leading to her apartment is bright red and there is a little white sign and the picture of a dog with huge fucking ears that reminds him of Gizmo from the Gremlins. It says “Beware of the dog — might cuddle you to death.”

It’s cheesy as hell. He loves it.

He’s not quite sure how he ended up here. Losing is never fun. Feeling yourself slowly becoming unable to do the things you love, the things you were good at, and actively playing a part in your team losing? That’s absolutely mortifying.

Of all the places he could’ve gone, all the people he could’ve seen — he ends up in front of her door. Red and shiny like her lips that night.

It’s almost 1am and all things considered, this is a really dumb idea. She’s probably asleep and waking her up would be fucking rude. He should just go and forget this ever happened instead of knocking on her door in the middle of the night. That’s what the rational part of his brain tells him at least.

Roy was never really good at listening to the rational part of his brain.

Tiny barks, no doubt belonging to the dog on the sign, echo through the hallway before the door swings open just enough for (Y/N) to look at him with tired eyes.

“Roy?”

“I was in the neighborhood I — I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

It’s not a lie, really. He was in the neighborhood. He walked here specifically to knock on her door and see her.

“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Now that is most definitely a lie. Her eyes are sleepy, her hair disheveled and he can just about make out the pillow print on her cheek.

“Do you want to come in?”

He does. He shouldn’t but he really does.

The apartment is small but it feels cozy rather than cramped. The walls are lined with pictures, little reminders of happy moments and people she loves.

There’s one of him too, well him and Isaac and Sam and then her at the end of the line. He thinks it was taken at some get-together after a particularly hard-fought win. He likes to know that there’s a picture of him on her wall even if his appearance in the photo is probably more incidental than anything.

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, there is so much he doesn’t know about her. He doesn’t know where she was born or if she has siblings or if she always wanted to be a physiotherapist. But there are things he does know, like the specific way she likes her coffee and that she always gets a snickerdoodle cookie from the bakery down the road from the stadium, every Wednesday without fail. How she scrunches up her nose when she’s frustrated and that she snorts when something makes her laugh really hard.

“His name is Yoda. He’s a papillon and also my best friend.”

“Don’t let Sam hear.”

“Oh, he’s also Sam’s best friend.”

Yoda, it’s a fitting name. He does look like a Yoda.

“So what brings you here, Roy? At uh — “ she glances towards her open kitchen and the digital clock on the microwave “ 1:04 am?”

Should’ve gotten his story straight before he came here. What is he supposed to say? I felt like proper shit and wanted to see your smile? Surely not.

So he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Came to get my jacket back.”

Absolute dumbass.

“Your jacket? Oh uh. sure. Let me go get it.”

She regards him with confusion and curiosity, he can tell she’s not really buying his story.

“Or, if you aren’t in a rush, I was about to pop in a movie and pig out on some popcorn? Do you want to join me?”

This might be the first time he lets her see the smile she continues to put on his face.

“Fuck yeah, what are we watching?”

“Vernon is such a little bitch. Antagonizing fucking teenagers? What a loser."

“Right?,” (Y/N) agrees, taking a sip from her glass of rose before stuffing another handful of buttery popcorn into her mouth. “Bender needed someone to care, not just another adult yelling at him. "Such a loser. Hey, now that I think about it, you do give me John Bender vibes. All broody and mysterious.”

Roy just scoffs in response.

Her eyes fall onto his empty glass of wine resting on the little square table in front of the couch.

“You want a top-up?”

“No, I’m good. I should probably get going.”

He hates to admit it, it’s something he’ll take to the grave with him, but there’s something about rosé that gets to him. It makes him tipsy immediately. He doesn’t want to go home but the longer he stays the more he opens himself up to saying something stupid and fucking this up — whatever this is.

“Did you walk here?”

“Mmh.”

“Oh well I can’t in good conscience let you walk home, half a bottle of rosé in your system and dealing with all the emotions brought on by the breakfast club. Couldn’t live with myself if you got snatched up and I was the last person to see you alive”

Throwing his own words back at him should be infuriating, annoying. It isn’t. It’s lovely. She’s lovely.

“You can stay if you want. My couch isn’t the biggest but I think you’ll fit just fine.”

The sincerity in her eyes hits him like a dart to the chest. It’s something so simple as offering him her couch for the night but it means everything for a man who has grown so awfully accustomed to loneliness.

“If I stay, will you make me breakfast?”

“Fuck no”

Laughter fills the tiny living room and it takes him a second to realize it’s his own.

“I might be up for a Starbucks run tomorrow morning before work though.”

“Sounds great. I love peppermint lattes, those are fucking delicious.”

She grants him another smile as she gathers their glasses and the empty bottle and brings them to the kitchen before returning with a fluffy pink blanket for him. He thinks that smile could’ve just about killed him, thinks he might just die right here on her couch and it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Well goodnight, then. Hope you don’t mind Yoda”

The dog is curled up on Roy’s chest like a little bagel. It’s gonna be annoying later, he’s sure but hell will freeze over before he disturbs the little pup.

“That’s fine.”

“He snores, just thought you should know.”

“Makes two of us then, hope he doesn’t mind.”

Another laugh. Another tiny heart attack.

She’s by the door, just about to turn off the light and plunge the room into darkness, when she hesitates for a moment.

“Hey Roy,”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry you guys lost today and I — I can see you struggling but I just wanted you to know that it was not your fault. I need you to know that.”

The entire way here, he tried to make himself rationalize that. Make himself understand that losing is part of the game and that he did his best. But knowing your best might not be good enough anymore is a hard fucking pill to swallow.

Hearing her say that it’s not his fault, it takes the weight off for a moment. Not all the way, never all the way. But a tiny little bit and that’s a whole lot already.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Night, Roy.”

He falls asleep with the taste of rosé on his tongue, the snoring of a little dog in his ears, and the sight of her on his mind, all sleepy eyes and messy hair. She never looked better.

It looks good on you & I like your laugh

He’s positively buzzing with euphoria. They won, something no one thought was possible. They won and he scored the winning goal.

Spirits are high as the team and their friends have taken over the Karaoke place. Shots and drinks flow with no regard to the tab they’re raking up or the headache that awaits each of them tomorrow. None of that matters right now. Tonight is made for celebrating. Consequences don’t exist right here and now.

Rebecca burns the house down with her rendition of let it go and after a short intermission by Dani, singing a Spanish song that neither of them managed to join in with their non-existent knowledge of the language, the opening chords to another familiar song fill the room.

“Well, thanks for making us all look like amateurs, Rebecca,” (Y/N) says into the microphone as she takes her place on stage. Her words are laced with happiness and laughter and Roy thinks she must have him under some spell because he can’t manage to not smile when she’s around. It’s a bit ridiculous if he’s being honest.

“I will most definitely not be able to live up to that performance but I thought we could stay in the Disney bubble for a moment.”

Her eyes meet his across the room and when she winks at him it takes everything in him not to get up on stage and devour her. Fucking irritating.

“I know you all know this song so sing along if you feel like it. This one’s for you, John Bender.”

He knows it’s one of the cheesiest love songs ever, written for a movie about a cartoon lion. But sitting on the couch at the karaoke place surrounded by his team, having just scored a winning goal and listening to the girl that haunts his dreams sing straight to him and only him, he thinks Elton has a point. He can feel the love tonight. It’s in the smiles of his friends, and the voices coming together all chaotic and off-key singing along to the song. And there is love in her eyes, clear as day and undeniable.

“And can you feel the love tonight How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds Believe the very best”

The night is coming to an end, everyone’s found their way to their respective rooms — or whoever’s room they felt like staying at. Roy’s pretty sure he saw Rebecca’s friend enter Ted’s room but that’s none of his fucking business, is it?

“Okay, you can’t laugh though!” (Y/N)’s voice calls out from the bathroom and drifts towards the main part of the room where Roy is perched on the chair by the window.

This isn’t his room and really he knows he shouldn’t be here. But being alone right now sounded like proper torture. He wasn’t ready to leave this magical night behind yet. Not like this. Not when she sang to him and he had nothing to give her in return. So when she invited him to her room to watch yet another John Hughes movie on Netflix, he couldn’t do anything but accept.

“Are you sleeping in one of those weird fluffy onesies?”

“No, god no.”

“Then I don’t know why I’d laugh at you.”

When she steps into the room, he can see why she’d think he’d laugh at her choice of sleepwear. The white shirt looks not so white anymore, there is a hole at the bottom and a mysterious red stain by the collar. It doesn’t make him laugh though. It makes him fucking hard. Because that’s his name on the back of it. That’s a 2014 world cup Roy Kent England Jersey.

“Fuck me.”

He doesn't mean to let it slip but alcohol and euphoria have made his lips go loose.

“I knoooow, it’s embarrassing. I meant to bring something else but it’s just so comfortable.”

“It looks good on you.”

It does. He thought the green dress was it. Then he thought she looked absolutely adorable, all sleepy and natural. But this? This is the look that pushes him over the edge. This is everything.

“Yeah?” she asks and twirls around the room, not unlike Phoebe whenever Roy gifts her yet another new princess dress. He’s just such a sucker, can never say no when she asks him for something. “You just wait and see, I’ll steal your job soon enough.”

That makes him erupt into laughter yet again, he doesn’t think he’s laughed quite as much lately as when he is with her.

“I’ve seen you attempt to play before. I’m not worried.”

“I like your laugh,” she says, all warm eyes and wistful smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Something takes over, an invisible force pulling him to his feet and making him walk up to her. She’s leaning against the wall as he places one hand on her hip, the other on the wall next to her head. This shouldn’t be happening, he knows this. It’s dumb to believe that whatever tension there is between them can lead to anything. That’s just not in the cards for him no matter how much he wishes for it.

Girls like her don’t fall for boys like him. They never did, they never will.

“Roy Kent, you won today.”

Winning the game is the last thing on his mind right now. How could he ever think about winning right this moment when her hand is softly resting on his cheek and her nose gently nuzzling against his and the —

A knock on the door cuts through the moment making Roy let go and take a step back.

“Fucks sake.”

In his defense, Sam looks apologetic as he stands in front of the door, signature smile on his face. Good-natured and lovable. If this was any other moment Roy wouldn’t have been able to be mad at him. But this is that moment and he is a little pissed right now.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to disturb, I was just wondering if you had another phone charger. I can’t find mine and I know you always bring extra so — “

“Uh, yeah let me go get it real quick.” (Y/N) says and turns back towards the room.

Roy’s eyes connect with hers for a split second and it’s like a bucket of ice straight over his head. They both know whatever magical spell they had been under, it’s broken and gone and all that’s left now is a big old pile of what-ifs.

“It’s getting late, I should leave. Goodnight, (Y/N). Night, Sam.”

“We’ll reschedule, yeah?”

Tiny smile on his lips he nods his head in agreement.

He gets a soft “goodnight” in return and though he hates to admit it, the touch of her hand against his cheek lingers there all the way to his room and even further into his dreams.

Call me when you get home & We’ll figure it out

Rain pounds against the roof and windows like tiny bullets. A rainstorm has Richmond tight in its clutches so cruel and unforgiving the team can’t even train right now.

And yet for some reason Roy still finds himself in the workout room, trying to push himself to do just 5 more minutes on the treadmill. Just 5 more.

Actually, it’s not entirely true. He knows why he’s here. Part of him hopes that if he just pushes himself enough, he can overcome the pain in his leg and all the issues it causes. That if he just tries harder, he can go back to being the talented overachiever he used to be.

But it hurts. A sharp stabbing pain rushes through his knee forcing him to step off the treadmill. He hates this. In fact, it’s his worst fucking nightmare. Football is all he’s ever been good at, he can’t lose that. It’s his entire life.

If he’s not Roy the footballer, who is he? Some bloke named Roy with a dead career and no one to come home to? Now doesn’t that sound delightful?

"Roy?"

“Jesus, fuck!”

There she goes again giving him a heart attack, only this time it’s not because she’s being cute or anything.

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The smile on her face falls as she catches sight of him holding onto his knee. He can almost see the thoughts running through her head. She knows about his knee. If anyone knows how bad it is, it’s her. She told him not to overdo it. Said that would only make it worse.

He knows she has pity on him and he hates it. It’s irritating coming from everyone. Irritating and misplaced. Why would they pity him? It’s his own damn fault for not being good enough anymore.

But coming from her? That’s even worse. No one wants a guy that’s getting too old to do his job properly. That’s falling apart and breaking.

— Not that he wants her or anything. Oh, Roy, who are you trying to fool here? Of course, he wants her.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”

She raises her eyebrow in disbelief, in that bratty way that drives him crazy.

“I said I’m fine, (Y/N).”

“I hear what you’re saying,” she says and comes to stand next to him, crossing her arms in defiance. “but I can also see the way you’re holding your knee and that face you’re making. You’re in pain, love.”

Love. He doesn’t hate how it sounds when she calls him that. Irritating for sure but also — sweet.

“I’ll be fine! What are you even doing here?”

He hasn’t seen a lot of her ever since the night in Liverpool and while part of him was quite glad about it because he honestly wasn’t sure whether or not to bring up whatever had or had not happened between them, another part of him had missed her smile desperately.

“I work here.”

“You’re a fucking smartass, aren’t you.”

“I try.”

Fuck, even when she’s being deliberately difficult she manages to pull a smirk from him.

“I had some paperwork to do but by the time I arrived here, the storm was so bad that now I have to wait for it to stop before I can drive home. I hate driving when it rains.”

“Oh you should,” Roy returns, nodding his head in agreement “You’re a horrible driver in the best of weather.”

She responds with a scandalized gasp and a hand placed on her heart in mock upset “I am not a horrible driver! Take that back.”

“It took you 18 minutes to park your car the other day. I know because I saw it, we all saw it. Boys took the time and had bets going. Jamie won 20 quid.”

“Wha — okay I’ll have to have a word with the guys, you’re ridiculous. But don’t think you can change the topic on me, Mister. Is your knee getting worse?”

Yes, and he fucking hates it. Can’t even say the words out loud because that feels like admitting defeat. And that’s a terrifying thing to do.

Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have to say anything. A look is all it takes and she nods her head in understanding.

“That’s okay, Roy. We’ll figure something out.”

We will figure something out. We as in him and her. Since pretty much the beginning of his professional career, Roy had admirers. People who would latch onto everything he did or said and hold him to abnormally high standards he would never be able to reach. They adored him but they also didn’t know him. She knows him even when he tries so hard to keep her at arm's length. She knows him and is still in his corner, still has his back. The only people who ever did that were his family.

It’s an unusual feeling but he really really likes it. Even if it’s a little terrifying.

“What if — “ he takes a deep breath, trying to form the words that weigh so heavy on his heart “What if I can’t go back to how it used to be? What if this is the end for me?”

“Do you want me to be honest or nice?”

“Lay it on me then.”

“Things might not get back to how they used to be and there’s not really much you can do about it other than learn to accept it and then figure out a new place for yourself.”

“Football is all I have.”

“That’s not true but even if it was there is so much more about it than just the players.”

She’s right but it’s still a bitter pill to swallow.

“…and with that smile of yours, you can always go into modeling. I’m sure they’re always looking for new faces in the toothpaste commercial business.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“See! There’s that smile I was talking about.”

“You’re fucking insufferable sometimes.”

She is. He adores it.

“Oh, but you like it — right?”

“What?”

“You do — like it? Like me?”

It’s the first time he’s seen her act insecure. She’s always so bubbly and happy and smiling, he hates that he put any doubt in her mind that he does anything but cherish her.

“You irritate me, woman. Drive me up the fucking wall, every day.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No! Don’t say sorry. I love it. I think you’re a fucking knockout. Best thing since sliced bread.”

He does, he truly does and it feels nice to say it out loud for once. To admit it to her and to himself. It feels nice when she comes closer and when she rests her arms around his neck and it feels fucking phenomenal when her nose brushes past his and he can almost feel her lips on his.

Almost.

That’s until her phone beeps and she pulls away altogether.

“Ah shit, I gotta go.”

“Fuck sake. The universe hates me.”

“The universe doesn’t hate you, Roy Kent. We just have bad timing. ”

He’s not convinced.

“What about the storm?”

“I think the rain stopped, listen.”

Roy hears nothing. Where raindrops were drumming against the roof and windows just minutes ago, there is silence. He’s never wished for a rainstorm to persist more than he does at that moment.

“Well, call me when you get home at least. Roads will still be wet.”

“Aw, Roy, are you worried about me?”

His lips say no, but his eyes and his smile tell a different story.

You can stay & Is this okay? Can I hold your hand?

This is it. This is the end. He’s seen this one coming for a while now but he tried so hard. He trained and pushed and it was all for nothing. They’re losing and his career as an active footballer is over for good.

The door to the locker room opens slowly, almost cautiously and he’s just about to yell and whoever dares to disturb him, when his head snaps up and he sees (Y/N) standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing here? Game is still going, you’re the fucking Physio.”

“Good thing there’s more than one of us. I have to make sure all my players are okay.”

I’m not okay. That’s what he wants to say. He wants to scream it from the rooftops. He’s not okay. He’s not sure he ever will be.

“Get out, (Y/N).”

She can’t see him like this. Defeated. Broken. Old.

Instead of listening to him, she sits down beside him and holds an ice pack to his injured knee.

“As a physio, I need to tell you that what you did was really stupid.”

He knows it was. It was a calculated risk he was willing to take and if nothing else, he kept Jamie from scoring and the fans appreciated it. That was all that mattered at that moment.

“But as a friend and Richmond fan, I think it was brilliant. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself in the process.”

Silence settles over them and (Y/N) is just about to get back up when he grabs onto her arm and pulls her back down. “You can stay.”

“Okay.”

And for a long while they just sit. No words, no expectations. Just them.

Softly, almost like a whisper, he feels her touch against his hand, sliding her fingers between his.

“Is this okay? Can I hold your hand?”

It’s not okay. It’s phenomenal. It’s everything he could’ve wished for in that moment but never would’ve had the nerve to ask. It’s a promise that he isn’t alone in this. There is someone there holding his hand through the darkest of times.

A green light guiding him to safe shores.

“Don’t you fucking dare let go.”

Stay there, I’m coming to get you & I can't wait for tomorrow

Turns out, retiring from a successful football career does not mean you suddenly have a lot of free time. In fact, Roy doesn’t think he’s ever been this busy doing shit he doesn’t like.

Everyone wants an interview, a statement, a “what happens next”. It’s a lot of paperwork and contracts and shit he doesn’t care about. The point is, he’s fucking busy. So busy he hasn’t seen (Y/N) in quite a few days. Nothing has really changed since their moment in the locker room but somehow everything feels different.

It’s exactly 4:12 am when his phone rings. He almost doesn’t want to answer but calls at 4am usually mean bad news and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to his sister or Phoebe or (Y/N) or even (and he will deny this if you ask him about it) Jamie just because he couldn’t be bothered to answer his phone.

“Hello?”

“Royoooo.”

Oh. Oh!

A smirk pulls at his lips.

“(Y/N)?”

“Sorry —” she says and stops for a giggle “Sorry to wake you. I just — I was out with the girls and I didn’t plan on drinking but I did. They had a buy one get one free deal. It would be stupid to say no, right?”

“Right.”

"So, yeah."

“Go on. Didn’t just call me to tell me about the drinks, did you.”

“Oh, no. I just wanted to talk to you while I wait for my Uber. I miss you.”

“Do you?”

“So much!” her words are slow and slightly slurred. “Every fucking day. Like — god, I just wanna see your stupid handsome face.”

“It’s handsome, innit?”

“You have no idea! I just want to kiss you, so badly.”

Kiss him. She wants to kiss him. Sure, it almost happened twice but it’s still different hearing her outright say it. But then again, she’s drunk and by the time she wakes up tomorrow, she probably won’t remember half of what she’s saying right now.

“Where are you?”

“It’s that weird little bar around the corner from Sam’s restaurant. The one with the green door.”

“Go on and cancel that Uber.”

“Then how am I going to get home?”

“Stay there, I’m coming to get you.”

Roy isn’t quite certain whether or not he considers himself a good person. He tries to be, it’s a conscious effort each and every day. He tries to be a good person and a good person doesn’t let the woman he’s absolutely head over heels for wait outside in the cold dark night by herself. No matter how infuriating she is.

“Okay,” she agrees, a giggle slipping past her lips “Thank you. Can’t wait to see you.”

And though Roy had other plans for his weekend than picking up a drunk girl at 4 in the morning, he also can’t wait to see her.

“…and like it was mostly sugar, right? So I thought why not have another one. Turns out it was mostly vodka.”

“Who could’ve guessed.”

She’s cuddled up on his couch in one of his shirts looking into his eyes and retelling her night in vivid detail. Her story is slurred and a bit all over the place, blame it on her tipsy brain. It takes her forever to get to the point and when she does, the point doesn’t even make all that much sense. It doesn’t matter, he’d listen to her ramble forever if it meant he got to spend time with her wearing his shirt sitting on his couch — looking into his eyes.

“You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”

“I know,” she shrugs then scoots closer to him and wraps her arms around his “but you’re here so it’s only half as bad really.”

“If I’m feeling generous I’ll even make you breakfast.”

“You really are the dream, Roy Kent.”

She’s clawing at his chest, prying open his ribcage and burying herself where his heart used to be. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

“You have to stop saying shit like that. People are gonna think you’re in love with me or something.”

She pulls away slightly and looks up at him with those big eyes of hers before resting one hand on his cheek.

“Roy, I am. I thought you knew.”

He had a hunch, of course. Fostered a spark of hope in his heart that there could be something between them after all. But once you grow accustomed to loneliness it’s a little hard to let yourself believe.

“Do I need to show you to believe me?”

She pulls his face closer to hers and for a millisecond he wants to let go, but when he smells the alcohol on her breath he pulls back. This isn’t right.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re off your tits. I’m not kissing you like this. Our first kiss is not going to be some inebriated tongue-wagging. You hear me? I’m a hopeless fucking romantic, that kiss is gonna be special. I’m gonna kiss you stupid.”

She bites her lips to suppress the smile from taking over.

“So if I were to ask again tomorrow, you’d say yes?”

“Mh.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

At that she snuggles further into his arms and rests her head against his shoulder, a content smile on her face as she closes her eyes.

“Oh, I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

He doesn’t admit it, but neither can he.

I think you're beautiful & I’ll meet you halfway

“Roy?”

Her voice echoes through his house as the eggs sizzle on the stove.

“Why is there a small child looking at me?”

“Phoebe, stop staring at her you little creep!”

“She’s so pretty.”

She has a point.

10 minutes later the girls join him in the kitchen, walking in hand in hand and big smiles on their faces. Seeing them get along makes his heart grow approximately 12 sizes. That being said, the two of them teaming up against him sounds like trouble to him. Good trouble though. Trouble he loves to deal with.

“Good morning, Roy.”

“Morning. Pheebs, go sit down, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Okay, Uncle Roy.”

Once she’s out of the immediate earshot he turns back towards (Y/N). Though she tried her best to conceal it, yesterday's makeup is still smudged around her eyes and her hair is a downright mess. She’s wearing his shirt though, standing barefoot in his kitchen after bonding with his niece.

Sometimes life is fucking sweet.

“Don’t look at me like that, I know I look like a mess.”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“You’re delusional.”

“That’s not what you said last night. Think you called me the fucking dream if I recall correctly. Said you were in love with me.”

(Y/N) leans against the kitchen island, her hands flat against the countertop and her eyes trained on Roy.

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

Roy mirrors her position, arms resting on the kitchen island across from her. God, she really is so beautiful.

“Remember what you said?”

“Do you?”

“You promised me something, Roy.”

Roy Kent doesn’t make promises lightly. He thinks there’s hardly anything quite as heartbreaking and awful as breaking a promise. He prides himself in keeping all the ones he’s made.

It’s only right to keep this one too.

“Phoebe,” he calls out to the little girl without moving his eyes away from (Y/N) for even a second “Blindfold!”

The 6-year-old slaps her tiny hands over her eyes obeying her uncle's orders with no hesitation and no questions asked. He’s proud of her. Silly little idiot.

Leaning across the counter, his lips almost reach (Y/N)’s. She’s so close. So close.

Only —

“Fuck, I can’t reach. My knee.”

There’s so much love in her eyes as she regards him. It almost knocks him out.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you halfway,” She says and gets up on her tiptoes.

Across the counter their lips meet. There are no fireworks or butterflies or an angel choir singing. But there is her tasting of toothpaste and smelling his deodorant. Her and the feeling of belonging. Of comfort and domesticity and love. He loves this woman, undeniably and irrevocably.

It’s a great kiss. Fucking mindblowing. There is no need for rom-com-induced fairytale fantasies when you have the real thing and it is so much better than any story could ever be.

“Hey Roy,” she whispers against his lips as they come up for air.

“Hmm?”

“The eggs are burning.”

“Fuck!”

“You owe me a pound, Uncle Roy!”

Irritating! Both of them.

They’re his whole entire heart.

I love you & I love you

“I love you.”

It’s a normal fucking Tuesday when she says it for the first time. Really says it. Using those exact words. There’s nothing special about that day but with those words, she puts magic into it. The way she puts magic into his life every single day.

“Fuck you!”

“Sorry, what?”

She’s laughing. She’s always laughing and smiling that goddamn smile that makes him go all soft inside. Beautiful, lovely, knockout that she is.

“I said fuck you. I’ve been thinking about how to tell you all fucking week and here you go and say it first. You’re infuriating.”

Softly she rolls over so she’s resting on his chest, fingers softly tracing patterns into his skin.

“You’ve said it a million times before, Roy.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

Can’t hurt to say it again.

“I know. I knew. I always knew. From the moment you gave me your jacket.”

Of course, she knew. She took one look at him and it was like she got a view straight into his soul. Straight into his heart with all the vices and virtues, all his triumphs and defeats. All the good and the bad.

How fucking irritating. He loves her for it.

#roy kent x reader #roy kent x female reader #roy kent x f!reader #roy kent x fem!reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent imagines #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #inbloomwriting

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pandorasprongs · 10 months

Text

PROLOGUE | hold on to the memories.

'it's nice to have a friend' fic masterlist + playlist

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

SUMMARY: stories of jamie and reader's friendship over the years, from age 7 to 17.

WARNINGS: language, slight body image/appearance issues, slight panic attack, vague descriptions of sex

A/N: yay! finally starting this fic with sort of an overview/background on their relationship, but there will be more flashbacks throughout the chapters. no gif for this one cause tbh i could not find one that fits the vibes here, but regardless hope you all enjoy the prologue!

Age 7

"You mind handing that back over?" You hear a voice coming from the other side of the fence as you pick up a loose football.

You turn to find a boy around your age in a football kit. His hair was completely waxed to one side, probably to keep it from covering his eyes while playing. You recognize his uniform as your school's football team's, though you're not sure if you've seen him before. Then again, you didn't know anyone in town yet. You had just moved to Manchester a few months ago, just as the school year started and while you had a few people to talk to in class, you didn't have any solid friends really.

You toss the ball back to the boy, who catches it swiftly. You think that's the end of it, so you start heading back to your house when he calls out to you again.

"Hey! What's your name?" You answer him, with him nodding in acknowledgment. "I think I've seen you around the school. I'm Jamie."

He reaches over the fence and extends his arm for you to shake it, despite the fact that you were already at your front door. You walk back and shake it, as he asks, "Do you wanna play football? I got a game tomorrow, but Mum's too busy to play goalie."

You had hoped your look of glasses, multiple layers of clothes, and generally un-sporty demeanor was enough to dissuade offers to play, but this Jamie didn't really seem to care.

"Maybe another time," You reply, but this boy is persistent.

"Okay, do you wanna watch me score goals?" He offers before glancing at the book tucked under your arm and pointing at it. "You can read while I play."

Once you realize that he wasn't going to quit, you finally agree. You head back inside to tell your mom that you'd be playing with your neighbor for the afternoon and since you already finished your homework, she was more than willing to let you go. She always said you needed some fresh air, which was why you were outside in the first place.

You walk back to your yard to find Jamie still standing where you left him, but this time he was practicing his dribbling. He was pretty good from what you knew about football, and walk over to his side of the fence. He stops when he sees you and starts leading you to his backyard. There was a goal net in the far back and some cones set up, probably to practice maneuvering the ball better.

Jamie turns to see if you're still following him and drags you to a small table with two chairs near the door to the house. "You can stay here and count my goals," he instructs you and you nod your head in understanding.

While Jamie kicked around the football, you continued reading your book, occasionally looking up at what the boy was doing. It was easy to keep track of the score since Jamie would be cheering like he just won the Premier League when he scored.

After getting bored of reading, you decide to ask Jamie to teach you how to play. You see his eyes light up and immediately drags you up from your seat. The first thing he teaches you is how to dribble the ball. He held your hands the whole time to stop you from falling over, but that only seems to make it harder for you to move around.

Once you finally got the hang of that, — meaning you no longer tripped over your own feet — the next few hours were then spent teaching you the other basics of football like passing and shooting. You only started to get decent at shooting when you realized that the sun was already setting.

"I think I have to go home now," You tell Jamie, whose expression suddenly fell at your statement. You go and grab your book from the table and wave at the boy. "It was nice playing with you!"

If he said anything in reply, you didn't hear it because you sprinted back around the fence and into your house. You take off your shoes, relieving the ache of kicking around the ball, and go to tell your parents everything you did that day.

—

The next time you see Jamie was Friday morning. He spotted you leaving your house for school and invited you to his team's football game that afternoon. "You just have to stay in school a little later. My mum said your mum might get worried, so she told me to tell you now so you can ask her."

You run back inside to do just that and after informing her that the other parents would be chaperoning the game, she agreed. You also take the chance to get your scarf and gloves because you hadn't realized how cold it was outside. She went out with you to tell Jamie the good news.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he replied, causing your mom to let out a chuckle at how polite the boy became. She finally sends you off to school and Jamie decides to walk with you too.

—

You couldn't help but be amazed at how well Jamie was playing. You knew that he was at least decent based on how well he taught you that day, but he was practically scoring all the goals for his team. None of the opposing players could even catch up to him, at times. You wonder how he kept his energy up despite the fact that it was freezing outside and he was only in shorts.

After the game, his team got hot chocolate to celebrate their win. You go to congratulate him, but find it hard due to the number of people surrounding them. Jamie was looking for you too, so the moment he spots you trying to make your way through the crowd, he heads to you instead and pulls you aside.

"Did you like the game?" was the first thing he says to you.

You immediately nod, "Yeah, it was really fun to watch! Congrats on winning."

Jamie shrugs, "Thanks, but it's really nothing, we've been on a streak for a while." You don't know if he's just being humble or bragging about his team, but either way, you're happy they're doing well.

Afterward, Jamie decides to bring you to meet his mom. She's quick to embrace you and mentions that Jamie's been talking about you non-stop, much to the boy's embarrassment. She hands you a hot chocolate of your own and you're grateful to be able to warm your hands. You lost one of the pair around lunchtime, so you've been keeping your hands in your jacket pocket the whole day.

While Jamie goes to change, you stay with Georgie as you savor your drink. She notices the lack of cover on your right hand and gives you an extra pair that she kept in her bag. It's clearly too big for you and its orange color clashes with the blue and white on your left hand but you're grateful regardless.

Soon after, Jamie's rushing out of the locker room looking cozy in a sweatshirt under his winter jacket. He's wearing gloves as well and when he notices your mismatched gloves, he takes one of his off and switches them with the orange one.

They're a much better fit and you thank Jamie for it. The boy adds, "My hands are bigger, so they won't slip off as easily."

"Come on, let's go home!" He adds, grabbing one of your hands with his left and his mom's with his right as you walk off the pitch.

After coming home, your mom notices your new glove and decides to bring some cookies for the neighbors as a thank you. That started a months-long gift exchange between the two moms for reasons ranging from watching over their kids on weekdays to lending their kids a pencil for a standardized test.

You didn't really mind it though, because it usually meant you'd get to hang out with Jamie longer. You spent countless weekends riding your bikes around town, playing football, and even camping in your backyards. The boy who threw that ball over your fence was quickly becoming your best friend.

—

Age 15

“Aww, my little girl is so grown up, now!” Your mom exclaims as she opens the door to see you in a pink knee-length sundress. You don’t know why she’s so shocked you’re wearing it considering that she was the one who bought it for you. “Hmm, but do you think you need a necklace?”

“Mom!” You whine and she immediately backs off. It’s not like you minded the suggestion, but you had your own issues to deal with and didn’t need your parents to get involved.

When you said yes to Tim asking you on a date, you knew you’d be both excited and nervous. But you didn’t realize how insecure it would make you. Your parents say all the time that it’s normal for kids your age — being insecure about your looks and body, — but that advice never seemed to help. As your mom leaves the room, you turn back to the mirror and sigh. Something was just off. The dress was pretty, the shoes matched, and your mom did great with your hair, but even then, you still aren’t satisfied.

You weren’t as experienced with make-up and fashion as the other girls in your school and you had long since accepted that. You just didn’t realize it would backfire on you in times like these. You sigh sharply again. If Tim really liked you, it wouldn’t matter that much right? You add the necklace your mom was suggesting before heading downstairs.

After a string of ‘oohs’ and ‘awws’ from your parents, you start heading to the restaurant. Most popular restaurants among your schoolmates were walkable and you didn’t want an even more awkward introduction with your parents there, going there by yourself was the best plan. You had gotten there early, so you settled on the bench outside the restaurant to wait for your date.

Maybe around the first half hour, you should’ve suspected something was off. But you stayed for another hour in case Tim actually showed up. God, you shouldn’t have believed he was sincere. Why would someone ask you out? You always kept to yourself in class, spent most of your time studying, and never even tried to go to parties or anything.

You check your phone again because some hopeful part of you thought he’d text you with a valid excuse, but all you see are some messages from classmates asking for notes and a missed call from your mum. You were not ready to face your parents right now, not after the hopeful looks on their faces that their daughter might be sociable for a night.

Instead, you call the only other person you can. Jamie makes it to the place in record time and the first thing you do is hug him. The moment you make contact with his body is the moment you let the tears flow from your face. It didn’t really matter at that point if people were staring: you just needed someone. You needed Jamie.

“I’m gonna murder that prick,” Jamie threatens as he reciprocates the hug.

“Please don’t,” you whisper into his chest. “I can’t have you going to jail right now.” Despite trying your best to say it jokingly, your voice is too hoarse to properly convey it.

After what felt like hours in that position, you finally let go. You soon realize that your streaming tears had stained Jamie’s shirt. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

The boy looks down and just shrugs. “It was getting too small for me, anyway.” That’s enough to put a smile on your face.

The two of you get into the car – Georgie’s car, since technically, Jamie only had a provisional license – and start driving back to your house. Maybe it was your wrecked emotional state, but you decided to outright ask, “Jamie, do you find me attractive?”

You gasp as Jamie almost crashes the car. You quickly clarify as he steadies the vehicle, “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just, I don’t really know how I look to guys.”

“Right, sorry.” He says but doesn’t look away from the road. “I mean, you are pretty. As long as you don’t let it get to your head.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off Jamie, I’m not you.” You could list the number of times Jamie’s flashed that cocky smirk to girls at school during breaks. Those were some of the very few times you were embarrassed to be seen with him and you laugh at the reminder. But your smile quickly disappears when you look down at your outfit. “Do you think other guys think I’m pretty?”

Your voice is as soft as it’s ever been, not wanting to show how insecure you’re feeling at the moment. But Jamie can tell like he always does. You turn the corner to your house and he stops the car in the road and fully turns to you.

“Fuck those other guys. Fine, if you need someone to say it, I will. You are fucking gorgeous, especially tonight.” You cringe at his words, not used to having anyone say that about you, but he gets you to look at him again. “I’m serious. And Tim’s a fucking idiot for ditching you.”

Despite his harsh tone, the soft look in his eyes as he tries to comfort you almost makes you tear up again. As if it’s become a routine, you reach over and envelop him in a hug once more. To make up for the failed date, the two of you spend the rest of the night eating a tub of Neopolitan ice cream and soon enough, you forget that Tim even existed.

—

Age 17

Your teachers always said you were a good writer. But no one ever told you how fucking difficult it was to start your personal statement. You'd never realized how hard it is to prove you should go to university until you forced yourself to sit down and actually try and write something. You started with the outline route, trying to note all your academic achievements, extracurriculars, and things like that before you ended up boring yourself.

You've written 9 possible starting lines at this point, and in the end, you decide to just shut your laptop in despair. Try again tomorrow, you said to yourself. The same thing you said yesterday and the day before that.

You go to lie down on your bed when you hear something hit your window. It's a light clinking sound, and you ignore it till you hear another one. You finally decide to check outside your window and hear shouting from above.

"God?" you ask hesitantly.

"Nope, just me," you look up to find Jamie Tartt sitting on his rooftop, almost giving you a heart attack.

"Get down from there!" You tell him immediately and instantly cringe at how similar your tone is to your mom’s. Jamie rolls his eyes at the order but obliges anyway. He starts going down the roof into his bedroom — carrying an empty bottle of beer in his left hand — and makes it through his window. Once he's safe with his feet on the floor, he turns around to face you in your adjacent bedroom.

"Why'd you even go up there?" you question and Jamie, like always, simply shrugs.

"Felt like it," you shake your head at his reasoning. You knew your best friend could be reckless, but you didn't think he'd do something as stupid as that, especially before scouting season.

"So falling off and breaking your legs wasn’t something you thought could possibly happen?"

"Well, that’s why I have you to warn me," He exclaims, before going back to the conversation. "I'm coming over."

Both your sets of parents were out for the night and they'd known each other long enough to trust each other's kids enough, so neither of you needed to message them about it. You watch him sprint out of his room and after a few minutes, you here the doorbell ring.

You head downstairs and open the door to find a panting Jamie leaning on the frame. "3 minutes, new record time."

"Well, they do say I'm one in a million." He jokes as you let him inside and he takes off his shoes.

"Who's they, in this situation?"

"Mum." He says blankly, collapsing on the couch. "And Simon."

You laugh, before lifting his legs and shuffling on the opposite side of the couch. You rest them on your lap for a second, before a wave of stench from his feet hits you and you shove them off. Jamie goes back to sitting upright and he instead leans his head on your shoulder.

You turn on the TV and start browsing for a movie as your entertainment for the night. Most weekends were like this; hanging out in one of your houses, ordering pizza — which Jamie did as you looked through channels, — and relaxing on the couch.

The order was placed and you settled on the Hunger Games this time. You watched the first part of the movie in silence as usual, but once the pizza arrived, Jamie decided to change things up.

"Wanna play 20 questions?" You look at him curiously. You knew practically everything about each other, so why on Earth would you play a game that's every person's go-to icebreaker?

You don't have a chance to protest because after taking a bite of the pizza, he asks, "What were you doing before I got here?"

Your eyes widened at that. Maybe the one thing you never really talked about with Jamie was your future. Neither one of you would admit it, but there wasn't any chance that you two were going to be doing the same things in your career. You had academia and Jamie had football. It's hard to imagine something that kept the two of you together and also made both of you happy, so you never brought it up.

"Uh, I was having a wank," you joke but Jamie isn't amused. He continues to stare at you with an expression that you rarely ever saw; he was being serious. "I was trying to write my personal statement."

You look cautiously at your best friend who is quiet for the first time tonight. He takes a bite of his pizza again and with a full mouth, says, "And? How's it going?"

You groan and lean your head back. "Fucking terrible. I can't think of anything to say about myself."

"The fuck do you mean? You're like the smartest person I know." He points out and while you're touched he thinks that, you sigh.

"Unis don't just look at grades anymore. They want substance and worldly impact from their applicants. How the fuck am I supposed to change our societal landscape at fucking seventeen?" You admit, and it's like a weight has been lifted off of you. You drop your plate of pizza on the table and lean into Jamie's side.

"You want me to write it for you? I've got a bunch of great things to say about my best friend." He offers and you finally let out a laugh. "I can put how fucking amazing you are at Scrabble, how you can predict the ending of a movie in the first 20 minutes, how loud your voice can get when you cheer me on at a football game, and how you can hear a song once and already figure out how to play it on the piano."

You look up to find Jamie giving you a wide smile and his happiness is contagious. But that feeling is almost instantly replaced when you remember the position you two are in and feel your heart beating faster.

You don't ignore the fact that Jamie has grown up a lot more in recent years: finally passing you in height, having more defined arm muscles, and definitely growing into his features. It's harder to feel normal when you do the things you did as kids like when he rests his head or arms on your shoulders, pulls you into his chest to stop you from walking in front of a passing car, or just like right now when you're leaning into him, his arm pulls you closer to his body.

You slowly pull yourself away, but then he grabs hold of your hand instead. You've held hands before, but again, there's just something different about now. You decide to leave it there before finally replying, "I'm sure with that kind of stories in it, they'll let me into fucking Oxford." The two of you laugh before you grab your plate of pizza again and turn to back to the movie.

—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You hear someone say, as you turn the corner to your school’s locker room.

It was normal to hear the players get nervous before the finals, but hearing Jamie Tartt panicking was a whole new thing for most of your classmates. Some league teams had sent scouts for the striker in this game and while everyone knew he’d do great, it seemed like the school’s support still wasn’t enough to convince him of that.

When his teammates couldn’t snap him out of it, their Plan B was to call you.

“Sorry, I’m looking for my best friend, Jamie Tartt. Brown hair, blue eyes, kind of conceited, but pretty nice if you get to know him.” You start out jokingly, but when his panicked eyes landed on yours, you quickly shift gears. “Shit, sorry. Not the time for jokes, I guess.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m off my game right now,” He starts, still trying to catch his breath as he moves around frantically. You take his hands into yours in order to steady him, but when that doesn’t work, you grab him by his shoulders.

Usually, Jamie would be towering over you, but with his slumped posture at the moment, you were almost eye-to-eye with the guy. “Jamie, take a deep breath. Focus on me, okay?”

You’ve gone through this enough times — usually with you in Jamie’s place — to know how to calm him down.

He follows your directions and you slowly nod your head. “Keep breathing, just do that for now.” Jamie closes his eyes and slowly starts to steady himself. Your hands move from his shoulders to his hands like you initially planned.

“I know it’s fucking terrifying, but believe me when I say that you are incredible. You know how you always tell me that I’ll smash it as Model UN conferences? This time, I’m the one telling you you’re gonna be the best fucking player out there.” You pause for a moment in case he reacts, but all Jamie does is nod his head. “I believe in you. Georgie and Simon believe in you. Hell, this entire school fucking believes in you. I swear, I saw people planning a chant for you outside.”

That gets the player to laugh and you smile, seeing a glimpse of his usual self. “Also, I know I’m complimenting you right now, but better savor it cause I’m never inflating your ego like this ever again.”

“Not even when I help Man City get another win in my first year?” Jamie finally speaks up.

“I’ll be complimenting Pep, not you.” You playfully roll your eyes. “But to be able to do that, you have to get out and play today.”

Jamie straightens up and starts shaking away the nerves. He turns to head to his team, but not before giving you a quick hug and a ‘thank you.’ Once he enters the locker room again, you start heading back to your seat.

—

Age 18

"Do you really want to do this?" Jamie asks carefully, but you've already made up your mind as you pull him closer.

You were going off to university in a few months and Jamie would be doing his summer training soon. Both his and your parents were out of town on a couple's retreat, so it was either now or never.

You knew that going off for college would increase the chances of your first time being with a random guy you met at a frat party infinitely, so you could say it was a calculated decision to jokingly ask Jamie when you talked about it if he'd be willing to sleep with you.

You didn't really expect anything and for the first few seconds, Jamie was too in shock to actually reply. You immediately tried to dismiss it as a joke, but before you could, he replied, "Sure."

You knew that Jamie had already had sex with girls before, — hearing him try and sneak the girls out of his bedroom window was always a fun story to bring up the next day — so you thought that it would just be another one for him.

But that night was the most delicate you've ever seen him. He didn't rush you or make you feel uncomfortable. He checked up on you constantly, making sure it didn't hurt and you were actually enjoying yourself. You made sure to hug him after, — not being able to say any words of gratitude out loud, — and you eventually went to sleep like that.

You woke up the morning after, still with him beside you, but after you got changed and he went back to his house, neither of you brought it up again. You went back to your old routine of hanging out in the afternoons and movie nights as if nothing even happened.

And it really was for the best, considering that the next time you had sex really was in a frat house’s bathroom.

—

Now, you were loading the last of your things into your car for your family road trip to Cardiff, which was to also move you into your dorm. Your mom was recounting the boxes, making sure you didn't forget anything because in her words, "We are not driving 3 and half hours twice just to bring you your toothbrush." Your dad was in the kitchen fixing up snacks for the trip, so you decide to take this chance and finally say goodbye to your best friend.

You barely saw Jamie in the weeks leading up to this since he spent most of his time at training. Even on weekends, he would be passed out in his room from the painstaking drills of the days prior. So as you knock on their door, you aren't very hopeful.

It reveals Simon who instantly pouts and brings you in for a hug. You always appreciated him for how he accepted Jamie into his life, despite the latter's fears that he'd be just like his father.

"Come inside," He offers, but you shake your head. You had to leave soon and you didn't want to delay the trip any longer. “Alright, but I was actually baking some muffins that you guys can take on your drive there, and you can’t say no to those.”

You laugh as you nod, before asking, "Is Georgie home?"

Simon calls out to his wife to tell her that you're about to leave. You soon hear quick footsteps descending the stairs before you are once again enveloped in a hug.

Simon heads out to presumably pack up those muffins, but you're too distracted by the rising feeling of sadness as you say goodbye to the woman whose practically been your second mother for a decade.

"You stay safe, okay? I know you'll enjoy your life there, but don't make your parents worry too much. Cause then they won't be able to stop talking about you," You laugh at her prediction before giving her one last hug.

Simon races back to you with a brown paper bag which he hands over, along with a pat on the back. You turn around to see if there's any sign of your best friend, but Georgie answers that for you. "He said he might be running late at practice." You feel your heart sink, but do your best to mask it. You wave goodbye to the couple before walking to the car.

You hand your dad the bag of muffins and sigh, "We can go." Your parents exchange a look but oblige nonetheless. You start heading into the car when you hear the call of your name.

You turn to see Jamie, still in his kit — shorts and all, — running towards your house. You decide to meet him halfway and once he's close enough, the football player pulls you into a tight hug, as if he's never letting go.

"Did you really think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye?" He whispered into your shoulder.

"If you're in trouble for leaving practice early, that is not on me." You try and keep it light-hearted, but his laugh only makes the pit in your stomach feel worse.

"Call me, okay? As often as you can. And send me pictures of all the stadiums you're playing in. I don't care if you send ten pictures of Etihad Stadium in a row, just do it. If you ever come to Cardiff, take some time off to see me. And," you try and think of more things to say, but Jamie cups your face in his hands to make you stop.

"I'll see you during the off-season, yeah?" Jamie's look is soft and you can feel the dam stopping your tears about to break.

"Don't you fucking forget me, Jamie." You try and say as angrily as you can, but your voice cracks as Jamie pulls you into another hug.

The two of you finally separate and you head off to your car. You stop yourself from looking back as you get into your seat.

Jamie doesn't take his eyes off you, though. He watches as your car starts and turns the corner off your street.

A/N: hope you all enjoyed this one! if you couldn't tell, some of these flashbacks were based on the song 'it's nice to have a friend' by taylor swift which is what inspired this whole thing! see you next week for the official first chapter !!

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