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PART 20

“So exciting, really, congratulations!”

“Thank you so much,” you smoothed out your skirt, adjusted on the sofa across from James Corden. “I really did not think I was going to win. I was telling everyone all night, there was no way! I didn’t believe it.”

“You didn’t believe it?” He asked, the audience chuckled.

“No! I mean--I’m very proud of my album and the music I put out but there were so many amazing nominees, I just--I don’t know, I thought my night was over.”

“You must have gone out though, afterwards, right?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “Yeah--we went to a party that my publishing company hosted, actually.”

“You and your date, Jason Sudeikis,” James smiled.

You laughed when the audience clapped at his name. “That’s the one, yeah.”

“Talk about a surprising couple--I don’t think any of us saw that coming and now it’s something that makes so much sense, people adore the two of you.”

The audience cheered, you laughed and admitted: “I don’t think we saw it coming either, I did not expect it at all. Wouldn’t change it though, he’s amazing.”

“You were in London with him this spring, right? You’ve been out there?”

“I have, yeah, we’ve been living out there while he films the third season of Ted Lasso--”

Another eruption of excitement from the crowd.

“What an amazing show,” James said seriously. “Do they all know they’ve struck gold?”

“They do,” you nodded, “I think, in a super humble way. And mostly because I tell them all the time--it’s so good.”

James nodded, a mischievous smile on his face. “You actually brought Jason here with you, today, right? He’s backstage?”

“He is,” you confessed, a hint of suspicion on your features when he laughed. “He’s back there somewhere.”

“Well we had a fun idea--can we bring Jason out? We talked to him earlier!”

The crowd stood and applauded, you laughed when James stood and Jason walked out from behind the same curtain you’d hid behind only ten minutes earlier. He waved at the crowd, his outfit more casual than yours when he came to sit beside you on the couch.

He slung an arm around your shoulder after he hugged James, pressed a kiss to the side of your head when you looked up at him.

“I’m nervous,” you said, a glance between him and James.

“Nervous?” James asked, the audience laughed. “Why would you be nervous?”

“Something about the two of you conspiring behind my back--”

“Conspiring?” Jason asked, cutting you off. “That feels like an aggressive word to use!”

“No, we--we actually did conspire,” James admitted, a boisterous laugh when the audience joined in.

“Yeah,” Jason nodded. “We did, one-hundred percent.”

“We decided it would be fun to bring Jason out and play a game--are you up for that?”

As if there was a way to get out of it now. “I will give anything a shot, I guess” you shrugged, legs still crossed on the sofa.

“Okay,” James stood, “so come over here, we’ve got two seats for you. We had the help of both of your wonderful assistants to help with this, alright? This is a game we’re calling Who Knows Who?”

“Oh boy,” Jason followed over, took his seat on a stool as you climbed up and did the same. “Really creative name,” he teased James.

“Yeah--we’re running out of creativity here,” he rolled his eyes.

You took the seat beside Jason and let out a breath--how bad could it be?

“We figured: who knows you both better than your assistants?” James explained, a smile in your direction before he turned back to the camera. “So we asked them to give answers to questions about the two of you, and you’re each competing against the other’s assistant.”

“Oh god,” you laughed. “You’re not gonna beat Mia!”

“No,” Jason shook his head seriously. “I probably won’t.”

“We have these for you--here you go,” James handed you both paddles, green, true on one side, red, false on the other. “We do have videos, so Y/N, you’re up first. Are you ready?”

“No,” you mimicked Jason from a second ago, a laugh up at James. “But I will do my best.”

“Good, alright--first up: Jason was born in 1975.”

“Yes--true!” you flipped the paddle around to have the green side showing, the audience applauded when Jason nodded.

On the screen behind you a video of Cara appeared--webcam quality as she read the same question from the screen. “Uh, yes--yeah, I think so--sounds right to me,” she pushed her glasses up on her nose and a bell dinged in the studio, correct!

“That feels like an easy start,” he commented.

“They increase in difficulty as we go,” James laughed. “Don’t worry. Next one: Jason has been in over 30 movies.”

“Oh huh,” you thought out loud for a second. You stole a look over at Jason.

“Don’t look at me like I’m gonna tell you,” he laughed, the audience followed suit.

“I’m not! That feels like a lot though,” you looked back to James.

He nodded, watching you with intrigue, “It does feel like a lot…”

“I’m saying false.”

“Alright, let’s see what Cara said,” James motioned back to the screen.

“I think that’s true,” she talked to herself with a nod. “I know he’s done over ten since I started working with him, so--I’m gonna go with true for that one.”

You let out a groan, Jason laughed when James laughed at the buzzer noise, wrong!

“Okay, alright, Cara, two, Y/N, one--let’s see: Jason’s go-to starbucks order is a caramel latte.”

You held up the paddle, “that’s true, I’m pretty sure. I know he likes them.”

The video played again, Cara nodded with confidence. “As the person who gets that for him a lot, yes, 100% true.” She cheered for herself in the pre-tape when the answer was revealed on her laptop.

“Alright,” James smiled. “Last one for you, Jason never leaves the house without his a deck of cards.”

“True,” you nodded quickly, “I’ve been a victim of far too many mediocre magic tricks.”

“They’re not mediocre,” Jason defended. “They’re just bad, terrible, really.”

The audience laughed at the banter between the two of you, James smiled when he flipped to a new card of questions. “Jason--she got three of four right, that’s pretty good.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Seventy-five percent, that’s not bad.”

“Do you think you can beat it?”

“Uh,” he laughed. “I don’t know--we’ll have to see.” He turned to you and reached his hand for yours. “Don’t break up with me if I suck.”

“No promises,” you smiled, just to make the audience laugh.

“Alright, alright--first one: Y/N grew up in New Jersey.”

“Uh, yep,” he flipped his paddle to the green side. “True. I’ve seen it.”

“You’ve seen New Jersey?” James teased.

“I have,” Jason nodded, “and her parents' house.”

“Alright,” James turned to the screen. This time, Mia read the question off of her laptop, you recognized her living room and smiled at the sight of your assistant/friend.

“She did,” Mia nodded in the pre-tape. “Northern Jersey, she would correct you on that, but yes. True!”

You nodded at Mia’s words--North Jersey, to be exact! The audience clapped when Jason pumped his fist in victory.

“Don’t get too confident,” James warned. “They get harder, remember? Next up: Y/N grew up with a pet dog.”

“Ooh,” Jason thought on it for a second, watched you with narrowed eyes as the audience waited for his answer. A few people shouted yes, some called out no!

James turned and laughed, “no one helped Y/N when she struggled!”

“Yeah that’s unfair, guys!” You looked out to crowd, squinted through the stage lights.

“Alright, alright--my vote is false, I don’t think you did. I feel like I would have heard about it.”

“Alright,” James nodded. “Let’s see what Mia has to say.”

Mia smiled and read the question. “Yes--I’m pretty sure his name was Hank, but it’s definitely true.”

“Hank?” Jason turned to you. “Why haven’t I heard about him?”

“My parents had him before I was born,” you defended with a giggle. “He died, like, before I started kindergarten!”

“Well rest in peace Hank--”

“You’ve gotta stay on this, Jason, or you could lose! Next one: Y/N has won how many Grammys?”

Jason smiled at you quickly, a subtle acknowledgement of your recent--and under the influence--addition. “Eight in total, I believe.”

The crowd cheered at that, Mia confirmed it was right and then James read the final one.

“Alright, Jason--last chance here. You’ll either tie or lose, so--Y/N’s pre-show ritual includes calling her mom.”

Jason let out a quick laugh, “I mean--I haven’t necessarily seen that yet, but I feel good about saying that’s true,” he nodded, adjusting his paddle to match.

The video rolled of Mia, she laughed like Jason and nodded. “True--yeah, she calls her mom right before she goes on stage. She gets kind of annoyed if her mom doesn’t answer, too.”

The audience cheered again and James turned to you. “Really? You get annoyed? Do you call her over and over?”

“No--but it’s like, she knows where I am, she knows when I have a show.”

“She’s got a life,” Jason reminded you.

“She does,” you laughed.

“And you both tied!” James smiled, “which is good because I feel like if one of you won it might have gotten messy.”

“Absolutely,” Jason nodded. “Punches thrown, for sure.”

James took you out to commercial break, the lights above the cameras cut off and Jason turned to you when Justine showed up to refresh your lipstick.

“I knew about Hank.”

“You did?” You asked, lips parted as Justine swiped another layer on.

“Your dad mentioned him once--but I figured letting you win was the nice thing to do.”

Justine laughed at that and you rolled your eyes. “We tied, I didn’t win.”

He leaned in and kissed you on the forehead before he fell into step with James. “Every relationship needs compromise, baby.”

Mid-April brought you back to London for another few nights. Production ramped up as the weather got nicer, meaning Jason spent more late nights on set. A week after the Grammys, Mia sat cross legged on the floor and helped you pack.

“Everything’s finalized for Monday morning,” she said, a glass of wine in her hand as she looked over your upcoming itinerary. “We’ll have to leave here around seven.”

“Right,” you nodded, glancing over the dress you’d pulled for Otis’ birthday party. Was it too much? Too young? Should you even go?

“And our flight will land early in New York--you’ve got rehearsals that afternoon.”

“Mhm,” you acknowledged. You’d been prepping for this, packing everything up, heading back to New York and the apartment you’d called home--the one that was a whole thirty minutes from Jason.

Mia glanced up at you now with a pity smile, your one word answers tipped her off. “You guys are going to be fine.”

A sigh when you brought your eyes over to her. “I know--I know we will be.”

“It’s normal to feel anxious though--you’ve been living with him for the past four months.”

“Yeah--”

“He’ll be out for opening night,” she reminded.

“Is this not birthday party appropriate?” You held the dress up against your frame, looked down at the floral pattern and then waited for Mia’s reply.

“Wait--are you being weird because you guys aren’t gonna live together back in New York or are you nervous about this weekend?”

Otis had been begging for a sleepover--movies and pizza and cupcakes, that’s what he’d said a few weeks ago at dinner when Jason asked how he wanted to celebrate. The thought drifted out of your mind with the trip to the West Coast and as you got busier with ironing out the wrinkles in the last few weeks of tour prep.

But then Jason came home a few nights ago and reminded you: Otis’ party this weekend, Olivia said we can come by for a bit.

“Both,” you finally answered Mia’s question. “But mostly the party.”

“Well,” she downed the last of her wine. “Unfortunately I am not the person to ask about appropriate kid’s birthday party attire.”

You looked over at the clock on your nightstand and did the math on your fingers. You pulled out your phone and opened up FaceTime, only three rings before she answered.

“What a lovely surprise,” Blake smiled into the phone when she came into view.

“I am in need of wardrobe assistance,” you informed, “I’m with Mia.”

“My favorite,” Blake said.

“Wardrobe assistance or me?” Mia called from the floor.

“Both!” Blake smiled.

You let out a laugh at their friendship but flipped the camera around. “Okay--so Otis is having a birthday party and Jason and I are going for a little bit--it’s at Olivia’s. Is this dress too much?”

“Yes,” Blake nodded, her forehead creased when she pushed her face closer to the camera to inspect the outfit in question. “How old is he, like, eight?”

You nodded.

“Yeah--you need like, jeans and a sweater or something. You might get paintballed or some shit so don’t wear anything that fancy.”

“See?” You looked at Mia. “I knew it.”

Blake rolled her eyes at you playfully. “So Olivia’s hosting?”

“She is--five boys and a sleepover. Daisy’s gonna stay with us for the night so that’s good.”

“You sound like such a mom,” Blake teased.

“I do not--”

“You do,” Mia agreed. “In a good way.”

“Alright, well--don’t say that to Olivia,” you made a face.

“Right, you know--since I talk to her so much,” Blake joked.

Once upon a time, back before you knew Jason and long before Jason and Olivia went their separate ways, Blake had dinner with Olivia a few times, never really liked her all that much, she told you one night over a glass of wine.

Jason and Ryan had been friends forever--so it made sense that once in a while Blake and Olivia would cross paths and mingle like the successful industry people they were.

But her loyalty was with you as evidenced by the way her nose scrunched at the mention of her name.

“If you and Jason are in this for the long haul then Olivia should be happy you’re so good with the kids,” Mia reminded from her spot on the floor. She folded a sweatshirt and tucked it into a suitcase before she looked up at you.

“I know,” you shrugged absentmindedly. “But I’m not their mom and I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“Does she know that you guys are--you know--” Blake wiggled her eyebrows in excitement.

“I have no clue,” you answered honestly. “And I have no idea when it might happen, I mean, I’m leaving soon and I have the tour and he’s still busy filming. It might just not be the right time right now.”

Blake nodded, lips set in a thin line as Mia smiled.

“What?” You asked Blake, “what do you know?”

“Nothing,” she smiled. “I know absolutely nothing.”

“I can’t even see your face and I can tell you’re lying,” Mia laughed.

Blake rolled her eyes. “Guys talk, Y/N.”

“So Jason told Ryan something,” Mia translated.

“You have to tell me!” You said quickly, moving to sit on the bed as you bounced in anticipation. “Wait--no, don’t. I don’t know. Is it good? Will I want to know?”

“I think you have packing to do,” Blake said with a sweet smile. “Love youuuuu, bye!”

Blake was right, which became obvious when you walked into Olivia’s house with a wrapped present in hand. You dodged three kids in the first thirty seconds, caught a lamp that someone almost knocked off a console table, and then followed Jason through the house and found Daisy watching her brother with arms crossed over her chest.

“Hey Dais--” Jason greeted, she turned and smiled at the sound of his voice. “Where’s mom?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Hopefully getting me earplugs.”

You laughed at her attitude, went to stand next to her when Jason disappeared into the house to find her.

“That bad already?”

Daisy sighed. “Boys are loud.”

“Well, then you’ll be happy to know I had Mia pick up strawberry ice cream for us tonight.”

She looked up at you with a toothy grin. “And sprinkles?!”

“And sprinkles,” you nodded. “And I’m pretty sure your dad is gonna let us have Mac n’ Cheese, too.”

“Thank god,” she said.

You sat with her for a while on the grass, watched as the boys hooted and hollered like they were the only ones in Olivia’s posh neighborhood. Jason returned and Olivia came to say hi, she brought Daisy a juicebox but then retreated inside to order the pizzas.

Eventually, the excited shrieking of 8-year-old boys had you seeking shelter in the kitchen, a reprieve from the backyard soccer game that Jason was more than happy to referee.

“Oh,” you turned the corner to find Olivia doing the same, nose in her phone before she looked up to see you. “Hi--sorry, didn’t know you were in here.”

She smiled awkwardly, a laugh escaped her lips when she shrugged. “I find it’s most tolerable if you find a hiding spot.”

You nodded, guilty as charged, but rounded the island to reach for a juicebox on her counter as you tried to come up with small talk.

“Here,” she said, reaching for a glass and the already open wine bottle behind her. “This is how I make it through.” She took out the stopper and poured some. “Everytime you come in here, take a swig or two and after a few, the screaming feels more tolerable.”

You laughed, smiled when she got her own and clinked it against yours.

“Congrats on the Grammy wins, by the way--must be exciting!”

“Thank you, yeah,” you smiled. “It was a busy trip but a lot of fun.”

“And Jason said the tour starts in a few weeks?”

“Mid-May, yeah.”

Quiet for a second when you sipped more wine. Apparently she was better at small talk than you were.

“He also said you guys have talked about getting married--or engaged, whichever.” She shrugged quickly and offered an awkward smile.

But your heart was in your throat, you swallowed and nodded, glancing up at her quickly before looking back to the ruby red in your glass. Lie? Run? What on god’s green earth were you supposed to say to that?

“Oh--yeah, I don’t know when, we just said at some point--”

She smiled, almost like she knew you were nervous and felt bad for the way your heart was pounding in your chest. “That’s really good news--I just--I guess I wanted to say that the kids will be really excited, and you know, it’ll be nice to have you be part of the family officially.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a smile when you looked back up at her.

“And, you know,” she shrugged, “it’ll be nice to have someone to drink wine with at all the birthday parties.”

May in New York was always busy. The trees bloomed and your birthday always brought celebration to Manhattan, friends and family coming in for dinners and parties and this year, the tour. After two weeks apart for final rehearsals across the pond and last minute meetings, your birthday came and so did Jason and the kids.

I’m finally not dating a twenty-something, he joked all day, a family brunch at your parents house before a rented out rooftop somewhere in Tribeca.

Maddy and Ada and Evie were there, the Hadid sisters and Hailey Bieber. You drank champagne and after the sun sank beneath the skyline, one of them finally had the guts to ask.

“So--big birthday weekend,” Evie smiled. “Think you’ll get a sparkly, diamond-shaped gift at any point?”

“I don’t know,” you laughed, downplaying the excitement that sprouted roots in your chest. “Whenever it happens is fine, and I’m just trying to focus on the opening show.”

“Three days, right?”

A nod before you sipped more champagne. “And a shit ton of stuff to do in the meantime.”

The stage was going up at Madison Square Garden tomorrow, two nights before to allow a final run through in full wardrobe. Saturday night would bring friends and fans and other big names to the performance and somehow, you couldn’t tell if the tour or an impending proposal felt more nerve wracking.

“I bet he does it before the show,” Maddy chimed in.

Blake was there too, a smile on her lips as she watched the rest of your friends take guesses.

“You’re uncomfortably quiet,” Ada let her elbow bump into Blake’s.

“I plead the fifth,” she smiled, leaning her head on your shoulder.

“Wait--speaking of me getting engaged,” you held up a hand, scanned the roof to make sure Jason was nowhere nearby.

He was on the other side, stood with Ryan and Nolan as he took another drink from the bartender.

“Olivia knows--she brought it up at Otis’ birthday party a few weeks ago.”

Blake looked surprised. “She knows, like, when he’s gonna do it?”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “She knows it’s happening. He mentioned it to her I guess and she said she was excited for us.”

“Wow,” Evie said. “Do you believe her?”

You thought on it for a second, glanced back over to Jason as he nodded along to whatever Ryan was saying. You thought back to the moment (was it a moment?) you shared with her in the kitchen. For the first time since you’d known her, it felt like the two of you were on the same team.

You didn’t need to be her best friend, didn’t even need to spend any time together outside of recitals or school events--but if you were going to do this, if you were going to be part of this family, it felt nice to know she could tolerate it.

“I do.”

There was a cake after sunset, thirty whole candles on top that took two tries to blow out. The streets of New York glittered below and Blake found you looking out over the city as the party thinned out. She linked her arm in yours and stared out into the night.

“Between you and me,” she eyed you quickly. “I think thirty will be your best year yet.”

You always woke up on the opening day of a tour with an inhuman level of energy. You bounced out of bed to hit the ground running before it was even 7am, coffee, a bagel on the go, a radio interview or two, venue by lunchtime.

On tours past you’d ended at Madison Square Garden, the homecoming shows were loud and exciting and it felt like the perfect place to cap off months of travel and triumph. It was Chris’ idea, this time, to open here and start the tour with the level of excitement that usually signaled the end of an era.

Which is why the green room was buzzing with friends and family the entire day, more and more people stopping by to say hello and wish you luck before you had to head to hair and make up.

Daisy sat on the couch decked out in your merch: a t-shirt, a hat, a special lanyard with her backstage pass. She munched on goldfish that Mia had secured for her, bounced on the cushions like this was sure to be the best night of her entire life.

She wanted to bring a friend, which Jason was hesitant about at first, until he’d decided bringing their nanny was the fix. I’ll be too excited, too busy to wrangle not one, but two five year olds.

Now, he sat next to her and watched as she shoved another handful of orange crackers in her mouth. “You’re that excited, huh?”

“I am!” she smiled when you clicked your phone shut. “Are you excited, Y/N?”

“I am!” you nodded, “but I’m nervous too.”

Mia briefed Chris on something behind you, your mom was with Nolan near the snacks and your dad (with Murphy, of course) was on a walk somewhere in the venue halls. Andrew and Lena were disappointed that their two babysitters (you and Nolan) were both already booked for tonight, but they found someone else and would be here by dinner time.

“You’re nervous?!” Daisy asked with wide eyes.

“Only a little,” you shrugged. “I just want it to be a good weekend.”

“It will be,” she said confidently, Mia handed you a sheet of paper, day of timeline.

Jason let his eyebrows rise in curiosity. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

She lowered her voice to a loud whisper, looked between you and Jason before she smiled mischievously. “You said you have a very important question for Y/N this weekend!”

Nolan and your mom had just come closer, both of their mouths fell open in shock when Jason sputtered.

“Daisy--you don’t--we haven’t--”

Mia took Daisy’s hand, her eyes wide with excitement when she smiled at you over her shoulder. “Daisy--let’s go see the stage!”

She smiled and hopped into action, bouncing down the concrete hallway when a moment of awkwardness flooded in the room. Your mom shot you a glance before she went to chat with Chris. Nolan announced to the entire room, Jessica should be here soon--I’ll go find her.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I don’t--sorry--I shouldn’t have told her--”

“This weekend?”

“Well they’re both here and we’re gonna be apart for a while, so I figured it might be a good time, but I don’t--I can change it, it should be a surprise.”

“I do!”

He eyed you for a second. “Wrong reply,” he laughed.

“Just do it now! I don’t care!”

“You are ruining your own proposal,” he laughed, poking you in the ribs. “You have a show to put on.”

“You have a ring to put on me,” you wiggled your brows at him.

“Get out of here,” he smiled. “Now I have to think of all new shit to say to you later when I actually do it.”

“You expect me to get on stage and perform a whole show knowing that I’m getting engaged soon?!”

“You won’t be getting engaged soon if you don’t get the heck to hair and make up,” he reprimanded, a smirk set on his mouth when you leaned up to kiss him.

He gave you a slap on the ass when no one was looking, you were off to find Justine and to pull on the first of three outfits. Before you knew it, you rose up to the stage as the beat kicked in. Sixteen songs--almost two hours and so much smiling your cheeks were already sore. The adrenaline of the crowd was just as contagious as it always had been, and by the time you wiped your eyeliner off that night, you were ready to do it again.

“Starting in New York was a good call,” you said at the sink in the master bath. “Sleeping here will be better than a hotel or bus tonight. I’m always the most sore after the first show.”

“You should get massages like a football player,” he laughed, slipped his watch off and placed it on the counter, a wiggle of his eyebrows when he added: “I’d be happy to assist, though I’m not professionally trained.”

You laughed but rolled your eyes, already in sweatpants. You’d changed back at the venue, nothing worse than a jumpsuit and heeled-boots in the car home.

But now there was a knock at the door, Jason walked to open it and revealed Otis on the other side. He’d watched from the VIP section with the rest of them, his friend Patrick seemed more excited about the segways they rode around The Garden than your show, but you didn’t take it personally.

“There’s no way I’m falling asleep after tonight--” he walked into the bedroom, a sigh from between his lips as he climbed up and onto the bed.

Jason shot you a look through the doorway. Was he really coming in here, to sit with both of you atop the king-sized mattress that now felt like an ours instead of a his?

“No? Gave up after a whole ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes in kid time is like an hour in grown up time,” Otis said, duh. Footsteps in the hallway, you almost bumped into Daisy once you drained the sink.

“You too?” Jason turned to see her, a blanket draped over her shoulder and a stuffed animal in hand.

“I heard talking,” she said. “Didn’t wanna miss it.”

You both laughed at that, you walked and went to adjust your pillows, climbing under the covers when Daisy hopped up next to Otis at the foot of the bed.

“Well,” he put his hands on his hips and looked at them. “We’ve already had a really late night and it is way past everyone’s bedtime.”

Otis leaned over to Daisy and said quietly: “Maybe he wants us to leave so he can propose.”

“Guys!” He laughed at that, a shake of his head when you smiled up at him.

“If he proposes I will be sure to come wake you up,” you nodded at Daisy with a smile. “Promise.”

“I think you should do it with us in the room so we can see,” Otis looked up at him and shrugged innocently.

“Thank you for the input,” Jason nodded.

“It would be kind of cute if they were here,” you said softly, he whipped his head in your direction, eyebrows raised when you shrugged. “You know--a family affair.”

You meant it, but after knowing for almost five hours now that it was going to happen soon, the anxiety bubbled in you and probably wouldn’t stop until it was on your finger.

He shook his head at all three of you, walked over to his nightstand and tugged open the drawer. He pulled out a tiny box, flipped it over in his hand a few times before he looked up at you.

Daisy and Otis were still--maybe surprised that he’d decided to put his money where his mouth was. Your lips parted when he sat down on the edge of the bed. Daisy crawled over to sit beside you, watching when he opened it.

“Y/N--” he looked up at you. “My children should be asleep and I wish we were too, but since we’re all here, and since they love you almost as much as I do, I was wondering if you would want to, you know, make this thing official?”

“Those aren’t the right words!” Daisy said quickly, upset by his veering off script. “You have to say will you marry me!”

He laughed, looked back to you. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes! She will!” Daisy bounced on the mattress and screeched in excitement.

Jason’s eyes went wide, “whoa, whoa, whoa--take it down a notch there partner--”

“He was asking Y/N,” Otis made a face at Daisy when she stuck her tongue out at her older brother.

“Guys--focus,” Jason waved the box in mid-air, all three of you looked back to the ring that was tucked inside.

You smiled at him, felt emotion well in your eyes when he pulled it out and reached to slip it on your finger. A quick nod, a sniffle that turned into a laugh when Daisy and Otis high-fived.

“What she said.”

story page | talk to me/join the tag list | the playlist

AN: Well, y'all, that's a wrap--FOR NOW! I wanted to find a way to tie a bow on this story and wrap things up nicely, but in a way that still allows for us all to revisit these two in the future. I've loved writing this story so much (honestly it might be the most fun writing I've ever had), and that's because of YOU. So many people got excited about this story with me and came along on the journey of exploring my writing skills for someone other than you know who. Seriously though, who knew that one anon having a dream about Jason at the right time as me developing a crush would result in a 20 chapter fic with a 100k+ wc???? lmao. ANYWAY. I hope you all stay tuned for blurbs and snippets and things to come, (tour, the met gala sounds fun, the eventual season 3 premiere of the show...I've already got lots of fun ideas cooking for blurbs) bc I don't know if I'll ever get enough of these two 🥲 also yes before anyone asks I will probably keep writing jason fic!

tag list: @golden-hoax @fineelineee @baueoud @westcoastrry @missing-you-like-war @trulymadlykiki @caplikeme @tiredbuthappy @whymyparentscheckmyphone @tedlassostan @tegan8314 @yourgoldengirls @loganrwebb @rubberduckingaro @flannelplanet @15christyxoxo @stankface @outofthecradlex @moonlightspencie @ljej95

#not a date #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fic #jason sudeikis blurb #jason sudeikis writing #jason sudeikis fan #jason sudeikis fan fic #jason sudeikis reader insert #jason sudeikis x yn #ted lasso #ted lasso cast #idkthisisjustforfanfic

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dailysudeikis · 17 days

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Jason Sudeikis with a fan at a Jimmy Buffet tribute concert in LA. - April 10, 2024.

#jason sudeikis #fan encounter #10/04/2024

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livelovecaliforniadreams · 2 years

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#just hannah being jasons biggest fan #thats the post #ted lasso #tedlassoedit #hannah waddingham #jason sudeikis #woot woot #gif #gifs #gifset #rebecca x ted #ted x rebecca #tedbecca #emmys

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secretnook · 8 months

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this flopped on my tiktok so I thought I’d share it here because it took me so much time 🫶

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southhbound · 1 year

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TED LASSO • 3.06

Here's your onion ring pyramid and your freedom fries.

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my-soupy-brain · 10 months

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making ted feel good about his dad bod (it’s honestly so hot to me)

God, and he deserves all the praise. He’s perfect just how he is — and by that I mean Jason, too. Don’t change a goddamn thing. Let’s goooo!

—-

Relationship: Ted Lasso x reader

Smut: We’ll see… but probably some smut

—-

You walked into the locker room when the guys were almost done getting dressed.

“Hi, y/n!” Jamie calls out, waving at you. You wave back. Everyone knows you and Ted are an item so it’s nice that the team has accepted your presence popping in and out of the coach’s office.

“Nice to see you again!” Dani adds, waving at you.

As you walk into Ted’s office, he’s sitting in his chair, his face long.

“What’s up buttercup? Why the long face,” you ask, leaning over to kiss the top of his head, running your nails down his back.

“Huh? Oh, nothin’. I’m just…” Ted answers, trailing off. Your brows scrunch in worry, uncertain what’s on his mind.

“Teddy?”

Ted looks at you, his big brown eyes wide and sad.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” You ask again, trying to pry it out of him.

“Nothin’, I’ve just got lots of stuff up there rollin’ around,” he says, pointing to his head. “It’s silly. You ready to go to dinner?”

You can tell he’s less than enthused.

“Let’s go back to your place instead, order in. Have a movie and a snuggle. How’s that sound,” you counter-offer. He smiles weakly.

“That sounds nice, doll.”

Once you’re back in Ted’s apartment, you toe off your high heels and he makes his way to the couch, sitting down with a heavy sigh. His face is still long and sad, and you’re starting to worry.

“Ted… do you…need to talk to me,” you ask pensively, bracing for a breakup. Oh, the ache in your heart is already starting at the thought.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know where to start,” he says solemnly.

“Please, just give it to me straight, honey. I don’t think I can hang out in this purgatory of you deciding if you wanna be with me or not.”

Ted’s head pops up quickly to look at you, his eyes searching yours, which are rimming with tears.

“Oh, darlin’ no, it’s nothin’ like that, come here…” he says, bringing you into his chest. “No, I’m not leavin’ you. I just…I wanna be sure you’re happy with me. I…”

He takes a deep breath.

“You’re so damn beautiful and smart and fun, and I was just seein’ how the guys were talkin’ to ya and lookin’ at ya when you walked in today and I thought… maybe they’d be more your speed, ya know?”

Now your eyes are wide and confused.

“They’re fit and handsome, they make a lot of money…”

You shake your head violently.

“No, Ted.”

“No what?”

“No. No. I couldn’t be less interested in those…boys. Boys! They’re boys. And they’re so not my speed, it’s bonkers.”

Ted looks at you and quirks a smile on his lips.

“And as for the rest of what you said…well…” you answer, starting to unbutton your blouse, pulling his polo out from under his pants. His breath hitches a little. You start to unbuckle his pants and he whimpers at the touch.

“This body makes me crazy,” you whisper, finishing your blouse, letting it flutter to the floor. You unzip your skirt, now left in your panties and bra. Ted’s eyes are wide and dark, watching your every move. You climb into his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. His hands draw little circles on your hips.

“Where do I start…” you begin, cupping his face in your hands. “Let’s start here.”

“Those eyes that can see right through my every emotion. Those eyebrows that are so expressive I know what you’re thinking before the words tumble out of that beautiful mouth of yours. This nose, that’s so perfect it hurts not to nuzzle it fifty times a day…”

He smiles, blushing.

“And those lips, that kiss like a god. That say the sweetest things. That are kind with every word that leaves them…”

He smiles again.

“That dimple! I always know it’s a real, true-blue smile when that dimple appears,” you say, kissing his cheek. Your hands go under his polo, pulling it off of him now left in his white undershirt.

“Oh those shoulders… Christ, you have such broad, beautiful shoulders and they make me feel so safe when you wrap me up in those arms. And oh, God! Your forearms! When your sleeves are rolled up just right, and they flex when you blow the whistle, or when you’re writing something in your notebook…”

“These? They’re just arms…” he says, and you hush him.

“Hush your butt while I praise you, sweetheart…”

He giggles, loving you using his own phrase against him.

“Mmm, and that chest. The first time I saw that chest, when you were between my legs, I could’ve died right then,” you add, your voice low as your skate your fingers under his shirt, over his chest and down his belly.

“You’re perfectly built, Teddy. Sturdy and strong, masculine, and mature… I love snuggling with you, but I love the power you have when you…fuck me…” you whisper, making his body shudder. He groans a little, his cock growing hard between your thighs.

“I love hanging onto you while you bury yourself in me,” you whisper, your hands caressing his torso, his hands cupping your ass and rubbing your back.

“Those legs that can carry me to the bedroom in a moment’s notice. Those legs that keep you on the pitch, marching around and cheering on your team. Those legs that brace against the bed when we make love…”

He moans lightly, leaning forward to kiss your neck.

“There’s that mouth again…” you flirt back. “Making my whole body tingle…”

His hands rub your skin and you whimper at the contact.

“And your hands, Teddy… your hands. The way I daydreamed about those hands on my body and in my body before we started dating. When I just had an office crush on you…”

He hums against your neck, “Mmmhmm… what about them?”

“I used to dream how they’d feel on my body, or how they’d feel taking off my clothes. Or how they’d feel holding my thighs just like this, with me on top of you…”

Your breath comes in short bursts, completely turned on by the moment. His fingers sneak between your legs, feeling the wetness gathering in your panties. You writhe a little on his lap, as his hands start to move your hips back and forth over his erection.

“Like this,” he asks with a low, gruff voice, grunting in pleasure.

“Yeah, just like that…” you pant, your voice weak from arousal. “I couldn’t possibly want another man on earth when I’ve got you…”

He groans at that, feeling so loved and worshipped by you his heart could burst. You lean in his ear, whispering, “I need you so bad.”

Wasting no time, he slips his pants and boxer briefs down, moving your underwear aside to take him at once. What would’ve been a quickie becomes a passionate, deep, slow love-making session. You pull his undershirt off, letting your bodies feel the warmth of skin-on-skin, his hands cupping you and caressing you as you kiss.

“You make me feel…so good, darlin’…” he pants, watching you move on him. “I…have never felt as good as I feel with you…”

You smile, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him.

“Now you understand why it’s you and only you I want…”

He kisses you back deep, his long arm and big hand tangled in your hair; his other wrapped around your back as your bodies move together. You don’t know if Ms. Shipley is home but you’re about to find out as you cry out his name and come.

Ted joins you seconds later, groaning loud against your neck, your name on his lips. You lean into his chest and smile, your bodies breathing deep to catch air.

“I believe you,” Ted says breathlessly, kissing your cheek. “I believe you.”

—-

You can’t worship this man’s body and NOT take it into sexy times, right? RIGHT? Hope this was fun, friend. Thanks for the prompt!

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fan fiction #ted lasso fanfic #body worship #dad bod worship to be specific #jason sudeikis has a perfect body and I’ll take no notes on the matter

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thirstysudeikis · 10 months

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well, hello handsome. 😉

#jason sudeikis #good god #I'm such a fan of this look #I think I might be alone on this one but I don't care

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poppytuft · 1 year

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bothers me very much when people use Ted getting upset telling the denver broncos story as like evidence that he could be queer instead of thinking about an old friend drowning in loneliness and saying to himself “i should’ve been there i should’ve supported him” is him reflecting on his traumas, as if this is not a man who heard his dad kill himself at age 16 and carries that guilt wherever he goes. he tells EVERYONE he loves that he supports them no matter what the struggle is and colin’s struggle was internal and invisible, WHICH SCARES HIM. he’s terrified by invisible struggle and he always has been BECAUSE of that childhood trauma. so TO ME…… it reads very media illiterate to take it that way, because Ted didn’t have some tender gay experience with his denver broncos friend in the 90s, he’s haunted by knowing there was someone he loved who went through something alone (even if it was silly and minor like watching the Super Bowl alone) and doesn’t want anyone to ever feel like that again, (especially if it’s something as big as being one of two gay men in a room in an industry that hates them) let alone one of his players on the team that he has worked so hard to turn into a family!!!!!!!!!! damn!!!!!

#ted lasso #YES YOU GUYS ARE ALLOWED TO HAVE FUN AND SPECULATE #BUT ITS JUST……… DAMN!!! UR PISSING ME OFF!!!#minimizing the trauma of this man #not that that scene was ABOUT Ted at fucking all #but moreso taking that story out of context and deciding that he’s gay instead of examining how aCrazy of an actor Jason sudeikis #IS FOR DOINNG THIS MUCH WITH TEDS CHARACTER THIS SUBTLELY #CHRIST!!!#I’m just prickly whatever #HE COULD BE QUEER BUT THERES OTHER SCENES YOU COULD USE FOR THAT #INSTEAD OF THIS ONE THAT SHOWS HIS CRAZY ABILITY TO TAKE ON GUILT THAT ISNT HIS #BECAUSE OF HIS DAMN TRAUMA #eenposting #tw suicide #suicide ment #Ted Lasso spoilers #km not actually that heated about this FOR THE RECORD #also someone else wrote a much more beautiful analysis post about how that story of teds is supposed to represent well meaning Allie’s #who will never truly get it and will fuck up and say the wrong thing when they’re trying to relate to you #but that doesn’t mean that they intrinsically are bad or don’t love you. and Colin being like girl did you just compare being a broncos fan #to being GAY?#and ted immediately apologizing and remedying that fault ks like. objectively the most important take away from that scene #but I digress

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araivallejo · 11 months

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Back when season 3 had yet to begin filming, someone on Twitter posted a Tedbecca centric post and as per usual, an anti swooped in with his unrequested opinion. In this instance, his response was a gif of Steve Harvey saying, “OH HELL NAW!”

I saw the response and just shrugged because antis be antis. But the original poster recognized the name of the person as a crew member on Ted Lasso – 2nd Assistant Director Paul Morris. When a few others caught on he responded, clearly a little embarrassed, that he only wanted everyone to be happy, but that he wasn’t a Tedbecca fan.

I remember thinking at that time that was very strange. To see a member of the crew, no matter how high up the food chain they may be, post something either negative or positive towards this ship. Obviously this guy isn’t writing the scripts, but it seemed wildly unprofessional.

I think now the MO around the Ted Lasso team was Jason drilled into their heads since day 1 that Ted and Rebecca were platonic and that was it. They never saw it any other way. They messed around with the fakeouts because Jason Sudeikis is a fucking troll and you can see that in various interviews he’s done.

I’ve been clinging to the image of Brett Goldstein raising his eyebrows at a columnist’s smug dismissal of Ted and Rebecca’s romantic possibilities. Most likely that was an act too. I should have paid more attention to Jane “they are like brother and sister” Becker. Clearly that was what they were going for, but they couldn’t resist sticking that needle in and giving it a little twist at our expense.

There was a recent article posted that stated this has made some of us cower in shame for ever believing in love. I don’t disagree; it’s certainly made me think twice about starting another show that might feature any sense of romance, even though as mentioned that hasn’t really been an issue with me in the past. Still, I will not EVER apologize for believing in love for these two. There was nothing lazy about it. It would have been beautiful and if you never saw it that is fine. But don’t take it away from me. Something I also read in the past few days that I think has helped me tremendously is the fact that as of this past Wednesday (technically 12:15am for me) this show became OURS. It isn’t Jason’s or Brendan’s or anyone else’s on that staff. It is mine and yours and we can do with it whatever we want. I like that.

#ted lasso #still working through it #i will get there #jason sudeikis #tedbecca #i believe in love #fan fic to the rescue #edited because for some reason I wrote Steve Lawrence instead of Steve Harvey #WTF?? I'm old but not that old

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thisismysecondrodeo · 1 year

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Twitter Famous (Jason Sudeikis x Reader) - Chapter 1

wc: 2.4k

Story Page | Story Tag

You had never planned on being a musician. When you were younger you thought maybe astronaut or author—there was still time for one of those things but it seemed you hadn’t made it out of the A’s in your career book—but after getting into songwriting in college, selling a few of your songs, and a few viral videos of you actually performing, you had carved out a small niche for yourself as a musical artist. It was strange to think about, but you had reached exactly the level of celebrity you were comfortable with—very famous to a decent-sized group of people, and absolutely nonexistent to everyone else.

The combination of medium celebrity and the fact that you’d never sought fame at all was probably why you were a little looser with social media than your manager, Kayla, would like. You were never offending anyone, you mainly just tweeted personal information that she’d rather you kept to yourself—like how finishing the show Normal People made you sad and horny or the story of the worst date you’d ever been on that ended with you peeing your pants in an In-N-Out.

You were taking a break at the recording studio while working on your second album. It was hard to handle the writing block sometimes, a lot of pressure to keep creating something greater than what came before. The studio was wood-paneled and a little smokey, but comfortable. You’d recorded your debut album there as well and so it felt like being in your own living room when you told your producer you needed a break and flopped down on the black leather couch in the corner to pull out your phone.

“Headed to the corner store, need anything,” your producer, Chris, asked, sliding his vape out of his pocket and wiggling it. You didn’t need the hint that he was going to get pods, he vaped so much that talking to him was like trying to peer through fog at the San Francisco bridge. Though you and weed were well acquainted, neither vapes nor cigarettes were your speed.

“All good, thanks, Chris.”

He nodded and shut the door behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts which was never a good thing, especially when a recording session wasn’t going well. The songs were technically all written, but when you went to record you realized they needed work and inspiration just wasn’t hitting you. It didn’t help that a lot of what you were recording were love songs, written during a relationship that ended poorly, to say the least. Your ex was mildly famous himself and a musician as well, which you had hoped meant he’d understand you. After all, what was being a musician if not just trying over and over again to make yourself understood? But he had wanted fame more than he ever wanted to be comprehended, which meant wanting your relationship dragged into any tabloid that would report on it and every date you went on filmed for Instagram and TikTok…and on one memorable occasion, live-streamed on Twitch. So it was hard to record songs you’d written while deeply in love now that you were rather apathetic to the whole thing. But you also couldn’t just rewrite every song as a breakup song no matter how much you wanted to when you’d already started recording, so you tweaked what you could to make sure you didn’t sound…inauthentic.

But when tweaking lyrics wasn’t enough you scrolled social media and tried to inspire the feelings you had when you wrote the songs. And as embarrassing as it was, you normally did that by looking at pictures and videos of your celebrity crush, Jason Sudeikis. You’d been a fan of his since you were young watching him on SNL but your little crush had ramped up since the Ted Lasso craze which meant lots of content for you to lust after. You scrolled past a video of him performing onstage for a charity event called Thundergong and thanked your lucky stars that Chris was gone so you could watch the video 3 times over.

You chuckled as you tweeted:

You weren’t surprised it was relatable as the notifications started rolling in but after bantering with a few people Chris came back swinging a plastic bag on one finger and you locked your phone to get back to work.

A few hours later, you’d had more success recording but you were still mentally and emotionally exhausted by the time you hopped in your car to head home. You certainly weren’t excited to sit in LA traffic but you had just downloaded an audiobook you were looking forward to listening to. Connecting your phone to Bluetooth made you realize just how much you’d missed since you tweeted—a slew of Twitter notifications, more Instagram follows, 2 missed calls from Kayla, and a dozen texts.

You chuckled, calling Kayla back and bracing for her playfully admonishing you to keep some thoughts to yourself.

“Hiiii Kayla.”

“Hi Y/N…how are you,” she sounded genuinely curious which only amused you more.

“I feel like I’m pretty good…but I also feel like you’re calling to tell me I’m in trouble.”

“Not trouble…,” Kayla trailed off, but she laughed and so did you. “WHY did you tweet that? I mean don’t get me wrong it’s not a bad thing I’m just suddenly fielding requests from interviews trying to find out what over 40 man you’re dating, and I’d like to know too.”

“No one! I’m not dating anyone,” you laughed. “Honestly? I had just watched a video of Jason Sudeikis singing.”

If anyone knew the ins and outs of your crush on Jason, it was Kayla, who you regularly asked if the two of you would ever be at the same place. It was mostly a joke, you knew you’d lose your mind in the same room as him, but there was a non-zero chance you’d run into him considering you'd started playing the late-night show circuit.

If you thought Kayla was laughing before she was really cackling now. “THAT’S what that’s about?! Oh my God, Y/N, you’re ridiculous. I would still recommend you keep that to yourself—an age gap like that will shoot you straight to trending.”

“You say that like if he found out he’d be at all interested. I guarantee you that man doesn’t want me.”

Kayla sighed. “How many times do I have to remind you that you are more famous and more beautiful and more talented than you seem to think?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah I think I pay you to say that though,” you laughed, taking the exit towards home. “Appreciate it though. And sorry to make your life harder.”

“Nah, it was funny. And I know fame isn’t your goal, but…not the worst thing for album promotion.”

“God, I’m going to be asked about this constantly aren’t I,” you groaned but you only had yourself to blame. “Oh well, my fault. Night, Kayla.”

“Night, Y/N.”

When you got home, made yourself dinner, and worked up the nerve to open Twitter again. It was mostly people guessing who you were talking about, trying to get you to tell them, or just volunteering their own Over-40s and it was a solid list: Chris Evans, Oscar Isaac, Sterling K. Brown, and so on and so forth. A few valid critiques of heterosexuality, considering you weren’t straight yourself.

You thought about just picking one person and telling them the truth but for the sake of Kayla’s heartburn you decided to keep that to yourself for now—instead, you added:

Still relatable, still honest, but also still clearly a joke and it took a little heat off of people wanting to know who you were dating. You were just being thirsty on the internet and who could blame you for that?

Another week, another studio session and this one was worse than before. Your tweet was still getting the occasional notification but obviously, it blew over. It wasn’t like you were the first person to think that, and you certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“I can just tell that your heart isn’t in it,” Chris sighed, pausing the recording playback. “I mean you always sound great, but we both know this ain’t it.”

You spun around in the chair next to Chris, your face pointed at the ceiling, eyes closed, as you took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I know, I know. But the lyrics are garbage.” The studio door opened and closed but you didn’t open your eyes.

“The lyrics aren’t garbage. They meant something to you at one point, they’re good. You’re just singing them like they’re sarcastic.”

You laughed because you knew he was right. “Listen, I just—”

“Need to get laid?”

You picked your head up to see it was Andie who had entered, your best friend since college, and an up-and-coming actress herself who you hung out with more than anyone. She had just gotten off set and told you she’d swing by to hear your new stuff, and you weren’t surprised she showed up just in time to see you close to freaking out.

“Me getting laid isn’t going to make this song any better. Hear it for yourself.”

You motioned for Chris to start the recording over and the three of you listened to about 30 seconds of it before he cut it again. Andie was sitting on the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest as she listened, gently rocking to the music.

“So,” you asked, “you see?”

“Lyrics are good, music is good…I stand by my assessment, you just need to get railed so you sound like you actually believe what you're saying.” Chris laughed and you gave him an exasperated look but he only shrugged and motioned that he was stepping outside. Andie came over and took his seat.

“Okay, so if you don’t want to get railed—”

“Didn’t say that, it’s just not that easy.”

“Then I don’t know…what’s something you can do that makes you FEEL like you just got railed?”

It was classic Andie to be so preoccupied with you having sex, but she only wanted the best for you and she knew your ex had…not been it. She just wanted to see you having fun. And in truth it wasn’t a bad suggestion, you thought on it for a moment, humming.

“Honestly? I watch Sleeping with Other People for the 100th time.”

Andie laughed, “You should tweet that, it's funny.”

“You know Kayla hates when I’m funny,” you joked, but you were already pulling out your phone. “Soooo, movie night tonight?”

Andie stood up as Chris came back into the studio and returned to the couch. “I don’t know dude, that sounds like something you should do in private.”

You chuckled and Chris looked confused but didn’t ask any questions which you appreciated. “You, uh, ready to get back in the booth?”

“Let’s try the next track, just give me one sec,” you were staring at your phone as you responded and then you locked it and sat it on the desk before opening the door to the booth.

When you came back out Andie was looking at you wide-eyed.

“What, was it that good?”

Andie just grinned. “Check your Twitter.”

You couldn’t help it, you squealed and Andie cackled like a fool. Jason Sudeikis liked your tweet.

“That recording was really good, I think—”

“Not now Chris, can’t you see her crush liked her tweet,” Andie giggled and Chris rolled his eyes, but you were embarrassed so you just locked your phone.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m here, I’m focused. That can wait.”

“Can it?! @ him right now and tell him you have a crush on him I swear to god,” Andie’s face was enthusiastic and you wanted to join her in her excitement but you also wanted Chris to take you seriously.

“Andie! It's alright, just come over later, we’ll drink wine and squeal. Promise.”

“Alright, I get the hint. I’m just gonna go flirt with the front desk guy again, get me when you’re done."

A woman of your word, after the two of you left the recording studio you poured Andie a glass of wine and listened to her try to convince you that you should try to DM Jason Sudeikis.

“He doesn’t follow me.”

“Okay, but everyone knows he, like, searches his name or whatever. He clearly sees tweets about him…”

“And?”

“Annnnd you should tweet at him.”

The two of you were standing in the kitchen, picking at a premade charcuterie board you’d picked up on the way home. It was already dark out and chances were high that Andie would be staying the night, which only added to the sleepover vibe.

“We’re strangers Andie, he has no clue who I am, I’m not just gonna harass him on Twitter.”

Andie threw her hands up in the air. “How many times do I have to remind you that you are hot and also famous? He might be interested! Look, why don’t you just go back to last week’s 'men over 40 tweet', pick one of the people clamoring to find out who you were talking about, and mention him. If he doesn’t see it, no harm, no foul. If he DOES see it and he’s not interested, you were just interacting with fans. And if he IS interested…then I’m a genius, you owe me a hundred bucks, and I get to name your first child.”

You scoffed, a small smile on your face. You loved Andie, you loved how she encouraged your nonsense, but you knew there was no way anything would ever come of it. You groaned playfully, “Okay but no children.”

“Fine, dog.”

“Deal.”

You pulled out your phone and followed through, butterflies in your stomach the whole time. You tossed your phone away from you like a bomb as soon as it was done.

When you woke up a little hungover with a missed call from Kayla, you thought you might be trending again. You weren’t really surprised to see Jason liked the tweet, even if it did make you swoon. You were more surprised that he followed you. But you were stunned that it wasn’t you that was trending… It was #ShootYourShotJason

Every other tweet you saw was “Jason ask her out” and “Jason make a move”. A few that suggested you were out of his league, a few more wondering who the hell you were. But most importantly, Jason was liking every single one.

“ANDIE,” you yelled, knowing she could hear you from the guest room. She came in rubbing her eyes and grunting. “What the hell did we do?!”

#jstwitterfamous #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fic #jason sudeikis writing #jason sudeikis fan #jason sudeikis fan fic #jason sudeikis reader insert #jason sudeikis x yn #ted lasso #ted lasso cast #jason sudeikis x reader #jason sudeikis x you #my fanfic #rpf #jason sudeikis rpf

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 2 months

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TEMPORARY THINGS, chapter 3

Your first few weeks on set go by in a blur of learning the ropes. You follow Briony around a lot and listen to her use words you’ve never heard, like striking and dolly grip. You learn the difference between a first assistant camera and second, though it doesn’t seem to make much sense when Maggie points around nonchalantly and gets interrupted by a joke coming from the walkie-talkie on her hip.

It was going well! Aside from whatever whirring now thumps in your chest when Brett comes up beside you. You’re still in good impression mode for another, like, 3 weeks.

“Hi,” he says, a smile and nod when you look up to see him. “Hopefully you’re liking this lot so far?”

“So far,” you nod, appreciative of his inquiry. “But I also heard it takes a few weeks for you all to turn into divas.”

He pulls a hand to his chest in mock offense. The jacket he’s wearing belongs to his character, but the color suits him well. “I usually wait until at least halfway through!”

“Hellooo,” Maggie sidles up and smiles at both of you. Jason’s right behind her and when the four of you stand in a make-shift circle, you’re acutely aware of the way Jason angles himself toward you.

“We’ve got a lot to get through today--wanted to have you hear all of this as well,” Jason says this to you in particular before Maggie launches into some sort of schedule. She’s listing numbers and tasks and referencing scenes by shorthand lingo that only makes half sense.

It’s weird, you realize, that while you’re here on set and working alongside them, your job is different in almost every way: it’s focused entirely on him. Which is maybe a bad thing, seeing as your stomach still does this little flip when you notice the dimple on his cheek that you remember from Day 1.

Lucky for you, though, most of your time on set is spent in Jason’s office. Scheduling his travel and handling his emails and pulling the strings behind the scenes so his actual job here was easier. You’re in constant contact with his manager, his nanny, even sometimes seeing messages from his ex or his friends come through before you pass them right up the ladder.

Briony pops in and out, often passing messages from Jason to you and then in return. She was the coffee kid, still young enough to be excited by that type of task and good enough to never mess up an order.

Poppy hurries by and after you commit the entire shooting schedule of the day to memory, you return to Jason’s office to actually get your work done. Today, primarily, was to be spent going through emails and calendars, plugging in meetings and finalizing his schedule for the next two weeks before filming really picked up.

But there’s a knock on the door that grabs your attention before your inbox is even open. Brendan’s there, a binder in hand and a hesitant smile when you both realize you’ve never been alone in a room together.

“Hi,” he says a bit awkwardly. “Y’know where Jason is?”

“He was with Paul and Jenna near Rebecca’s office,” you hoped you were getting the names right, blending real people with characters in the same way that didn’t trip up the rest of them. “Anything I can help with?”

He holds your gaze for a second, almost skeptical, but then decides he’ll at least give it a shot.

“I’m looking for a list of scenes we’re shooting today. Not the actual schedule that got sent out but the list of ones Jason wants to do if we can move more quickly than everyone thinks we can.”

You stand from your spot on the couch and nod thoughtfully, walking towards his desk as your eyes start to scan the piles of paper. You’ve learned his system bit by bit: the pile on the left is Lasso-related but not urgent. The pile on the right is more personal, with a higher level of urgency. Work-related urgent things get put on top of his laptop, or, if he seems to think it’s really important, sometimes he takes a picture of it and emails it to himself.

As of now you find it mostly adorable that a guy in his mid-forties is sending himself emails with picture attachments so he doesn’t forget stuff. You’ll have to give him a crash course in the reminders app at some point.

You locate the piece of paper you saw him scribbling on yesterday, the red ink of the pen he clips into his pocket smudged in the corner. Today’s scenes are listed out in the same shorthand code you’ve heard Maggie use, Jason’s chicken scratch is in the margins in red ink.

You hold it up before you look back towards Brendan. His brows are arched when you take a step over and deliver, what you assume, is exactly what he was looking for.

He scans it. Nods.

“Three extra scenes sounds ambitious to me,” you try to crack a joke, feeling weird about the fact that you’ve yet to bond with Brendan.

“You can read his handwriting?” He looks up at you again, more quickly this time, surprise on his face when you nod.

“Yes--yeah,” you stammer like this is an embarrassing admission. “Should I not be able to?”

“Jessie always complained,” he shrugs, eyes back down to the piece of paper you’d handed over.

“It’s messy as shit but I figured if I can’t read his handwriting then we’re all fucked.”

The corner of Brendan’s mouth flicks into a smile, a tiny laugh before he salutes you in farewell and his footsteps fade down the hallway.

April 2022

The end of March sputtered more rain onto the London streets than you’d ever seen in Los Angeles. Maggie promised it wouldn’t be like this the whole time, but now, on the third rainy Friday in a row, you were beginning to think your friend was a liar.

“It’s bad luck,” Jason comments as he looks out the window into his backyard, “not bad weather.”

Thunder booms overhead and the British Airways website logo keeps flickering on the page, please be patient while we locate your booking!

“You’re beginning to sound like a London apologist,” you look up at him from your laptop screen, eyebrows arched to challenge his statement. The backyard gets lit up again, the line of trees overhead is visible in the flash of lightning that cracks open the sky.

He smirks at your retort, “forgive me for not wanting you to hate the place you agreed to move.”

His hands are in his pockets but he moves to sit on the couch across from you. You showed up 20-minutes ago, laptop in tow after he heard you mention something on set about your travel plans to Amsterdam.

“London could have been on fire and I would still have come,” you think aloud as the page blinks back to life. “Okay, here,” you sit up. “Booking 1430-3925-098, business class to Schiphol.”

“Cancel it.”

“You’re sure?” You look up at him now, finger hovering over the trackpad.

“Positive,” he stands and nods. “Red or white?”

“Hmm?”

You click the button, Yes, I’m Sure!, but then notice he’s waiting for you to reply.

“Wine,” he laughs. “Red or white?”

You pause, is this a test? Is having a glass of wine with him on a Friday night in his living room crossing a line? No, you decide when he holds your gaze for a moment. If it wasn’t crossing a line with Kyle or Reese or any other boss you’ve had, it’s not crossing a line with him.

And besides, he’s not your boss, technically.

“Red.”

He smiles at your answer and makes his way towards the kitchen. “So why would a fiery London not be a deterrent?”

You set your laptop on the coffee table, a few steps over to stand in the doorway as he pursues his wine rack.

“Sorry?” You’re confused now, still watching when he scans the label of a bottle before he sets it on the Island.

It was a long week. You’d been on set every morning at 6:30am. Most days you left work around 4 or 5, and Jason was good about making sure you took lunch breaks and had enough coffee and knew all the good places to hide for five minutes of quiet when the set got too crowded.

“You said London could have been on fire and you would have moved here still,” he reminds you, his eyes watching for your reaction as you lean against the door frame.

You nod slowly and let your eyes flutter shut in embarrassment. What’s the most professional way to say: I got dumped and fired in the span of two weeks and my life felt like a living hell, so surely London ablaze would be manageable?

You decide there isn’t one, so you bend the truth as he searches for a wine opener. “I was in desperate need of a change of scenery.”

“Christmas in LA does suck,” he nods.

“Luckily I didn’t have to withstand that torture,” you walk over to the drawer on his right, the one that Jessie’s binder said had miscellaneous kitchen tools and utensils. You open it and pull out an opener and hand it over. “I was in New York for the holidays, left LA right after Thanksgiving.”

He opens the bottle and nods sympathetically. “Something about December in LA always feels…depressing.”

“Yeah,” you let out a breath at that word, one that circled and swirled in your brain for days and weeks before you figured out what the fuck you were going to do. Your parents were worried and your sister was three-seconds and a text message away from booking a flight out there to beat the shit of your ex, as she so kindly offered.

He pours the first glass, stealing a peek in your direction when he thinks you aren’t looking. You are.

“So--yeah, Los Angeles, change of scenery, back to New York. Now London.” He pours his own and then brings them both over, clinks his wine glass against yours before you both take a quiet sip in the kitchen. “What on earth made you take this job?”

You smirk, sure you can’t say what pops into your mind: a new city, a penchant for spontaneity after a crisis, the chance to work for your friend’s hot boss…

“Oh god,” he laughs, taking in your expression when your cheeks flush. “Did someone make you come here? Have you been kidnapped? Forced against your will?”

“No,” you roll your eyes at his playfulness and laugh. “I just--I really needed a job and a fresh start, I guess.”

He nods in understanding, takes another sip in the quiet. “Yeah, I get that.”

You’re not sure why it suddenly comes out, honest, blunt, a thud on the fancy tile of his kitchen.

“My boyfriend and I broke up--we lived together--then my job kind of exploded, well, Kyle’s life did too, so, Maggie took pity, I guess, when she realized my life was a shit show.”

He’s a little caught off guard by your confession, his eyebrows are slightly lifted and you can’t read: is it curiosity or concern? Like, did I hire a psychopath concern.

But that must not be it, because when you take a loud slurp of wine to drown out the awkward silence, he swallows and nods.

“Just because it feels like a shit show doesn’t mean it is,” he offers, a small smile before he continues. “My fiancé of a decade left me for someone 15 years younger a few years ago and then decided to give a fuck ton of interviews about it,” he smirks. “So--I get the whole shit show feeling.”

Your lips pull into a smile at his show of humanity, but then he gestures for you to follow him back to the living room. You’d known about his failed relationship, saw headlines and heard murmurs but didn’t pay much mind. You didn’t think in a few years time you’d be drinking wine on his couch on a rainy Friday.

“And now you’re single?” He asks over his shoulder, more of a follow up on your recent disclosure than the flirtation you wish it was. He sits down and you watch the way his knees knock together in khakis.

“First time in 6 years,” you say over the rim of your glass, returning to your spot on the sofa.

He’s watching you, like you’re throwing him off somehow or he’s intrigued. You realize you like it.

And then you remember why you’re here, tonight, in the first place: Amsterdam. The location shoot for the temp gig. Your temp gig job. Your job, him sitting across the room from you as not the man who writes your checks but still the one who generates them. Your laptop on the coffee table pulls you back to reality. You should probably not flirt with him.

“It’s canceled,” you nod towards the computer and then lift your Apple Watch as proof. “Confirmation email came through a few minutes ago.”

He shakes his head but smiles. “I can’t believe you thought I’d make you fly business class if I’m on a jet!”

You remember Maggie’s words from January, facetime a thousand miles away. Something along the lines of he’s amazing, Y/N, he’s so chill!

“You’d be really disappointed to hear what it’s like to work for Tom Cruise, then.”

He laughs, shifts on the couch and takes another sip. “I think it’s really shitty when people treat their EAs like regular assistants,” he shrugs. “Here’s this person who manages your whole life…arguably that means you’re more competent than I am,” he thinks aloud, a playful glance in your direction. A compliment? Maybe. Flirting? You hope.

Is that shitty? Is that weird and inappropriate or—worst of all—are you fully delusional?

“I’m going to pocket that for future reference,” you admit with a smirk.

He sips his wine and smiles, eyes you seriously from behind the glasses he puts on at the end of the day. “Just…know from here on out that you can book yourself as nice of a hotel room as you want, you know, within reason.”

You let your eyes bug out of your head. “Reason, like, the Presidential Suite at a Ritz Carlton, or?”

“Jesus,” a short laugh escapes, a comedic hint of suspicion is his eyes after he checks a text on his phone. “Maggie wasn’t kidding when she said you’ve been primarily A-list.”

“I would never,” you call back, a quick confession to make sure he knows you’re not that type of…employee? Temp? Whatever.

“Great, but still--we’re there for work, but you deserve to enjoy Amsterdam,” he gestures toward your laptop, like the British Airways website itself was a symbol of the upcoming business trip.

Maggie’s been excited for weeks. She babbled about it in the car on the way from Heathrow and Poppy’s been shouting out nightclubs and restaurants and places she wants to go most mornings in the makeup trailer.

You’ve never been to Amsterdam, but you’re excited nonetheless for a chance to see a new city in a new country. The last time you and Maggie were in Europe together was on your study abroad trip when you were both 21. Now it’s ten years later.

She bounces in one April morning to Poppy’s trailer while you’re sipping a hot coffee. One from the catering table because the one you sipped on your way here wasn’t enough.

“You’re exactly who I wanted to see,” her face lights up when she spots you in a chair beside Juno.

“Good morning,” you coo, grateful that Poppy’s trailer has become a bit of reprieve for you. You were right, a few weeks ago when you went out for your first Friday in London: Maggie and Poppy are tight, Juno and Briony and Hannah and the rest of the make up crew seem to be their own little friend group within the larger cast and crew. Ladies who stuck together.

Luckily, you were beginning to feel like a part of it.

“I’m thinking pubs and clubs,” she dumps a tote bag on the counter, contents spill out but Poppy doesn’t seem to mind.

“What?”

“We need to start planning for Amsterdam, babe.”

“It’s a work trip, babe,” you remind her with narrowed eyes, a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else was aware of Maggie’s scheming.

“Work trip, hah!” Juno pipes up from her chair. She’s got curlers in, eyes still sleepy since the sun’s just made it above the horizon. “Someone tell Y/N about Lasso work trips.”

“Work trips,” Poppy turns to see you--she’s getting a palette ready for Juno, all of her brushes and tubes of lip gloss are organized sociopathically by color, size, and brand. “Are only half work.”

A woman after your own heart, though the results of your organizing episodes usually only last a few weeks.

“Half work? How does that…work?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to get mascara swiped on your lashes before your eyes are fully open.

“We shoot long days and we’re busy,” Maggie nods honestly, she’s strapping her walkie-talkie onto her waist, snaking the wire of her headset up and behind her ear. “But when work is over, it’s playtime.”

You watch your oldest friend closely. “Sounds oddly sexual,” you comment around another slurp of coffee.

“It can be sexual if you want it to be,” Maggie wiggles her eyebrows now. “If you’re feeling up for getting down and dirty!”

Oh boy. You blink at her a few times, memories of your last trip to Europe come flooding back. Maggie writing your number on the bathroom stall of a club in Rome, encouragement at every hour of the day to get loose and get laid. Unfortunately for you, this trip might be oddly reminiscent.

“Yeah?” This pique’s Juno’s interest. “Someone in need of a little hanky-panky?”

They all giggle, you choke down more coffee but wipe your mouth when there’s a knock on the door. It opens, the whole trailer goes quiet when Jason’s on the other side.

“Morning,” he nods, a few steps in before he slinks down to the chair next to Poppy with an amused smile. “You know the gossip’s good when it goes completely silent.”

“Not gossip,” Maggie locks eyes with you in the mirror and smirks. “Just some chatter about Y/N’s lack of a love life,” she smiles, an apologetic but excited one.

“I work more than I sleep,” you defend loud enough for the whole trailer to hear—-all six of you in there.

True. Until, about, six months ago.

“Lack?” Jason’s eyebrows are arched in the mirror.

You hope Maggie doesn’t see the way your cheeks flush, a moment where his eyes find yours in the reflection above Poppy’s drawers and drawers of makeup. You wish you could vanish into thin air.

How—in only a few weeks—does it feel like you and Jason are in on your own little secret?

“This is only my second cup of coffee so why don’t we talk about Maggie’s childhood obsession with webkinz?” You propose, a loud slurp and a ghoulish look in her direction to show her you mean business.

You had just as many years of ammunition as she did. If embarrassing each other was the goal, you could at least play the game.

“Weren’t you a bit old for that, babe?” Poppy asks with a teasing smile, fingers focused on the curlers in Juno’s hair.

“I didn’t give a shit that I was 16 and still into it,” Maggie defends, a dismissive eye roll when she picks up her phone from the counter. “The heart wants what it wants.”

A dodged bullet, for sure. You’re able to excuse yourself shortly thereafter to make sure Jason’s got what he needs for the day. Briony did the check of his office, grabbed breakfast and delivered a bagel to the makeup trailer. Which means you’re free to move about in search of the people you need today.

Joan from the location department, Tom from Post-Production—Maggie said he’d be easy to find because he always wears hats but is impeccably bald.

You get the write-up you need from Joan and that’s when Briony falls into step beside you. She shows you the way down the maze of halls and through the lot to an office where Tom sits at a desk. Once you’ve got what you need from him (a firm answer to a question of Jason’s he’s been dodging all week), Briony sits with you on the sidelines of a scene in the locker room.

Jason, Phil, Brendan, and Brett are shooting, the set’s loud before someone calls for quiet.

Briony silently breaks her granola bar in half and offers you some, Greg--who works in sound--offers you both a warning glare: I better not hear rubbish.

So you munch quietly side by side, feeling somewhat mesmerized by the way that when the camera’s rolling, Jason and his scene partners feel like the only people in the room. The scripted jokes they’re cracking are so good, it makes you regret never finishing season 1.

You don’t remember finding him nearly as attractive back then as you do now, sitting behind the cameras and the boom, a walkie-talkie on your own hip and a pit in your stomach when you realize this isn’t even a thought you should be having.

But you can’t help that warmth pools in your belly when he rolls up his sleeves or laughs from across the room. Okay, so, maybe this isn’t just jet lag.

CUT!--the room buzzes back into motion, Maggie’s zipping around the set and shouts to Greg, can we start again at line 47? Poppy goes to powder Brendan’s forehead, Briony’s on her feet and then the whole thing starts again.

That happens another three times before there’s actually a break. Props weren’t delivered on time and so a different scene is getting staged but it doesn’t mean much to you. You’ve checked your own inbox eight times today and Jason’s twelve.

But today was quiet. Showing up and making a stellar impression in the first few weeks was definitely a good thing, but had you been…too productive? Had you accidentally fucked yourself over because now you’re sitting here looking like a moron because you didn’t have something to do?

You booked a zoo tour for him and his kids next month, finalized the rest of his schedule for this week, arranged his travel to see friends in Spain later this summer. You’d organized his home office last week, updated his business accounts spreadsheet and even managed to book him an appointment with an eye doctor after he told you it’d been three years (ridiculous).

Jason walks up and says something to Greg, who’s pretending to give Briony shit about the granola bar. Briony’s smiling up at him like he’s just told her Christmas is coming early.

“Hey,” you greet Jason with a smile, hand him his cell phone that’s been tucked into the bum bag around your shoulders.

“I saw the tickets to the zoo at Battersea Park--thanks for putting that together.”

You nod, glad you were able to come up with something he could do with his kids next weekend when they’d be in town. An advertisement on the tube is what led you to buying three tickets on a whim, just in case.

You smile and look to your left, for some reason nervous that someone will see how awkward you’re being and misread it. It doesn’t matter, though, because he reaches forward and his hand’s on your elbow in a way that makes your face feel warm.

“I mean it,” he says, a nod to himself and to you, one that lets you know he’s touched by the gesture.

“Yes, yeah, sure,” you nod like an idiot, immediately embarrassed by the way his touch leaves your mouth unable to form consonants or vowels.

“Jason, go talk to Mark about camera angles,” Maggie appears and slaps him on the shoulder, a smile on her face when she playfully barks the order.

Phil’s hand is outstretched suddenly, a reminder that time on set moved faster than anywhere else. “Y/N, could you take a picture of me in this for my mum?”

You accept the phone and snap a photo, Maggie’s answering a text and then gets tugged away by a PA.

You turn to face Jason when Phil walks away, you’re ready for a request or a task or anything. But he just holds your gaze for a second, a pleased smirk spreads across his face.

“Anything I can get you?”

He shrugs, “I’m good.”

It dawns on you, right then, that he walked over here to talk to you. Well, maybe not you. Maybe you were just in his way. Maybe he was looking for someone else but he saw you and it reminded him to say thanks.

But either way, right now it’s just you and Jason standing here and it feels good to think that maybe he just likes being around you. Maybe the smirk on his face is because he sees the way your brain is short-circuiting. Luckily, he pulls you out of your crisis.

“Can you come to my trailer later, around 3? Before I have to help them shoot at Keeley’s office later? I can text you.”

You’re nodding and agreeing to it as you visualize your own calendar in your head. You’re supposed to get off at 4pm today, an evening to yourself and the idea of a glass of wine on the couch sounds especially nice now that you’ve realized your social skills are such shit.

“Perfect, great,” he says. “Apparently I have to go talk to Mark.”

You nod, he nods, and then he turns to leave you by the huddle of sound guys handling wires and knobs. You meet him in his trailer and handle the emails and errands he needs, grab a tea on the way home and you’re in the door at 4:49pm--and that’s with afternoon traffic.

London’s been sunny this week, you had wine with Maggie and Brett and Phil one night and you didn’t feel new. You felt normal.

Winter was fading into spring over the last ten days, it was starting to feel like you were your own little piece in the big puzzle you got thrown into. Brendan knew he could always count on you to laugh at his jokes--especially and specifically when they were aimed at Jason. Brett knows your childhood nickname and threatens to tell Phil every time you get dangerously close to calling him out for flirting with Maggie.

You don’t always feel like a transplant anymore, you feel like someone who’s starting to have a place. A tiny one, maybe off in the corner, but still, a place.

And when you left Jason’s trailer that afternoon, you thought it’d be the last time you saw him.

So, naturally, your eyes go wide when you find him beneath the light of your front door this evening. You’re in a sweatshirt and bike shorts, completely unprepared for company.

“Hi!” he says quickly, almost like he’s startled by the opening of the door, like he didn’t know if you’d be home or expected someone else on the other side of the knob. There’s a smile on his face that mirrors yours almost immediately. “Hey, sorry—to just show up here, like this.”

“How do you know where I live?” You narrow your eyes, a teasing but confident tone. All that does is give him a cheerful smugness that you regret immediately, one that makes his eyes scan your face before he shrugs.

“I know I’m not your boss, but I’m, like, not not your boss at the same time.”

You hold back a laugh and watch him, “what a blurred and confusing boundary…”

He smiles, “Which, all I mean by that is that Maggie sent the listing to me when she found it, I’ve actually known where you live since before you lived here,” he admits casually.

“Got it,” you step aside and he comes in, shuts the door behind himself before he meets your eyes again.

“How are you?” You ask, intrigued by his surprise visit but also not wanting to scare him off. You like the way he’s looking at you, your heart does a flip at the thought that he wants to be around you. Just like earlier today. Fuck.

“I’m good,” he says, you walk towards the kitchen and wave a bottle of wine in the air and he nods. “I got stuck late at work, I was walking and it started to rain.”

“You live like, two minutes from here…” you’re smiling despite the challenging statement, you grab a glass from an overhead cabinet.

He shrugs when he slinks into a barstool at your counter, apparently unfazed by your accusation when he comes off it easily: “yeah, I just wanted to say hi.”

You reach for a glass in the cupboard overhead and tease him over your shoulder. “Curious to see how Maggie allocated the living stipend?”

He sits up straighter now and plays into the bit, pushing his lips out in thought when he looks around your open concept kitchen and living room. “That and…”

He looks around the room again, his words hang in the air as he buys time. But his hair’s a mess and his watch isn’t on--so you know something’s up.

It clicks. He’s got something on his mind or something and he’s…trying to talk about it? To you?

Men! Sheesh. You try to relax your forehead as you pour him a glass so your confusion and shock isn’t misread as displeasure. Realistically, you’re touched he feels comfortable enough and the thumping in your chest is a dead giveaway if he can hear it when you deliver the wine.

“Shit day?” You ask, watching as his fingers wrap around the step. He takes a sip and shrugs.

“Yeah, shit day…shit month, shit year.”

You giggle into your own glass, take your first sip before nodding. “I know the feeling.”

“No, I shouldn’t--” he pauses and stumbles for a second, “I don’t mean to complain or sound like a dick.”

You shrug and offer a smirk. “You’re not a dick if you have a human emotion.”

He nods, watches the wine in his glass as a smirk crawls onto his face. He looks up at you. “My ex could argue that statement for two hours.”

“Could she?” You smile, nodding when you tell him: “I’m a pretty patient person.”

“Are you?”

“I am,” you laugh, “I like to think so.”

He lets out a tiny laugh at your comment, quiet for a second before he lets out an exhale. “I’m just stressed, really. Being showrunner this season is harder than I thought and it’s not even hard, it’s just more than I’m used to.”

You nod immediately. That makes sense and you see the fatigue on his face. You’d heard Maggie talk about it before: long hours, late nights, location shoots, freezing days, rewrites and props changes. TV wasn’t easy and you were already aware of that, only a few weeks in.

“I get that—but I think it’s normal to notice the learning curve when you’re doing something new.”

He nods, accepts it and holds his breath for a second. “Yeah, that’s…a good way to say it.”

He smiles at you softly, eyes coming up to meet yours quickly before he shrugs. “I know I’ll survive, it’s just—been a rough go of it, lately.”

“So what’s your release?” You ask.

His brows furrow together and the crease in his forehead lights something up inside you.

He says it like this hasn’t occurred to him at all. “My release?”

“How are you dealing with your stress?”

The confusion on his face turns into amusement when the corner of his mouth twitches toward your ceiling.

“So, nothing?”

He laughs. “I hadn’t thought about—doing anything, really.”

“Men,” you roll your eyes, moving towards the couch with your wine in hand. “The wine’s a nice place to start, but certainly not enough.”

He makes a face for a second, like he’s judging himself or imagining the terrible things you must think about him now that you’ve heard his feelings, but he stands to follow and listens intently when you almost open up.

“When my boyfriend dumped me and Kyle let me go, I stayed in bed for a good…two weeks,” you admit, a grimace on your face because you know it makes you sound like a loser. “But then my sister suggested I go to a rage room and it was amazing.”

“A rage room?” He laughs. “One of those places where you just break shit?”

“Smashing a TV to pieces is surprisingly therapeutic,” you tell him seriously.

He thinks on it for a second, nodding like he’s giving it real thought when he plucks at his lower lip. You can see the smirk he’s fighting, a sip of wine when your eyes dare him to say whatever he’s thinking.

“You don’t have to tell me--”

“But,” you say at the same time as he says it. A flash of embarrassment on his face when you raise your brows, reading him like a book, just spit it out.

“Why’d you get fired?”

Right. You knew it would come up at some point and even if Jason wasn’t really your boss, he definitely had the right to be curious.

“I only ask because I read her reference letter--she loves you.”

“She does love me,” you nod. “But she was having family issues and I wanted a raise and then I found out that her daughter was sleeping with my boyfriend.”

His lips form an ‘o’ involuntarily, the response you got from most people when they hear how the dominoes all fell at the same time.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “Fired might be a strong word, but, certainly how it felt.”

“Well, her loss,” he nods confidently. “I’ve seen the way you organized my desk drawers and it’s either witchcraft or psychoticism and I’m okay with either if it’s always this easy to find shit.”

“I’ll keep it up then,” you smile and take another sip.

“Sorry to just…show up, by the way,” he looks down at his own glass in hand, “and drink your wine.”

You had been looking forward to a shower and a night of watching trashy reality TV (though now you’d sworn off all of the Real Housewives). Other than that, your night was likely to consist of facetiming your mom and plucking your eyebrows.

Jason sitting at your counter with a smirk on his face didn’t bother you at all, but you certainly couldn’t tell him you were flattered that he came here.

You nodded to let him know it was no nuisance. “I’m always up for a glass of wine and talking you off the ledge.”

“That shouldn’t be part of your job description, though.”

“Do you know how many times I listened to Kyle complain about her friends or had to send gift baskets to them after fights?”

“I’m guessing a lot?”

“You venting about work stress is a walk in the park,” you reassure.

“Well, I’m glad,” he says solemnly, a moment when he holds your eyes and you feel your cheeks get warm.

You clear your throat, don’t be stupid, and force out a joke to act like whatever moment this was wasn’t problematic or weird or worse, enticing.

“So unless you have a daughter that will sleep with my boyfriend, we’re probably good.”

“My daughter’s seven,” a beat when he shrugs a single shoulder. “And you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You take a loud slurp from your wine--partly for comedic effect and party out of your own awkwardness--and smirk over the rim to match his. “Right.”

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AN: WOW! HI! It's been a hot minute. I'm so glad to be posting this chappie and so appreciative of everyone's patience as my life evolves and writing has taken up a smaller portion of my time. I would love love love to hear what you think of this chapter and the story so far, I've been writing a lot the last few days as feb turns into march and I'm excited to share more!!!!

taglist: @babysugar02 @daydreamgoddess14 @endlessblasphemy @hart-kinsella @shanefilan @bookoffracturedghosts @cavillsim @the-fanfic-fangirl @tegan8314

#tt #temporary things #idkthisisjustforfanfic #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis imagine #jason sudeikis fan fic #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis snl

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