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ardenrosegarden · 1 year

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The context [of the Revolt of 1166] was that of the gradual takeover of Brittany by Henry II; Raoul II had already renounced certain inclinations in 1156. The Breton lords, and in particular that of Fougères, saw their autonomy increasingly curtailed by Plantagenet authority. The balance that the King of England was trying to impose was very unstable. A single event could ignite the powder keg; for Raoul II it was in two stages, first in 1162, then in 1164.

In 1162, the abbot of Mont-Saint-Michel, Robert de Torigni, noted that in the “month of July, Jean de Dol died, he had placed his land and his daughter under the protection of Raoul de Fougères. The King of the English retook the tower.” The mention is lapidary, but Henry apparently forced Raoul to cede the donjon of Dol to him. This city was the archiepiscopal seat of Brittany – or at least it claimed to be – Henry could not ignore it, moreover in 1161, he had managed to place the dean of Bayeux at the Head of the Archdiocese of Dol, Roger de Hommet, relative of the Constable of Normandy. During his lifetime, Lord Jean II of Dol had been relatively hostile to Henry II, if he appealed to Raoul II it was mainly because of the matrimonial ties woven between the two families. In 1162, the King of England therefore controlled the town of Dol and its territories, but this was a policy followed for several decades, he named Étienne, son of Count Geoffroy Boterel II, vicarius and custos of the land. Keeping this seigniory would have enabled Raoul to counterbalance his loss of influence, particularly in Vendelais. But the King of England did not see it that way. By taking over the tower of Dol, he affirmed his authority, the city was run by one of his men. Raoul found himself more and more out of the game, without however entering into resistance at that time.

In 1163, the lord of Fougères took part in a revolt with Eudes de Porhoët, Henri de Penthièvre and Hervé, viscount of Léon. Hugues de Hommet, Henry II’s constable, summoned "the barons of Normandy and Brittany, in the month of August, and took the castle of Combourg in Brittany, in the name of the king, which Raoul de Fougères had held since the death of Jean de Dol.” The siege would have dragged on, Hugues de Hommet could not then afford to continue the repression towards the interior of Brittany due to lack of means. But the allies did not disarm and, “the personal intervention of Henry II was essential”. The lord of Fougères was then perhaps absent, he would have been on a crusade in Jerusalem, we see him draw up long charters of confirmation in favor of the abbeys of Savigny and Rillé. Taking the cross theoretically protected his property and his person, but in 1164, the King of England seized the English manor at Twyford from Raoul II. Henry could not be unaware that the lord of Fougères had left or he did not worry about the religious prohibition; which is far from constituting a unique case in the Plantagenet’s career, we will quickly recall that he was the origin of the assassination of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket, the knights had taken in the first degree certain words of their king: "Will there be no one to rid me of this turbulent priest?". Henry was considered responsible. The latter may have taken advantage of this pilgrimage to the holy land to seize Combourg, which pushed the lord of Fougères, then guardian of these lands by Jean de Dol’s will, to revolt.

- Julien Bachelier, Réseau vassalique et réseaux de peuplement : une même géographie féodale ? L’exemple du Fougerais (v. 1160-1180)

#twelfth century #Raoul II de Fougères #for a little more context Geoffrey Boterel II took Matilda's side in The Anarchy #while his brothers including Alan of Richmond (Conan IV's father) backed Stephen #and Raoul was related to all of the above bc his mom was Geoffrey Boterel and Alan of Richmond's sister #oh to be a fly on the wall of Raoul and Eudes de Porhoët having to revolt together knowing they really didn't much care for each other #old man tells henry ii to get off his lawn for 25 years

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 2 years

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"Treating Convicts Like Humans," Richmond Times Dispatch. June 7, 1942. Page 45. ==== 'In the name of the debts that we have paid arc paying and are about to pay we plead for the right to defend the nation of all nations - America,' cry inmates of the Penitentiary --- By Overton Jones BEHIND those high brick walls at 500 Spring Street a restlessness In the air these days more noticeable than usual. It Isn't because the gentle breezes of Springtime drift lazily across the penitentiary recreational field where brown-dad convicts are wont to spend their idle moments In the afternoon when the work is over.

Instead it's the war responsible for the accelerated desire to say goodbye to that institution which even in peacetimes exactly the place a person would choose in which to spend his vacation. It wouldn't be accurate to say that all of the 4200 or so prisoners confined in the Virginia penal system are chaffing at the bit in their desire to get out and do their part in this war. But it is true that hundreds of these so-called outcasts of society would nothing better than to be allowed to serve in Uncle Sam's fighting forces and to take a crack at Adolph Schickelgruber and that son of the Rising Sun. In fact the prisoners writing in the current issue of The Beacon, penitentiary inmate periodical suggest that if the sinless soldiers in the army want to be contaminated by contact with "cons" then let the government set up a "Legion Damned" in which will fight men released from the nation's prisons. "It's better than an even money bet that wen the war is over we'd be hocking more medals than twice our number among the pure and undefiled," write the two convicts.

This eagerness of outcasts to join the fight for the protection of that society may surprise some of the citizenry who enjoy the privilege of coming and going when and where they please and who know nothing of what goes on behind those towering walls on Spring Street. But Rice Youell is not surprised. After all a man who's just rounded out his twentieth year as penitentiary superintendent ought to know pretty well what to expect from the men who live behind those walls. "The patriotism of the people in prison is as good as that of the people outside" he commented. Despite their confinement they too respect the principles for which America is fighting and would like to be In there doing their bit, he explained.

Not that the major would advocate throwing open the prison doors of America and letting the entire male prison population don the military uniform. That would be foolhardy. But he believes a good many prisoners should be allowed to become soldiers, their selection, of course, being handled extremely carefully. 'Give Them a Clean Sheet' And what about these men when the war is over? Should they be slapped back into the pen? "Give them a clean sheet and let them start all," Virginia's prison head suggested. If you are inclined to question the judgment on this matter it might be to recall that for 20 years his job has been to direct the handling of Virginia's prison population and in 20 years a man ought to get to know pretty well the people he's dealing- with.

Evidently Governor Darden thinks the major has done a good job for it is reported the penitentiary superintendent soon will leave that post to take over the task of guiding the Department of Corrections set up by the recent General Assembly. When he steps into his new task Major Youell can look back on 20 years of labor on behalf of the prisoners of Virginia and for the State itself His work (and he declares emphatically that the State Prison Board deserves the major credit) has drawn nation-wide attention and prison system has in many ways become a model for other States to copy.

But leaving the more technical side of prison administration for experts to deal with, it's interesting to take a glimpse back over the years at some of the human interest which have marked the V.M.I. football career as a penologist. It's hard to get him to talk about this side of his Job because the Virginia Penitentiary superintendent the dramatic type warden you read about in the novels and see on the screen. His aim has been to do a good job of prison administration without drama publicity and frills.

Last week, though, Major Youell did take a couple of hours off to reminisce a little and to recall among other things that the famed Mais and Legenza case of 1935 probably received more publicity than any other single case in the past 20 years

If you were living in Richmond on March 9, 1934, you remember how the city was rocked by news of the highway robbery of a Federal Reserve truck at the Broad Street Station overpass and the murder of E. M. Huband, the driver. Mais, Legenza and three other members of the notorious Tri-State gang pulled the job, giving Richmond an unwelcome taste of big-time criminal activities. Moving on to Baltimore, Mais and Legenza continued their career of crime but they finally were captured in that city and by August were brought back to Richmond for trial and both were condemned to die in the electric chair at the State Penitentiary.

But if Major Youell prepared a couple of death-house cells for his two newcomers due to arrive in October he was doomed to disappointment. On September 29, a date that will live in crime history, the two murderers staged the most daring jailbreak the city has ever known. Behind them, they left a trail of blood with one policeman mortally wounded and another felled by bullets from pistols smuggled into their cells. They commandeered an automobile on East Broad Street and made their escape as police from throughout this section of the country began a gigantic manhunt In Richmond the death of the patrolman fatally wounded when the gangsters made their bold dash for freedom, the suicide of the City Jail deputy who had stood guard at their cell doors and a grand jury investigation which recommended sweeping changes in the administration marked the aftermath of the sensational break.

Call Led to Arrest Cornered, finally, on the station platform at Wayne Junction, Pa., Mais and Legenza shot it out with police but Legenza broke his leg in a 30-foot jump from an embankment to a concrete street. They escaped again but the wound forced Legenza to seek hospital treatment in New York. A telephone call from Mais to a friend in Philadelphia was intercepted by police and the two finally were captured.

It was a small army of Federal men and local police which brought the two murderers to the door of the State Penitentiary on January 22 That same day they were taken separately to Hustings Court and new dates set for their execution.

For days the hardened criminals showed no evidence of fear that the end was approaching. But as the execution date drew close they began reading their Bibles praying and singing joining the chaplain in words of familiar hymns. He would tell them the story of the condemned thief on the cross and the Master's words of promise.

"When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound and time shall be no more ..." were the words which rang through death row.

Strange, when criminals whose deeds have been blazoned across the headlines are doomed to death, reactions of the public take a peculiar twist. Major Youell received one threatening letter, warning him of dire consequences if the executions were carried out. Evangelical pamphlets flooded the mail from religious folk who hoped to be the means of saving the souls of the two condemned men.

An avalanche of requests for the privilege of witnessing the executions poured into the office Twelve witnesses saw the first of the two men die another 12 watched the second death. "You are requested to be at the penitentiary Saturday February 2 at 7:30 A.M. to witness the execution of William Davis (Legenza) Please present this card at the the door." That's the way the invitations read When Criminals Fell Out MAJOR YOUELL'S 20 years' experience virtually lacks any mass prison escape episodes. There've been numerous breaks of one or two prisoners of course but nothing on a really big scale.

It was back in '35 that the major pulled what he described at that time as "a mean piece of psychology" to foil a projected prison break. It seems that he was tipped off that five of his guests in the big house were planning to vamoose without lingering to say goodbye. But he didn't throw the five into solitary confinement or take other drastic measures. Instead, he summoned each one of the plotters individually to a prison office and seated him before an open door, where fellow conspirators could see him when they went by to the mess hall. As the major had anticipated, each plotter thought the others had squealed and a quarrel resulted. The escape plans collapsed.

Directing administration of a prison is a grim business but not without its humorous side .Take the case of the phoney French millionaire. One day back in May' 1936 Major Youell received a letter addressed to "Monsieur le Directeur du Penitencier de I-Etat de Virginia Etats Unis d'Amerique du Nord." The major opened the letter and saw it was in French and being no expert at reading that language he sent it to Arthur James, then State Welfare Commissioner, who made a translatio,n but figured better get somebody else to translate it, too, so he forwarded it to Principal James Harwood of John Marshall High School. A teacher of French at the school finally translated it and sent it back to Major Youell. First, there was a newspaper clipping from a French paper which said that "it is the penitentiary of Virginia which harbors this unusual prisoner" a nobleman who killed a woman who refused his advances being sentenced to life imprisonment for the crime. "In his cell (said the French newspaper) Juan set up an extraordinary washing machine so extraordinary that he found a' partner who allowed him 50 per cent on the profits. A year later the lawyer for the prisoner already had several thousand dollars to the account of his clien.t This did not fill Juan with Joy. He despaired at finding himself rich and in prison He attempted suicide twice. Having been saved from suicide the prisoner has become a philanthropist and from his prison he carries on works of charity he comes to the aid of poor people and of Don Juan has become a patron of the arts."

Then there was a letter to Mr. Directeur asking him to pass on to Juan another letter which explained the purpose of the communication In the letter to Juan the writer told a sad story of being broke and pleaded with the nobleman "to make a Frenchman happy by sending him same of those dollars which you dispose of."

Major Youell didn't have any prisoner answering the description of the nobleman but he did repent having at that time a French prisoner a master of invention and a little queer mentally. This fellow he said may have smuggled out a letter which resulted in the French newspaper article.

One of the less imposing but important achievements at the penitentiary in recent years has been the building up of a prison library under the direction of the Rev. Henry Lee Robison, Jr. director of religious work in State institutions.

Travel books are the most popular nonfiction volumes in the library, Mr. Robison reported. One day just before delivering a sermon to the inmates, Mr. Robison held up before them some travel books which had just been purchased for the library.

"All of us ought to be interested in traveling," he declared. There was silence for a few moments and then a roar of laughter swept through the assembly room, much to the embarrassment of the clergyman. That however was not as inappropriate as the remark made by a speaker, who told the prisoners as he left them after making an address on one occasion that he would be back the following year and "I hope to see you all again."

But more popular than any of the nonfiction books even travel are the Zane Grey Western stories. Murders too are eagerly sought after In for Readers" in The Beacon comments run like this: 'Murder Up My Sleeve," by Earl Stanley Gardner is typical of Mr. Gardner's stories. A millionaire with a reputation was murdered. Terry Clane, a new and exciting character created by Mr. Gardner, found himself involved. Using extraordinary methods to solve an extraordinary murder he beats them to the punch in a mystery that is filled with surprise cunning and excitement." And in another comment the prisoners are told that in one book the villain killed people "with mirthful and original inventiveness."

Interest in the library has been stimulated through the school at the penitentiary attendance at which is compulsory for all men who completed the fifth grade of schooling. Superintendent Youell is a firm believer in education of men within prisons, bemoaning that some people feel it's a waste of money to provide educational facilities for prisoners. "It is such a pity that so many people have the age-old feeling that the closing of prison doors behind a prisoner ends his case," he said. "We all know that the vast majority of prisoners go back to society so it is only a common sense problem that we should do everything in our power to salvage just as many of these unfortunates as possible," The penitentiary school's first annual commencement exercises were held in June 1937, in the prison chapel, while outside a terrific rainstorm beat at the windows. The stormy weather was not an omen of the future history, as it has grown in popularity and usefulness, although those directly responsible would like considerably more money to provide better equipment with which to work.

One old Negro convict who even read a few years ago now values above all his possessions a Bible and an oversized dictionary. He gave a Negro boy five bags of marbles for the dictionary. Asked how much he would sell his two books for he replied:

"Boss them books are going to be with me when I die." There was another man who was condemned to die in the chair but shortly after the sentence was commuted to life imprisonment he turned up at the school and in due course was graduated after having completed the fifth grade. Not satisfied with graduating once, he was on hand again the following September and went through the course and was given another diploma. They finally had to make him an instructor to get him out of school. Three Causes of Discontent SPEAKING with the authority of a man with 20 experience in penology Major Youell last week listed three things which can cause trouble among prisoners at a penitentiary: overcrowding, poor food, and idleness. Today, the food at the penitentiary is good - not fancy, of course, but adequate and nourishing. The writer of this article and Major Youell were walking through the penitentiary last week when the superintendent stopped to chat a moment with an old Negro prisoner. The Negro who said he had been at the pen since 1904, was asked about the food and according to his account what's put on the table in the prison mess hall today is like a banquet compared to those days when he first entered the institution.

As to idleness today, there is no such problem at the prison here. Ten excellent prison industries are operating teaching the men fine workmanship in the wool and cotton textile trades, printing, metal trades, and machine shops. Not only do the men learn useful trades, which they can find of value when they leave prison, but they also are kept occupied producing goods which State institutions use. In the field of prison industry Virgina's penitentiary stands as a model for other States. As to the first of the trouble-makers listed by the superintendent - that of overcrowding Virginia - certainly has been guilty of allowing this situation to exist at the big house on Spring Street. In small cells which only one man should sleep three men have been living. One of the three has had to sleep on the floor.

Fortunately, though, even as this is being written officials are making arrangements to move many of the prisoners to the new cell house just completed on the penitentiary grounds and when the new unit is occupied there will be only one man to a cell. Each cell has a cot, table, chair, sanitary facilities, an enclosed lighting fixture, operated from a main switch, and plugs for radio headsets. Each prisoner will have earphones on which he can listen to the radio according to Major Youell.

And so life in the penitentiary moves on a life not pleasant perhaps but far less abhorrent under modern penal theories than that of even a few decades ago when all emphasis was on punishment and not on rehabilitation. Today in Virginia's penitentiary convicts can express their views through their own prison publication, just as they are doing in the timely discussion on the proposal that men in prison be released to serve in the armed forces.

"The heart that beats under a prison shirt is Just as truly American as the heart of the man in the street," says The Beacon. "Contrary to popular belief most men in our prisons today have an honest regret for the mistakes of the past and a burning desire to make amends. Most of us ask for plead for the privilege of defending a flag that is as dear to us as to John Q. Public. Most of us would feel extremely honored to die behind a smoking gun aimed toward society to know that we too know how to die for so worthy a cause. "When America has completely smashed her rodent foes and if there should be any of the 'Legion left alive reward us with supervised parole until proven our right to permanent freedom.

"In the name of the debt that we have paid are paying and are about to pay to society we plead for the right to defend the nation of all nations, America." Photo captions:

Top left: Rice Youell (left) who has rounded out 20 years as penitentiary superintendent confers with Frank Smyth who is in charge of prison industries such as the metal shop at right. Middle: Dapper Gangster Robert Hals and his henchman Walter Legenza created more notoriety for their murderous robbery here and subsequent prison break in 1934 than was attached to any other Penitentiary case in the last generation.

Top right: Trouble caused at the Big House by crowding three into a one-man cell about to be done away with.

[Top notch carceral propaganda - the large scale Virginia road camp system, where the majority of African American prisoners were incarcerated, is not mentioned once.]

#richmond va #virginia state prison #penal reform #carceral propaganda #prisoner newsletter #words from the inside #prison conditions #prison overcrowding #american prison system #virginia prisons #world war ii #enlistment of convicts

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kuwaitshops · 2 years

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#Kuwait #SBL Richmond II

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kuwaitblogsstuff · 2 years

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#Kuwait #SBL Richmond II

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wlntrsldler · 4 months

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now i see daylight | part ii: treacherous

song: treacherous by taylor swift

series description: set after lust conquers all, jamie returns to richmond and takes accountability for treating you like shit.

warnings: language-- it's ted laso, what did ya expect?; bff!sam, touch starved jamie and reader, A LOT OF ALCOHOL, richmond himbos

pairing: jamie tartt x f! reader

word count: 2054 words

series masterlist | main masterlist

When the whistle was blown for full time, the cheers in the arena were deafening. You couldn’t hear yourself think and everything seemed to slow. You stood behind Roy, clutching your camera, as you watched the sea of red and blue storm the field. You were only snapped out of your thoughts when Will jumped on your back, hugging you from behind.

“We’re moving up!” Will screamed behind you, beaming from ear to ear. “Come on, Y/N, let’s celebrate!”

You placed your camera on one of the seats under the tent and tossed a jacket over it. You followed Will into the middle of the field where all of the coaches, players, and fans were celebrating.

“Dani Rojas you legend!” You yelled, running toward Dani. He grinned at you, picking you up by your waist to spin you around. “I am so fucking proud of you!”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he put you down, holding you by your shoulders. “You will come to the after-party, yes?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

You made your rounds with all of the players. Most of them were so excited, they couldn’t say anything but, “Let’s goooooo!” Colin threw an arm around you and walked you over to Sam, who you still hadn't seen because of the chaos. When Sam saw you, he ran to you, smiling so wide you were sure his cheeks hurt.

“Y/N! Can you believe it? We are back in the Premier League!”

“I believe it. I knew you guys could do it.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he hugged you tightly. “Are you coming to the after-party? Please tell me you will. I can pick you up.”

You tutted, “Samuel, I will be there but you are not driving tonight. You deserve to get absolutely trashed.”

“Agreed, mate.”

There was that accent again. You turned around to see Jamie, glowing under the lights. Ever since the day he cornered you in the hallway, he made do with his promise. He didn’t bother you again unless it was for work. You’ve been more courteous to him. You no longer ignored his “good mornings,” or “how are ya’s,” but you still kept your distance. However, your resolve was slowly fading. Being around him again made you remember why you were so drawn to him in the first place. With him being a different version of himself now, it increased that attraction tenfold.

Sam looked between the two of you and smirked, walking away discreetly. He’s noticed the small smiles on your face whenever Jamie would come around. You tried to hide it, but Sam knew you too well.

You turned your body to look at Jamie, shyly looking at him. Jamie met your eye, eyes twinkling in a way that you haven’t seen since the last night you shared with him. He had a boyish smile on his face. You pursed your lips, trying not to let a smile slip, but you were unsuccessful. Jamie’s eyes got brighter, which you didn’t realize was possible.

“Great job, Jam.”

Jamie let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding at the sound of his nickname leaving your lips. He bit his bottom lip, stretching his hand out for a handshake, “I appreciate it, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and smacked his hand away. You walked toward him and pulled him into a hug. Jamie froze in your arms for a second before melting into the hug and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You didn’t realize how much you missed him until you felt his arms tighten around your torso. It was like you finally got a taste of the thing you were craving for months as if there was nothing else in the world that could’ve made this moment sweeter, better.

Your hand made its way to the back of his neck, where you cradled the back of his head, fingers softly tugging on his hair. It was muscle memory, how you used to cuddle him on his couch all those months ago. Jamie sighed into your skin, his warm breath awakening you from the trance you were under, causing you to pull away.

Both of your faces were flushed when you pulled apart. Jamie cleared his throat, looking down at his feet, before vaguely motioning somewhere as if there was something requiring his attention. You did the same, leaving to go in the opposite direction as him.

You turned around and saw Keeley with a smirk on her face, arms crossed with a knowing look. “World must be ending, I suppose?”

Blushing, you shoved her lightly, “Shut up.”

In true Captain fashion, Isaac rented a giant party bus for all of the players and a few special guests, including you, Keeley, Roy, and Will. The bus was taking all of you to a club in London that Isaac bought out for the night to celebrate the win and promotion. Roy, who should know better now that he was a coach, denounced his coach-ship before he stepped foot on the bus, stating that tonight he was “going to have the fucking time of my life!”

When you walked into the bus with Sam, you were hit with the sound of a club beat. Players were already a few drinks in from the bottles of beer and liquor scattered around the bus. Jan Maas was holding onto the pole, laughing as he fist-pumped to the song. Richard had a bottle of red wine in his grasp, which you later saw had a sticker on it that said “Property of Richard Montlaur.” Colin and Isaac were in the corner singing into a bottle of gin when “Hotel Room Service” by Pitbull started playing.

Sam was pulled from you by O’Brien who made him take shots. With you both being the last two the team was waiting for, the bus lightly jerked as it began its journey to London. The entire team cheered, raising bottles in the air.

You laughed as you tried to make your way around the bus, trying to find a friendly face that wasn’t too far gone. You knew all of them would regret this in the morning. You turned to your right and found Jamie and Dani sharing a bottle of tequila, laughing at something that you’d later learn was not that funny.

“Y/N!” Dani yelled when he saw you. He scooted over on the leather bench, leaving a space next to Jamie for you to occupy. “You are here!”

“I am!” You replied, shaking your head at how far gone the boys already are and you’ve barely even left Nelson Road. “How you guys feelin’?”

“Fuckin’ fantastic,” Jamie replied, taking another sip from the bottle. He handed it to you, which you took. You drank some and grimaced when the strong taste hit your tongue.

The two boys laughed as you passed the bottle to Dani. Dani stood up, holding onto the pole that Jan Maas was holding earlier, and began to make his rounds in the bus. He kept offering the bottle to anyone he saw. You couldn’t help but laugh at how they all took the bottle from Dani, despite not liking tequila.

“‘M glad you’re here.”

Your attention focused back on Jamie, who was staring up at you. His eyes were clouded, eyelids droopy. You playfully punched his shoulder, “How are you already drunk?”

Jamie furrowed his eyebrows, “You and Sam were so late. We had to get started without you lot.”

“We were thirty minutes late.”

“A lot can happen in thirty minutes.”

You snorted. It made Jamie smile. He bumped your knee with his. You looked at where your bodies touched. Your breath got stuck in your throat. You swallowed, “I guess I need to catch up.”

“Damn right,” a lopsided smirk graced his lips. He dug behind him in the ice bucket and pulled out a bottle of Clase Azul. He handed it to you, “Go on then.”

“Menace,” you replied, grabbing the bottle from him. Your fingers brushed, sending shocks throughout your entire body. “You know I can’t say no to good tequila.”

“Yeah, that’s why I bought it,” he shrugged, opening a beer. “I bought it for you. Nearly broke Bumbercatch’s arm when he tried to open it earlier.”

“Jamie, this is an expensive bottle of tequila.”

“Yeah well, Coach wouldn’t let me buy the whole team PS5s as a sorry, but he didn’t say anything about buyin’ you expensive liquor.”

You were sure that Jamie was only saying this because the alcohol was clouding his better judgment. He probably won’t remember this in the morning, or at the very least, he’d wonder whether or not this was real life or just something his mind made up. You opened the bottle and took a long swig from it.

As good as the tequila was, you still grimaced, frantically searching to find a chaser. Jamie, who remembered your drinking habits, held out a cup of Diet Coke. You downed the entire cup, sighing in relief when the taste of tequila was masked by the sugary drink. “Thanks, Jam.”

“Missed you callin’ me that,” he admitted, a look of longing on his face. “Missed you in general, to be honest. Been hell without you in my life.”

“Jamie,” you started, turning your body to him. “You’re drunk so I suggest you stop talking.”

“Am I makin’ you uncomfortable?” Jamie asked, concern on his face. He sobered for a moment, blinking back as if he was trying to figure out what he just said.

“No, no,” you assured him, placing a hand on his thigh. He tensed under your touch, letting out a shaky breath. You were really close to each other now. “You’re not making me uncomfortable. I just don’t want you to say anythin’ you’ll regret in the morning.”

“Don’t think that’ll happen,” he said, nonchalantly. He took a sip from his beer, trying not to move too much in fear that you would remove your hand from his thigh if he did. Hesitantly, he started drawing figure eights with his pointer finger on your hand that was touching him. He let out a breath when you didn’t pull away. “Been regrettin’ not saying anything to ya. Should’ve told you how I felt that night. Or any night after that, really. I was just bein’ a prick ‘cause I was hurt that Richmond let me go.”

You stayed silent. You didn’t know what to make of his words. Was he talking about the night you told him how you felt? Surely not. What does he mean by tell you how he felt?

Jamie continued, “And the thing was, I knew Richmond had no say in whether or not I was goin’ back to Man City, but it still hurt, I guess. Woke up to a text sayin’ I had to go back to Man City from my agent. Not even a text from Ted, or Keeley, or you. Thought I didn’t mean nothin’ to any of ya, so I just shut everyone out.”

“And it’s real shit of me to do, ain’t it? Especially how I treated ya. I don’t blame you for not forgiving me or giving me a second chance.” He stopped drawing on your hand. He drank from his beer again. You looked at him. He had a small and nervous smile on his face. Testing his luck, he brought a hand up to touch your face. “Shame I fucked it all up really ‘cause you’re the only person I ever actually wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Jamie–”

“Come on, party animals!” Isaac yelled from the front of the bus. Somehow the top five buttons of his shirt became undone during the drive. He slung an arm around Will, who had a tie wrapped around the circumference of his head, “Let’s get iiiiiittttttt!”

The bus erupted in hollers as players trickled out of the bus. Sam, who was giggly under the influence, found you next to Jamie. Jamie, seeing that Sam was there to walk you out of the bus, waved goodbye to you and caught up with Bumbercatch. You held the Clase Azul bottle close to your body as you threw on a fake smile, walking off the bus with Sam.

part i: don't you

part iii: daylight

#ted lasso #ted lasso oneshot #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso series #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x yn #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt series #jamie tartt oneshot #frances writes #frances song fics #now i see daylight

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illiterateaffairs · 1 year

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DISTRACTIONS II | ALONE AT MIDNIGHT

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

rating: T

word count: 2,880

summary: jamie refuses to let you go home alone again

A/N: what could THAT mean?

distractions masterlist | previous chapter

After almost three months with the club, you and the team are now celebrating a seven game win streak.

Rebecca has somehow managed to convince a star football player called Zava to join AFC Richmond (you still weren’t sure if that was his first name or last name) and they haven’t lost a match since. While very gifted at football, you wouldn’t exactly call Zava your favorite player to work with. He was self-centered but not at all self aware. For some reason the team worshiped him but you could hardly understand why. With what you heard about how much they couldn’t stand Jamie when he used to be more selfish and stuck-up, you didn’t get why they’re putting up with Zava. Maybe it was just the thrill of back-to-back wins. They were all the happiest you’d ever seen them so you kept your thoughts to yourself.

Well almost all of them were happy. Anytime the team went out for drinks to celebrate their recent victories (even days after on a random Wednesday - any excuse for a pint, as Isaac would say) Sam convinced you to tag along. That’s how you started spending time getting to know more guys like Isaac and Colin and Dani. But even as you bonded with them, you couldn’t help but notice Jamie. You’d always find him sulking in a corner with a beer in his hand, or half heartedly making conversation with one of his teammates. You’d spoken to him a few times over the last several weeks, and while you’d talk about your weekend or share jokes about other players or even the coaches (apologies, Uncle Ted), your conversations were never lengthy or of substance. So you ignored the urge to check up on him during these nights.

You’re out again tonight - except this time it's the entire club. Coaches, staff, and all are gathered at Sam’s restaurant Ola’s for an unofficial opening celebration in honor of the team’s seventh straight win. You’re sipping champagne by the bar with Rebecca and Keeley, when they have to introduce you to Rebecca’s old friend Sassy. You’ll love her! And of course you do. Everyone you encounter here is the best person you’ve ever met. Although your ears bleed when Sassy alludes to going home with Ted later. Rebecca secretly gives you a simultaneously apologetic and amused look, to which you can only laugh through your embarrassment.

As you sip your champagne, you can’t help but look on as your work family mixes and mingles and laughs together. You try not to beam at Sam, who you’ve told you’re proud of a million times that night, as he talks to his chef friend. You look on curiously as Colin introduces a friend of his to some other members of the team. You even feel comforted when you see Roy sit down next to Jamie, hoping someone can get that boy out of whatever funk he’s in. Even Zava makes a surprise appearance but you keep from rolling your eyes.

You’ve really become comfortable here the last few months. You try to remember the last time you’ve felt this happy and content and you come up blank. You’re surrounded by people you actually like and a job that sustains you both financially and spiritually. Now if only you could write a word of fiction you were proud of, but baby steps will have to do.

You’re not a superstitious or paranoid person, but as soon as you start dwelling on how great your life is going, you know that you’ll jinx it.

And you do.

As Rebecca begins telling you and Keeley about the psychic reading she had recently, your phone buzzes in your back pocket. You figure it's a text from your dads and don’t want to miss an opportunity to connect with them even briefly, since you’ve been so busy. Instead of finding a text from your family group chat, you see an Instagram notification.

Mason_Andrews has posted for the first time in a while.

Stupid Instagram and their stupid irrelevant notifications.

You know you shouldn’t look. You’re having a great time, and you haven’t really thought about him in weeks. But you’re so curious. Besides, you really need to make the move to unfollow him and this could be the perfect opportunity to do so.

So you click the notification banner and Instagram opens to a picture of Mason- with his arms wrapped around an eerily familiar red-head.

He’d told you he barely knew the girl, as the two of you fought that night; that she didn’t mean anything to him.

Apparently she did now. They looked extra cozy, all dressed up in cocktail attire at what must have been one of Mason’s work events. My girl, the caption reads simply. Your fingers move faster than your brain as you tap the image to see the girl has been tagged. Her handle tells you her name is Chloe. You know if you start digging any further you’re going to drive yourself crazy. But if you don’t look and go on the rest of the night trying to forget about it, you’ll feel even crazier. So you decide you need to get out of there as soon as possible.

Under the guise of exhaustion, you bid your farewells to Keeley and Rebecca. You catch Ted’s eye over Sassy’s shoulder and wave. He mouths back a “get home safe”. You don’t even try to get Beard’s attention with his girlfriend Jane in his lap. Roy gives you a nod and you briefly make eye contact with Jamie as Keeley’s friend and coworker Shandy talks off his ear, giving him a small smile as you head to the front. You let Sam know you’re calling it a night, and he begs you to stay for a little while longer, but you just hug him tighter and promise to be his first customer when Ola’s officially opens. He flashes his contagious, thousand-watt smile and you almost feel better, accepting the green matchbook as a keepsake that you know you’ll never part with.

Leaning against the brick of the restaurant, you mean to call an Uber, but end up giving in and immediately start cyber-stalking Chloe. You’re nearly a full year down her Instagram grid when the door jingles beside you, causing you to jump.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, palming your chest to calm your rising heart rate.

“Didn’t know you were so religious,” Jamie snickers from beside you, seemingly a bit more upbeat than he was earlier in the evening.

You snort, relaxing a bit, “Says the guy with the cross earring.”

He smirks, “It's a fashion statement, ever heard of it?”

“My sincerest apologies,” You hold your hands up playfully in surrender, “I’m surprised you're alone.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well it seems if Shandy had her way, you’d be leaving with her.”

Jamie takes a deep breath, “Shandy is…a lot. I think she wanted to take a bite out of me.”

You laugh at the pained expression on his face, “What, you’re not into that sort of thing?”

He gets a mischievous glint in his eye and you know you’re going to regret having said that, “Well, I’m usually the one doing the biting.”

“My God,” you groan, closing your eyes.

“There you go with the religious expletives,” he tsks, “You know you shouldn’t use the lord’s name in vain.”

“I will try to do better.”

Your breathy laughs die out together.

“So, what about you?” Jamie asks.

“What about me?”

“Don’t tell me you’re walking home alone again from here.”

You’re reminded of what you were supposed to be doing. “Oh, no, I was actually about to order an Uber.”

“Fuck that. My car is down the block, let me drive you.”

“Jamie, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m not letting you waste your money when I have a perfectly good car and empty passenger seat. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t give you another second to consider when he’s already rounding the corner of the restaurant.

Moments later you’re putting your address into Jamie’s phone from his passenger seat, and you appreciate that he only made fun of you a little for almost getting in the driver's side. (“Hey, if you want to take a shot at driving on the correct side of the road, be my guest.” “Listen, It doesn’t make sense that everything is on the other side!”) You’ve been driving for a few minutes with only the soft sound of the radio playing when you finally let yourself ask.

“So, why the long face all night?” you inquire, “I don’t know much about non-American football, or American football for that matter, but I thought winning several games in a row was supposed to be a good thing.”

Jamie shakes his head, “It is.”

“Thank you for clarifying,” you smile slightly, “But?”

“But,” he sighs, “I don’t love how we did it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's this whole Zava thing,” he admits, not taking his eyes off the road as you watch him, “Everyone is acting like he’s some God, and sure, he’s a great player, but we…stopped playing as a team. I liked it better that way. Now it's the Zava show.”

You nod, “I get what you mean. I don’t get the hype about Zava either.”

He glances at you for a brief second before focusing on the road again. “You don’t?”

“Yeah, he’s all words and no substance. He says things but it doesn’t mean anything. It's irritating. Honestly, when he walked into Sam’s I had to force myself not to leave immediately.”

He laughs with you, “I feel like you’re the only other person who see’s through his shit.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really have patience for self-centered jerks. Even if they’re good at kicking a ball around or whatever.”

Jamie’s smile falters a bit. “You know I used to be a lot like him.”

You bite back a laugh, “No way.”

Your sarcasm takes him by surprise. “I thought you weren’t into football?”

“Football? No,” you admit slowly, “One of my old coworkers, though, had an affinity for British dating shows…”

You swear you see a bit of color drain from his face under the glow of the street lights, “Ah shit.”

You can’t help but giggle, “Yeahhh, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? You’re the one who suffered through watching that crap.”

You can’t help but join when a laugh breaks through his words.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“That bad? I was a total prick.”

“Oh yeah you were a douchebag, but it made great TV.”

He can’t help but laugh with you despite himself. “Yeah, I guess.”

“But you don’t seem like that guy anymore,” you reassure, “I don’t think the guy who broke Amy’s heart would offer to drive a girl you barely know home.”

“I’m trying not to be,” he muses softly. “But you’re right about one thing. I barely know you and you’ve probably seen more of me than either of us would like to admit.”

You chuckle, feeling your face get hot. “'You saying you want to play 20 questions or something?”

“How about one? That being, why the hell did you come to Richmond?” he glances at you again as you suddenly find your hands more interesting than the boy beside you, “Sam says you had some fancy job back in America and now you’re basically a football club owner’s secretary.”

“We prefer the term personal assistant.”

He rolls his eyes, “So what? Were you that desperate to learn about ‘non-American football’ or what?”

You take a long, deep breath. “You want the honest answer?”

Jamie shrugs like it's obvious.

“I told my family I needed a change of scenery, but it was because of a guy. Pathetic right? Making a life changing decision because some guy broke my heart. But the truth is I’d been making a lot of my decisions because of him while we were together. Where to live. What friends to hang out with. I had my old job because he thought it would be a good fit for me even though it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. So, after we…broke up, I realized I didn’t really know who I was because my whole life was built around him and us. So, I knew I had to get the hell out of Chicago, panicked, quit my job, and…here I am; just trying to get a change of scenery and figure out who the hell I am.”

You never admitted that to anyone. No one around you ever saw how controlling he was over your life. You knew your family would have called you out about it, but they never got the chance to spend much time with him. He insisted you spend holidays with his family and you went along with it. And when you visited yours, you went alone. You didn’t realize it at the time, but subconsciously you weren’t very proud of your relationship with him. You were blinded by the attention he gave you, all the while molding you into his definition of a perfect girlfriend. Until apparently you weren’t.

You eventually glanced back over at Jamie, and despite paying attention to the road in front of him, you could tell he was listening attentively.

“Damn, so once you finally saw how bad he was, you dumped him and left?”

You laugh humorously, “No, I dumped him after I caught him cheating on me.” That was also the first time you told someone willingly.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Now who’s using the lord’s name in vain?”

“He sounds fucking awful. Glad you’re rid of him.”

“If only I’d come to my senses sooner.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t blame yourself when he’s the prick.”

You digest the sentiment as his car slows to a stop and you realize you’ve made it to your apartment.

He angles his body towards you, “Seriously, I’m sorry that happened to you. No one…no one deserves that.”

Meeting his eyes, you get the sense that there’s more meaning behind his words that you don’t understand. Still you smile slightly. “Thank you, Jamie.”

He presses his lips together in a thin smile as well.

You unbuckle your seatbelt as you continue, “Well, here’s hoping that quitting my job and moving halfway across the world actually does the trick and lets me move on, or else I might be a little crazy.”

Jamie chuckles and you feel the energy shift back to lighthearted, “Well, you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“Jesus Chr-” you stop as he raises his eyebrows playfully, and you start to smile. Not only do you let yourself laugh at his cheeky joke, you let yourself consider his words. Casual dating let alone sex wasn’t really your thing, but maybe it could help. At the very least it would be a well deserved distraction. You briefly consider trying out the Bantr app but you loathed online dating. And here you were with a perfectly eligible bachelor mere inches away from you.

No. No. You couldn’t hook up with Jamie Tartt.

He was a notorious playboy. And while you could now attest he wasn’t as bad as his on-screen persona made him look, you knew he still wasn’t a relationship guy.

But that’s not what this would be.

Maybe he would be the perfect guy to distract you for one night. He instantly made you forget about Mason earlier until he became the topic of conversation. And he was very pretty.

Before you can second guess anymore, you push yourself towards him and press your lips against his. If Jamie’s surprised by your actions, it doesn’t last long. He quickly unbuckles his own seatbelt, so he can bring the two of you closer together, his hands squeezing your waist, as yours cup around his face. You kiss frantically for a few more moments, sneaking in breaths where you can, before you’re pulling away slightly. Your noses are brushing against one another as you blink up at him, “Do you want to come inside?”

He doesn’t bother answering, letting out shaky breaths as he nods, bumping his forehead against yours lightly. You smile into another kiss and Jamie doesn’t break away as he starts reaching to unlock the car doors, eager to get into your apartment but a little less eager to part from you. Reluctantly you separate again so you both can fumble out of the car and up the stairs of your building. You feel his breath on your neck as you hurriedly unlock your front door. He gently leads you inside, only to shut the door and push you against it, picking up where he left off. His hands make their way down your body to your thighs, and without having to be asked, you're jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist. You mumble directions to your bedroom against his lips and before you know it, he’s lying you down across your bed. As his lips leave a trail down your neck and to your chest, you don’t even remember Mason’s name. Your mind is just clouded by Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.

A/N: let me know what you think y’all!!! also taking this opportunity to let everyone know i’m not comfortable writing smut or things like that, but will obviously allude to this like this. hope everyone understands! ❤️

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

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sokkigarden · 10 months

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DWOHT masterlist

jamie tartt x female reader // nsfw // enemies to lovers // fwb

༻✧✧✧༺

you hate jamie tartt. but you just might love him as well.

or impulsive hatesex with richmond's star striker leads you on a road full of distractions and messy feelings

༻✧✧✧༺

part i - welcome distraction part ii - enemy part iii - electric touch part iv - happy & sad part v

read on ao3

last updated: 230830

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt smut #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #my works #dwoht fic

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theageofcaravel · 7 months

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Rose-Coloured Boy Index

— Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Plot: Jamie Tartt and Y/N have been best friends since primary school. The pair had fallen out once graduation hit, both of them going their separate ways; Jamie finally kicking off (pun intended) his football career, and Y/N finally walking through the doors of her cinematographer career. One day, they cross paths in the corridors of Nelson Road, Y/N getting the assignment to make a mini docuseries of one of the football clubs in England, hers being AFC Richmond.

Overall warnings: mentions of food, alcohol, depression and anxiety, past abuse and trauma, trauma bonding, mentions of smut, panic attacks, angst, fluff, cussing LOTS of it, family issues, projecting

CHAPTERS:

Chapter I: Reeling in the Midnight Streets

Chapter II: Lovely to Sit Between Comfort and Chaos

Chapter III: Turn Tonight, Firelight (coming soon)

Chapter IV: So Long, Daisy May (coming soon)

Chapter V: Every Corner of This House is Haunted (coming soon)

Chapter VI: Fever in a Shock Wave (coming soon)

Chapter VII: The Stars in Your Eyes (coming soon)

Chapter VIII: Death for Your Secrets (coming soon)

Chapter IX: Dance in the Kitchen, Chase Me Down the Hallway (coming soon)

Chapter X: Do You Think it Means Something? (coming soon)

MORE COMING SOON!!

MISCELLANEOUS:

playlist

pinterest board : includes visuals and an idea for cast members (original characters that come up within the book and the cannon characters within the Ted Lasso universe)

#jamie tartt #afc richmond #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #ted lasso #rebecca welton #roy kent #Colin hughes #reader insert #female reader #richmond #Spotify

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asteria-argo · 1 month

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🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

can’t wait to read more of tatbp

good news! I'm back to working on tatbp! the haitus has come to an official close now that I've gotten those two other wips I wanted to work on out of the way, and we're officially onto Act II!

“Yeah, five years ago.” Jamie huffs, sitting up on his elbows as Kareem takes a seat at his desk and starts sorting through all the papers he’d just dumped down “I haven’t even touched a football since I quit. Not exactly in peak form am I?” “Really? Not even just for fun?” Kareem asks, surprised as he looks back down at Jamie “I thought that’d be impossible for you.” It had been, at first. Jamie used to itch with the need to run around with a ball at his feet, but every time he tried to kick the half deflated ball he found in some long forgotten cupboard around in the yard when he’d first come back to Richmond, his skin would feel tight and that voice that lived under some dark stone in his mind would start chiming in with all kinds of shitty things. He’d just had to learn to live without it. It was for the better that way.

#asteria answers asks #wip stuff #jamie tartt #ted lasso #to all the better places #teacher jamie au #anonymous

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pwlanier · 2 months

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JOHN MARSDEN (ACTIVE 1735)

Model of a proposed new palace for Richmond 1735

Pearwood

A pearwood model for a Palladian style summer palace. A 3-storey building with a central portico on the first floor and a double staircase. In 1735 King George II and Queen Caroline contemplated building a summer palace, possibly at Richmond, and the architect was to be William Kent. This initiative was most likely to have come from The Queen; the model is the sole evidence of the location and date, known from a reference in the London Daily Post and General Advertiser of 15 September 1735. The surveyor, Richard Arundell, had visited Kew to show The Queen a model, created by Mr. Marsden of Vine Street, Westminster, of 'a Hunting Seat for His Majesty to be built either at Richmond or Bushy Park'. John Marsden was paid £120 for the model. William Kent is identified as the designer in a reference in the Board of Works minutes for 1 October 1771 in which the 'Model of a Palace (design'd by the late Mr. Kent) proposed to be bult at Richmond' was ordered to be sent to Hampton Court. A modern plaque on the model has the following description: 'This model was made for George II c.1735 to illustrate a design by William Kent for a country palace to replace the lodge in the Old Deer Park, Richmond. It is one of the many designs to be made for new royal palaces at Kew, none of which were executed ... Kent's design reflects the style he used in houses, such as Holkham & Chiswick. This model was almost certainly intended to have had a central dome'.

Royal Collection Trust

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resplendentoutfit · 6 months

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The extravagant, outrageous, and often humorous outfits worn by subjects of old portraits.

Anthony Van Dyck (Flemish, 1599-1641) • James Stuart, 1st Duke of Richmond and Lenox • 1633

The duke is sporting the latest in hairstyles - the lovelock. Also called a Bourbon lock, French lock, or heart breaker. He must've missed the scathing indicment below.

“Although considered quite fashionable, many people detested lovelocks, considering them unnecessary and extravagant. In 1628 a sixty-three page book denouncing lovelocks was published. The author, William Prynne, railed against the wearing of lovelocks as “Unlovely, Sinfull, Unlawfull, Fantastique, Disolute, Singular, Incendiary, Ruffianly, Graceless, Whorish, Ungodly, Horred [Horrid], Strange, Outlandish, Impudent, Pernicious, Offensive, Ridiculous, Foolish, Childish, Unchristian, Hatefull, Exorbitant, Contemptible, Sloathfull, Unmanly, Depraving, Vaine, and Unseemly,” according to Richard Corson in Fashions in Hair.”

Anthony van Dyck (Flemish, 1599-1641) • Henri II de Lorraine • 1634 • National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

Sorry, girls and boys, this gent is spoken for. Henri is wearing ribbons in his lovelock, which symbolizes a token from a romantic interest. He didn't read the memo, either.

#james stewart #duke of cambridge #portrait #art #flemish baroque #the resplendent outfit #dutch artist #art history #fashion history #painting #royal portraits #lovelock #anthony van dyck

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mischiefmanaged71 · 1 year

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Let’s Fall In Love For The Night - (3/10)

Summary: Being the eldest daughter of a Duke and Duchess means that Lady Y/N has been prepared for society; to fulfil her duties as the next heir to her family name and estate. However, she dreams of so much more than that, particularly, finding someone she truly loves rather than a political match. Intrigue sparks an idea with the introduction of Tom Bennett, a soldier she meets on a Press tour - forming a new relationship that could either make or break her apart should things turn against her favour.

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem! Reader

1938

The annual Westminster Charity for Orphaned Children, hosted by the House of Richmond, wrapped up last night. Photographs of the Duke and Duchess of Richmond featured with their children, Lady Y/N, Lord Matthew, and youngest Henry. Many stipulations over the Lady Y/N circulated with several people sighting an interaction with Lord Edward Dashwood.

***

1939

Coverage of the races over this past weekend saw many royals and sportsman's on the racing fields... A reported interaction with the Lady Y/N approaching one of the riders before the races began sparked discourse on the young woman's social circle, residing to herself.

***

Tuesday, the 19th March | 1940

The Duke Richard II and his daughter, the Lady Y/N, pictured below with naval soldiers. The ship is scheduled to depart in two months time where it will provide British allied support abroad.

The paper smacked against the breakfast table, the clinking of cutlery and chatter filling her ears once more.

"Darling, what is it?"

Y/N tilted her head, looking to her father at the end of the table, "Nothing. The publication is out now."

He stretched his hand out, accepting the paper from her. It wasn't necessarily the journalist's depiction of her in the article at all, moreso than the photograph. From another's perspective it was perfectly normal looking photo with Y/N standing at her father's side along with the rows of soldiers.

However, to her own knowledge, she could see the very moment before she turned away. It was the fact that Tom was still very much looking at her in the photograph. It had sent her heart racing off as she held the paper in her hands. Proof that it had happened. A reminder of the encounter. Of the day prior when she had returned to Manchester, Tom, keeping to his word, had shown her around the local square. He was kind, and playful, albeit flirtatious most of the time.

Her father nodded, "Hmm, you did splendidly, darling. I actually heard around you were quite popular with the soldiers."

She looked at him in astonishment, "What do you mean?"

He placed the butter knife down, "Well, I mean, they were pleased to meet you."

"Oh, yes." She looked down at her plate, hmming "Of course. Although, I gather being restrained to a ship of men for a time can do that to a person. Seeking out other attention."

"I suppose." Her father agreed, sipping his tea.

She glanced at her mother who eyed her after the comment. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Her mother nodded, glancing at her youngest sons as they munched on their toast before school.

"I understand we make these...appearances, but does it not grow tiresome?" She stared out the window into the garden.

"Elaborate." Her father beckoned.

"Pretending. Putting on a fake smile and accepting all the backhanded compliments and sly commentary on your life."

Her mother paused, "It's what we must do."

"It's how we work, darling. I understand it is difficult sometimes, but always been this way."

She nodded, swallowing the itch in her throat, "Course. But change isn't necessarily a bad thing, is it?"

A moment of silence passed as they soaked up the question.

"May I?" She stood from the table, gesturing at the paper. The Duke nodded and she grabbed the paper from the table before departing to her room.

***

A calm feeling flowed through her, thoughts fading into the background as Y/N brushed through the horse's mane. She found herself spending more time at the stables each day. Time she spent riding across the fields was a getaway from her overthinking and anxieties.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke her from her daze, turning to the doorway. Much to her surprise, she was met with a familiar mop of blonde hair, and that slight smirk.

"What are you doing here?" She breathed, "How did you even get on the premises?"

"I was in the neighbourhood." Tom shrugged, "Also, wasn't too hard to get past the back fence."

"That is reckless. You could have been caught."

He shrugged, "But, I wasn't. I managed to get here."

She sighed, a smile growing on her lips "And what other reasons brought you to my abode?"

"Oh, a promise. I believe I'm owed a tour?" He stepped forward.

She chuckled, a glint in her eye "Of course."

"Who's this?" He glanced at the horse between them. The black and white stallion grumbled, glancing around.

Y/N smiled fondly, patting his mane, "His name is Orion. I picked him out when I first started my lessons."

"Why Orion?"

"I've always had an affinity for history and mythology, especially Ancient Greece. The name suited him."

"You must come here often then." Glancing around.

A shy smile crossed her features as she flickered between the two, "This is my favourite place to get away."

"Won't say I'm jealous."

"Guess you'll have to settle for second then." She surmised, a grin tugging at her lips.

"I'll have to work on it." Lips pursed.

A glint in her eye, she hummed to herself and they made eye contact.

"What've you got in mind?"

"Have you been riding before?" She asked.

"A few times."

Tom followed as Y/N left him with a grin on her features, "What?"

***

The blood rushed in her ears, the thudding of the hooves beneath racing in tandem with her heart. She pushed on, the excitement of the wind blowing through her hair akin to flying as she raced through the field atop Orion. She glanced over her shoulder at Tom behind her. A laugh bubbled from her throat as she slowed and circled around, feeling breathless.

"I'd hardly call that fair, love." Tom called out, circling his horse to her side.

"You're not up for a game, then."

"Can't exactly compete." He retorted, a breathy laugh to follow.

"You're not bad for a beginner, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Although, my twelve-year old brother is far more competitive."

Tom shook his head at her, teasingly narrowing his eyes. Arriving at the stables, he hopped off his horse and glanced up at her.

"You bring all of the boys round here?"

"No." She replied immediately, hopping off Orion and landing on her feet. She found herself stood in front of Tom, now looking up at him. The silence drew them closer as she felt herself drift in his direction. The lingering stares drew to a tense close, his hand cupping her jaw. Her breath drawing shorter and eyes fluttered shut, breathing each other in and-

Footsteps drew close and Y/N turned, Tom's hand dropping from her face. Her heart raced in her chest as she saw Charlie, one of the carers approaching from the entrance. He was an older man in his sixties who dedicated himself to caring for the horses. He'd taught all of the children of their House to ride, including her father.

"Ma'am. I didn't expect you today."

She waved her hand, a flush to her cheeks "I took Orion for a ride. You know how he gets anxious staying in for too long."

Charlie nodded, glancing at Tom, "Who might this be?"

Her mouth opened and closed as she glanced at Tom, "This is Thomas. He is a new member of my security."

Charlie glanced between the two, clearly sceptical but nodded nonetheless. "Well. I'll leave you to it."

A sigh left her mouth as she finally looked Tom in the eye. "Thomas?"

"What?"

"Bit on the nose, isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes, tugging Orion's reigns to the stables.

"I'm joking!" He laughed, and she found herself smiling despite her effort to stifle it. She replaced Orion in his stable, removing the saddle and reigns to begin and placed them on the side. The door swung behind her and she turned and the air left her lungs as warm lips pressed against her. She gasped lightly into Tom's mouth, breathing him in. His touch sent shivers along her skin as he gently brushed the hair away from her neck. Her hands found their way around his neck, needing him closer. He deepened the kiss, only releasing for air as they exhaled deeply.

A neigh sounded in the background, but she was too absorbed in him leaning against her forehead, their exhales mixing together in the heat of things. Eyes half lidded, gazing into his blue eyes that faded into a gunmetal blue when fully blown.

"Charlie is probably still around." She whispered.

He hummed, "I don't think that's gonna stop me." Pressing another soft kiss to her lips as she sighed, hands resting on his chest.

***

The sun dipped below the horizon as they sat beneath the tree, settled in a comfortable silence. Y/N nestled her head in Tom's shoulder.

"This is nice."

"It is, isn't it?" He hummed, glancing at her. He brushed her hair from her face.

"Would you...want to do this again?"

"This?" He feigned confusion, begging her to elaborate.

She glanced up at him, "You know. Seeing each other."

"D'you mean as mates or..." He smiled at her, "Just thought I'd confirm."

She sat up, tucking her hair over her shoulder "As in, I'd like to see you again, Tom."

He smirked, "I'm only pulling your leg. I understand perfectly."

Leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek, "I'd love to see more of you. Just know, I'm known for getting into trouble sometimes."

"I'm certain there's never a dull moment with you." She remarked, breaking into a grin as he tugged her into his arms.

"So it's settled then?"

"Yeah." She breathed, glancing between his eyes and lips. "Although, there is the one thing. To keep this secret."

He listened, "The media are known for distorting stories, and I wouldn't want that for you...us."

"Okay. If that’s what you want." He nodded.

"Thank you." She smiled, caressing his hand. "My family wouldn't know either. They're...my parents are open-minded, but-right now, things are uncertain. I'm unsure of what they're thinking."

"Understandable." He replied, "Not sure about dad, but I think Lois would agree. Try not to worry about all that." Tom clasped their hands together. "Focus on right now."

She exhaled, "I'll try, yeah."

Although it was a wishful thought for the most part that they could exist together without question. Without doubt of intervention or disapproval of their relationship.

Tom tugged her into his chest, "One of these days, I will beat you in a race."

"Oh, yeah?" She tilted her head, "You're about twelve years behind in training. I'm sure you'll get there, though."

"Hey," he murmured in her ear in a teasing voice. She giggled and the sound caused his heart to flutter. "I could-"

"-I'm sure you will." Y/N laughed as he tickled her neck.