rafferty3207

[rafferty3207]

Sky's the Limit (part 1)

Hello all, so I rewatched Top Gun Maverick last night and was inspired to finally finish this enemies-to-lovers series I've had in my drafts for literally months featuring everyone's fav sexy asshole Hangman!

Warnings: two idiots as usual, Jake being arrogant, innuendo, author fem!reader

Sky's The Limit

You take off your glasses and slump your face into your hands. You had been staring at the same blank document for the last two hours and still had not typed a single word. You hear the bar door swing open and chatter filling the bar, but you do not look away, instead keeping your face in your palms.

When your Aunt Penny had offered you the chance to stay with her in sunny San Diego over the summer to finish your long-awaited second book, you practically leapt at the chance. Back in New York,  your agent, publisher and frankly every literary magazine were rabidly awaiting the next brilliant idea from bestselling debut author ‘Sky Bentley’. What you couldn’t tell them was that ‘Sky’ didn’t have a single clue what that brilliant idea was. So you had leapt at the chance to not be Sky, just for a little bit, while you tried to figure out your next steps.

You had only been in San Diego less than 12 hours before scuttling down to the Hard Deck. You had loved spending your summers here as a teenager, but hadn’t managed to come back since graduating from NYU. You had tried writing in the house this morning, but Amelia had some friends around and you couldn’t think with all their excitable chatter, so here you were. You knew the bar was pretty empty during the day, but the day was rapidly turning to evening and it was becoming less quiet. But you could tune it out. Until.

“You know darlin’, this is a bar not a library right?”

***

When Jake Seresin walked into the Hard Deck that day, he had assumed it was just another quiet evening as usual.  He had strolled over to the pool table as usual, confident that he would win, as usual, when something caught his eye. Unusual.

There was a person sat in a booth, who was…working? It was hard to discern much, except they were wearing a baggy Top Gun T-shirt and what looks like short shorts, although they are sitting cross legged so it’s hard to tell. Judging by this and the messy bun, he thought it might be a girl, but he wasn’t not sure. They had a computer out, but their head was slumped in their hands, with glasses strewn to the side. He had never seen anyone try to work in the Hard Deck in the whole time he has been coming here, especially not at 5pm on a Friday.

“Who’s that?” He asked Javy, who is setting up the balls. 

“Damned if I know.” Jake looked over in thought. Javy elbows Payback. “Hey, maybe we’ve found a girl in California that Hangman has managed not to sleep with.” Phoenix coughs. “Except you of course, Natasha.”

Jake smirked and started walking over. He loved a new game.

“Well, not for long.” Javy sighed. Nat considered the scene more closely. She had a good feeling about this.

“How much are you willing to bet?”

***

“Sorry?”

When you finally remove your hands, your vision is still blurry. You can tell there’s some sort of guy in front of you, in what looks like Navy uniform. Fantastic. It was hard to tell as you looked around for your glasses, but you had dealt with enough of these kinds of guys at family parties. Just another meathead who would say the same old shit as they always did. 

“Pardon my manners, sweetheart but you seem to be lost. The library is -” Before he can finish, you cut him off.

“Oh yes, actually, I think I am lost. I thought I was at the Hard Deck, but from the looks of you this is where Chippendales go to die? I hope you don’t mind but I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling, thanks.”

You hear him laugh a little.

“I’m pretty sure we’re the same age.”

You look around for your glasses.

“Sure, whatever the Viagra guys keep telling you, buddy.” You can see him fold his arms out of the corner of your eye, but you ignore him, continuing to search for your glasses. Silence ensues for what seems like forever.

“I think you’re looking for these, Grandma.” He hands you your glasses, and you snatch them out of his hands.

“Thanks.” You put them on. You see him properly now. He’s tanned, blond and incredibly handsome, like he’s walked straight out of a Hollister ad. He leans back, arms still folding and biceps definitely flexing and your heart skips a little. Sure, it had been a while since you had gotten some, but then he smirks and it’s clear that he’s the sort of handsome asshole who knows how good-looking he is. You roll your eyes and straighten up, folding your laptop.

“I’ve gotta go. It was a real displeasure meeting you,” You stand up, but before you can turn around, you hear a familiar voice.

“Ladybug! It’s you!”

“Bradley?” At this point Bradley Bradshaw swans into the bar, wearing one of his usual god awful Hawaiian shirts and plants a kiss on the top of your head.

“Ladybug?” Navy Ken raises an eyebrow. Bradley turns and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, I should have known you’d be sniffing around here already.” Bradley turns back to you. “You’ve had the pleasure of meeting Bagman, I see?”

“Bagman?” You mimic Bagman’s expression, complete with raised eyebrow.

“It’s Hangman. Although most people know me as Lieutenant Jake Seresin.” Jake winks at you. “At your service.” You scoff.

“If I’m at your service, I think I’ll rather die.”

At this point Bradley lets rip with a belly laugh, placing a hand on a bare stretch of your arm. You swear you see Hangman’s jaw tense a little.

“How do you two know each other again?” 

“Me and Ladybug grew up together.”

“We’re old family friends. Bradley used to babysit me and my sister when we were little.”

“And look at you all grown up now, some bigshot fancy auth-” You shoot him a glare. Bradley is one of the few people in the world you’ve trusted with your secret, and you explicitly told him not to tell anyone. You just wanted a summer to be normal, with no pressure.

“Fancy what?” Jake looks you up and down.

“Academic. She’s a pHD student.” Bradley says immediately. Damn, that was quick, you think to yourself. You look up at him. Was Bradley always this good at lying?

“Yeah. English lit. Here working on my thesis.You wouldn’t be interested.” You make sure to put extra venom in the ‘you’. 

Bagman’s furrowed brow offers a little fake smile, but before he can retort, Bradley leads you over to the other aviators. While you are a little tense going into the group of navy guys, most of them are immediately friendly. You struggle to remember everyone’s real names and call signs, but they don’t seem to mind. In particular, the girl, who is called Natasha, links arms and drags you off to a corner.

“Thank god you’re here. It will be nice to have another woman in the midst.”

“Honestly, it would be nice to just have someone who isn’t a pilot”. Her lanky WSO pipes up. “I heard you were doing a English lit degree.”

“Oh, er, yeah. It’s Bob right?” I mean it was sort of true. Except you had completed said degree about five years ago, but it certainly helped as Bob started enthusiastically talking about books. He was cute, and you were trying to reply, but you found it hard to focus when you could feel a certain pair of green eyes boring into you from the other side of the pool table. You deliberately refused to look in Hangman’s direction the rest of the night, until you couldn’t stand it any longer.

You stride over and gently put your hand on the guy who you think is called Fanboy. 

“Do you mind if I take this?” You pick up the cue. He nods and you turn back to Hangman. “Right, are you going to play me or what?”

He tilts his head in disbelief. “Darlin’ are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Well, darlin’ If it means you stop staring at me like a wounded puppy all night, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The rest of the squad have all dropped their conversations to turn and stare at the two of you.

“Suit yourself.” He sets up the balls to break, before leaning over to whisper in your ear. “Just remember if it gets too much, you can always beg me to stop, Ladybug.”

You try not to react. After all, it’s better he thinks like this. Having watched him play the last few games, he was clearly a very good player, but you knew you have to play the player, not the game. As you break, the game begins fairly normally. He manages to pot a few in quick succession, looking visibly relaxed with a gloating smile over his beer. You deliberately shuffle, and readjust until you can tell he’s stopped looking at you. This is the time you make your move, potting several balls to take a significant lead. Jake turns back suddenly, his jaw slackening a moment before regaining composure. You can hear Bradley stifle a snigger. Being dragged around from base to base with few kids your age to play with meant that Bradley had grown up watching you whoop the ass of everyone you played at pool since the age of eight. 

“Something funny, Rooster?” Jake’s head swivels around.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Jake starts playing more ferociously, almost clawing it back until you’re both got two balls left. You walk past. 

“If it gets too much, you can always beg me to stop.”  You look him up and down, before you whisper in his ear. “I like a man on his knees.” Jake’s cheek flushes and with that you pot the final two, claiming victory. You yawn. “I think I need to head home, but it was lovely to meet you all. Well almost all of you.” You blow a kiss to Jake, before waving goodbye and swiftly leaving after giving Bradley a hug. The rest of the group stand in stunned silence.

Jake raises one hand. “Don’t say anything.”

****

Jake lies on his bed. He couldn’t sleep. This was unusual. Well, not the not sleeping part. He always struggled to get asleep. At least, when he was sleeping alone. That’s why he made an effort not to. But tonight was different.

For one, it was rare for him to be alone in bed on a Friday night. But he had been so distracted, he hadn’t even managed to follow up with the pretty blonde who had asked for his number at the bar.

He couldn’t stop thinking about your stupid face.You and your stupid face and stupid glasses and stupid lips and the stupid way you said on your knees-

He got up and paced around the room.

This would simply not do.  Not only were you completely infuriating, but you beat the great Jake Seresin at pool. Bradley said you were here for the whole summer.  So Jake had some time to get his own back. But how? He had noticed something odd about the way you looked at Bradley when he mentioned your pHD. Something was up, Jake could just tell, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. But not before he had a cold shower first.

#jake seresin x y/n #top gun maverick #top gun hangman #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin x reader

[rafferty3207]

can you write some headcanons for Jamie tartt about holding hands?

Absolutely! Hope you see the vision:

Jamie isn't a big hand holder at first - he's only used to holding his mum's hand and even then it's few and far in-between when he can see her.

The first time you hold hands, it's before you start dating- you're nervous about something and grab his hand without thinking

Jamie finds himself blushing and you realise what you've done

You go to pull away but he can feel how shaky you are and he holds on tighter

The next time it happens it's before a Man City match - you find him alone and you sit in silence holding his hand until he has to go

It becomes a running thing you share until you find yourselves holding hands once again drunk at a party until it's just the two of you and he finally kisses you

You only go public after you're papped holding hands (somehow they missed you kissing under the streetlight outside your house)

Once he's given the go ahead to hold your hand whenever, Jamie is very needy and will hold your hand as much as humanly possible - walking, sleeping, during 🌶️🌶️🌶️ activities, basically whenever to the point it will actively get in the way of doing stuff - but he especially loves intertwining your fingers and pulling your hand to his lips and giving it a small kiss and watching you blush

After he proposes his favourite thing is to look at your hands together wearing the ring he chose!!

Even after being together for years, you hold each other's hands and give a squeeze and both instantly know what it means - you've got each other, always.

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #romance #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine

[rafferty3207]

Thank you so much for writing my Jamie tartt forehead kiss request! It was wonderful!

No problem at all anon! I figure if I can just make one person happy with a fic it's done it's job 😊

[rafferty3207]

this tweet is making me choke to death

#and im honking yet again

[rafferty3207]

Would you do a fluff Jamie tartt drabble involving him getting a forehead kiss from his girlfriend?

I am such a sucker for a forehead kiss!!

I had to do this straight onto my phone as I had no access to my laptop so proofreading does not exist lol

Coming Home

You were exhausted. The flight home had just been one delay after another, and that was before you had even gotten on the plane. After various planes, trains and automobiles, you were finally at your front door.

This was the longest you'd been away from Jamie since the beginning of your relationship. You'd only been going out a few months when you were invited to take part in this cool artist's residency in Colorado, which meant you'd been away for almost as long as you'd been dating. Of course you and Jamie had talked to each other every day, and you'd had to persuade Jamie not to fly out just to see you. But part of you was still nervous.

He had spent the last few months surrounded by beautiful celebrities and a-list parties, while you had spent almost all your time with a seventy five year old called Betty who made textile sculptures of vaginas. Betty was great, but it wasn't the same.

You tried to peer through the window before you went in. None of the lights were on, and you couldn't hear any overt affairs happening, so you put your key in the door and silently let yourself in. There was no sound. You checked your phone. The last text you got from Jamie was about two hours ago:

Cant wait to c u!! Xxxxxxxx

You had responded, but you had no reply.

"Jamie?"

You call out. Nothing. Maybe he was still out then.

It's not until you walk into the living room to drop off your bag when you almost leap out of your skin.

There he is, sound asleep on the couch, arms folded over his chest. It looks like he's wearing some form of suit, and there are your favourite flowers on the table. There's a big 'Welcome Home' banner on the wall, and the kitchen counter is covered in all your favourite snacks, and he's stocked the fridge with your favourite drinks. You try not to cry then and there.

You walk over and press your lips gently against his forehead. He is hot to the touch and you hear a rumble in his chest. He slowly stirs awake, eyes still heavy lidded and voice heavy with sleep.

"Hello, you." You say, stroking the hair out of his face. "Sorry I'm late."

He paws at your face.

"Am I still dreaming? Or are you really here?"

You chuckle.

"It's all real - now let's get you out of those clothes and in our actual bed."

You help him up but before you can move, he pulls you in for a hug. His head in the crook of your shoulder, he sighs. "I really missed you, y'know."

"I know, I missed you too. So much." You pull back to Ake a good look at him as you stroke his cheek. "But I'm home now."

"That you are. Now-" He suddenly picks you up and you squeal. "What was this about getting out of our clothes?"

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #fanfic #romance #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine

[rafferty3207]

Just a reminder while I work on this slightly chunkier Roy Kent piece that my requests are open for quick little drabbles, headcanons, thots etc etc on all things Jamie, Roy and Ted so please feel free to indulge me 😈😈

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #romance #fanfic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #ted lasso x reader #roy kent x reader #ted lasso reader #roy kent imagine #roy kent

[rafferty3207]

#the way I'm honking at this!!

[rafferty3207]

I do not respect the grind. Go to bed

[rafferty3207]

hello,just a friendly reminder that my asks are open if you want to ask me my thoughts or send me any cute drabbles, headcanons, thots, etc etc about my fave boys Roy, Jamie and Ted!!

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #romance #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #roy kent x reader #roy kent imagine #roy kent #ask me anything

[rafferty3207]

not to be impatient or ungrateful but too good to be true part 3 when 😩

its funny you say that today of all days bestie

Too Good to Be True (part three)

warning: fem!reader, passing mention of creepy dude, angst (but only at the beginning dw), then tooth rotting fluff

A/N: I hope you like this ending! in my mind this is done but not over - I will definitely be doing drabbles of this pair in future, but for now I hope you enjoy!

____

part one | part two

“Oi, prick, are you even paying attention?” Roy barks at Jamie, who is sitting staring at his phone.

“Er, yeah, coach, it’s just -just-”

“Just what? Spit it out?”

“How do ya access your voicemails?”

“Jamie. What the fuck are you talking about?”

He holds up the screen to Roy’s face.

You have a new voicemail.

“Jamie, I wouldn’t worry about it, it's probably some berk trying to sell you organic viagra or something. Now please can we get back to the football?”

“I just need to check Coach. To make sure of…something, but I’ve never listened to a voicemail before.”

“Christ you find new ways to make me feel old Jamie.” But before he can make another comment, Roy notices the sad look in Jamie’s eyes. He hasn’t been his usual irritating self this morning, no sassy quips or anything, and he looks like he’s barely slept. “Who are you expecting a voicemail from?”

Jamie looks up at him with those puppy dog eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake, it’s that girl isn’t it? What did you do now, you silly twat?” 

“I didn’t do anything. I mean I kissed her -”

“Oh my god, that Simone Biles bollocks was about her wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but it's an inside joke-”

“Hand me the phone.”

“Er, I dunno-”

“Just give it, Jamie.” Jamie reluctantly passes it over. “You dial a three digit number, which will access your number. You’re on the same network as me so-” Roy types the digits and hands it back. “But once you’re done, you’re doing 50 press ups for wasting my fucking time.” Roy goes into another room.

Jamie raises the phone to his ear tentatively. Of course, it’s you.

___

The gallery session had been, in polite terms, a complete shit show. You were late because you couldn’t figure out how to get into the building, then you couldn't find some of the papers with your plan on them, and therefore you spent several hours using what little you have of your phone battery to try and improvise a plan from your memories. You’re finally done, but by this point it’s almost midnight.

“This is your first exhibition, isn’t it?” Simon, the gallery owner looks at you hunched over, shoving the papers back in the bag.

“Yeah, how did you guess? Don’t answer that, that was sarcasm.” You say, continuing to scramble. “So what’s happening PR wise? Are we sending press releases, inviting reviewers, that sort of thing?”

Simon scoffs. 

“What? I get it I'm a nobody, but what about the big Emin retrospective you’ve got coming up in October? I’ve seen posters for that everywhere.”

“That’s pretty much all her team. Besides, when you’re Emin you don’t need the PR really. Of course, we’ll do our best and we’ve got it on our website and social media of course, but our comms person resigned so at the moment we’re a rather limited team. This is such a short period, it’s an interim show. It’s why we could offer it, but you knew that right?”

“Mhmm, yeah, of course.” You say, biting your lip. You don’t know what you expected, instead wearily picking up your bag.

“Right, I best head off, but I’ll see you in two days!” You power walk off while your voice can still sound fake cheerful. Now how do I go back from here? You wonder, pulling your phone out.

Of course, it dies at that very moment.

“Shit!”

___

You eventually manage to navigate home, although the walk takes three times as long especially after one man seems to walk right behind you for ages until you get to the high street and the tube stops running mid way through, so you have to persuade a nice older woman to look up the bus route on her phone. As you walk into your house and flop onto the couch, you remember.

Jamie.

Fuck. You hoped he didn’t take your note the wrong way. You plug your phone in and sit huddled until the screen turns back on.

11 missed calls. 13 messages.

hey Simone xoxo

out at drinks at the moment but I’ll be back asap xoxo

theres a cocktail i think you’d like here  xoxo

on my way home now! xoxo

where are you xoxo

u alright

u ok???

Where are you??

Just let me know ur home safe (or dont if u dont want to)

Im not asking to be creepy sorry if it came off like that

Im sorry if i scared you off

i shouldn’t have kissed you

Lets just forget it happened

Sorry again

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Let’s just forget it happened. You felt sick to your stomach. You picked up the phone with incredibly shaky hands and pressed the dial button.

_____

“Er, hey Jamie, it’s me. Sorry to leave you a voicemail, it feels old school doesn’t it? I don’t even know how to listen to my own voicemails, not sure why I’m sending you one. Well I do, I’ve rung a few times and you’re not picking up and everytime I try and say what I want in a text it comes off wrong - ugh, sorry I’m rambling. Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t reply, my phone has been dead the whole way home and I had to try and find my way back and the tube is shit and buses are shit and all I wanted was for you to come and pick me up in that ugly orange car of yours but I couldn’t. So that’s that. Did you get my note? I completely forgot but I had the exhibition planning session today and everything that could possibly go wrong did and it’s been a fucking nightmare and to be honest Jamie, I don’t know why I’m doing it anymore. I thought this was my one chance to finally become a big shot artist but it turns out I have to market it basically all by myself and I have no time and know barely anyone so let’s be honest, no one is going to come and it will all be forgotten about and I will prove once again I am the failure my father thinks I am.”

Jamie hears a shuddering intake of breath.

“Sorry, I’m rambling again. I’m sorry Jamie. I really did mean to wait for you. I’ve still got your shirt and everything. It’s just, I’m so stressed and I need to finish these paintings but also why should I finish these paintings but also I want them to be perfect and - and - and I don’t want to do this over voicemail but I don’t want to forget about us but also I have so much work to do and I’m so fucked -”

Jamie listens to you choke down a sob, before sniffing.

“I have to go, but call me back or something. Or maybe I could see you at the exhibit? You’ll probably be the only one attending. Goodbye, Jamie. Sorry again.”

Jamie’s heart was breaking, but not in the way he expected. You were so strong for him but all the while there you were, clearly dealing with your own shit and struggling and he hadn’t even noticed. He hated the idea that he had made things worse.

Now, he knew what he had to do.

___

It is the opening night of the exhibit and you are adjusting your hair for the fiftieth time. The gallery had extended their publicity to a small private view with a few glasses of wine and bottles of beer, but that was it. So you had spent the last three days painting almost non-stop, sending the invitations to everyone you know and barely sleeping. You just hoped your makeup would cover the dark circles under your eyes. You had worn your favourite dress and done your hair especially so you would at least feel like the real deal, but that was quickly waning. 

It had been fifteen minutes and not one single person had showed up. The one event staff was already looking at you as if to ask whether they could go home early. You started to look at your phone while downing the glass of wine in your hand. Still not a word from Jamie. You hadn’t heard from him since you sent the voicemail and you felt embarrassed just thinking about it. It seemed like you were going to need more wine.

But then, a man enters. He is wiry, with a blazer and a glorious grey and black shoulder length mane. He is holding a notebook and looking around keenly. You have no fucking idea who he is.

“Can I help you?”

“Ah yes, I’m Trent Crimm.”

“Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

“I’m here for the exhibit Everything In Its Right Place.” You nod, dumbstruck. “Ah, great, don’t mind me.”

You watch him as he looks at each painting before scribbling in his notepad. That was strange.

After him walks in one of the most beautiful women you have seen, followed by a small man wearing glasses.

“Hello, welcome to the Private View!” You say a little bit too loudly, and you worry that the wine may have gone to your head. The woman leans over to you and of course she smells beautiful too. “Hello, I’m Rebecca. Is it alright if some of my friends come in too?”

“Absolutely, the more the merrier!”

A couple more glamorous women file in, as well as some fancy looking older gentlemen in suits. Behind them is a colourful blond haired woman with an Essex accent and a very fluffy jacket, talking about how her PR firm which is on the hunt for new talent. You made a mental note to talk to her later, and as you do she looks over at you and winks, which makes you feel flustered. 

The events staff comes over.

“Are they on the guest list?”

“Oh yeah.” You keenly nod, hoping they are not paid enough to grass you up.

And then walks in a very familiar moustachioed man.

“Why, you must be the modern Louise Bourgeois our Jamie has been speaking so highly of.” You don’t expect the honeyed Southern twang and you find yourself blushing. He’s more handsome than the small picture by Jamie’s bed gave away.

“I wish! Although Jamie knew who Louise Bourgeois was?”

“I mean, I think he is more of a Georgia O’Keefe guy. But I love old Lou Lou. Art is a guarantee-”

“Of sanity. Very impressive -?”

“Theodore Lasso, at your service ma’am. Although my friends call me Ted.”

“Are we friends?”

“I sure hope to be. Jamie will not stop going on about how great you are, so I thought I best see it in person myself.” He offers a hand and you feel yourself go even redder.

“Well, it is lovely to make your acquaintance, Ted.” 

You see Trent’s head has whipped around this point and he is striding towards Ted.

“Ted you’re going to love these paintings -” Trend hooks his arm in Teds and Ted waves you a goodbye as he is quickly dragged off. 

You see all of Jamie’s teammates file in after Ted, including Roy who gives you a little nod. They have all brought people with them, including some women who you swear might be famous models, and before long the room is densely packed. You can’t believe it. You even have a few people come up to you to ask for interviews, and once the Trent man has sufficiently shown Ted around the room several times over, he asks if you want to be profiled for one of the big papers.

“I’ve always liked highlighting promising new talent in any field, and I feel you’d be a great match.” He smiles at you and you feel your stomach start to fizz. The one waiter who has been frantically pouring drinks for the last half hour runs over to you.

“A couple of people want to buy the paintings, are they for sale?”

“All the ones without red dots are, yeah.”

“How much do they cost?”

“How much are they willing to pay?” The waiter runs off and comes back, handing a long list of offers. Your eyes boggle at the amount.

“Fuck me.”

“Someone said they wanted to snap you up before Satchel did or something?”

“I assume they mean Saatchi.” The waiter shrugs. “Call Simon, he’ll help with the sales.

“I don’t think he’ll pick-”

“Send him a picture of the offers. He’ll definitely pick up.”

The waiter hurries off and you stare at the piece of paper. You can’t believe all this is happening. But you still check your phone.

Are you coming?

No reply.

“Ted? I don’t suppose you heard anything from Jamie did you?”

He smiles and taps his nose.

“I’m afraid I was sworn to secrecy.”

You get back to your wine. That would be a weird response if he had told Ted he never wanted to see you again. But the whole day was starting to feel very weird. You decided to pop out for some fresh air.  However, as you walk outside you see a very familiar orange car parked outside. In the driver's seat is Jamie in a suit, holding flowers, staring at his phone.

“You know, I didn't order an Uber.”

Jamie jumps.

“Jesus woman, you nearly scared the living daylights out of me!”

“I could say the same of you. Can I come in?”

He gestures to the seat next to him. You walk around and slide into the car. 

“You look stunning.” Jamie says, looking over you and you suddenly feel very naked in this dress.

“Thanks. It’s certainly an improvement from when you usually pick me up.” You fiddle with your hem. “So can you tell me why you’re sitting outside my exhibit instead of going inside? You’re the only person here who is actually on the guest list.”

He looks back down at the flowers.

“I dunno. I guess I was worried you might not want to see me after, y'know" He nods his head towards you. The kiss. Before you can reply, he starts talking again. "That’s why I got everyone else here first.”

“This was all you?”

He looks out the front of the window.

“I mean the boys wanted to come anyway, but I spoke to Rebecca and Ted and Keeley. It was Ted’s idea to invite Trent, because he knows lots of people at papers, and Keeley knows people through her firm and Rebecca knows loads of rich guys because I dunno, she’s rich and fit -”

You reach over and gently touch his arm.

“Thank you Jamie, this means a lot - ”

“Any time. I just want you to be happy, you know?” You grip his arm a little tighter.

 “But you didn’t have to do any of this. I would have been happy if you were the only person who showed up.” Jamie finally looks at you. You just stare at each other for a moment, saying nothing. At this point you reach over and tenderly place your lips on his. He doesn't resist, immediately putting his hand on the side of your neck. Your hands start wandering down his torso before he pulls away suddenly.

“I don't want you thinking I'm trying to buy you or something. Me and Roy watched Pretty Woman the other week but I swear-"

"I know Jamie. Besides, you haven't even bought a painting yet." You try to laugh him off but he holds you firm.

"I just want you to remember you earned this. You are really, really talented, it's just - it's just everyone needs help sometimes"

You are suddenly struck silent for a moment, your eyes watering.

"Ah fuck, I didn't want to make you cry again!"

You sniff. "This is good crying though, I swear! I just never realised you were so wise."

"Oi you cheeky mare, I'm trying to be nice!" You both laugh, before he reaches over and threads his fingers between yours. "I think I’m in love with you, you know?"

He looks up at you, uncertain. Your stomach is fizzing, but in a way that makes you feel like you could fly. You smile.

"I know. The thing is, I'm in love with you too, Jamie Tartt." You stare at each other, before your lips crash into each other, your hands crawling all over your torsos and necks, your breathing becoming more ragged before Jamie pulls away again.

"Now come on you, this is your big night, remember. We better get inside before we have to go right here in the back like a pair of teenagers."

You place a hand on his thigh. "I mean, that sounds good to me."

""You are gonna be the death of me, I swear." He opens the car door. 

"Actually, to be fair there is one painting I think you should see."

The two of you stroll into the gallery holding hands.

"Fucking finally." Roy exclaims, before patting Jamie on the shoulder. "Now don't fuck it up Jamie, I like this one." You and Roy share a smile. You felt like you had something to thank him for, but you weren’t sure what.

"I see you met Jamie." You turn around to see a small old woman in colourful clothing.

“Sylvia? What are you doing here, I thought you weren’t back for another week?”

Sylvia gestures to a handsome older gentleman in the corner “Of course I had to see your exhibit darling! Now don’t worry darling, I’m staying with one of my good friends.” She winks before leaning in conspiratorially. “You’ll have the flat all to yourself.”

“Sylvia!” You swat her arm.

“What? Your mother told me you were going through a dry spell. I’m just so glad you and Jamie finally got to meet.”

Your mouth is agape. You said that months and months ago -

“Jamie darling, it's so nice to see you again!” Sylvia airkisses Jamie, before swanning off. You lean into the crook of Jamie's shoulder. You’d say you hate how natural it feels, but you fucking love it.

“Do you think Sylvia set this whole thing up? Between you and me?”

“Well, she did keep telling me she knew the perfect woman for me, with a fantastic arse-”

“Jamie!” You poke his cheek. “Although speaking of fantastic arse, let me show you my painting!” You drag him over to the biggest painting in the room. It is rich and vibrant and while somewhat abstract, almost definitely a nude. “What do you think?”

“I think it will be perfect in my living room. Well, almost perfect.”

“Almost? What else could be more perfect than this?” You gesture to the bum cheeks.

Jamie rolls his head as if mulling it over.

“You?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god Jamie Tartt, where did you pick up such a naff line? You’re lucky you are very handsome.” You reach up to kiss him, your fingers brushing his neck and jaw. and he leans to whisper in your ear. 

“You know, now you’re gonna be a famous artist now, someone may actually try to kidnap you. You might need some form of security.”

“True. Do you know anyone?”

“No.” You laugh. “But I do know an excellent driver. And he does know a lot of excellent private spots.”

“How soon can he start?”

“How about right now?” You take his hand in yours.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

---

Ah hope you all enjoyed this two silly billys in love! Pls send me requests of any headcanons/drabbles you'd be interested in seeing that I can bash out while working on this new juicy Roy Kent fic!!

@thebookwormlife @taytaylala12 @eugene-emt-roe @skewcherries @okkkkkkkksure @beingalive1 @gothicwidowsworld @atjamesbbarnes @e-mmygrey

#jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #romance #fanfic

[rafferty3207]

This is so kind, thank you!! Don't worry, I won't leave you angsting for too long!!

omg I'm the anon who requested the jamie x reader neighbours fic and boy you delivered! fucking love it! can't wait for part 2

This is so lovely anon, I'm so glad you liked it!!! For you, I will deliver a part two with the caveat that I'm so sorry I got carried away and now it will be in three parts (sorry again), but the last part will be the finale!!! Anyway I present to you:

Too Good to Be True (part two)

read part one here

warnings: allusions to abuse, mention of anxiety/panic attack, daddy issues, two hopeless idiots flirting, a bit of angst at the end but worth it (sorry again)

A/N: I have nothing to add except this gif is not mine and has turned me feral

It’s been several days since you left your phone number and you are nervous. 

You don’t get why you care so much.

It’s just Jamie, your annoying neighbour. Your annoying, but also extremely handsome neighbour. Your annoying, handsome neighbour who massaged your feet, and your legs, and almost your thighs and god you couldn’t think straight. You’d been able to get nothing done as you had spent the last few days just constantly replaying that evening in your head. And to make things worse, it turns out Annoying Handsome Jamie was in fact a very famous Premier League footballer. Who has also been caught having sex on TV. (Yes, you had binged the entirety of his Lust Conquers All series since that night, but that was neither her nor there.) 

After almost a week you had given up. The exhibition was just under two weeks away and you hadn’t seen him in the garden or outside the house at all. He had probably come to the conclusion that you were both too weird and too normal for him and the only conclusion was move on with your life and forget his stupid sexy face ever existed, when you got a text. 

u free tonight

Jxoxo

Of course, you wanted to play it cool. After all, you had spent the entirety of the week waiting for this message.

29 minutes and 59 seconds later.

I might be.

The phone immediately pings.

do u not know??

xoxo

Depends, what are you thinking?

thought u wanted a model

Xoxo

Of course, he was thinking about the painting. As you also definitely were. You were a professional artist. Almost.

What time?

ill come after the match

You spend your evening preparing and also perhaps figuring out an outfit that says 'casual bohemian artist that definitely doesn't care' while redoing your makeup twice. However, as the hours stretch on and on and on you are at the point of giving up and going to bed, when the doorbell finally rings.

You race down, before waiting a minute, quickly checking yourself in the mirror and pulling out your phone to pretend you had already been looking at something when you open the door.

But before you can pull the casual act, he walks right past you.

“Hello to you too, Jamie.”

He strides into your living room where the canvas is set up and immediately starts taking his clothes off.

“Woah, what do you think you’re doing there?”

“Er, I thought you were painting nudes?”

“Er no-”  At this point his shirt has already come off and he’s starting to unbutton his trousers. Of course he is very toned, with tanned arms and neck where his football shirt has been. You feel the breath knocked out of your body, glimpsing the very top of his boxers as you struggle for words.. He looks at you confused. Eventually you stutter an answer. "K-Keep the trousers on, okay?” 

“What should I do then?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do I pose, like?” You shrug.

“However you want to, Jamie.”

“I dunno what I want.” You sigh.

“You just need to stand there and look pretty.”

“Well I do that all the time, so.”

“Great. So just…keep doing that.”

Jamie smiles to himself.

“What is it?”

“So you do think I’m pretty?” He smirks at you. You fold your arms.

“What are you, a sixteen year old girl Jamie?” You start sketching. “Besides, you know what you look like.” You go back to drawing in silence. You swear you see his cheeks dust pink for a second before he ouffs his chest back out and smiles.

“Aren’t you going to ask if I think you’re pretty?”

You freeze.

“No, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m not sixteen. I am an adult woman and I don’t need random men for unsolicited affirmation, no matter how pretty they are.”

Jamie opens his mouth, before closing it again. Maybe that was a bit harsh, but what else could you say? Tell me how pretty you think I am Jamie. Or better yet, show me. I’m dying to know. You could practically feel the feminism leaving your body.

You dismiss these thoughts and get back to sketching. You can see Jamie is looking down and acting fidgety, swinging his arms.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” You walk over and plant your arms on his shoulders. He is surprisingly warm and firm to the touch, and you try not to blush. “Is it okay if I move you?”

He nods, surprisingly quiet. You turn him ever so slightly, before gently pushing him down onto your stool. As you move one of his (very muscly) arms, you swear you feel a slight tremor. Was he shaking? You step a little closer, a hand on his back. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Jamie.”

His face hardens.

“But I said I will, so I will.”

“But you don’t have to. Only do this if you want to.” You smile at him, and his face softens again.

“I do want to, trust me. It’s just been a long day.”

“Okay, but if you need to stop or take a break, just say the word.”

You step back to your canvas. You try to focus solely on the drawing, but every time he looks at you, you find your whole body heating up. Despite this, you steal glances anyway. He stares at you constantly, in a way that makes you feel stupid and giggly. Observing all the soft and hard lines of his body, you eventually start to notice small scars all over his body until you reach his hands. You don’t know why it took you so long to notice, but his knuckles are slightly bruised.

“Jamie?”

“Yeah?” 

“Tell me about your day.”

“Why? It was dead boring.”

“I don’t know. I find it helps me find the right mood.” You prepare your brushes. “You know, it tells me what colours to use.”

“Oh. I mean, nothing much happened.” He looks down at his feet. “I got up, went to play football, came here.”

“But why did you text me? Why today?”

“I dunno.” You sit in silence for a moment, as you mix the colours. “I mean, my dad came to the match.”

“Right.”

“Pulled his usual shit.”

“Usual shit?”

“Just being a complete dickhead.” You start painting. 

“In what way?”

“Saying stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Just the usual stuff.”

“You keep saying “usual” Jamie. I don’t think whatever he said is usual for most people.”

“What about your dad? He said that thing about you being a teacher right? Because you couldn’t paint or summat?” You put your brush down. 

“Yeah he did say that. He says a lot of shit, none of which I would consider usual. Or at least it shouldn’t be.” You step off your chair and towards Jamie, reaching gently for his hand. “We don’t just have to take this shit, you know.”

“I don’t fucking take it!” He pulls away. You flinch back. He looks alarmed as he realises. “I should go.” He starts to walk out.

“Jamie, I didn’t mean to upset you -” You walk after him as he paces towards the door. He halts at the entrance.

“I’m not upset,  I just - I came here because I didn’t want to think about my dad. When I’m with you, I never think about him. Or anything else, really.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.” Before you can reply, he runs off. 

The next few days pass by. You send a few texts to Jamie, but no reply. The exhibition is only a couple of days away now, so you try to keep yourself busy. But his words won’t stop swirling in your head to the point you struggle to sleep. So you do what you always do: paint. 

It’s not until one of these nights when you're up late at the canvas that you glance out of the window. Your heart stops. Someone is lying in Jamie's garden, very still. You dare to look closer. Is that..Jamie? He looks glassy eyed. He can't have...Without thinking, you run down.

"Jamie! Jamie!" Your heart is thumping in your ears so loudly you can't hear anything else. "Jamie are you okay?" You ask as you scramble to climb the fence. However just as you are almost over, you catch your foot, spectacularly falling over it into the bushes.  You hear that trademark laugh.

"Why are you laughing? I thought you were dead, dipshit!" You say, crawling out of the shrubbery. 

He remains lying down but he’s smiling at you now.

"Why would you think I was dead?"

"Why are you lying in your garden on your back completely still at 2am? Let's not pretend this is normal." You crawl down next to him.

“You’re going to think I’m stupid.”

“No I won’t.”

He looks away from you.

“I mean everyone else does, why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t think they do.”

“There’s my dad. Plus, I’ve read Twitter.”

“You know how I feel about your dad and Twitter is full of very stupid people. But never mind them. I can promise you I don’t. And let’s be honest, I’m the only opinion that matters.” He scoffs as you offer him a pinky. But, he puts his pinky in yours before looking back up at the night sky.

"I can't get up."

"What? Are you injured?"

“No…I dunno, I told you it was stupid."

“It's clearly not that stupid. Are you okay Jamie?”

"I dunno. I was thinking about the other night with you and my dad and then I came outside because I needed some fresh air and then I lay down and started thinking about everything and now it feels like I'm stuck here. It's stupid -"

“Stop saying that.” You lie down and grab his hand. “Sometimes when you've gone through some shit, it comes out of your body in weird ways. But you're okay. We can stay here for as long as you like, but when we get up, you will be able to.”

He nods, and the two of you lie there holding hands in silence. You take some deep breaths and he follows. Eventually a small voice pipes up.

“I think I can go in now.”

You sit up and slowly pull him.

"See?"

He smiles at you gingerly before he looks down.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?”

You look down. Both your knees are cut, along with one of your palms and your wrist.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” 

He gently holds your wrist up to the light. He looks sad.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I need to work on my graceful dismount. Either that or just walk around to the back door.”

“I mean, I dunno, I think you could give Simone Biles a run for her money.” You swat him.

“Oi, you cheeky shit! Next time I’ll just leave you for dead.”

“I think the blood loss is going to your head, we should treat that ASAP.” He leads you into his house. “I think I’ve got a first aid kit upstairs.”

He starts walking up and you follow him. He seems surprised. You realise your error.

“Oh, I can wait downstairs if you like.”

“Er, no, it’s fine.” He steps into a bedroom and starts rummaging around in what is clearly an ensuite bathroom. You sit on the edge of his bed and look around. There’s pictures of him and his mum, as well as some pictures with the team and one with a slightly older moustachioed man.

“Is that your dad?”

He pokes his head out and laughs. 

“No, that’s our coach Ted.” You look up at him. “He’s a nice guy though. Annoyingly nice. Almost too nice, if you know what I mean.”

“Right.” It was clear Jamie was soft on this man, but you wouldn’t push it today. He sits down and starts gently wiping the cuts. It is the same tenderness he held your foot, and it is the same tenderness that is slowly melting your heart. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were starting to fall for Jamie Tartt.

You yawn as he applies the final plaster. “Right, you need to go to sleep.” He says, through his own yawn.

"I could say the same for you"

You sit up to leave, but hesitate. YOu feel Jamie’s about to say something.

“Hey, I don’t suppose.. You’d maybe fancy…”

You turn around.

“Staying around?”

Jamie looks at you pleadingly.

“No funny business I promise.” He looks up and offers you a pinky.

“What if I want funny business?”

“Eh?”

“I’m just messing with you Jamie. Besides, I’ve already stolen your knickers anyway.”

“Someone told me that’s a weird thing to say to people.”

“Well, that person sounds very wise.” You look around. “Can I use your bathroom?”

He gestures towards it and you go in. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you think: what the fuck is going on here? You splash some water on your face and tell yourself to get a grip.

“There’s a spare toothbrush in the blue pot if you need it.” Jamie calls through the door.

“Ew gross Jamie, I don’t want to use one of your many girlfriend’s toothbrushes!”

“I’ll have you know that’s brand new as I don’t have any girlfriends at the moment. Although there are sanitary towels if you need them love.”

“Piss off you patronising git!”

“‘Ey, I was trying to be nice and a good feminist and that.”

You brush your teeth before coming out and leaning against the doorframe.

“No girlfriends? What happened to the Island’s top scorer?”

He groans before flopping back onto the bed.

“I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I’ve been doing my research.” You get into the bed next to him. He flashes you a dirty grin.

“Bet you have, you little perv.”

“Me? The perv? What you did in that jacuzzi was a crime to my eyes, and probably in several countries.”  

“Woah, you have been doing your research - that was like episode 42? 43?”

“What can I say, you make good television?”

Jamie pulls the duvet back before hovering for a moment. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” He gestures to the bed.

“I know. But I’ve been in your position before, and I really needed a friend back then. And I think you would do the same.”

“Any time.”

You squeeze his hand.

“Now go to sleep, you menace.”

“Aye aye captain.”

____

You wake up and find yourself once again not in your own bedroom. In fact, not only are you not in your own bedroom, but you appear to be cuddling Jamie Tartt. You panic silently. Your leg is swung over his, while his arm is draped over you. You try to move, but still asleep, he squeezes you a little tighter. And then something really surprising happens.

He kisses you. Just a little kiss on the forehead, but your chest is fluttering.  You hate to admit it but, it feels just so natural. You’re so content and relaxed in his arms then…

Fuck. You fell back asleep. You’re in the exact same problem as before.

This time however, you are both awoken by Jamie’s phone going off. He reaches to switch it off, eyes still closed, but then it rings again. And again. The third time his eyes shoot open.

“Shit!”

“What is it?” You ask from behind bleary eyes.

“The match!”

You slowly sit up and watch him run around and get dressed, silently handing him things on occasion. He runs downstairs and you plod along after him, still half asleep. He runs out of the door, before abruptly stopping and turning around.

“Aren’t you going to wish me good luck or something?”

You wrinkle your nose at him in confusion.

“I don’t need to. You’re going to smash it anyway.”

“How do you know that?”

You shrug and smile. 

“I just know.”

At this point, he strides right up to you, before cupping your face in both his hands. 

“Jamie what are -” Before you can finish, he kisses you, hard. Your eyes flutter closed and you melt into the kiss, before he pulls away, but only just. His arm reaches around the small of your back and his forehead touching yours, he whispers.

“Wait for me.”

He runs off to his car, and you stroke your bottom lip, where you trace the swell of where he used to be.

Your heart is still pounding and you are unsure what to do with yourself, so you try to make yourself at home. You take a very long, hot shower before getting changed. Of course, you didn’t have any clothes here, so you find some pyjama shorts along with one of Jamie’s old jerseys.

You sit down to watch the match. You had never really gotten into football, but now you were glued to the screen. You couldn’t believe that the little Jamie on screen was the same one who shared a bed with you last night. And the same Jamie that kissed you…

The game is electric, and Jamie in particular is the standout player. Even the commentators remark on his zest this match as he keeps skilfully weaving through the players to lead Richmond into not one, not two but three goals.

Once the match is done, you watch, still glued to your seat when Jamie is invited to an interview.

“Jamie the way you played today was extraordinary, against Man City too. If you don’t mind us asking, what happened?”

“Ah well, I was really inspired by Simone Biles. She’s honestly changed my life.” At that moment, he turns straight to the camera, grins and winks, and you feel like he’s somehow winking right at you. Your heart skips a beat. You were really in trouble.

You look at your phone and Jamie Tartt is trending. Simone Biles herself has already tweeted reminding everyone she is a married woman and has never met Jamie. There are plenty of other women, including some famous other gymnasts and celebrities offering their Biles-like services to Jamie in some rather explicit tweets. You wonder if Jamie reads these ones too.

You walk to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and as you wait for the kettle to boil, you look at Jamie’s calendar. There’s all sorts of notes, primarily training and matchs but you notice your exhibit is there too, with a little heart drawn around it. Jamie never stopped surprising you. But then a cold shock goes down your spine. You remembered today’s date. You are meant to be going to the gallery this evening to plan the exhibition. Shit. You check the time. You’ve still got three hours left, but you need to get back into your flat ASAP. You scramble around before realising that you had left your phone in the flat last night in the chaos to get out. But you also remembered Jamie and what he had said.

Wait for me.

You write a little note and stick it on the fridge.

____

Jamie comes back way later than he planned. Of course, after the match, there were drinks and celebrations but he couldn’t concentrate on them, just trying to leave to get back to you. He finally manages to break away, but when he gets home, he finds the living room empty. He searches around the rest of the house, and you are nowhere to be found. He checks his phone. No messages. He gets a message through from Keeley about how he’s trending online. 

Of course he sees all the Simone Biles stuff and smiles to himself. He made a note to send Simone Biles a message in future, if this all worked out. Then he sees all the stuff other women are saying online. A lot of it is quite graphic and he wondered what you’d think. He imagined the two of you laughing together at them. Then he sees. The tabloids are already speculating. Not only do they actually think he’s having an affair with Simone Biles, but they have already posted some paparazzi shot of him with Keeley, along with long extensive timelines of his tumultuous dating history. His stomach drops. Anyone would run away if they saw this much baggage.

He tries to ring you. Once, twice, three times, No pick up. He’s desperate and pacing, until he realises he can just walk over to your front door. He rings the bell several times, before loudly knocking. Still nothing.

He can’t believe how much he’s fucked it. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you, but he couldn't help it. No one had made him feel like this, like he was going crazy but also that he was calmer than he had ever been, like riding a lifeboat in the centre of the storm. As he walks back into his flat and into his kitchen, he doesn’t see the small corner of a note that has fallen under the fridge. He checks his phone again. 

Still nothing. What could he do?

____

Sorry for the angst kids, hope it was worth it and the finale will be juicy!! lmk if you want to be tagged in the final part!! Not sure if I've done these tags right, apols if not!!

@skewedcherries @e-mmygrey @reading-blogs @alex-sulli @cameoutstruggling93 @sqrlgrl22 @maydayfigment @aiyaiy @alipap3 @okkkkkkksure @city-of-cards

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #romance #fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt

[rafferty3207]

omg I'm the anon who requested the jamie x reader neighbours fic and boy you delivered! fucking love it! can't wait for part 2

This is so lovely anon, I'm so glad you liked it!!! For you, I will deliver a part two with the caveat that I'm so sorry I got carried away and now it will be in three parts (sorry again), but the last part will be the finale!!! Anyway I present to you:

Too Good to Be True (part two)

read part one here

warnings: allusions to abuse, mention of anxiety/panic attack, daddy issues, two hopeless idiots flirting, a bit of angst at the end but worth it (sorry again)

A/N: I have nothing to add except this gif is not mine and has turned me feral

It’s been several days since you left your phone number and you are nervous. 

You don’t get why you care so much.

It’s just Jamie, your annoying neighbour. Your annoying, but also extremely handsome neighbour. Your annoying, handsome neighbour who massaged your feet, and your legs, and almost your thighs and god you couldn’t think straight. You’d been able to get nothing done as you had spent the last few days just constantly replaying that evening in your head. And to make things worse, it turns out Annoying Handsome Jamie was in fact a very famous Premier League footballer. Who has also been caught having sex on TV. (Yes, you had binged the entirety of his Lust Conquers All series since that night, but that was neither her nor there.) 

After almost a week you had given up. The exhibition was just under two weeks away and you hadn’t seen him in the garden or outside the house at all. He had probably come to the conclusion that you were both too weird and too normal for him and the only conclusion was move on with your life and forget his stupid sexy face ever existed, when you got a text. 

u free tonight

Jxoxo

Of course, you wanted to play it cool. After all, you had spent the entirety of the week waiting for this message.

29 minutes and 59 seconds later.

I might be.

The phone immediately pings.

do u not know??

xoxo

Depends, what are you thinking?

thought u wanted a model

Xoxo

Of course, he was thinking about the painting. As you also definitely were. You were a professional artist. Almost.

What time?

ill come after the match

You spend your evening preparing and also perhaps figuring out an outfit that says 'casual bohemian artist that definitely doesn't care' while redoing your makeup twice. However, as the hours stretch on and on and on you are at the point of giving up and going to bed, when the doorbell finally rings.

You race down, before waiting a minute, quickly checking yourself in the mirror and pulling out your phone to pretend you had already been looking at something when you open the door.

But before you can pull the casual act, he walks right past you.

“Hello to you too, Jamie.”

He strides into your living room where the canvas is set up and immediately starts taking his clothes off.

“Woah, what do you think you’re doing there?”

“Er, I thought you were painting nudes?”

“Er no-”  At this point his shirt has already come off and he’s starting to unbutton his trousers. Of course he is very toned, with tanned arms and neck where his football shirt has been. You feel the breath knocked out of your body, glimpsing the very top of his boxers as you struggle for words.. He looks at you confused. Eventually you stutter an answer. "K-Keep the trousers on, okay?” 

“What should I do then?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do I pose, like?” You shrug.

“However you want to, Jamie.”

“I dunno what I want.” You sigh.

“You just need to stand there and look pretty.”

“Well I do that all the time, so.”

“Great. So just…keep doing that.”

Jamie smiles to himself.

“What is it?”

“So you do think I’m pretty?” He smirks at you. You fold your arms.

“What are you, a sixteen year old girl Jamie?” You start sketching. “Besides, you know what you look like.” You go back to drawing in silence. You swear you see his cheeks dust pink for a second before he ouffs his chest back out and smiles.

“Aren’t you going to ask if I think you’re pretty?”

You freeze.

“No, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m not sixteen. I am an adult woman and I don’t need random men for unsolicited affirmation, no matter how pretty they are.”

Jamie opens his mouth, before closing it again. Maybe that was a bit harsh, but what else could you say? Tell me how pretty you think I am Jamie. Or better yet, show me. I’m dying to know. You could practically feel the feminism leaving your body.

You dismiss these thoughts and get back to sketching. You can see Jamie is looking down and acting fidgety, swinging his arms.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” You walk over and plant your arms on his shoulders. He is surprisingly warm and firm to the touch, and you try not to blush. “Is it okay if I move you?”

He nods, surprisingly quiet. You turn him ever so slightly, before gently pushing him down onto your stool. As you move one of his (very muscly) arms, you swear you feel a slight tremor. Was he shaking? You step a little closer, a hand on his back. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Jamie.”

His face hardens.

“But I said I will, so I will.”

“But you don’t have to. Only do this if you want to.” You smile at him, and his face softens again.

“I do want to, trust me. It’s just been a long day.”

“Okay, but if you need to stop or take a break, just say the word.”

You step back to your canvas. You try to focus solely on the drawing, but every time he looks at you, you find your whole body heating up. Despite this, you steal glances anyway. He stares at you constantly, in a way that makes you feel stupid and giggly. Observing all the soft and hard lines of his body, you eventually start to notice small scars all over his body until you reach his hands. You don’t know why it took you so long to notice, but his knuckles are slightly bruised.

“Jamie?”

“Yeah?” 

“Tell me about your day.”

“Why? It was dead boring.”

“I don’t know. I find it helps me find the right mood.” You prepare your brushes. “You know, it tells me what colours to use.”

“Oh. I mean, nothing much happened.” He looks down at his feet. “I got up, went to play football, came here.”

“But why did you text me? Why today?”

“I dunno.” You sit in silence for a moment, as you mix the colours. “I mean, my dad came to the match.”

“Right.”

“Pulled his usual shit.”

“Usual shit?”

“Just being a complete dickhead.” You start painting. 

“In what way?”

“Saying stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Just the usual stuff.”

“You keep saying “usual” Jamie. I don’t think whatever he said is usual for most people.”

“What about your dad? He said that thing about you being a teacher right? Because you couldn’t paint or summat?” You put your brush down. 

“Yeah he did say that. He says a lot of shit, none of which I would consider usual. Or at least it shouldn’t be.” You step off your chair and towards Jamie, reaching gently for his hand. “We don’t just have to take this shit, you know.”

“I don’t fucking take it!” He pulls away. You flinch back. He looks alarmed as he realises. “I should go.” He starts to walk out.

“Jamie, I didn’t mean to upset you -” You walk after him as he paces towards the door. He halts at the entrance.

“I’m not upset,  I just - I came here because I didn’t want to think about my dad. When I’m with you, I never think about him. Or anything else, really.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.” Before you can reply, he runs off. 

The next few days pass by. You send a few texts to Jamie, but no reply. The exhibition is only a couple of days away now, so you try to keep yourself busy. But his words won’t stop swirling in your head to the point you struggle to sleep. So you do what you always do: paint. 

It’s not until one of these nights when you're up late at the canvas that you glance out of the window. Your heart stops. Someone is lying in Jamie's garden, very still. You dare to look closer. Is that..Jamie? He looks glassy eyed. He can't have...Without thinking, you run down.

"Jamie! Jamie!" Your heart is thumping in your ears so loudly you can't hear anything else. "Jamie are you okay?" You ask as you scramble to climb the fence. However just as you are almost over, you catch your foot, spectacularly falling over it into the bushes.  You hear that trademark laugh.

"Why are you laughing? I thought you were dead, dipshit!" You say, crawling out of the shrubbery. 

He remains lying down but he’s smiling at you now.

"Why would you think I was dead?"

"Why are you lying in your garden on your back completely still at 2am? Let's not pretend this is normal." You crawl down next to him.

“You’re going to think I’m stupid.”

“No I won’t.”

He looks away from you.

“I mean everyone else does, why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t think they do.”

“There’s my dad. Plus, I’ve read Twitter.”

“You know how I feel about your dad and Twitter is full of very stupid people. But never mind them. I can promise you I don’t. And let’s be honest, I’m the only opinion that matters.” He scoffs as you offer him a pinky. But, he puts his pinky in yours before looking back up at the night sky.

"I can't get up."

"What? Are you injured?"

“No…I dunno, I told you it was stupid."

“It's clearly not that stupid. Are you okay Jamie?”

"I dunno. I was thinking about the other night with you and my dad and then I came outside because I needed some fresh air and then I lay down and started thinking about everything and now it feels like I'm stuck here. It's stupid -"

“Stop saying that.” You lie down and grab his hand. “Sometimes when you've gone through some shit, it comes out of your body in weird ways. But you're okay. We can stay here for as long as you like, but when we get up, you will be able to.”

He nods, and the two of you lie there holding hands in silence. You take some deep breaths and he follows. Eventually a small voice pipes up.

“I think I can go in now.”

You sit up and slowly pull him.

"See?"

He smiles at you gingerly before he looks down.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?”

You look down. Both your knees are cut, along with one of your palms and your wrist.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” 

He gently holds your wrist up to the light. He looks sad.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I need to work on my graceful dismount. Either that or just walk around to the back door.”

“I mean, I dunno, I think you could give Simone Biles a run for her money.” You swat him.

“Oi, you cheeky shit! Next time I’ll just leave you for dead.”

“I think the blood loss is going to your head, we should treat that ASAP.” He leads you into his house. “I think I’ve got a first aid kit upstairs.”

He starts walking up and you follow him. He seems surprised. You realise your error.

“Oh, I can wait downstairs if you like.”

“Er, no, it’s fine.” He steps into a bedroom and starts rummaging around in what is clearly an ensuite bathroom. You sit on the edge of his bed and look around. There’s pictures of him and his mum, as well as some pictures with the team and one with a slightly older moustachioed man.

“Is that your dad?”

He pokes his head out and laughs. 

“No, that’s our coach Ted.” You look up at him. “He’s a nice guy though. Annoyingly nice. Almost too nice, if you know what I mean.”

“Right.” It was clear Jamie was soft on this man, but you wouldn’t push it today. He sits down and starts gently wiping the cuts. It is the same tenderness he held your foot, and it is the same tenderness that is slowly melting your heart. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were starting to fall for Jamie Tartt.

You yawn as he applies the final plaster. “Right, you need to go to sleep.” He says, through his own yawn.

"I could say the same for you"

You sit up to leave, but hesitate. YOu feel Jamie’s about to say something.

“Hey, I don’t suppose.. You’d maybe fancy…”

You turn around.

“Staying around?”

Jamie looks at you pleadingly.

“No funny business I promise.” He looks up and offers you a pinky.

“What if I want funny business?”

“Eh?”

“I’m just messing with you Jamie. Besides, I’ve already stolen your knickers anyway.”

“Someone told me that’s a weird thing to say to people.”

“Well, that person sounds very wise.” You look around. “Can I use your bathroom?”

He gestures towards it and you go in. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you think: what the fuck is going on here? You splash some water on your face and tell yourself to get a grip.

“There’s a spare toothbrush in the blue pot if you need it.” Jamie calls through the door.

“Ew gross Jamie, I don’t want to use one of your many girlfriend’s toothbrushes!”

“I’ll have you know that’s brand new as I don’t have any girlfriends at the moment. Although there are sanitary towels if you need them love.”

“Piss off you patronising git!”

“‘Ey, I was trying to be nice and a good feminist and that.”

You brush your teeth before coming out and leaning against the doorframe.

“No girlfriends? What happened to the Island’s top scorer?”

He groans before flopping back onto the bed.

“I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I’ve been doing my research.” You get into the bed next to him. He flashes you a dirty grin.

“Bet you have, you little perv.”

“Me? The perv? What you did in that jacuzzi was a crime to my eyes, and probably in several countries.”  

“Woah, you have been doing your research - that was like episode 42? 43?”

“What can I say, you make good television?”

Jamie pulls the duvet back before hovering for a moment. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” He gestures to the bed.

“I know. But I’ve been in your position before, and I really needed a friend back then. And I think you would do the same.”

“Any time.”

You squeeze his hand.

“Now go to sleep, you menace.”

“Aye aye captain.”

____

You wake up and find yourself once again not in your own bedroom. In fact, not only are you not in your own bedroom, but you appear to be cuddling Jamie Tartt. You panic silently. Your leg is swung over his, while his arm is draped over you. You try to move, but still asleep, he squeezes you a little tighter. And then something really surprising happens.

He kisses you. Just a little kiss on the forehead, but your chest is fluttering.  You hate to admit it but, it feels just so natural. You’re so content and relaxed in his arms then…

Fuck. You fell back asleep. You’re in the exact same problem as before.

This time however, you are both awoken by Jamie’s phone going off. He reaches to switch it off, eyes still closed, but then it rings again. And again. The third time his eyes shoot open.

“Shit!”

“What is it?” You ask from behind bleary eyes.

“The match!”

You slowly sit up and watch him run around and get dressed, silently handing him things on occasion. He runs downstairs and you plod along after him, still half asleep. He runs out of the door, before abruptly stopping and turning around.

“Aren’t you going to wish me good luck or something?”

You wrinkle your nose at him in confusion.

“I don’t need to. You’re going to smash it anyway.”

“How do you know that?”

You shrug and smile. 

“I just know.”

At this point, he strides right up to you, before cupping your face in both his hands. 

“Jamie what are -” Before you can finish, he kisses you, hard. Your eyes flutter closed and you melt into the kiss, before he pulls away, but only just. His arm reaches around the small of your back and his forehead touching yours, he whispers.

“Wait for me.”

He runs off to his car, and you stroke your bottom lip, where you trace the swell of where he used to be.

Your heart is still pounding and you are unsure what to do with yourself, so you try to make yourself at home. You take a very long, hot shower before getting changed. Of course, you didn’t have any clothes here, so you find some pyjama shorts along with one of Jamie’s old jerseys.

You sit down to watch the match. You had never really gotten into football, but now you were glued to the screen. You couldn’t believe that the little Jamie on screen was the same one who shared a bed with you last night. And the same Jamie that kissed you…

The game is electric, and Jamie in particular is the standout player. Even the commentators remark on his zest this match as he keeps skilfully weaving through the players to lead Richmond into not one, not two but three goals.

Once the match is done, you watch, still glued to your seat when Jamie is invited to an interview.

“Jamie the way you played today was extraordinary, against Man City too. If you don’t mind us asking, what happened?”

“Ah well, I was really inspired by Simone Biles. She’s honestly changed my life.” At that moment, he turns straight to the camera, grins and winks, and you feel like he’s somehow winking right at you. Your heart skips a beat. You were really in trouble.

You look at your phone and Jamie Tartt is trending. Simone Biles herself has already tweeted reminding everyone she is a married woman and has never met Jamie. There are plenty of other women, including some famous other gymnasts and celebrities offering their Biles-like services to Jamie in some rather explicit tweets. You wonder if Jamie reads these ones too.

You walk to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and as you wait for the kettle to boil, you look at Jamie’s calendar. There’s all sorts of notes, primarily training and matchs but you notice your exhibit is there too, with a little heart drawn around it. Jamie never stopped surprising you. But then a cold shock goes down your spine. You remembered today’s date. You are meant to be going to the gallery this evening to plan the exhibition. Shit. You check the time. You’ve still got three hours left, but you need to get back into your flat ASAP. You scramble around before realising that you had left your phone in the flat last night in the chaos to get out. But you also remembered Jamie and what he had said.

Wait for me.

You write a little note and stick it on the fridge.

____

Jamie comes back way later than he planned. Of course, after the match, there were drinks and celebrations but he couldn’t concentrate on them, just trying to leave to get back to you. He finally manages to break away, but when he gets home, he finds the living room empty. He searches around the rest of the house, and you are nowhere to be found. He checks his phone. No messages. He gets a message through from Keeley about how he’s trending online. 

Of course he sees all the Simone Biles stuff and smiles to himself. He made a note to send Simone Biles a message in future, if this all worked out. Then he sees all the stuff other women are saying online. A lot of it is quite graphic and he wondered what you’d think. He imagined the two of you laughing together at them. Then he sees. The tabloids are already speculating. Not only do they actually think he’s having an affair with Simone Biles, but they have already posted some paparazzi shot of him with Keeley, along with long extensive timelines of his tumultuous dating history. His stomach drops. Anyone would run away if they saw this much baggage.

He tries to ring you. Once, twice, three times, No pick up. He’s desperate and pacing, until he realises he can just walk over to your front door. He rings the bell several times, before loudly knocking. Still nothing.

He can’t believe how much he’s fucked it. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you, but he couldn't help it. No one had made him feel like this, like he was going crazy but also that he was calmer than he had ever been, like riding a lifeboat in the centre of the storm. As he walks back into his flat and into his kitchen, he doesn’t see the small corner of a note that has fallen under the fridge. He checks his phone again. 

Still nothing. What could he do?

____

Sorry for the angst kids, hope it was worth it and the finale will be juicy!! lmk if you want to be tagged in the final part!! Not sure if I've done these tags right, apols if not!!

@skewedcherries @e-mmygrey @reading-blogs @alex-sulli @cameoutstruggling93 @sqrlgrl22 @maydayfigment @aiyaiy @alipap3 @okkkkkkksure @city-of-cards

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt x reader #fanfic #romance #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt

[rafferty3207]

I'm currently working on the second part of Too Good To Be True but I have just got such a cute Roy request in my inbox I am kicking and giggling my feet in anticipation!!

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #romance #fanfic #jamie tartt x reader #roy kent x reader

[rafferty3207]

confession

summary: it's the middle of the night when roy finally gathers enough courage to tell you that he loves you.

warnings: swearing

word count: 474

note: inspired by this prompt list!

my blog is 18+ only

It’s nearly midnight when you hear a knock at your door. At first you choose to ignore it, but then it gets more incessant. You groan as you slip out from under the covers and throw on a sweater to combat the cold air suddenly pricking at your skin. 

When you get to the door, you swing it open with a huff. 

“Alright, alright, I’m here—Roy?”

He shuffles on his feet. “Hi, uh—Sorry, I… Fuck. I know it’s the middle of the fucking night but I needed to see you.” 

You raise your eyebrows and step aside to let him in, closing the door gently behind him. “Is everything okay?” you ask softly. 

“No, everything’s not okay. I just had to… Shit, I’m horrible at this.”

“Here, let me get you some tea, you must be freezing,” you say as you walk towards your kitchen with Roy in tow. 

He shakes his head. “I’m alright, thanks.”

“Then a blanket, at least! Hold on, let me grab one—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, would you stop for one second please?” Roy winces at the look on your face, then lets out a deep breath. “Sorry. I…”

You walk up to him and rest a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, what’s wrong? You can talk to me, y’know.” 

“I’m—you know I’m not good at this whole talking about feelings shit.” 

A frown curves your lips and your brows furrow. “Roy, I…” 

“Just let me say something, alright? Because if I don’t say it right fucking now then I’m never gonna say it at all. I—” Roy clears his throat. “I fucking love you, alright?” 

You stare at him. Your heart pounds against your chest, and it’s so loud that you’re sure he can hear it. Slowly, he raises his hands and cups your face, the pads of his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. You hold your breath at the contact. 

“You make me want to be better. You make me want to be good. When I’m with you, I…” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I can’t fucking think straight.”  

“Oh,” you breathe out, face growing warm.

Roy nods, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Yeah. Oh.”

Without sparing another second, he smashes his mouth to yours, and you respond instantly. The kiss is soft yet hungry at the same time. When your lips part slightly he slips his tongue inside, causing you to let out a soft moan. You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him impossibly closer, eager to feel his skin pressed against yours. 

Too soon you break apart. The two of you are breathless, and you’re smiling so big that your cheeks start to hurt. Roy takes the pad of his thumb and traces your bottom lip. 

“Fuck, I love you.” 

“I love you, too.”

[rafferty3207]

when you've meticulously envisioned the story in your head scene by scene but it's time to actually write it

#me during Too Good To Be True part two

[rafferty3207]

hi! could i request jamie x reader. neighbours. annoyance to lovers please?

I loved this idea and also got massively carried away as always, so this will have to be split in two parts!

warnings: two horny idiots as usual, swearing, artist fem!reader, nudity

Too Good to be True (part one)

You knew it was too good to be true.

When your mum’s quirky bohemian friend Sylvia told you that she needed someone to house sit over the summer, you never realised it would look like this. You had always known she was well-off, but it turns out Sylvia was rich rich. Her house was in a beautiful area of London you had never been before, full of tall semi terraced Georgian buildings with big ornate gardens. It was the sort of area almost exclusively frequented by yummy mummies and incognito celebrities.

As you walk around all the gorgeous rooms, tenderly stroking the furniture, you felt like you couldn’t have wished for a nicer place if you tried. After living in an awful house share with terrible roommates for the last six months, you were ready for some alone time.

This was not to be. On your first day in the house, after several hours exploring all the nooks and crannies, you eventually fall asleep in her massive bed around midnight; however, you are rudely awoken about four hours later by the sound of arguing outside. You try to ignore them but it only gets louder, until you are forced to put on one of Sylvia’s many(!) silk robes and investigate.

You march outside to see two men facing each other in the doorframe of the house attached to yours.

“Would you two mind shutting the fuck up? It’s 4am and some of us are trying to sleep?”

They both turned around. They are both incredibly handsome; one is dark and surly looking and standing outside with his arms crossed. The other has an incredible jawline and floppy boyband hair, and is still standing in the doorway. The boyband one looks you up and down and you feel your cheeks heat up. It’s times like these you regretted sleeping in the nude, as you huddle the way-too-thin robe tightly around you. He eventually folds his arms indignantly and opens his mouth.

“Love, you don’t understand, we’re -”

“I do not give a flying fuck who you are, just be quiet. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months and I’m not about to have two bozos ruin it with their lover’s tiff.” 

You huff, turning swiftly back indoors before a sharp night’s breeze could expose you.

The surly man who had remained quiet for this entire exchange turns to his friend.

“I like her.”

____

The next morning, you open the front door to find a small beautiful wrapped box.On the label it just says,

Hey Neighbour,

Sweet Dreams 

Jamie xx

Jamie. That must have been the floppy haired one.

You tentatively open it to find a small pair of earplugs. The cheeky git. 

However, that night when you climb into bed, you spot the box of earplugs. You don’t want to use them out of spite, but also you are shattered and couldn’t risk getting woken up again.

You were surprised to wake up a whole 12 hours later. It's the best you've felt in a long time. You look up the earplugs online and it turns out they are very expensive. He may be rude, but at least he wasn't cheap. You consider thanking him, especially as you start regularly seeing him stretching or working out in the garden, until one day he catches you looking.  He waves at you with the smug grin of a prick who knows how good he looks, and you have to immediately walk away. At this point you decide never to talk to him again if you can help it. After all, it was just one summer - how much could you see him really?

It’s the next Sunday when you are walking home from your weekly shop in perhaps your grossest sweats, hair everywhere and glasses still on. To make matters worse, you're struggling as you always buy too much to fit into your bag.

It’s at this point when some dreadful orange sports car pulls up next to you and honks their horn, making you nearly jump out of your skin and drop half your stuff on the ground. You turn around just to see a familiar smug face as he waves at you before speeding off. No, he is a prick.

After you make it home, you decide to forget all about him. But these are old houses, and the walls are thinner than you’d like. More specifically, a week or so later, as you get into bed you think you can hear a voice. You think it may be a ghost, until you hear a distinct Mancunian twang and you realise that Jamie’s bedroom is directly connected to yours (or at least one of them was, who was to say how many bedrooms these sorts of houses had.) It’s when you hear another, softer voice that you realise that maybe Jamie has company.

But it’s fine. He’s allowed to have people over. You go back to your book until ten minutes later, when you start hearing very different noises. He definitely was not alone. And clearly whoever he was with was having a great time.

Your stomach tightens. This isn't just annoying at this point, it’s downright depressing. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel like that. As much of a patronising shit as he was, you had to admit that Jamie was very attractive. You try to keep reading, but you soon find your imagination straying into unwanted territory. Your entire body goes flush when you catch yourself, so you put your earplugs in and go to sleep. Eventually.

—-

It's a blisteringly hot day and you've made the mistake of buying yet another heavy shop. As you're walking home, you're covered in sweat. You're trying to get home as fast as you can before some of the food defrosts in this heat, but it's like wading through hot sticky mud.

You take one more step and suddenly feel a bit lightheaded. You stagger to a nearby wall and sit down, looking down at your feet. It's at this point that of course you see out of the corner of your eye, a familiar orange car pulling up in front of you. You wave a hand away.

"Not now Jamie." 

"Are you alright?"

You look up and he's got a genuine look of concern on his face.

"Yeah, I just needed a breather. If you haven't noticed, it's very hot out here."

He pauses for a moment.

"Did you want a lift?"

"I'm good, thanks. It's not that far."

"Don't be daft, just get in the car."

"Jamie -"

"It's got really good air con."

You look at your bags. You really didn't want the food to go bad in this heat.

"Fine."

You drop your bags into the bag and slide into the seat next to him. You can't help but notice how gross and sweaty you were on his nice leather seats.

"Sorry, I'm very gross and sweaty." You immediately say without thinking.

He looks over and laughs.

"Trust me, this car has seen a lot worse."

You groan.

"Oh come on, I don't need to imagine that."

"I just meant after training, Jesus woman, get your head out of the gutter!"

"Training for what?"

He laughs again. "You're joking, right?"

You shake your head.

"You seriously don't know who I am?"

"Should I?"

He smiles as he looks back out to the road.

"Nah, I guess not."

You look around his car.

"All I need to know is that you've clearly got more money than sense."

"Oi, I'm doing you a favour here like a bloody gentleman!"

“I mean I don’t know if this is really a favour. You could be kidnapping me for all I know.”

“Love, I’ve got more than enough money. I do not need to kidnap some random bird for a ransom.”

“Who says you’re doing it for money?”

He sighs and shakes his head.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible, or just practical? Us ‘random birds’ have got to look out for ourselves.”

“Well then, Your Highness, we have arrived.” Jamie signals to your door as the car pulls to a stop.  “You can get out now, I promise.”

You get out and go to get your bags,but Jamie quickly grabs them and is walking to your door. You run ahead, making sure you’ll be able to get in and clear any embarrassing debris before he can see it.

"You don't have to do that, you know." 

He shrugs. "I used to help my mum carry her shopping all the time when it was just me and her. Now I just pay to get it delivered to her house." 

You stop at the front door. The admission strikes you. You wondered for a moment what Jamie was like when he was younger. You wondered where his dad was. However, Jamie didn’t understand your silence.

“I’m not trying anything, I swear. I won’t come in and …” He looks around. “Steal your knickers or whatever.”

You scoff as you turn around.

“That’s a weird thing to say.”

He huffs in exasperation.

“Look, my arms are going to drop off, can you just open the bloody door already?”

“Alright, but if any one of my knickers are gone, you’re in serious trouble.” 

“Aye aye captain.” He tries to salute, but wacks himself in the face with one of the bags. You stifle a laugh, before letting him in. He smiles at you for a moment, and you feel an unfamiliar warm feeling in your chest. Best to just ignore that and get back to the task at hand.

As you put everything away, he looks around. There are unfinished canvas and paint everywhere.

"Are you one of them fancy pants artists then?"

"Not yet. I'm one of those unpaid ones.” You suddenly feel very shy. “I'm just house-sitting for the summer, I'm not rich. Unlike you.”

“So no one is paying your ransom then?”

“No one would pay good money for me. In fact, they might actually pay you for taking me away.” You say it flippantly, but Jamie sees the slightly dejected look on your face.

“So maybe you should be the one kidnapping me, eh? I tell you, I’d go for a pretty penny.” He gently biffs your arm. You don’t look at him, continuing to pack away the shopping.

“Well if I ever have to turn to a life of crime, you’ll be the first to know.”

He stands around for a minute, as if he’s not sure what to do with himself, before going to leave.

“Thanks, by the way.” You call out.

He turns around and shrugs.

“Any time.”

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you. Next thing you know, you’ll be my personal Uber.”

He jogs down the front steps, without looking back.

“Only if you start tipping!”

___

A few days later, you're gardening when suddenly a ball crashes into the ground right near your hand. You scream, causing Jamie to pop his head over.

"Jesus Jamie, are you trying to kill me?"

You stand up and dust your knees. He's got that concerned look on his face yet again. 

"Are you alright?"

You reassure him. "I'm fine, you just missed me.” You pinch your fingers almost together. “Just."

He looks sheepish.

"I'm sorry."

You fold your arms.

"You should be."

As you say this, two other men peer their head over the fence.

"Sorry miss. We're just playing a round of cricket."  One replies in a soft Welsh accent. Behind them, you notice the surly man sitting in the back of the garden, who nods at you.

"Roy's taking a break if you want to join?" Jamie offers you the bat.

"Are you asking me to play with you Jamie?" 

"Well, you're less likely to get hit in this garden."

"Hmmm." You think of all the empty canvas you were ignoring. "Fine, but let me get changed first."

As you start to walk into the house, one of the boys turns to Jamie.

"You didn't tell me your neighbour was fit."

"Isaac, don’t even think about it.”  Jamie chides him. Something about this made your stomach feel squiggly, but you couldn’t put a name on it. 

This squiggly feeling means it takes you a little longer than planned to get dressed, as you meticulously scrub the dirt from your hands and knees and maybe apply a tinted lipbalm or two. By the time you come back out, the men seem to have doubled and one of them has somehow set up a barbecue. The game of cricket seems long forgotten as they sit and drink around the fire pit. You pick up a beer bottle and wander around, trying to slip into one of the group conversations.

“When do you think Ted and Rebecca will get together?” A man with a strong french accent says.

“I dunno, I still think him and Trent have got something going on.” Colin muses thoughtfully. Isaac nods with him.

“Yeah man, there were vibes between them at Christmas.”

You decide to pipe up now before you have to figure out who Ted, Trent or Rebecca was.

"Sorry to interrupt, but how do you all know each other?".

The boys look at each other, then Jamie.

"We all play football together." Jamie finally breaks the silence.

"Oh that's cute!” You look around at this crew. They are all very handsome, but all looked very different, from all walks of life.  “It's so hard to make friends as an adult I find, so it's good to have hobbies. Do you think I'll be allowed to come to one of your matches?"

They all look at each other again and start to laugh. You think you've missed something but you figure it's some inside joke.

One of the guys, who you think you heard referred to as Sam, leans forward. "So Miss, what do you do for a living?" 

You take a swig from your bottle.

"I'm an art teacher. I teach at the local college, although it's mainly adult evening classes. You know the saying, ‘those who can't do, teach’.  At least, that’s what my dad likes to say."

"But you can do though." Jamie pipes up from behind his beer. "I've seen all them canvas in your house."

"Ah, you are a painter. Are you more of a modernist or post modernist?" Jan, the tall Dutch one asks.

"I don’t know, I mean I've got a show at the end of the summer which I'm preparing for but I'm not very good-"

"If you've got a show you must be good. Or at least someone thinks so." Jamie folds his arms.

“I mean, I guess, the guy at the gallery did personally invite me-.”

“There you go.” Jamie nodded triumphantly.

“Can we see them? The paintings?” Sam asked.

“Not yet! They are nowhere near ready!” This was somewhat true. For the most part, you had barely started. You had been struggling for inspiration lately, but you weren’t going to tell this extremely attractive group of men that. “You’ll have to come to the art show. I’ve got some flyers in the house. I can get them if you like?”

The boys enthusiastically nod, and you make sure to hand them each one, with Jamie receiving the last flyer. Your fingers brush for a moment, and you find yourself staring at each other a bit too long until you are interrupted by a loud cough.

“The meat is ready, Jamie.” Roy loudly announced.

“Coming!”

The rest of the night goes quickly in a blur, as all the boys bombard you with questions and you find yourself chatting to all of them in depth. You’re pretty sure you know all their life stories by the end of it. Eventually, the night wears on and they all slope off one by one until it’s just you, Jamie and Roy left. Roy is sound asleep on Jamie’s couch, and the two of you quietly start cleaning up.

“You don’t have to help me, you know.” Jamie says. “I’m a big boy, I can clean up after meself.”

You drop a can into the recycling bag.

“I know. But a nice guy dropped me off when I was struggling to take my shopping home, so I thought I’d return the favour.”

Jamie stopped what he was doing.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

You looked at him confused.

“I know.”

The two of you go back to tidying in silence.

“So, Isaac thinks I’m fit, does he?”

Jamie drops the bottle he was holding. He frantically grabs a dustpan and brush and frantically starts brushing the broken glass. Roy stirs for a minute, then rolls back over. You gently took the dustpan off him and empty it into the bin.

“No! Er, I mean, he does, but he thinks anything with a pulse is fit.”

“So you’re saying he’s got low standards?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just- just-”

“I’m teasing. I obviously know that just means he has excellent taste.”

“And I thought I had a big head.”

“I mean, you do, but that’s beside the point.”

“Oi, I can say it, but you can’t!” At this point, Jamie puts down the bag and picks up the hose.

“What do you think you’re doing with that?” You ask.

“What do you think?” He says, before switching it on, chasing you with the spray. You run away, screaming.

“I’ll get you for this!” 

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do to me?” He moves the hose to catch you again, but at the exact same time Roy walks outside and Jamie catches him in the face. You both freeze.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow, Jamie!” You quickly leave, waving a goodbye as you start to hear the beginning of Roy’s bollocking.

Later, as you go up to your bedroom and dry your hair with a towel, you spot Jamie and Roy chatting in the garden. Jamie looks up at you and smiles. You smile and wave back, before pointing at your still soaking t-shirt.

“I hope you’re proud.” You mouth at him. He shrugs and you shake his head.

Roy turns to Jamie.

“When are you just going to fucking ask her out already?”

___

After the barbecue you start to see Jamie more often. 

He almost always drops you home from your big shop,  and sometimes drops you there too. He always says hello when you're in the garden and even starts asking for gardening advice. 

One day, when it is too hot, you buy a child's paddling pool to sit in your bikini. Jamie, who has been trying and failing to do his workout in the sun, asks if he can join you and the two of you sit in it in silence until the sun goes down. Both of you are definitely not checking each other out behind your sunglasses when the other isn’t looking.

Then one night, you go out with some of your old university friends. What was meant to be just one drink turns into several bottles and you find yourself outside the front door at 3am trying to get the key to work. 

After what feels like forever, you hear a door open.

"Oh, how the turn tables."

"Hello Jamie." You slur a little, swaying gently. "If you don't mind I could really do with focusing right now."

"Well it seems like you are doing just fine without me, so I'll leave you to it." He goes inside, sighing before coming straight back out again.

"Do you want to come in? Maybe have a cup of tea? Some toast?"

Your shoulders sag, "I would love that, yes. My feet are absolutely killing me." You follow him as enthusiastically as you can while he gently takes your arm and guides you in.

You flop down on the couch, quickly taking off your shoes and putting your feet up.

"Jamie, how long have you lived here?"

"About six months, why?"

"There's no decoration in here at all. This is the house of a killer, Jamie." He pops back around holding two mugs.

"I mean, I dunno. I'm not sure how to make it look good.

"It doesn't have to look good. It's your house. It just has to make you happy. What makes you happy Jamie?"

He takes a minute to think, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Bums?”

“Bums?”

“I like what I like.”

“Hmmm. We can work with that. Perhaps a big tasteful nude somewhere around here.” You wave your hand towards the fireplace.

“Do you paint nudes?” Jamie pauses for a moment. “Nude is them pictures of naked people right?”

“Yeah they are and are you asking me to paint you a nude Jamie? Men usually slide into my DMS for that sort of thing.”

“Not like that. I just think your art is really cool. It reminds me of that guy…what’s his name? Frankie Bakeoff?”

“Francis Bacon?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“He’s actually one of my inspirations. You know, you've got a good eye Jamie.”

He sits down, placing the mugs on the table. 

“Er, I’ve got two good eyes actually.” He remains completely deadpan and at this point, you let out a proper laugh. 

“You know I never asked you what you do for a living. I mean, you’re obviously a comedian but you know, for money. Especially to live in a place like this.”

“I’m a footballer.”

“Haha, yeah, good one.”

“I don’t know why that’s so hard to believe. My name is Jamie Tartt and I play for AFC Richmond.” 

You squint at him, before pulling out your phone. You type in “Jamie Tartt.” And suddenly there are thousands and thousands of articles and pictures with tiny Jamies staring back at you.

“Oh my god. And all those boys at the BBQ -”

“They are my teammates.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” You cry out, putting your face in your hands. “I told all of them about my dad’s five a side! They must all think I’m a complete idiot!”

“Nah. They all thought it was pretty cute.”

“I’m glad someone finds my stupidity cute.”

“I dunno, I think a lot of stuff you do is cute.”

Your face goes red. He can’t have meant that. You look at him. He truly is beautiful, although he must know it. You remembered the woman in his room. He could get anyone and you know it.

“Have you ever done modelling Jamie?”

“I mean yeah. I’ve done shoots for stuff. Adidas, Nike and my own fragrance for men, Tarttbreaker.”

“What the hell does that even mean? You know what, never mind, I was just wondering..would you fancy posing? For a painting?” You look at your feet. “It’s just, I’m so sick of painting myself and oranges at this point.”

His eyes light up.

“Really? You want to paint me?”

“Don’t let it go to that massive head of yours Tartt.”

“I can’t promise anything.” He sits down next to you, placing the mugs on the table. The throbbing in your feet still hasn’t gone away, and without thinking you start rubbing your soles. Curse those beautiful shoes, you think to yourself.

“Here, I can help with that.” You didn’t realise Jamie was staring at your feet.

“What?”

“Trust me, I’m really good at foot rubs.”

“Is this some weird foot thing?”

“No, you perv. My physio showed me some really good tricks. You know the physio I have because I am a professional footballer, yeah?” You roll your eyes as he gently takes your foot.

“You’re never going to let me live that do-”

You can’t finish the sentence as you are distracted by just how good it feels. A small “fuck” slips out.

“Is that alright? I didn’t hurt ya, did I? I can stop.”

“No, no no no. No.”

You are surprised by your own enthusiasm. He slowly starts again, and you say nothing, until a small moan slips out. Jamie’s head suddenly whips up. 

“I mean, I think my ankles are more sore than anything -” He moves his hands up, moving his thumbs in slow circles. You thought this would improve things, but it’s just making things worse. Your heart is racing.

“And what about your calves?”

You nod dumbly. “They’re pretty - pretty sore too.”

His hands hesitantly move up your leg, up to your knees. His face inches closer to yours, his hands about to move down your thigh, when your stomach very loudly rumbles. He jumps up and your legs close shut.

“I was going to make you toast.”

“Yes, yes you were.” He leaves the room and you lie back on the couch. Your head is spinning.. What is going on? You think as your eyes slowly start to close. 

By the time Jamie finally returns to the room, two very distracted attempts at toast later, you are fast asleep on the couch. He picks up a blanket and covers you, before heading upstairs. He then lies down, closing his eyes for just a minute, until there is a soft knock on the door. 

“Are you ready for training, fuckhead?”

“Shh.” He points to you, sound asleep and snoring.

Roy tilts his head. Jamie whispers. “I’ll explain later.”

______

You wake up with a pounding headache. It takes you a second to realise you are not in your bed. You are on someone’s couch. Jamie’s couch.

You look at your phone. 9:03am. You look around for any sign of him, but it seems like he’s gone already. YOu decide to wash up the mugs, before you spot it on his fridge. There is no decoration in any of his flat, except one flyer that is stuck on the fridge. Your flyer.

You smile, before finding a piece of paper and a pen.

That afternoon, you return to your flat. Looking at your big canvas you know what to do.

___

Jamie finally gets back to his flat and he is exhausted. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about last night, and as he suspected, you are long gone by the time he gets home.

However, as he walks through, he notices a little note stuck on the fridge in front of your flyer. 

Thanks for the tea and the footrub.

You can wake me up any time.

X

PS. Let me know when you’re free, you poser.

With your number added to the bottom.

He can’t help but smile to himself, before wandering out into the garden.

He hopes to see you there, but you’re not. He looks back towards the house and stops dead in his tracks. He can see you in one of the rooms, in front of one of your canvas. But you are completely naked. 

He looks away. He knows he shouldn’t. But maybe he just imagined it. He takes another quick look to confirm, you are definitely naked as the day you were born. You have your back to him, but it’s clear you are looking in some sort of mirror. He suddenly realises. You’re painting yourself. He walks quickly inside and decides it’s time to go to bed. He puts his earplugs in and goes to sleep. Eventually.

Thanks for reading! You can read chapter two here!

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader

[rafferty3207]

Guys I've got a chunky Jamie Tartt X reader fic coming up, would you prefer it to be split in two halves and get one halve tomorrow or wait and get one big fic?

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #fanfic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #important question #please help