#leo and roy

[avvail-whumps]

‘guns for hire’ — the finale #38

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content warnings: intimate whumper, conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome, past torture, injury recovery, implied bribery, mentioned non-con drugging, mentioned panic attacks, dub-con kissing, dub-con touching (not sexual or explicit)

Gulping down another glass of fresh water from the miniscule plastic cup, Leo gave a refreshed, soft sight as the cooling water flooded down his sore throat.

His eyes and his cheeks were still sticky from crying, damp under his chin. He eagerly scrubbed it away, reddening his skin as he did so, but part of him couldn’t care. His puffy eyes flickered up to the clock behind him.

It had been a while since the interrogations had finished.

Leo heard a lot of yelling from outside; Sharpe and Summers were right outside the door, and it hadn’t been closed properly, so he could hear their voices clearer than before. A man, old and intimidating from the sound of his booming voice, had been screaming down the corridors.

There was something about not having a warrant for Roy’s arrest, which Leo clung onto tightly. That meant all of this was unlawful, right? It suddenly made sense as to why Sharpe had been so insistent on getting his confession before the forty-eight hours were up. It also meant that he would probably be allowed to leave soon.

His heart fluttered at the thought of seeing Roy again. He just wanted to feel his touch and listen to his voice. Over forty-eight hours without him was too unbearable for the secretary.

After minutes passed, Summers came back in again. She smiled warmly at him, motioning for him to stand up.

“Your father’s here, Leo,” she offered gently, causing his eyes to lift up in surprise. His mouth popped open, unable to find the right words. The concept of seeing his father gave him mixed emotions. Roy’s hissing words were constantly whispering in his ear.

He eventually managed to push himself onto wobbly feet, joining her outside. Sharpe was nowhere to be found, nor the shouting man from before. Judging from what he had overheard, that was the Police Commissioner.

“Am I allowed to go home?” He whispered hesitantly, like he was treading on eggshells. Her remorseful eyes looked down on him, sighing quietly.

“You’ll spend a little time at the hospital so they can properly check your injuries,” she informed, easing him along the corridor. He walked slowly, but she matched his pace to accommodate his sluggish footsteps. God, he just wanted to put his head on his pillow and go to sleep. “They’ll give you some medication to help you process everything, alright?”

Leo slowly nodded his head. “Then I can go home?”

Summers turned the corner, leading him to the front of station and down some stairs. “Yes. Then you can go home.”

When Leo was taken down the stairs, he saw his father. He was waiting anxiously on the row of chairs, hair a mess and his face red from crying. His eyes snapped towards him as soon as he saw the movement, and with a choked gasp, he snapped to his feet.

Leo’s throat bobbed, taking in the image of his father. He hadn’t really changed much since he last saw him. His skin was a little more wrinkly, and it looked as though his eyes had aged decades. They went glossy amongst seeing his face for the first time, and Leo didn’t have time to open his mouth to say something before familiar arms were wrapping tightly around him. A shaking hand cradled the back of his head, tucking him close into his chest, and his father trembled with raw, unrestrained sobs.

The secretary’s fingers dug into his back, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly to stop himself from crying. Something stirred in his gut.

“I missed you,” he said in a rush before he could stop himself, feeling his father grip him impossibly tighter. He’d yearned for his father to hold him like this. Ever since his mother left, this was all he’d wanted from him. He loved his father deeply. He knew that. It shoved away the stabbing in his heart for a while, though, and he was okay with that.

His father tried to speak. But Leo knew he’d completely lost his voice, and for that, he just simply held him. Leo didn’t really look anything like his father. He got most of his features from his mother, which was always what he wondered caused his father to push him away like he did.

His father pulled away for a moment. Leo felt large hands cupping his cheeks, tilting his head up. His father’s tired, exhausted eyes wandered over his face, taking in every little detail, every little feature he could, like it would be the last time. His lips were wobbling.

Summers cough snatched both of their attention.

“Mr Whitlock, can I have a word?” She asked politely. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”

His father swallowed, hands dropping to his shoulders with a little squeeze. He nodded his head, struggling to find the right words.

“Yes, right. Of course,” he stammered, pressing a soft kiss on the crown of Leo’s head. His stomach tingled in warmth. His father quietly addressed him. “Please stay where I can see you. I love you.”

Leo jerkily nodded his head. “I love you too.”

It came out more as a whisper, because his throat had closed up inexplicably, and his voice had failed him. His father’s hands begrudgingly peeled away from him, before he and Summers stepped to the side where Leo couldn’t hear them.

His feet took him over to one of the chairs, and he found himself sitting down numbly. Part of him couldn’t quite believe what was going on. Roy’s words were consuming his thoughts, reminding him of the conversation they’d had after the twenty minutes with each mercenary. Amplifying those initial feelings of hurt and anger towards him. They were still there, just residing at the bottom of his heart, but it was overshadowed by the very concept of just seeing him again. Of feeling him hold him. Of hearing the words “I love you” from him again. 

Leo wrung his fingers together nervously. It didn’t feel as good as when Roy said it, though. Summers and his father talked for a while. Apparently, an ambulence was on the way to take them both to the hospital so Leo could get looked at properly. He didn’t like the idea of being shackled to a bed again, but there wasn’t anything he could do. She was probably catching him up on what they knew to buy time for its arrival. 

Leo was given some water and a little sandwich to keep him occupied. His father sat with him for a long while, but was pulled away again by both Sharpe and Summers once more. The detective gave him a long, hard stare when he passed. 

Both of them knew that Leo had lied. Both of them knew the truth, but Sharpe still offered him a light smile, as if to say “it’s going to be okay”. 

The secretary had finished his sandwich when two other people caught his eye. An old, white haired man, weathered with wrinkles, dressed in a uniform with lots of golden badges pinned to his chest. Leo deduced that he was the Commissoner. He was shaking hands with somebody, a tall man who he couldn’t see the face of. Leo watched him curiously as he passed, but swiftly looked away when his cold, hard gaze flickered to him on the way out. 

His heart fluttered at that, pounding in his chest. 

He didn't know why those eyes frightened him so much, but it was like a horrible gloom had appeared before him, his hairs pricking on edge. He slowly snuck a glimpse as he opened the glass doors, stepping outside, and stopping beside—

Oh. That was Roy. 

He was talking to the tall man with a bit of a stoic, hard expression, and waved a hand dismissvely when the older one pulled out a big, thick cigar. He seemed to hand something to Roy, but he couldn’t pin exactly what it was. Leo’s heart fluttered in his chest, his eyes glued onto the back of his head. The sectrary wondered something. Was that his uncle? Why had he been shaking hands with the Commissioner? 

As if sensing eyes on him, Roy titled his head back, and Leo almost jolted in his seat. His lips curved into an amused smirk, and he crooked his finger towards himself, as if beckoning him outside. Leo didn’t even have a second to think about it, the worried words of his father unheard in his mind, before he was on his feet, and scurrying towards the door. He pushed the door open, his heart in his throat and his blood rushing through his veins. His eyes ran over him frantically, as if he’d already forgotten every little detail.

The man, who Leo suspected was Roy’s uncle, had already disappeared into a sleek black car down the road. He wasn’t paying any attention to him, however, all of his focus tailored to the mercenary. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he whispered under his breath, itching just to throw himself at the man and feel his arms wrap securely around him. Roy chuckled, his eyes shimmering. 

“I know you didn’t, lion,” he hummed, a soft lilt to his voice that had the secretary melting on the spot. “I know how good for me you can be when you want to.” 

His big eyes stared up at him. “Are you proud of me?” 

He really wanted to feel Roy’s hand on his head, brushing affectionately through his hair, but he knew that probably wasn’t going to happen while they were still outside the police station. The mercenary managed a warming, encouraging smile that made his heart flutter. 

“Of course I am.” 

That was all he wanted to hear. That was all he needed to hear, and any little doubt he had about not telling Sharpe was erased. It was that easy for Leo to get swept violently by the current. He beamed. 

“I’m supposed to go to the hospital for a little while,” he told him, and Roy nodded his head. 

“I know,” he murmured. “I’ll come get you once you’re finished.” 

Leo’s spine shivered. “You promise?�� 

Roy nodded. “Promise, lion. You know I’d never let you go so easily.” 

Those words brought a sense of ease and comfort this time. As long as Roy promised. As long as he was going to come back, then Leo could keep going. He could stay separated for a little while longer with that notion in his mind, reminding him who he was doing this for. 

“Oh, and lion?” 

The secretary paused, his fingers on the door relaxing as he eagerly glanced over.

“Yes?” 

Roy handed him a sealed box, and he flipped it over to find that it was a phone. His eyes flickered up to him in confusion, brows pinching. 

“I’ll be in touch, alright?” The mercenary hummed, patting his shoulder. The touch made his skin sizzle and burn, a blush rising to his cheeks. He latched onto the small contact, and knew it would be all he was going to think about before he was out of hospital. “Be a good boy and wait for me, lion.” 

When the ambulance came, he and his father were both taken away from the police station. Being in the hospital was more difficult than he had anticipated. Being examined and bombarded with even more questions was far too strenuous on his mind, especially since he didn’t have Roy there with him. The mercenary hadn’t contacted him or visited him at all, but Leo tried not to let it get to him. If it was his uncle at the police station, then he was most likely frying much bigger fish than he could comprehend. 

He spent a lot longer in the bleak, mindless building than he would have hoped. Each time they had to take his blood or prod any sharp needle into his forearm, he found himself falling into hysterics. It was only made worse when there were so many hands pinning him down, forcing him into those terrifying memories with the other mercenaries, and he would have to be sedated for a little while. 

His father visited him the most often. But so did people from his old work. They would bring balloons and presents, showering him with cards and kind words. It would have been better if it was from Roy, though. 

When Leo was out of the hospital, his father drove him back to his old home. He cooked for him, helped him into bed, eased his medication into his system and made sure to tell him that he loved him everytime he left a room. It was all Leo had ever wanted from him, but it was hollow. It didn’t feel real. His eyes were only ever glued onto his phone. Waiting for a call, or a text message, leaping for his phone whenever it lit up in the middle of the night. His heart was starting to pound at the very prospect of him not coming. Of being abandoned again. 

When it did come, Leo was already packing. 

His father was sound asleep as he crept through the house, slowly unlocking the door and sneaking out. He’d left him a note. He had his contact in his phone. He’d keep in touch with him, ring him every week, and everything would be okay. His father was trying his best, but he was an adult, and the pain of staying in his childhood home made it difficult to keep his head on straight. 

He took his violin with him. Leo didn’t know what happened to the old one, but Roy had been able to conceal things away so well that they’d never found anything upon searching the house. He even remembered him saying something about a “thorough computer guy” one of the very first times he’d woken up in that basement. 

The secretary was glad for it, though. 

This time, when he saw Roy, he was able to leap into his arms. Strong ones found their way around his waist, pulling him in, and Leo buried his face into his chest with a soft cry. He’d missed the man so much, it had almost been unbearable. It had been far too long since he’d been able to touch him like this again. 

“I missed you too, lion,” he teased, patting the small of his waist gently. “Come on. Put your stuff in the boot.” 

Leo was barely able to do that coherently, with Roy kissing him as he went and easing him into the backseat of the car. He barely registered the fact that there was a driver, wearily waiting for some orders. He wondered if the car and the driver were his uncles doing, but those thoughts were quickly swallowed up when a hand gently cradled the back of his head, fingers teasing the locks. They’d grown far too long for Leo’s liking. 

Roy broke the kiss to send a sharp look towards the driver. “Go on.” 

He obeyed quickly enough, the car purring to life and rolling off the curb of the pavement. The mercenary’s lip found his neck again, and Leo’s hands gripped his shoulders tightly, his legs sprawled out awkwardly across the car. Roy’s fingers tightened in his hair, and they were suddenly jerking his head back abruptly. A sharp pain spiralled through his scalp and his neck, and a soft cry of pain escaped his lips.

The mercenary leaned closer, his lips teasing the shell of his ear.

“Just so you know, lion,” he murmured every do quietly, his low voice making shivers tingle down his spine. “It doesn’t matter if you’d told them or not. Either way, I would have been walking out of here. And had I known you sided with them, I would have hurt you unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.”

Leo’s throat closed with gasps, the grip in his hair making him wince. Still, with a pounding heart, a twitch of a smile pulled at his lips.

“I know,” he breathlessly whispered, his shaking hand moving down his chest, pressing against his leg, and letting his fingers tease under the waistband of his pants. Roy’s eyes glimmered brightly, and an amused smirk spread across his face.

“You little minx,” he purred, the grip in his hair easing when he pushed his lips against his again. Leo’s eyes fluttered shut, melting into the kiss with a newfound hunger. Because if Roy were to take his clothes off and push him onto the leather seats right now, then that was proof that he loved him back. Leo was sure enough of that.

Roy placed light kisses against his lips, easing off. Leo had to hold back a frustrated huff, but a peck against the furrow in his brow made that annoyance disappear in an instant. The mercenary pulled him closer into his side, and Leo melted into the embrace, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

The trees rushed by in a blur, but the secretary was more focused on the warmth of the man beside him. Leo leaned his head comfortably against his shoulder, clinging onto Roy’s arm, one hand tangled snugly within his. The mercenary was stroking the back of his scarred hand with his thumb, making his skin tingle and his heart flutter in his chest.

He couldn’t stop the smile that made its way onto his face. The sense of calm and peace that was flowing through him right now was completely unmatched.

“I love you,” Leo hummed quietly under his breath, and the man shifted, pressing a warming kiss to his temple.

“I know, little lion,” he smiled, squeezing his hand gently, letting him know that he was assured, that he was completely his. In every way. “I know.”

and with that, the main story is complete. i can’t believe it’s over already. thank you for all the kind words throughout writing 🩵

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#guns for hire #whump writing #whumpblr #whump fic #whump series #whump community #whump tropes #whump #whumper #whumpee #leo and roy #stockholm syndrome #writing #my writing #avvail whumps #divider by cafekitsune #the fact that leo thinks sex equals love #oh my baby #i almost feel bad :( #happily ever after #i'll obvs still be writing any requests and whatnot so content for these guys is far from over😋 #i love u guys

[squash1]

#I KNOW THIS ISNT TRC #i’m sorry #actually whatever #y’all will be ok #the good place #dps #dead poets society #the west wing #ted lasso #the bear #eleanor shellstrop #chidi anagonye #jed bartlet #leo mcgarry #josh lyman #neil perry #todd anderson #carmy berzatto #roy kent #jamie tartt #rebecca welton #mine

[rqgnarok]

standing ovation - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 2321

warnings: mentions of jamie’s dad and DV, spoilers for ted lasso’s mom city. reader uses female pronouns. 

summary: reader sneaks into training grounds after richmond’s win against man city. seeing her is just what jamie needs. 

author’s note at the end!

There’s something in the air.

Jamie’s pretty sure Will sprayed some lavender shit all over the locker room again but that’s not quite what he means– he’s said goodbye to every single one of his teammates and all the coaches– and the locker room is now his and his alone. He locks away his dad’s ghost by locking up his phone, the simple message doing wonders to finish lifting that weight off his shoulders.

He wasn’t at the game. Or maybe he was, Jamie realizes now that it doesn’t really matter. A part of him will never stop looking over his shoulder whenever he visits his hometown for his dickwad of a father, but the older, bigger part of him knows Coach was right– his motivation doesn’t come from hating his dad anymore and it doesn’t have to. His forgiveness is for himself, for the little boy that had to build a mask to save himself from his dad, and for the man he is today because of him– and because of his mum, Keeley, Roy, Ted, his teammates–

The standing ovation at the end was more of a benediction than he’d like to admit. Everything about his hometown made him feel prickly; like he was a virus the town was doing its best to reject, and other than his quick visit to his mom Jamie expected the whole thing to be a disaster. The kids on the street, the people on social media, the rude assholes in the bleachers– Jamie thought that was all he was gonna get. Blind, thoughtless hatred despite Jamie trying his best.

He remembers Roy getting a standing ovation on his last game, while Jamie was still wearing Man City blue. He’d been appalled, unable to discern the possibility of someone hating you so much they respected you. All he’d ever gotten– from his dad, rival teams, his own team– had been everything except respect.

But they’d clapped for him. They thought him deserving of something precious and somehow it feels like permission. He can play for himself. He can come home without his dad’s ghost belittling him for not turning out the way he expected him to. 

Even Manchester hasn’t been home in a long time. Sure, his mom and Simon are there, but Richmond has his family, too– his friends, his teammates, his–

“Excuse me, I’m looking for my boyfriend. 5’9 not quite 6 foot, sexy as hell, the most fantastic football player to ever walk on Earth?”

Jamie’s lips involuntarily twist up as he glances at the door. (Y/N)’s a sight wearing her Richmond TARTT jersey, looking disheveled and flushed like the rest of the city probably is right now after their win tonight. 

Jamie doesn’t give a shit about the rest of the city, though. At least not right now. He cares about his girl sneaking in (with Keeley and Roy’s permission and advice, probably) to see him, normal sleep schedule be damned. 

He laughs, loud and unrestrained joy lighting up his features as he hobbles towards his girlfriend, letting himself be enveloped in a crush-tight embrace.

“Did ya watch it?” he wonders, forgoing his usual shy demeanor whenever (Y/N) praises him and just allowing his excitement to overflow, arms going around (Y/N)’s waist and hoisting her off the ground.

“Did I watch it, he asks,” (Y/N) scoff is downplayed by her big grin and the way she wraps her arms around Jamie’s neck as he spins her around, fucked up ankle be damned. “I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off of you, Jamie, oh, my God–”

She’s kissing him deeply, unable to contain her excitement. 

“You’re so fucking brilliant,” she whispers against his mouth, her hands at the nape of his neck making him shiver into her embrace, unable to get enough. “Oh, Jamie, that assist– the entire play for Colin’s goal? Your goal–”

“It was for you,” he tells as he drops her off, cupping her face in his hands and cheeks hurting with how wide he’s smiling. “I couldn’t celebrate but it was for you. For you and me mum, you were with me on the pitch the whole time–”

He stumbles a little as he drops her on the ground and (Y/N) tenses in his arms. She looks him over, suddenly worried. “Oh, shit. Your ankle, dumbass, are you okay? Fuck, did I–”

“Angel,” the nickname has her melting almost immediately just like he thought it would, a five-word weapon he’s never gotten tired of wielding. (Y/N) pouts at him, still concerned, and Jamie can’t have that, he kisses the expression off her face immediately. It should be illegal for her to be sad, no, sir. “‘s not even a sprain. It was probably the panic of bein’ in the same place as me dad, to be honest.”

Something steely flashes through her eyes, there and gone in a second, at the mention of Jamie’s dad. (Y/N)’s never been anything other than kind about it, but Jamie doesn’t doubt she’d beat the old fart up if she were given the chance. 

The thought only makes him smile.

“Did you? See him?” she wonders cautiously. She’s touching him again after her moment of hesitation over his injury, hands doing soothing motions up and down his sides. Jamie fights off a shiver.

“Nah,” he says simply as if the thought of crossing paths with him didn’t have him toeing the line of a panic attack the entire three days they were in Manchester. “I don’t know if he was there, and if he was, I didn’t see him. I don’t think I care anymore. It’s for the best, really.”

(Y/N)’s expression brightens, though they both know they’re not done talking about it. Jamie wishes it could be as easy as turning off his phone and forgetting about his dad, but his skin already itches a little with the idea of getting a text back from him. He’s also no doubt that (Y/N) will hold him throughout it all. 

“I did see me mum.”

“How is my favorite Tartt?” she teases.

“Happy,” Jamie says softly, always the most important thing to consider when it comes to his mother. Ever since he was a toddler and he gained acknowledgment of his dad’s actions; after an especially gruesome argument that ended with his dad breaking a few photo frames and plates, stumbling his way out of the apartment, and slamming the door shut, Jamie would climb on his mom’s lap and wipe her tears as best he could with his tiny clumsy baby fingers. “Yeah, she was real happy. And for me, too. Even before the match, she was happy to see me, happy to… jus’ happy.”

“That’s good, sweetheart,” she threads her fingers through Jamie’s hair to keep it off his face, his headband lost somewhere in his lockers or amongst the rest of the dirty laundry. He’ll have to tell Will to watch out for it, he’s a little attached to it after the night he’s had. 

Jamie’s usually not the one to believe in lucky garments or charms but– well. He feels pretty lucky right now; that (Y/N) saw some worth in him when they met and makes the choice to love him and come home to him, day after day, whatever the outcome may be. 

(Y/N) looks at him adoringly like she knows what he’s thinking. “Did’ya get your wings back, then?”

Jamie grasps her hand in his and turns to kiss the inside of her wrist, only slipping a little bit of tongue. “Nah. They was never gone. All I needed was a little help to see.”

He frowns before (Y/N) can answer. “I was gonna say something stupid like ‘you’re me wings’ but that’s disgusting and I hate it. I would never say something like that. ‘m not Roy.”

(Y/N)’s laugh is surprised and comes deep from her belly. “Are you telling me Roy Kent’s a secret romantic?”

“Big old softie, that tosser,” he rolls his eyes. “He snuck you in for me, didn’t he? That’s all you need to know about–”

(Y/N) shuts him up with a kiss just because she can, and they’re both smiling too hard for it to be a proper one. 

She says “He likes you. He’s proud of you. We’re all so proud of you,” while peppering kisses all over his face, landing on his cheeks, nose, temple, jaw, and corner of his mouth. “You’re so, so good, Jamie, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he says, because there’s not gonna be a single time in which she tells him that and he doesn’t reciprocate. “Mum said that, too. And Keeley and Roy. And Coach, too, I guess, in his own way. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without them.”

“I can’t believe I missed it,” (Y/N) pouts and beats herself up over it for the thousandth time. Jamie presses a kiss to the space between her eyes for the thousandth time in response. “I should’ve been there, I should’ve told my boss to go to hell–” 

“You’re here,” he tells her, shaking her a little by the shoulders and looking her over like he can’t quite believe it. That she’s here in the locker room, in his life, loving him like he’s always desperately wished for but never thought he’d deserve. “What was I gonna do, put my dumb ankle into ice and sit alone in the dark?”

“‘m sure Roy and Keeley would be here drinking champagne with you if I wasn’t here.”

“And what could we be doing that is keeping them away right now?” he raises his brows, sneaking a hand down her back lower, lower, lower–

(Y/N) slaps his chest, though a gleam in her eye tells him she’s not saying no to anything. “You’re…” she drifts off.

He smirks cockily. “Unbelievable?”

(Y/N) shakes her head imperceptively. “Nah. I always knew you could do it. But you’re breathtaking, I’ll give you that. As if your ego needs it.”

Jamie’s mouth softens into a smile, soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) frowns a little at the sudden shift in conversation. “Whatever for?”

“I’ve been a dick these past couple of weeks–”

He had. (Y/N) won’t let him admit it but he wasn’t lying when he told Roy he wasn’t doing well. Not eating, not sleeping, waving off (Y/N)’s concern with a little too cold shoulder. It made him feel a little too much like his dad, and that thought only dragged him further down.

It had been (Y/N) who suggested Jamie pay a visit to his mom while in town for the game, and when he’d mentioned this to her she’d smiled knowingly, ran a hand through his hair, and made him promise an introduction soon. 

“You were anxious,” she corrects him with a shake of the head, won’t let him speak ill of himself when all he did was have a normal, human reaction to a very triggering situation. “And I’ve been worried about you but you don’t have to apologize, Jamie. Not to me, not in a million years.”

“Alright,” he says, soft and charmed. He soothes his thumb over her knuckles, featherlight. He looks down at their intertwined hands for a beat or two, gently swinging them back and forth. “Then can I apologize for shutting you out? I know you were only trying to help. I’ll do better next time at letting you know what I need.”

“And I’ll do better at listening,” she assures him with an indulgent smile, using her free hand to trace the Richmond crest of his shirt. “Look at us, communicating and shit.”

Jamie scrunches his nose in faux disgust. “Gross,” he says, but even the facade is too much to keep up when (Y/N) nudges his nose with hers. His lips tilt upwards against his best intentions, drunk on her presence and something inside his chest brimming with unstirred delight. 

(Y/N) exhales against his mouth. She hasn’t been more than a few inches away from him since she came down to meet him, always touching him.  

“What do you wanna do, huh?” she asks him, pulling at the bottom of his shirt. “Anything you want. We can go get some takeout from that burger place you like or maybe something fancier? We can go home and get some ice on that ankle–”

“It’s nothin’–”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” by that, she means when the team doctor gives him the all clear and he isn’t limping slightly with every step he takes. It’ll take a while but Jamie can take it, especially if any downtime comes with them spending the days together. She makes a questioning hum. “But we can do that tomorrow, then. Tonight, whatever you want. You’ve earned it.”

And Jamie does feel like a winner. Not only because of the three points they managed to steal from Man City but because he gets to come home to this. He gets to leave his dad behind in Manchester and his mom in safe hands, he gets to accomplish his dream for himself and the people that love him instead of trying to prove someone who hurt him wrong. 

He gets to live for himself. Coach Lasso was right, him forgiving his father was the kindest thing he could do for himself. 

“I want this,” he murmurs against her temple, breathing in the smell of her perfume and taking in the warmth of her body against his. “I got all I need right here.”

(Y/N) smiles and crowds even closer, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

A beat. Then–

“So that’s a no for a quickie in the locker room, then?”

(Y/N)’s laugh tastes like a standing ovation.

_________

precious little jamiebaby i hope i did you justice ily

i was ready to make an angsty peace about him but mom city left me craving to give him a moment of peace so ta-da! thank you so much for reading and letting me know what you think!

a reminder that commissions and asks are open!

<3

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

#leo writes #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso imagine #roy kent #keeley jones #phil dunster #brett goldstein #juno temple #jason sudeikis

[silena-laney-laney]

#newt maze runner #thomas maze runner #minho maze runner #meredith grey #alex karev #cristina yang #grover underwood #percy jackson #annabeth chase #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #katniss everdeen #finnick odair #peeta mellark #leo fitz #jemma simmons #daisy johnson #ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent

[gnnosis]

“as long as i’ve got a job, you’ve got a job, you understand?”

[the west wing 2x10 “noel” / ted lasso 3x09 “la locker room aux folles” ]

#this is so niche and no one will enjoy it other than me #are there even other ted lasso x the west wing fans #the west wing #tww #twwedit #josh lyman #leo mcgarry #ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso 3x09 #roy kent #isaac mcadoo #la locker room aux folles #the west wing noel #web weaving #web weave #my post

[t0bey]

1 ❌ 2 ❌ 3

#identity v #idv #leo beck #jack idv #joker idv #emma woods #freddy riley #kreacher pierson #emily dyer #martha behamfil #naib subedar #helena adams #vera nair #kurt frank #servais le Roy #aesop carl #margaretha zelle #eli clark #tracy reznik #kevin ayuso #my art #call of the abyss #coa #coa 1 #coa 2 #coa 3

[stygianheart]

I just realized I kinda have a fictional character type—

Arsonists.

Like, Sabo, Ace, Roy Mustang, Leo Valdez, Rin Okumura, Zuko, Azula , basically any fictional character that uses fire/has fire powers, whether in arson-type ways or not, I apparently tend to love them.

This is kind of concerning. Mostly because I personally am terrified of fire.

#sabo one piece #portgas d ace #roy mustang #leo valdez #rin okumura #prince zuko #princess azula #one piece #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #full metal alchemist #heroes of olympus #blue exorsict #avatar the last airbender #atla #fire users #arsonists (?)

[tourneys-by-me]

Round Three - Pyromancy (fire) 2/4

Propaganda under the cut (beware of potential spoilers!!)

Leo:

Created a mechanical flying dragon, used said dragon and *actual Greek fire* to kill the sentient, primordial Earth goddess, dying in the process. Resurrected himself using a cure for death made by a god and recovered on a mythological island.

Roy:

He is also called the Flame Alchemist and fire is his big thing. While he can do other alchemy as well I only remember him doing that once and it pales in comparison to his fire. He technically doesn’t manipulate fire directly, but rather the air, however, he seems to exclusively use this to turn the air flammable and set things (and people) on fire. It is the only way we ever see him use that power. Frankly, I think that makes him much more of a pyromancer than an aeromancer. After all, he is called the Flame Alchemist, not the Air Alchemist and reliant on fire to the point where he is callled useless on rainy days. Now onto the fire itself (Warning, some spoilers for Fullmetal Alchemist, particularly Brotherhood and the manga) Mustang has a ludicrous amount of power and a terrifying level of control. He is capable of setting a regenerating monster on fire until it is unable to regenerate anymore and actually dies. And he doesn’t do this just once, but twice. Additionally, he has incredible tight control over his fire, to the point where he can literally burn someones tongue out or make their eyeballs boil. Mustangs fire is terrifying and as long as he has a circle to manipulate the air and something to create a spark with he is perhaps THE most dangerous alchemist, only rivaled by those using philosophers stones to enhance their alchemy. Even flooding a room with water won’t stop him, as he simply turns the water into hydrogen gas and then throws a spark in to turn everything in that room into a charred smear on the ground. This doesn’t work with rain, but regular water? Doom. Fire is Mustangs signature move and he is, fortunately, the only one who knows how to do it. So, vote for the Guy who incinerates immortal monsters with a snap of his fingers.

#element specific character tournament #pyromancy #round 3 #tumblr polls #polls #leo valdez #riordanverse #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #roy mustang #roy fma #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fma #fma brotherhood

[carpecerevisiam]

Please reblog for maximum exposure 🙏

#frank grillo #brock rumlow #alvey kulina #leo barnes #beyond skyline #wolf warrior #chainsaw angus #donnybrook #roy pulver #bosslevel #bob dozier #hell on the border #teddy murretto #copshop #jorg drakos #king of killers

[tqsg]

ah yes, leo valdez, the straightest guy alive /j

#tqsg #roy speaks #leo valdez #jason grace #valgrace #hoo #heroes of olympus #the demigod diaries #piper mclean #riordanverse

[avvail-whumps]

I just realised in #20 of Guns for Hire, Leo was almosted 🍇ed by one of the mercenaries when he was asleep. If you mind, could you please write something about Leo admitting that to Roy? So we can see his reaction?

“Who was your least favourite?”

The question caught Leo off guard, momentarily pausing and turning his attention away from his food. He was eating a bowl of chocolate mint covered marshmallows, some leftover from Halloween. He hummed, his head lifting off Roy’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” He asked, catching the mercenary’s languid stare.

“I mean the other guys,” he shrugged, as if it wasn’t such a horrible memory for him. “When I was away on my contract. Who was your least favourite?”

Why was he asking him this question so suddenly? Leo’s brow crinckled as he stared at his bowl, fingers squeezing one of the marshmallows gently. The mercenary seemed to notice his obvious hesitance, and leaned down to kiss the furrow in his brow.

“It’s not a trick,” he prompted smugly. He swiped one of the marshmallows and tucked the blanket tighter around them. “I was thinking about it last night, is all.”

Leo bit the inside of his cheek softly.

“Bran,” he responded in a small voice. He didn’t want to remember them at all, but he tried to swallow down the anxiety regardless. “I think Rafi next. He freaked me out a little, especially that one time when I woke up and he—”

Leo cut himself off. He snuggled further into Roy’s side. “Nevermind.”

“Nevermind?” The mercenary parroted, shaking his head. “When you woke up and what, lion?”

“I don’t want to...” His voice trailed off. “It’s nothing.”

“Come on,” Roy encouraged softly, hand gently rubbing his arm. Leo swallowed nervously, just trying to comfort the racing of his heart with Roy’s presence and his warmth instead. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Leo knew he could. That was what made it so difficult. He released a shuddering breath, fiddling the marshmallow absentmindly. He finally set it in the bowl, and another encouraging squeeze from Roy finally forced it from his tongue.

“Rafi, he...” Leo shifted. “I don’t think—he didn’t touch me, or anything. I just, I woke up and he was on the bed...”

He frowned. “I barely even remember it. But he was—trying to take my pants off and he said, he said that—” Leo felt Roy kiss the top of his head, tucking him under his chin. He took the bowl so Leo could wrap his arms around him. “He said something about it not being as fun if I was awake, so he left me alone. I don’t even remember it that well, I don’t even know if I dreamt it.”

There was silence from the man, before he spoke in a calm, measured voice. The arm around him had tightened inexplicably.

“He did?” Roy muttured grimly. Leo gently stroked the tattoo on Roy’s arm, just under the cut of fabric of his short sleeve.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice so quiet. “It’s not...I really don’t even think about it.”

Sometimes Leo thought about it. Sometimes when Roy would unbutton his pants, he would imagine what it would have been like it he hadn’t woken up that night. He liked it when Roy peeled his clothes off, but the memory clung to him like dirt, and it wouldn’t come off. So, he supposed he was lying, and he knew Roy wouldn’t like it.

“Yeah?” Roy sighed curtly, kissing the top of his head like he could hear his heartbeat picking up. “I’m glad I put a bullet through his skull. Didn’t know that was a taste of his.”

When Leo remained quiet, gentle fingers slid under his chin, tilting his head back to meet his eyes. They were darker than usual, but his voice was so warm.

“None of the others touched you, right?” He asked quietly, and Leo didn’t even have time to shake his head before Roy was continuing. “Because it doesn’t matter that Bran and Sean are in hiding, I will find them. So just give me an excuse to bury them in the back garden too, lion.”

Maybe it was the morbid sentiment that made him blush, but Leo shook his head. The fingers under his chin gently stroked his cheek, and he leaned keenly into the touch as if he’d never experienced it before. His heart skipped a beat.

“No,” he whispered. “Promise.”

Roy smiled slightly, leaning forward to kiss his lips. When he pulled away, the ex-secretary happily cuddled against his side, accepting the bowl of marshmallows back.

“Good,” he sighed, leaning his head against his in the coziness of the couch. Leo didn’t have to know that he was absolutely livid, seething with jealousy at the idea Rafi had even thought about the idea of touching what was his. “I’m glad.”

#ask #guns for hire special #guns for hire request #guns for hire #whump #whump writing #whump drabble #whump scenario #whumper #whumpee #whumper is caretaker #stockholm syndrome #conditioned whumpee #tw for the mention of rap3 #i had no idea what you meant by 🍇ed for a long while #whumpblr #leo and roy #writing #my writing #avvail whumps

[twixnmix]

Robert Rauschenberg, Roy Lichtenstein, Andy Warhol and Leo Castell at a party in New York City, 1965.

#robert rauschenberg #roy lichtenstein #andy warhol #leo castelli #pop art #1965 #1960s #modern art

[heartshapedbubble]

Coming off of anon and I’ve been doing just fine for a simple request: Murro, Percy, Bane and Leo with a reader who views him as a father figure.

Let’s throw Servais in there too bc I love him and don’t see enough of him

Gotta gotta be down because I want it all YESS i get so happy when i see people build up the courage to come off anon we're all cringe equally here ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 ALSO big W for the character choice we need more love for these especially murro🙏

murro, percy, bane, leo and servais with a reader who sees them as (a) father figure(s)🐗🧟‍♂️🦌☄️🪄

murro morton🐗

him?? out of all people?!

you've pretty much cemented murro's trust now...

murro has quite a bit of experience being the older sibling, but being a father figure? no way

the fact that you find him that special even though he's just being himself really warms his heart, not gonna lie

might shed a tear or two just thinking about it ok. this man is quite emotional

once you tell him that he begins to act a bit more carefully in front of you and give you advice more often

i mean, shit, what kind of an opportunity is it to be someone's very own dad figure? just thinking of it makes his heart jump out of joy

murro is a very selfless person but the fact that you look up to him *that* much does make him want to chase that feeling forever. it makes him feel so much better about himself and gives his life a new purpose

he could never see himself as a father or a guardian - but if it's you who does, then that shall be it!

percy🧟‍♂️

percy stopped acting on his human instincts and emotions a while ago - although he still can feel/sense them, it's but a fading feeling and even if he wanted to act on them he couldn't due to the fact that his vocal cords are damaged and his whole body - including his mind - is paralyzed and doesn't feel like his own

yet this... this does ignite something within him.

it's not hatred, a reflex or some other kind of urge a body would have - it, is fact, love. a caring type of love. the love you observe from fathers' eyes as they hold their child in their arms, the painful glint in them filled with so much care and the need to protect

it hurts trying to act up on it and verbalize how much he appreciates you, as he knows he can't get further than a few coughs and groans and perhaps shaky or cramped limbs, and he's aware of how dead and lifeless he looks

yet he can't appreciate your attention and trust enough. although he might just respond to your energy with a slight nod or a bleak look in your direction, know that deep within his body his dead heart seems to start beating whenever he sees you coming his way

bane perez🦌

the monster of darkwoods? minotaur? half man half deer? bane has heard it all, and obviously got tired of it

but "dad" ? that's a new one.

not that he doesn't like it though.

once "dad" nonchalantly slips from your mouth as you two tend to the flowers in the woods, he might just never be the same

bane, in fact, likes being a dad. he would want to be one if the circumstances weren't, you know, that he was a half dead man trapped inside of a manor basically forever

he has a strong urge to protect and teach and love, cupping his strong, calloused hands as gently as pillows around every fallen baby bird that he finds and cradling it back to its nest

that's how bane sees your relationship - he may not have experience with caring for humans, but he'd sacrifice anything to bring you towards him and care for you as if you were his own child

leo beck☄️

it's a bittersweet feeling, really.

as much as he loves being there for you, following you around and showing you the right way, it never goes without the guilt at the end of the day.

he thinks of lisa, where she is now. if she's sleeping as deeply as you after he has tucked you into bed. if she ate as much as you did after he made you breakfast. if she smiled as widely as you after he has retold you the same story he always tells yet again.

it's the guilt of not being able to provide the first time after providing the second, to love after not having the time to the first time, and it all makes him spiral into self hatred

it makes him want to protect you even more, now that he already lost so much

as he reaches to hug you, he always manages to find something of lisa's on you. the mole on your arm starts to look similar to the one that his beloved lisa had. there seems to be something of lisa's in your laughter, too.

yet, he has to deal with the harsh present as rationally as possible - accept and love you as dearly as he should have accepted and loved before, and pray for his daughter every night, when everyone is already asleep

servais le roy🪄

i fear it might be below this man's pride to admit his care for you..

but, one thing's for sure, and that's that it occupies his mind too much for his own liking.

"dad", he mumbles, as he cleans his wands and folds his colorful cloths. he'd gladly scoff at it, but for some reason he just lacks the power to do so

he can't get it out of his head. he's not fit to be a dad, hell, he doesn't even behave as appropriately as someone who should be looked up to, why are you so nice and dear to him?

yet, all these new, troubling thoughts will soften mr. servais' rock hard heart over time. mmyep.

he just has to embrace it at this point, you know what? burst out of his shell and take you to get food, or go watch a movie or read with you. tend to you when you're sick and talk to you until you feel at ease. how could he not?

he still doesn't know what you could possibly see in him, but since you already look up to him, might as well make himself worth it.

#identity v #idv #idv headcanons #identity v headcanons #idv imagines #idv scenarios #idv murro #idv wildling #idv percy #idv undead #idv bane #idv gamekeeper #idv leo #idv hell ember #idv servais #idv magician #servais le roy #bane perez #leo beck #murro morton #hell ember #gamekeeper #undead #idv hcs

[rqgnarok]

i can see you - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 6,082

warnings: SMUT, both implications and the actual act. no use of pronouns but reader is described with female anatomy. 

summary: you and jamie have been watching each other for ages, trying not to feel the pull between you. a moment in the hallway changes everything.

author’s note at the end <3

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

Jamie comes back to Richmond one cold, quiet morning.

Quiet, because his teammates refuse to talk to him even after he’s at the receiving end of the harshest glares Jamie’s ever seen. They prickle his skin and make him feel too small in his own body, but he juts his chin up and trots around the field following Ted’s instructions.

“He’s the worst,” Sam tells you one morning after the facts. You bought an extra coffee on your way in because Sam had spent the entire week clenching his teeth so tightly you could see it in his jaw. It had only taken you one nudge and he spilled his feelings out like a dam breaking. “He just makes me feel awful about myself. And even if he’s apologized, that doesn’t mean he’s changed. I know Ted believes in second chances and I do, too, but that man is incapable of improving. The only person he’s ever cared about is himself.”

You’re inclined to believe him just because of how dejected he sounds. So when Jamie Tartt comes by the PR office later looking for Keeley and finds you instead, the annoyance that overtakes his features only cements your bad image of him.

“Keeley ain’t in?”

“Just missed her,” you say, short and clipped, head bent to focus on your work. “She’s out for lunch, Roy’ll probably bring her back in an hour.”

Silence meets your words, and you look up to see him looking at you, seemingly lost in thought. “Is… there anything else I can help you with?”

He snaps out of it, eyes a little wide and mouth struggling to find the right words. He’s pretty, you allow yourself the thought before immediately filing it away from your mind. He’s an asshole, your brain supplies, and yeah, that’s much better. 

“Sorry,” he says in that awful accent of his that’s in no way endearing. Not even a little bit. It doesn’t help that he looks actually apologetic, unsure, tugging at his shirt nervously. “We, um, haven’t met, have we? ‘m Jamie.”

“I know,” you say, not exactly kindly, but the whole world knows who he is. You’d have to be living in outer space to not be aware of Jamie Tartt’s existence. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Jamie’s tentative smile turns bitter and he tucks his head down, embarrassed. “Ah. ‘Course. Yeah, no, I’m. ‘m sure you have.”

He sounds just like Sam had when telling you about Jamie’s torment and it tugs at your heart despite how you don’t want it to.

“Anyways, just,” he shrugs, trying to give you a sunny grin and failing only slightly. You almost respect his efforts. “Know you’ve been here a while and all but, uh. Welcome, anyways. Richmond’s a nice place to be.”

You sigh.

“You, too,” you say when he’s already at the door, surprising both of you with your sudden considerate candor. You shrug a little. “What you’re doing can’t be easy. It takes a lot of guts to come back here. I hope it’s worth it.”

“So do I,” he says before giving you one last smile, albeit a bit more genuine, and leaving your office. 

After that, you’re both extremely aware of each other. It’s like the universe has decided to make sure you’re always in close vicinity, bumping each other in the hallways, arriving and leaving work at the same time, being paired up by Keeley for ad campaigns and photoshoots. You have the suspicion that Keeley’s been doing it on purpose– a good boss but a nosy friend, nevertheless, but it’s proven incorrect when she assures you don’t have to work with Jamie if you don’t want to.

“I know how he can be,” she says, eyes kind and hands on your shoulders, shaking you a little. “If he makes you uncomfortable in any way just say the word and I’ll take care of it, babes. I know how to handle him anyways.”

But you’re a grown woman. You can handle an asshole at the workplace, even if it comes in the beautiful package that is Jamie Tartt. 

You can’t say you haven’t noticed him; his plump lips and smart mouth, defined arms covered in tattoos, hands that look like they know their way around the in-between of someone’s legs. You’re angry at him by your connection to the other boys but you’re not blind– and Jamie is a sight to behold. 

He seems to know it, too, smirking at you whenever he catches your eye. He brushes by you in the hallway and you get a whiff of his cologne, sometimes a steady hand around your elbow when your steps stumble. 

He murmurs a quiet alright, love? and you both move on with your day, your skin a little too warm and the imprints of his fingers tattooed on your skin until you get home. 

You pay him back for those moments at random times. Once, during a photoshoot, you make a noise of frustration when the photographer insists that Jamie poses a certain way, dressed in his uniform as if he were about to jump into the pitch but looking a little too put together.

“It doesn’t feel genuine,” you explain, but you only receive blank, annoyed looks in response, so you take matters into your own hands and walk into the set, placing yourself in front of Jamie.

“Just-” you sigh, frustrated, and reach towards him before hesitating. He’s sitting down for the photo, and the sight of him looking up at you, his body between your legs does something you can’t bear to think about in a workplace environment. “May I?”

Jamie stutters, suddenly nervous. “I- sure. Go ‘head.”

You take off his hairband with a swift motion and tangle your fingers in his hair, messing it up. It’s soft and runs like water between your fingers, the smell of some fancy conditioner and hair product hitting your nose. 

You dig your nails into his scalp a little too roughly, and before the apology sitting on your tongue can be said, Jamie’s shiver overtakes his body, a muffled sound being bitten back for you not to hear it, but you hear it anyways. 

It makes you stop, just for a second, and your eyes meet. There’s something different in Jamie’s, greyish green darkening like you’re looking into the eye of the storm. The air is suddenly thick with tension, your hands still in his hair, his own twitching in his lap as if wanting to reach for–

Behind you, the photographer asks, “Are you done?”

You gulp and look away from Jamie, voice incredibly steady despite how dry your throat feels. “Almost.”

You hand him the hairband back and your fingers brush when he goes to take it. He exhales a gust of air, slowly, as if trying to avoid any suspicion of how badly the little touch is affecting him. 

When it’s back on, you reach again to pull loose some strands of hair and your other hand holds him by the chin, keeping him still. 

“There,” you say after a couple of moments or after an eternity. You let go of him and the room comes back into focus. 

Jamie blinks as if he’d been having trouble thinking past the touch of your hands on him, oddly intimate. You move out of the way so the photographer can squint at whatever you did with his hair. “You see what I mean?”

The rest of the photoshoot is uneventful, but it becomes quite clear that whatever things you do to get into Jamie’s head work as efficiently to get into yours. 

The team begins warming up to him after the whole Dubai Air debacle, and something inside of you unclenches in relief when you see Jamie sharing beer and laughter with the boys in the locker room after Sam’s press conference. 

It feels like permission. The guilt you feel whenever you stare at Jamie a little too long suddenly dissipates, and you dare to bite your lip when he catches your eye across the room. His stare slips to your mouth before refocusing on his conversation, and the way he tugs at his collar and his cheeks flush makes you feel victorious despite the team’s loss tonight. 

Later at Keeley’s, Roy nurses a beer while splayed out on the couch and asks you about Jamie. “Please tell me he’s done something stupid so I can punch him in the dick next time I see him.”

“You need an excuse for that?” you raise your eyebrows in question. 

Roy grunts, but there’s hidden glee in his expression as he concedes your point. “Fair enough. He’s given you any trouble?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, I guess,” you shrug, but you make the mistake of hesitating before answering and Roy perks up like a dog who’s caught an intruder. 

“Spill,” he orders, but you’ve been friends with both him and Keeley long enough to know rolling your eyes when he gets all manly is an appropriate response. “Come on, out with it. What he’d do?”

“Nothing!” you exclaim, throwing a pillow at him. He catches it swiftly, which annoys you a little. “Relax, old man. If he ever pulls a little too hard on my pigtails you’ll be the first to know.”

Roy grunts again, not satisfied but done pushing for the night. 

The real trouble begins at Christmas, hours after the boys exchange gifts and most of the staff is sent home. You’re on your way out, coat on and Uber on the way when you run, once again, into Jamie in the hall, almost knocking both of you to the ground. He has to quickly hold onto your waist, your hands on his chest, to stop it. 

“You scared the hell out of me,” you chastise him, both hating and loving the way he smirks at your breathlessness. “I thought you all troublemakers were gone already. You’ve got the rest of the day off, what are you still doing here?”

“Can’t go back to Manchester with a game tomorrow here, can I?” his hands tighten around your waist for a delicious, stretched-out moment before he lets you go. Jamie covers his flush coughing behind his hand as your own slip from his chest. “You lot just got me back after all. Can’t leave you hangin’ without your best player.”

“Ha, ha,” you laugh sarcastically, knowing he’s mostly kidding about that. “Still, I thought you’d be the first one home. Some Louis Vuitton slippers and Gucci robe on, expensive rum…”

“Oh, know me so well, do you,” he teases, poking at your bag. “What about you? You’re on your way out?”

“Uber’s almost here,” you show him your screen so he can see that your ride’s less than five minutes away. “Are you coming around to Higgin’s later?”

Jamie shrugs. “Don’t know if I’m invited.”

“Of course, you’re invited, Tartt. Everyone is.”

“Don’t know if I’m welcome, then,” he corrects.

“Everyone is,” you say again, firm but a little bit gentler than before. “Honestly, you’re lucky you look the way you do, ‘cause you’re a little bit thick.”

Jamie brightens like a kid on, well, Christmas. “You think I’m hot?”

“Of course, that’s what you take from that,” you roll your eyes. “I gotta go, but I better see you there later.”

You point menacingly at him but he only steps forward until your finger’s touching his chest, towering over you with a smirk that screams trouble. “To give you your gift, you mean?” 

“You did not get me something,” you say, as sure about it as you are that the sky is blue and dirt is brown. “Not when you dropped the ball with your Secret Santa earlier today.”

“Maybe I like you better,” he suggests, voice low and rich. The sound makes a knot of heat tighten in your belly. “Than I like them, you’ve ever thought about that?”

You remember what Sam told you when Jamie first came back, how he was incapable of thinking about anyone other than himself. The Mancunian had proved that statement to be incorrect a handful of times already, and you’ve been flirting with him long enough to know you’re attracted to him, but you don’t expect any kind of emotional reciprocation from him. Sure, you’re friendly, maybe you’ll call him your friend at one point, but that’s as far as it usually gets with someone like Jamie. 

You didn’t even get him a present. That’s how close you two are. 

“Okay, I’ll bite,” you relent. You really should be going, but a part of you needs to entertain this conversation for some reason. It’s not always that you get to talk to Jamie without anyone else present. “What could you have possibly gotten me that you couldn’t give your Secret Santa?”

You barely see the face he makes before you’re being kissed within an inch of your life. Right there in the hallway of AFC Richmond’s training headquarters, Jamie Tartt holds your face in his hands as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, warm and wet and relentless. 

You open yourself up to him without thinking it through, your phone lost somewhere in the mess of limbs as you latch onto his shirt, desperate for balance. 

The kiss is toe-curling hot, your arms wrapping around Jamie’s neck while his own flail a delicious path through your back, hands going under your coat so you feel his skin hot against your sweater. 

He ends up with his arm tight around your waist and a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close. Your mouths slide against each other, warm breaths trapped between your lips as the desperation for more grows and grows and grows and–

Jamie draws back and leans his forehead against yours only to kiss you again, softer and lingering while you’re still catching your breath, then one last kiss for good measure before finally drawing back. Like it happens around Jamie, the world you’d forgotten had existed outside the two of you comes back with rushing clarity, the hallway still miraculously empty. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he says, and it takes you a moment to remember what you were talking about before this. Christmas, parties, gifts… 

Jamie takes one last look at your face like he’s trying to commit you to memory while you’re all flushed and breathless before he lets you go, walking away into the locker room. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You stay there for a while after he goes, your fingers inevitably going to your kiss-bruised lips, brain still struggling to catch up to the moment. 

Jamie kissed you. You kissed him back. You kissed each other like you weren’t at work and where anyone could walk by and see you. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Your Uber’s outside and waiting.

You end up missing Higgin’s later that afternoon, unsure if Jamie would actually go after you bugged him about it and are terrified that he might. 

You’re not avoiding him. For fuck’s sake, you’re a little too old for high school-level social skills, but you’re not sure your heart could take it if you see him so soon after your kiss, acting like nothing happened. 

Or worse, making sure to sit next to you during dinner just so he could put his hand on your thigh and make you sweat while everyone’s watching, unaware of the change that’s just transpired in your relationship.

By the next day, you’ve decided to keep things professional, and it helps that Jamie doesn’t really bring it up. You see him before the game in the locker room when you go record some stories for the Instagram page, and he says hello as casually as the rest of the boys. 

You exhale a breath you didn’t know were holding and wish them all the best for the game, though if it’s relief or disappointment that washes over you, you’re not sure.

Life moves on. You continue to work together, not sans stolen glances and running into each other in the hallway. It’s different now, because you both know the other remembers that Christmas kiss and accidentally touching when passing each other by makes your breath hitch and Jamie’s face flush. 

The energy you had building up between you is charged with something dangerous now, and unless you dare to talk about it it’ll only build up into something you eventually won’t be able to ignore. 

But fuck, do you think about it. About the way Jamie’s hands held you, how they kept you in your place and how they would pin you down if you ever were to end up in bed together, his hips driving home while his mouth brushed the shell of your ear, his voice low and accent thick with the heat of the moment. 

Fuck. Fuck, you’re so fucking gone for him. 

It’s also different because Roy comes back, and it’s like he just knows there’s something about Jamie that you’re not telling him. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

“What?” you question, trying not to sound too defensive. 

“What was that… look?” he splutters. Never once in your life have you seen Roy Kent fucking splutter like he couldn’t get a grip on a situation. 

“What look?” maybe you can gaslight your way out of this one, you hope, because Jamie had been less than subtle when coming up to you both in the parking lot and talking about needing your help for a sponsored post he was supposed to make. 

He got real close, so near you could smell the mix of cologne, sweat, and plain Jamie that rested on his skin. While showing you his phone put a hand on the small of your back, fingers spread open and hot like a brand. 

It’d stolen your breath for a second, a hitch in an exhale that had caught both Jamie’s and Roy’s attention. You eyed Jamie warningly but he only smirked, completely aware of what he was doing. You said something about tagging the sponsor and then he was gone, brilliant smile and thanks on his lips as he waved you goodbye.

“That look, all cheeky and shit,” Roy points at where Jamie used to be and looks around for witnesses. You roll your eyes so hard it makes your head hurt a little. “Like he knows something I don’t, as if there’s anything in his brain other than elevator music.”

And of course, he tells Keeley about it, which earns you an interrogation as soon as you come down to the office. 

“Thought he didn’t have access to his account,” Keeley frowns. “Didn’t you change his password after the Oreo Incident?”

“God, don’t even think about the Oreo Incident while near me,” you rub at your temples to try to diminish the migraine building up at the mere thought of it. 

Now you gotta worry about Roy becoming a buffer between you and Keeley not buying your usual excuses. With them and the rest of the team and staff in the mix, you don’t stand a chance to get near Jamie. 

You start surviving on fantasies alone that grow and spiral into unrealistic, too-hot scenarios. 

Jamie, his shorts around his ankles and you on your knees in an empty locker room, his hands on your hair as he pants please, love, so fuckin’–

You on the desk and Jamie with his head between your legs, late into the night after everyone’s gone home and it’s you and him in your office as you moan fuck, Jamie, that’s– yeah, that’s good–

A night in a hotel room after some away game, Jamie letting you ride the leftover energy out of him. Thassit, angel, put your back into it, yeah? Be good for me. 

It’s too much and it’s not enough. 

Jamie throws himself into his training, trailing after Roy’s approval and eager to improve in every way he can, both as a person and a player. It’s nice to see him so dedicated, you think, remembering the traces of cockiness when you two first met in your office. 

They’re still there somewhere, and you see them shine when, for some reason, all the coaching staff– Ted included– give Jamie the bird mid-game. You’re sitting on the V.I.P. box next to Keeley when his monster of a goal goes through, screaming your lungs out and hugging everyone within six feet of you. 

You’re too far away from the field to see clearly, but you can imagine Jamie with striking clarity: cocky expression and tongue out, arms crossed before the rest of the boys jump with glee to embrace and congratulate him. 

The locker room is a mess of sweat and laughter when you go down there, Keeley making a beeline for Roy and Rebbecca going straight to Ted. It leaves you with a bunch of overexcited men hugging you and handing you drinks in celebration.

“No stories for the ‘gram today,” you promise when Zorreaux and Dani begin posing, making faces, and showing off muscles to you. You can’t help but laugh, Sam’s arm around you. “I’m off duty tonight, boys. On a fan capacity only.”

“Are we allowed to date fans?” Jan Maas asks, half joke half genuine question. The boys make ooooh noises of interest.

You laugh again, not taking it seriously, but Keeley suddenly pipes up from her spot on Roy’s lap. “Please don’t! It’s a PR nightmare.”

Roy adds helpfully. “I’ll punch you in the dick.”

The conversation shifts to other topics but you search the room to find Jamie already looking at you, eyes dark and jaw tight. It’s barely a moment of eye contact, insignificant to anyone else in the room, but it’s enough to make your insides flutter. Meet me outside. 

Thank God everyone’s too distracted celebrating when you sneak out of the locker room about half an hour later. You find Jamie already there, waiting for you at the end of it. He brightens when he sees you, shutting his phone and putting it in his back pocket.

It’s a little overwhelming, having Jamie Tartt’s full attention on you. As if it’s not exactly what you’ve been pining after for months.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Man of the Match?”

“Me?” he wonders faux incredulously while leaning casually against the wall, a dramatic hand to his chest. You walk till you’re right in front of him. “I work here, love. Or are you forgetting my heroic play out there already?”

You scoff. “We work here, dumbass, and how can I forget? It’s all everyone’s talking about. What are you doing away from your victory parade?”

“Same thing you are. Taking a breather,” he shrugs, giving you a slow once over, taking you in head to toe. You’re wearing a Richmond jersey and some loose jeans, nothing to write home about, but Jamie seems to like it. His tongue wets his lips before he focuses on your face again, charming. “Lots of people in there, yeah? Needed a minute.”

You raise your eyebrows, amused and unconvinced. “I can leave you alone if you want.”

Jamie abandons his spot against the wall and goes to you, slow and careful like a hunter stalking its prey. He says, voice a low, rough murmur, “Didn’t I already tell ya I like you better? You can stay as long as you want, love.”

Your entire body heats up at the callback to last December, the reminder of how easily Jamie snuck into your personal space and stole your breath with a heart-stopping kiss in this very same hallway. 

“I‘m not gonna lie, this seems a little orchestrated, Tartt.”

He smiles, indulgent. “Oh?”

“Sending me looks, getting me all alone…” you take a step closer so you’re poorly hidden behind the water cooler. If someone were to walk out of the locker room, they’d have to walk this way and take a turn to see you standing so close to each other.

“You were the one who followed me out,” he reminds you, tilting his head and raising his brows. He’s so expressive and you can’t take it, want to put your mouth to every inch of his face until he’s saying nothing but your name. “Who’s the real mastermind here, ey?”

“Don’t even,” you warn, unable to bite back an upward tilt of the lips. “I know how you get in hallways, mister. I haven’t forgotten, yet.”

“Haven’t forgotten you kissed me back, either,” he adds and dares to place a not-quite kiss on the corner of your mouth, a barely-there brush of the lips. “Couldn’t let go of me, could you?”

“Yeah, well, you leave a lot to the imagination,” you can’t help but complain, the little touch not enough to satiate the hunger you’ve been cultivating since that moment. You grab onto his shirt with a strength you didn’t know you possessed. “I gotta brush up against you just to see if you’ll do something about it and you never do.”

Jamie laughs, rich and warm. 

“You think I don’t see ya?” he wonders, fingers brushing against your knuckles before his hands travel slowly up your arms, touch agonizingly warm. Your breath hitches, and it only makes him bolder. “When you pass me by right here in the hallway, touchin’ me ‘on accident’? Leavin’ me wantin’ more?”

“Do you?” you wonder, voice low, facade cracking as your eyes fall to his mouth for a second, stare hungry. “Want more?”

“How could I not?” he admits. You’re looking at him like you want to take a bite out of him, and the adrenaline of that goal is finally wearing off to find more unreleased energy behind it, a tension that’s been strung tight long before he stole a kiss from you. “Fucking Christ, angel, you’re…”

“What?” you wonder when he trails off. Your hands brush against the hem of his shirt and Jamie feels your touch even through his clothing. “What about me?”

You make him feel like he’s on fire, right here in the hallway where anyone, anyone, could see you. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

You smirk, pleased. 

“What would you do, huh? If I touched you right now?”

Jamie breathes out his nose harshly. “Fuck.”

“What if I told you-” you begin, slow and tortuous. “That I haven’t stopped thinking about you here? Against the wall where anyone could walk by? What if I wanted you so badly that I didn’t care if they did?”

Jamie follows the bridge of your nose and the shape of your eyebrows with his eyes, the bite of your lip calling to him like a brightly lit bullseye.

He thinks fuck it. Fuck it, fuck restraint, fuck stringing this out any longer. He’s a winner tonight, in more ways than one. 

Who knows who leans in first? All you know is that you both meet in the middle, clashing like two waves hitting each other, his mouth frantic and eager on yours. He has one hand at the small of your back, pulling you to him, and another one on your collarbone edging dangerously to wrap around your throat, fingers drumming against tender skin. 

You’re touching him everywhere you can reach, feeling so untethered to the rest of the world that your knees buckle, helping him keep you right where he wants you. Whatever remaining bravado you had left vanishes when he has you like this, and you’re desperately trying to keep him close by clutching at the back of his shirt, tanging your fingers into his hair, and raking your nails against his clothed torso. 

You can’t make up your goddamned mind. You want all of him, putty in your hands, all the time. 

You hear a couple of voices, laughing and joking, leaving the locker room and becoming louder by the second. You separate, mouths bruised and tender to the touch. Jamie offers you his hand, smile glinting dangerously. “You trust me?”

You scoff, taking it and intertwining your fingers. “Against my better fucking judgment.”

He pulls you towards the closest exit and you let yourself be led, anything other than your phone forgotten in your office. 

In the blink of an eye, he’s got you in his car, his hand on your thigh edging closer and closer and closer to where you want it. You’re sure he misses one or three stop signs and runs a red light, but the streets are almost deserted at this hour and your skin is warm, only getting warmer even with the AC at full blast. 

When you get to his place it’s like you never stopped, and despite your urgency for him to have you right there in the middle of the training facilities, you love the way he pins you against the wall of his home, picture frames rattling with the force of it. His hands bruise your hips and he lifts your jersey up to your chest so his mouth can travel a path of bare skin down your torso, wet and open-mouthed. 

He looks up to you when he reaches the waist of your pants, kneeling in front of you, a question melted in the sheer want of the green of his eyes.

He’s asking for permission, you realize. 

Something sweet momentarily replaces the urgency you have for him, and you have to drag him back up for another kiss. He makes a questioning noise when you pull him towards you but melts against you when his lips touch yours. It’s a tender thing, an answer, one last quiet moment before you both sink into the chaos. 

“Lemme see you,” Jamie kneels back between your legs, this time cleverly undoing your pants and leaving you in nothing but your underwear while you struggle out of your shirt and leave it forgotten on the floor. 

His fingers brush over the wet spot between your legs and you gasp, insides clenching in response to his touch. He sounds gutted when he says, “God, look at you. Haven’t even touched you, yet, fuck.”

He tucks his face between your legs and runs his tongue over your clothed clit, the sensation of the wet fabric against his tongue driving him crazy. 

He’s painfully hard against his boxers. Jamie’s been waiting for this too long– there’s no way he’s lasting as long as he wants to, but he can focus on you for the time being. It’s not a difficult task, your body’s trembling with the force of your arousal and begging him to do something. 

It calls to him, muting the rest of the world around him.

“Are you ever gonna, or should I get things going on my own?”

He smirks against your thighs, biting playfully at the skin there before going alright, alright when you pull at his hair, though it only makes his dick twitch in his pants. 

He feels more than he sees your shiver when he finally gets your underwear out of the way, and he wastes no time before hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder before diving in, eating you out with the energy of a man starved. 

You hadn’t even made it past the living room.

“Fuck,” you moan, hips thrusting forward and your hand tightening against his hair, the other one searching and failing to find balance against the wall you’re leaning against. 

You want to close your eyes as the waves of pleasure wash over you, your muscles taunt with how Jamie’s expertly driving you closer and closer to your orgasm, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. “Fuck, Jamie, that’s good. You’re so good at that, oh–”

You see how his body takes in the praise and feel it against your center when he moans into you, tongue cleverly touching all the right places. Jamie closes his eyes, thoroughly enjoying the experience. 

He suddenly draws back, earning a noise of displeasure from you only to be rendered back into a moaning mess when his hands replace his mouth. He looks up at you like he’s staring at a deity.

“What d’ya want?” he asks as he slides two fingers through your folds, his other hand keeping your hips pinned to the wall as you try to buckle into his touch, whimpers echoing through Jamie’s home. “Huh, love? Have I left you speechless already?”

“You said I left you thinkin’ about it,” he recalls, too coherent for someone as terribly horny as he is. But Jamie needs to know, he wants you to crave him as desperately as he does you. “Back in the hall, that’s what you said. Whad’ya want, love? Where do ya want me?”

“Here,” you pant, eyes closed and face tilted upwards as you try to move your hips, chasing ecstasy. Jamie’s fingers are slowing down, probably to make you focus and only driving you further insane. “Anywhere, everywhere. Fuck, Jamie, I want all of it, all of you, please–”

“Greedy,” he singsongs, but any amusement is ripped from his throat with a moan when you pull at his hair again, walnut mist locks like silk between your fingers. He quickens the pace, unable to deny you. “Fuck, greedy thing, aren’t you? Wasn’t enough to stare me down and to steal a kiss, ya want all of it.”

You sigh, muscles clenching. “Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

“Then take it,” he gives you all you want on a silver platter, right there for you to take. “All you need, angel, ‘s all yours, ‘m all yours–”

With both his fingers and mouth back at work, you’re a lost cause, reaching your high and letting it wash over all your limbs like TV static before you become boneless against the wall. 

Jamie kisses your knee before moving your leg from his shoulder and setting it gently on the ground, back on his feet just in time to kiss you soundly. 

He’s practically holding you up, your arms limply hanging around his neck and your legs made of jelly after the strength of your orgasm. It’s like you let go of all the tension that started building up the second Jamie walked into your office that cold November morning and there’s nothing left holding you up other than his hold on you.

Except Jamie’s hips push into yours and you feel the length of him pressed against you. It’s a reminder that no matter how badly he seemed to enjoy eating you out he hasn’t been able to find his own release. Yet. 

You smirk lazily, finding the strength from God knows where to cup him in your hand, watching his expressive face contort in desperate pleasure. “What about you, Jay? What do you want?”

Jamie is unable to do anything other than babble nonsense as you move past his shorts and boxers to take him in your hand, slow and tight. He gives out a little cry when you strengthen your grip, exhaling as he rests his head on your shoulder. 

He never does answer you, and Jamie comes like that in your arms, quick and easy. He’s kissing your shoulder, your neck, the hinge of your jaw before finding your mouth and slipping his tongue past your lips, languid and easy.

“You getting tired on me, angel?” he wonders, massaging the skin of the back of your neck to gain your attention. You turn your head, following his motions. His eyes haven’t lost their dark edge. His mouth is red and calling for you to worsen the damage. “Cause the night’s young, you know. Bed’s comfortable, too. If I’m good against a wall, wait ‘til I get you in me bedroom.”

“You’re an idiot,” you say, but you feel a flutter of interest between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m attracted to you.”

He steals another kiss just for that, giddy with victory, though you don’t know how long you’re gonna get away with calling it stealing when you keep giving yourself to him without a second thought. 

“Is that a yes?”

You pretend to ponder on it. “Well. You haven’t fucked me, yet. There’s still room for improvement.”

Jamie shivers. He can’t resist the challenge and you know it. Whether you’re on the other side of the room or in his arms, he’s never getting enough of you and you love it. 

“Oh, angel,” he cups your face, already on his way to seal his lips onto yours. “You’ve no idea.”

___

IT’S HERE IT’S HERE IT’S HERE

i’m so afraid of not living up to the expectations of the song but i couldn’t get this idea out of my head!!! thank you if you got this far into the read and i appreciate any comment of support and feedback! 

i’m hoping to put out two or three more fics this summer before school starts, after that my schedule might not allow me to post that often but i’m not gonna leave you guys hanging, don’t worry!

<3

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taglist: @dunster @daisy-crybaby @talksoprettyjjx @loveslide @ccomandercody @marrianena-library​ @shakespeareanwannabe @ajkdjdnkekemfxj @higherthanheroes @jamietarttdodo @lightninginab0ttle @seacactusplant @sokkigarden @kti2004 @mrfitzsimmons @guccilongboard @jellycolors @littlemisssunshine192 @uniiversed @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog  @royskents @youbelongwithflo @curlypeter @alipap3 @feelinthesefics​

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #fanfiction #leo writes #ted lasso imagine #reader insert #phil dunster #sam obisanya #toheeb jimoh #roy kent #brett goldstein #keeley jones #juno temple #can't believe i forgot to add tags lmao so stupid

[silena-laney-laney]

i mean…. when you’re right, you’re right.

#annabeth chase #grover underwood #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #penelope garcia #derek morgan #spencer reid #thomas maze runner #minho maze runner #chuck maze runner #roy kent #jamie tartt #keeley jones #ted lasso #daisy johnson #jemma simmons #leo fitz #agents of shield #neil perry #todd anderson #charlie dalton #dead poets society #loki laufeyson #thor odinson #hela odinsdottir #marvel #hen wilson #chimney han #evan buckley #911

[otakusparkle]

Identity V 2020 Halloween Icons

Part 2

#identity v #idv #idv official illustration #idv acrobat #mike morton #idv smiley face #idv joker #idv embalmer #aesop carl #idv feaster #idv hastur #idv hell ember #leo beck #idv lawyer #freddy riley #idv the ripper #idv jack #idv magician #servais le roy #idv grave keeper #andrew kreiss #idv violinist #idv antonio