Chasing the Limelight - Jason Ritchie x Fem!Reader
A/N: As a BIG fan of the books, and less of a fan of the film, I really like Jason's character. I've enejoyed building a ltitle backstory for him in my head, and this is the result!
Synopsis: Jason has always craved fame and notority. He lives for the limelight and never stops chasing his next brig break. But when he meets you, you have no idea who he is, and Jason is determined to make a good impression
Jason Ritchie knew exactly when things had started to go downhill in his career. First, it was the catastrophic shoulder injury that ended his boxing career in one swing. But he’d done okay for himself after that, for a while at least. He’d still been young, and he’d been lined up for every TV panel appearance, reality TV spot and sports segment going. For a while after his boxing career ended, Jason had been flying high. But then he hit 40. The requests to appear on late night TV shows dwindled, he was no longer picked for reality TV stints, and his name vanished from the tabloids seemingly overnight. Somehow, Jason Ritchie went from boxing legend sex-God to a washed up nobody.
Sure, he still dated his fair share of models and still had a steady stream of appearances at charity events and on sports podcasts. But he missed the limelight, the buzz that came with people screaming his name as he exited a limo. All he could get these days were Christmas pantomimes and an advert for ibuprofen gel. A company had even approached him for a hair dye advert, and that was when Jason really knew he’d hit rock bottom. He couldn’t even secure a stint on Celebrity Big Brother, for fucks sake, and they’d take anyone.
He had no issue getting women, thank God, but he realised the only girls interested in him were budding influencers or models, only using him to climb their way to the top. Jason told himself he didn’t mind; he was helping their careers and getting a little company and social media exposure out of it. But inside, he felt hollow.
Jason was ashamed, but terrified to admit it. As the money dried up, so did he confidence, but he clung to the fame he’d once had, taking any and every job thrown to him just so he could stay relevant. He’d even started an Instagram account, flogging his fitness regime to strangers on the internet. And despite the crippling sense of failure he felt every time he looked in the mirror, his dad was still so damn proud.
To Ron Ritchie, there was no one better than his son. In Ron’s eyes, Jason could do no wrong. But if only his dad knew how far he’d sunk, what shady deals he’d been a part of just to keep his head above water. To Jason, image was everything, and if he wasn’t kitted out in the latest fashion, eating at the most expensive restaurants, then he wasn’t living life. He was still papped from time to time, and Jason always ensured he looked his best. His grooming and wardrobe budget wasn’t cheap, and Jason was quickly running out of money. Still, there were whispers of a stint on Strictly, so all hope wasn’t lost yet.
He enjoyed visiting his dad, standing centre-stage as Ron boasted about his son’s career. For those brief moments, Jason felt like a someone again. He was headed to Coopers Chase that day for lunch, eager to be surrounded by people, even though half the residents had no idea who he was.
He went to check in at reception, but the usual middle-aged man who sat half asleep at the desk wasn’t there. Instead, you were sat in the seat, your eyes focused on the computer screen in front of you as you chewed your lower lip absentmindedly. You were stunning, so perfectly beautiful, and the way your teeth grazed your lip had Jason internally groaning. You didn’t look up as he approached, so engrossed in the task at hand.
Jason cleared his throat and put on his best smile. His teeth had been professionally whitened just the other day, all part of an Instagram ad for a London-based dentist and he was excited to show them off. “Hi,” he grinned, hitting you with his signature smouldering look. It never failed him before, and yet when you looked up at him, your face was a complete blank.
“Hello,” you said, remaining professional, but Jason caught the quizzical look in your eye. Maybe you were in shock, maybe you were so stunned that Jason Ritchie stood before you that you didn’t know what to say. “How are you?” he asked, undeterred by your underwhelming response. “I’m fine,” you said slowly. “Are you here to see one of the residents? Or, if you’re looking for the Halford Hall Spa, you need to head back out onto the road and make a right. Lots of people get it mixed up with this place.”
Dear god, Jason realised. You had no idea who he was. For the first time in his life, he was lost for words. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
“Sir?” you asked, your features contorting into panic. “Are you ok? Oh God, are you having a stroke? How many fingers am I holding up?” You held up 3 fingers with one hand, your other hand touching him lightly on his arm. Despite the shock he was in, Jason still felt a zing of electricity when you touched him.
“There he is! There’s my boy!” Ron’s voice was loud and unmistakable, booming through the grand entrance hall. You both turned to look at him, and the relief on your face was palpable. “I see you’ve met my son,” Ron beamed, “the famous boxer”. Ron held up his hands, positioning himself in a fighting stance and shadow-boxing Jason. Usually, he’d indulge his dad, put on a show for whoever was watching, but you were still staring blankly at him. You smiled politely, and asked Jason to sign the visitors register. “Don’t worry, son,” Ron said, leading Jason to the dining hall. “she’s new here. She’ll know who you are soon enough.”
While Jason was at lunch, you googled the so-called famous boxer. Up popped a score of Daily Mail articles about his past boxing career, TV stints and a very public breakup with a member of some noughties girl band. You found his Instagram, and had a nosey through his posts, mostly shirtless gym videos and recipe ideas. You’d never been much into sports, especially not boxing, but you had to admit that Jason was hot. A little full of himself if his introduction and social media posts were anything to go by, but still nice to look at.
An hour or so later, Jason and Ron reemerged, and Ron ambled up to your desk. “I was just explaining to my boy that you’re the new receptionist and activities co-ordinator here. What do you say you sign Jase here up to teach some self-defence classes? Maybe do a Q&A with the residents?”
“Oh,” you exclaimed, looking between the two men. “I’m not sure…” Coopers Chase residents were more into puzzles and book clubs than boxing, but you saw the pleading look in Ron’s eyes and backed down. You’d only been here a month, but you had a soft spot for the old rogue already. “I mean, I’m not sure we have any availability this week. But maybe next week?” You wrote down your email address and handed it to Jason, promising to mock up some posters to put around the complex. You supposed one session couldn’t hurt.
Jason left Coopers Chase that afternoon with a spring in his step. it hadn’t taken much persuading to ask his dad to suggest the boxing classes. Maybe he could even get some footage for an Instagram reel while he was at it; his agent was always on at him to get “organic” content. All in all, it would be a win-win. Exposure for him, some lessons for the residents, and more chance for you to get to know him.
Jason couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this way, so excited at the prospect of seeing someone again. Sure, your first meeting hadn’t gone well. But next time, he’d make sure he made a stellar impression.
