Disclaimer: This FF is set after season 3 in a kind of alternative universe where Ted never left and Jamie is over Keeley. Just fyi.
Masterlist - Next Chapter
Chapter 1: New Kid on the Block
Y/N sat by the window of the train, the countryside whirring by in patches of green and gold. The morning light slanted across the fields, turning everything soft and golden. Her stomach churned—not unpleasantly, but in that restless, jittery way that only big moments could summon.
Richmond. AFC Richmond.
She let the thought settle for a moment, looking at her reflection in the train window. It didn’t feel real yet. All those years of grinding it out in the lower leagues, working with young athletes, pulling late nights in front of performance stats—it had all been leading to this: a chance to work with a Premier League team.
The announcer's voice crackled through the speaker, jolting her from her thoughts. “Next stop: Richmond.”
The train pulled into the station, and as Y/N stepped onto the platform, she was greeted by the crisp bite of early spring air. Richmond unfolded around her like a scene out of a storybook—winding cobblestone streets, little shopfronts with flower boxes perched on their windowsills, and a faint hum of life as the town began its day.
A taxi took her from the station to Nelson Road Stadium, and Y/N spent the ride trying to absorb everything. The town was idyllic in a way that felt almost disarming—the kind of place where locals probably knew each other by name, where time moved just a bit slower.
The stadium loomed into view, and her heart gave an excited lurch. It wasn’t as grand as the giants of the Premier League, but it was unmistakably home to something special. The AFC Richmond crest was emblazoned on the side of the building, and banners of the players fluttered in the morning breeze.
Her eyes caught on one banner in particular: Jamie Tartt. His cocky grin stretched across the fabric, the kind that seemed to challenge anyone who looked at it. She knew of him, of course—everyone who followed football did. A rising star, undeniably talented, but with an ego big enough to eclipse the sun.
The cab driver chuckled as he noticed her staring. “Ah, Jamie Tartt. Bit of a character, that one. Good player, though. When he feels like it.”
Y/N smirked but didn’t reply. She had no illusions about Jamie Tartt. But she also wasn’t here to coddle egos.
Once inside the stadium, she was immediately hit by the scent of freshly cut grass and cleaning supplies. The hallways were lined with photos and memorabilia of the club’s history—black-and-white shots of old teams, players hoisting trophies, a timeline of moments that had brought the club to this point.
She didn’t have much time to linger before a voice broke through the quiet.
“Y/N, right?”
Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Ted Lasso. He was shorter than she’d imagined but somehow larger than life. His grin was bright and welcoming, and the energy he radiated made her feel as if they’d known each other for years.
“That’s me,” she said, offering her hand.
Ted shook it warmly. “Well, color me thrilled to meet you! Ted Lasso, head coach, accidental wisdom-dispenser, and occasional baker. Welcome to AFC Richmond!”
The tension in her chest eased slightly. “Thanks, Ted. It’s great to finally be here.”
They began walking toward the pitch, Ted chatting the whole way.
“So, tell me, how does it feel? Big, scary stadium, new faces, new town—you doing alright?”
“It’s… a lot,” she admitted, her voice carrying just a hint of the nervous energy bubbling inside her. “But it’s the good kind of overwhelming, you know? Like the night before Christmas or stepping onto a stage for the first time.”
Ted nodded, his trademark grin softening into something more thoughtful. “I get that. Nerves mean you care. Just don’t let ‘em tie you up in knots, alright? And remember, we’re all here to help you settle in. Now, some of us might be better at that than others—”
He stopped suddenly as a figure rounded the corner ahead of them.
Roy Kent.
The man was practically a walking storm cloud—broad shoulders, perpetual scowl, and a presence so intense it felt like the air got heavier the closer he got. He stopped a few paces away, arms crossed, dark eyes narrowing as they landed on Y/N.
“This her?” he asked, his voice gravelly enough to scrape paint off walls.
“Yes, this her,” Ted replied cheerfully, gesturing toward her as if unveiling a grand masterpiece. “Roy, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet Roy Kent—our resident grump, enforcer, and occasional source of shockingly poetic wisdom.”
Roy’s eyes flicked to her, scanning her in that sharp, no-nonsense way that made it clear he didn’t believe in wasting time—or words.
“Right,” he muttered, then turned his full attention to Y/N. “You any good, or are you just here to fill a quota?”
The bluntness of the question caught her off guard, but only for a moment. Y/N straightened her shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. She wasn’t about to let anyone—even Roy Kent—intimidate her on her first day.
“I guess you’ll find out soon enough,” she replied evenly, a little hint of sarcasm and a lot of poise in her voice.
Roy didn’t smile, but something in his expression shifted, like he was mildly impressed she hadn’t backed down. Seems like he’s finally met someone to match his energy. “We’ll see,” he muttered nonchalantly before stepping past them, his boots echoing against the floor.
Ted clapped his hands together, cutting through the silence Roy left in his wake. “Well, that went better than expected! If Roy didn’t growl at you, you’re already ahead of most folks. Don’t take it personally; he’s like an espresso shot—strong, bitter, but he’ll wake you right up.”
Y/N chuckled despite herself. “Good to know.”
Ted led her out onto the pitch, and the sight stopped her in her tracks. The stadium, though modest compared to some, had an undeniable charm. The grass shimmered under the early sunlight, meticulously manicured and almost unnaturally green. The stands curved around them, a patchwork of faded seats that still managed to exude character. Breathtaking—a word to describe the sight. Y/N’s football heart skipped a beat.
jamie said ❝ of course I'm superstitious, I've lost twice wearing those boots… never wearing them again. ❞ ┊ @tartt9
❝ you are fucking joking with me, aren’t you? ❞ they’re the only few left in the changing rooms after yet another dreadful loss, roy’s already sick to death of the shitty excuses he’s hearing from the rest of the team — then jamie hits him with that. a fucking superstition as if his boots threw a curse over the team and magically made him play differently. he stands there, arms crossed over his chest with the usual gruff expression just patiently waiting for a proper explanation ❝ you’re telling me we lost cause of the boots you’re wearing? you any idea how fucking ridiculous that sounds? ❞
HER SILENCE IS DEAFENING, ENOUGH TO SET EVEN THE. MOST CONFIDENT PEOPLE ON EDGE. the sharp line of her jaw tightened when she shook on her head, almost unsure of what part exactly he was referring to. “ which part did you not understand? ” her pointer finger had gently tapped against the wood of the table beneath it, an absent - minded twitch that she hadn't been able to shake. “ was it the part when i said i wished to drink alone, or the part where i said that i don't watch football? ” bianca cocked an eyebrow as she reached for the drink that sat before her and took a sip, only for her index finger to continue its tapping against the glass instead. “ because i thought that was pretty simple. ”
ㅤ“ Oi, Jamie. ” Penny says it like a question, quickening her step a little to be able to catch up with him down the corridor. She doesn't spend that much time with Richmond's men's team. Not for any reason, mind, it's just how things seem to have worked out. But she's homesick, see. She's never lived so far from home before, least of all in London, and Jamie just so happens to be The Other Mancunian. It is what it is. She misses the drawl. “ Are you doing owt tonight? Summat I can invite myself along to, at least. ”
S IS FOR SPECTACULAR! i adore @tartt9, and i thank s every day for being so truly patient with me because i take forever on our threads, but i do enjoy them soooo much because s is just so brilliant of a writer and i think as far as portrayals go, i’m floored every time by the way s is able to bottle jamie up and present him in just a small paragraph. i also love their enthusiasm for football & while i know very little it’s nice sometimes to see something i don’t know about & learn and be in the know
@ mutuals send me a 🍓 (+ an optional url) and ill compliment u!
"Jim, I'm bored," is the first thing she says when he's picked up his phone. Injuries will do that to you. Nothing career-ending, mind, and she hurt herself playing for England, so she isn't that mad in the grand scheme of things. (A win that meant anything might have made all this feel better. You can't have everything.) She's been told to rest, though, and, honestly, there's only so much time you can spend at home not being able to go work before you start losing your mind. Penny made it three days, and now she's making herself Jamie's problem because he made the mistake of giving her his phone number. "Are you doing owt?"
